#i should mention that most of the stories are planned to be at least functional as stand alones?

[tess-talks-inc]

On the Topic of Telemachus’s age:

First off preface lmao I’m a stranger on the internet if you want to see this and be like “I don’t care” more power to you this isn’t to condemn it’s more like my explanation? I guess? Of why Telemachus being represented as an adult is important to the context of the story and also to me.

Like obviously once again I acknowledge artistic interpretation, and Telemachus being young is important to the story as well and is part of the role he serves as a comparison to Odysseus, but like sometimes the way some artists draw him makes him look pre-pubescent and like… I understand what you’re doing, and honestly I respect it and I hope you are having fun, but I am holding your hands when I say that him being a young adult with that attitude is so so so important to his character and his relatability.

Adulthood isn’t something that magically appears one day, taking all of your dreams, immaturity, and weakness away. Telemachus embodies that- at twenty years old, he should be inheriting a portion of his father’s house and assisting in its running. He should, for all intents and purposes, have been a full and functional independent adult looking at purely his age. However, he is both literally and mentally stuck in limbo- his father is lost, so he cannot inherit in the case of his father’s death because Odysseus’ status is MIA, and internally he knows (literally mentioned book 1 of the odyssey and in Legendary) that if he reaches for that authority as an adult, the suitors will kill him. He doesn’t feel like he can, or that he is even on equal standing to the suitors as an adult man, he cannot see himself as one like they are, and it’s why he imagines his dad doing it instead. He wants to be saved, a childlike desire, even though he has advanced to a point where he himself can do something physically. That’s why, in the odyssey, Athena tells him explicitly that he can do something about the suitors, and lays out a plan for him. She says that he is no longer a child to his face, and the Telemacheia thus begins to be a coming of age story in which he matures, and later is registered as a threat of the suitors. He is a young adult yes, and he still has aspects of his young self (idealization of his father, daydreaming, him being quick to frustration), but him being an adult who realizes that he can do something and can understand the way he is childish is important and central to his character arc.

His arc is him growing into his skin, adulthood no longer being something that fits him like loose clothes and only a description of his physical state, but something that now is tailored to him, something that feels close to right.

Honestly, I think this aspect of him being an adult while still holding onto these aspects of childishness is where Legendary and We’ll be fine falls short in adapting his character. I understand why, because while he is introduced he is not the true central character of the Saga- it’s Athena and how he affects her, that’s what’s most important. Also, once again, he was just introduced. He’s not matured yet, but he’s realizing he needs to. I still love the songs and the saga, because it’s a good adaptation that poses interesting questions, but yeah. Telemachus is v clearly a young adult and that hasn’t translated over sound yet, which I think is why this whole age debacle is happening alongside the uwu-ifying of the man.

TLDR: Telemachus is a young adult and he acts like it due to his blend of childishness and slowly gained maturity. You can draw him and see him as a child if you want, have fun with it, but at least internally understand how his 20 years of age plays into his arc a of him maturing into manhood outside of your own interpretation of him :D

[nerdieforpedro]

Her smile was worth it

Pero Tovar (modern AU) x plus size female reader (La jefa)

Word Count: 1882

Warnings: DARK FIC, mobs and their enforcers, mentions of general violence and graphic violence, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of injuries, solving problems Tovar style, comfort food and tea

Summary: Pero Tovar only has a few people he chooses to interact with willingly. The bookstore owner is one of them. Someone made a very stupid mistake, Tovar will handle it and still have his tea.

Notes: This was written for @iamasaddie ‘s writing challenge 2.0. My color was Mob Enforcer and the prompt was “Hurt/Comfort” and “Who did this to you?” We're longer than a Drabble again, we dribbled quite a bit. Such is Nerdie.

I may have leaned too hard into the ‘hurt portion’ but we’ll see. 👀

Main Masterlist/ Pero Tovar Masterlist/ Writing Challenges

The only good thing about doing collections, was that most of the time, Pero wasn’t using violence. Just intimidation. The shopkeepers knew why he was here and knew the amount they needed to pay to The Family. It’s been the same amount for the past six months, in was raised temporarily for some needed repairs on the club the Valentino family owned. The actual story was that a few of the younger members had been ordered to torture a few members of a rival family and went overboard. The walls, floors and everything needed to be scrubbed. 

Tovar’s been with the Valentino family for fifteen years and as one of their premier enforcers for the last seven working his way up from errand boy. His height and broad frame discourage crossing him, and even if someone is dumb enough to do so, they find themselves bloodied, battered and with at least one thing broken. 

Today’s last stop for collections was planned and one that Pero normally did by himself. The bookstore owner also functions as the town’s librarian since the town doesn’t have one. It’s a smaller town and to get to a library you must drive two towns over. She normally offers him tea and some type of baked goodies. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s grown to have a slight sweet tooth. Maybe. Really, he could care less about the sweets, he usually chats up the owner and barrows books. Considering he is collecting money from her, he felt he should pay but she always said no. He got the sense it wasn’t out of fear, she liked knowing his thoughts on different books. At first, he didn’t like the idea of discussing them. The enforcer wasn’t sure if he could really talk about different themes, symbols, characters and the like he often heard people talk about when discussing these books. 

La jefa (the boss) as he often greeted her didn’t judge him on his answers or lack of them. He’d talk the best he could about what he read, even if he didn’t understand it all. She listens and sips her tea, then asks him questions to draw more answers out of him. It fustrated him at first. But he grew to enjoy the bi-weekly sit downs with her. 

The chime of the bell goes off as he opens the door. The sun is at Pero’s back as he enters the bookstore. He comes early in the afternoon around two. She’s not at the counter, though the shop is listed as open. Calling out for her, she doesn’t answer, and he sucks his teeth. It isn’t like her at all. There’s no tea out either. There are no books that appear out of place and making his way behind the counter, nothing appears to be wrong with the register.

The enforcer goes into the back of the shop, he only knew where the bathroom was back here. He was looking for anything that resembled an office, as he walked down the hallway, there was a sniffle. As he kept going, they got louder. Taking a breath while he stood in front of a door that was slightly ajar, he tried to prepare himself. Maybe it was a bad day, maybe she got a papercut or was reading a sad book or something. Tovar instantly knew none of those were the case when he opened the door. 

Sitting behind the desk, her shoulders were slumped, and her hands were covering her face. He saw the scabs on the back of her hands, defensive marks. “Jefa dejame ver. (Boss, let me have a look).” Her sniffles stop for a moment as she shakes her head, turning her body away from him in the swivel chair. His eyes widen at the mark on her neck he spies it when she turns, it looks like it could be from a palm. Moving to her side, Pero places a hand on her shoulder, “I need to see cariño (sweetheart) or just give me a name. Who did this to you?” She finally drops her hands, but she turns her face away.

“I don’t want you to see. The envelope is on the desk Pero. Please.”  It is on the table, and he’ll put it in his jacket shortly - it is why he came here in the first place, but he can’t just leave like this. On top of her being one of a small number of people who he wants to be around, it could get around that the protection money the shops pay isn’t worth a damn because you could get beat in your own shop, and nothing will happen to whoever did it.

“Then tell me a name.” It’s sterner this time, but he’s released her shoulder and instead picked up her hand, his thumb tracing the scabs on her knuckles. She’d tried to fight back at least. She’s biting her lips when she finally looks at him, most of the discoloration is on the left side of her face though there’s a cut on her chin and one on her bottom lip. A large bruise is on her chest across her right clavicle, partly covered by her shirt. Pero’s able to keep his face motionless. “Por favor cariño (please sweetheart).” He doesn’t recognize the name she says, but he kisses her forehead and wraps an arm around her. “Gracias (thank you). I’ll be back princesa (princess).” 

Pero puts the envelope in his jacket pocket and heads out of the office. “Close the shop now and have the tea ready when I come back. Between eight and nine tonight.” He’s going to be quick about dropping the money off and he’s texted one of his associates with the name she gave. Within fifteen minutes, Pero has a picture to go with the name and a location. Marcello talks way too much, but he’s the best Tovar knows at tracking people.

Pero finds this man himself and tells Marcello to tell the higher ups that he needs to demonstrate a lesson in messaging with the family. He’ll need the basement and he’ll keep the clean up to a minimum. It’s not that there wouldn’t be blood. There might be too much blood so the powers at be approve the basement use but ask that Marcello and a second enforcer be there so that the man isn’t killed. There’s only murder when necessary and it wasn’t they viewed in this case. Pero sucked his teeth for the second time today but would make sure the man in question lives. Just not with all functioning limbs. 

After the submission of the money and subsequent torture was complete, the man’s body was bandaged by one of their doctors on the payroll and dropped off at his home, during a time they knew his family would be home with the message, “The Valentino family suffers no fools.” Pero carved it into his back to emphasize the point. He was still alive but would not be the same. Not after, as Tovar saw it, he’s violated one of his favorite places. 

La jefa has long closed her shop and made herself dinner. Now that she thought about it, she’s never made Pero any of her food, just cookies, brownies and the like. Since he said he was coming back, she would make extra. The worst that would happen would be that he would say he didn't want any.  It also dawned on her that she has not made a book recommendation today. She should pick one out before he comes, straightening out her mint green dress. Turning off the stove, she went downstairs to look for a book and saw Pero standing at the door ready to knock. It was a quarter after eight, he was glad he’d taken the extra time to shower. He didn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to be dirty either. 

“Ah! Mi princesa del librios es bonita (My Princess of books is pretty). You have our tea ready tonight?” His question follows the chime of the bell above the door as she unlocks it and lets him in. She then locks it again and nods.

“I have tea and I made some extra for dinner. I didn’t pick out a book for you yet.” She seems a bit brighter than this afternoon but still trying to make sure she was facing him with her right side. Pero takes her left hand and tugs it a little, not hard, just enough so she faces him fully.

“Hermosa (gorgeous) you don’t have a bad side. Don’t worry about the book. I haven’t finished with the other one yet. I want my tea and I want to see what you made for dinner.” The corners of her mouth curve and finally she smiles, squeezing his hand and leading him up the stairs. Pero watches her walk up and into her living area. It’s cozy as it has books scattered about as well. 

“I don’t know if you like stew, but I made that and heated up some rolls. There’s butter too. I have water, apple juice, coke, and some rum.” The last option surprised him as he didn’t picture her drinking at all. Maybe she had a glass or two when she sat up here before bed. She poured herself a glass of water as Pero pointed to her glass and held up an empty bowel on the table. She filled both and they sat down across from each other. “I hope you enjoy Pero.”

“I don’t doubt that I will cariño.” The food went quickly as they ate, and she asked what other kind of foods he liked. Pero felt he might be getting greedy. Perhaps he’s been gluttonous of her attention each time he comes here. She gives it so willingly. 

Tonight’s tea is mint like her dress which makes Tovar chuckle as he takes up half of her loveseat sitting down. She takes up the other and they sip tea, speaking of past books they’ve read and things he may want to read. 

Even if he got an urgent call, he’ll ignore it because he’s having his tea. Pero Tovar doesn’t feel like an enforcer or a conduit for violence. He just has an arm around one of his favorite people as she places her head on his shoulder. The tough pads of his fingers touch the injured side of her face while he tells her that it’s been taken care of. He won’t tell her details. Tovar figures she can put it together. If he can just have moments like these where he’s just a man with someone he cares for, Pero can use that to sleep. He prays she can rest without crying or being scared. 

The loveseat has his feet hanging off outside of the blanket he found on the back of it. So far, he hasn’t heard her sniffle again. Pero carried her to bed after she fell asleep in his arms. The faint scent of mint mingling with the earthy smell of the books lulls him to sleep. He had blood on his hands again today, but it was fine. It was for her sake, and she hasn’t cried again.

It was worth it.

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT: 13 Months “Such a fickle thing”

“Recording now, starting dialog in 3, 2… Alright! Another month, another recording for the good doctor to listen to. You better be listening to this Theodore. Ugh, your name sucks, bad mouthfeel. I'm just gonna stick with doc. So then, where to start. It's a bit hard to focus on any one topic. A lot can happen in 30 days. Not to mention this isn't my first recording this month. I’ve been having trouble creating memories lately, so it’s nice to have a way to note things down. It's certainly been an interesting time to say the least.

Ok, I'll be honest, things have been rather difficult lately. I've been experiencing severe sharp pains in my whole body nearly everyday. Moving around without assistance is impossible some days. The theory goes that it stems from internal organs changing into slime, but most of my organs should already be made out of goo. At least according to Mayday's journals. But the pain is still there, and I can't understand why it won't disappear… At least I'm getting used to it. I'd rather not have the staff here constantly worried about me. Val, the head witch, offered some potions to help alleviate the pain. I sort of declined out of habit, but then I collapsed in the hallway. She insisted after that. They ended up helping a little bit with clearing my head. Wait, should I be starting at the beginning of the month? The pains really only started a week ago. How do you want me to present these? My memory is worse than I thought.”

“Ok just to be safe, let's go back to the start of the month, when you got back to me on that chunk of skin I sent in, and we found out it's made of fat, lye, and a few other particulates. Lye is the biggest component I'm made of, which makes sense. It's what a lot of soaps are made of, and it's what allows this body to jellify any meat I consume and break it down. It's kinda gross but it's a little cool at the same time. The other bits found though, well, I know you said it was nothing to worry about, but something about finding traces of dentin and enamel, something about it doesn't sit right. You mentioned it's just my dissolved teeth, still stuck inside, but they turned to rubber around 10 months ago, and eventually turned to goo. Shouldn't that mean a different material would be floating around if the hard tissues had already transformed? But the alternative ideas are, distressing, to say the least. And to say the most, if I start growing teeth from my skin, I will see how many lawsuits it takes to bankrupt you doc.”

“Moving back to the discussion of skin. My face and neck are now fully covered, besides the lips and eyeballs. Thanks to the numbing potions, it only tickles a bit. You don't want to know what it feels like when they wear off. I’m probably not going to be awake for most of the next month due to my face dissolving in on itself. I've heard horror stories from other slimes about getting your eyes and organs dissolved. Can’t say I’m looking forward to that. I’ll just have to ask the staff to be ready when they end up hearing screaming coming from my room. Though, come to think of it, my organs are already made out of goo right? It feels like they’re still holding their shape and even normal functions. Maybe it just, won’t, hurt when they’re integrated and dissolved? I'm already dealing with a lot of pain now, what happens when it really starts getting bad. Abigail was right about how dangerous this medication could be…"

“No, can't go thinking about that stuff now. Let's just try talking about something else. Oh! We can talk about eating! Ever since we found out what I’m made of, I’ve had a bit of a change in diet. Lots of fatty meats. Turns out I no longer digest plants anymore. I’m a pure carnivore. Abigail and I are planning a trip outside of Hyper city to visit this great little sushi place we used to go to. I hope they don’t mind if I just order a few whole fish. Er, yeah, I can’t deny I'm eating a lot of food. You’d imagine with no greens, grocery bills wouldn’t hurt the wallet so much. Well turns out meat is expensive, and when you buy a lot of it… Well I’m just glad T.H.E.M.S gives me a place to sleep."

Besides a diet change, I’ve been conducting my own experiments. It’s nothing too dangerous, I’ve just been ingesting different types of poison. Wait, no, hold on, before you speed dial my number! Ok, so I’m not doing something crazy like eating nightshade or anything, just the stuff I can find growing around here like ivy and those berries birds eat. But Lye is a type of poison. I think. So it makes sense that similar chemicals could be incorporated. After all, I don’t seem to have any acid inside me, it’s just poisons and venoms that break down cells, so I should be able to make different kinds. Figuring out how is still a process of trial and error, but don’t worry. I am being careful about it. So please, don’t get mad at me… Besides, imagine if I did learn how to control that sort of thing, I could create a bunch of different chemical compounds! I could be a walking chemistry lab!… Actually that sounds like it’d involve even more city paperwork. Let’s just keep that idea to ourselves, ok doc? And before you say anything! No, the poison is not causing my spikes of pain! That’s not how they work!”

“What else, what else to talk about… Have I talked about the memory troubles yet? It's been a bit of a disaster when it comes to scheduling anything. I need at least five reminders on my phone for any kind of appointment, and even then, you know I've missed a few checkups. I think my brain is getting replaced with slime instincts. I've been enveloping a lot of things without noticing. Arms and legs have been absorbing things without so much as a thought going into them. I spent a solid three hours searching for my phone only to feel it vibrate inside later and most of that time was spent trying to remember what I was searching for. I don't even know how it got there, I left it on my bedside table. I've heard a lot about what other therians have referred to this sort of mental change as a crossroads. Is that approaching? Did Mayday already agree to go through with it, and that's why I'm here? I feel like I'm losing my mind. End recording.”

“Ok, new tape… I think. Recording supplemental now. I have a theory about all the odd changes that have been going on. I looked back on Mayday's first journal. She somehow never made much thought about the doc mentioning the addition of chromatophores, a type of cell found in color changing animals. Though it seems they still haven't formed since I can't change colors at all. Combine that with my limbs moving on their own… There's a good chance that quack doctor combined some type of animal into the slime medication. Like an octopus, or a cuttlefish. It doesn't explain the bits of teeth floating around inside me, but the more I talk about it outloud, the more I realize I need to confront him about what exactly I'm taking. This doesn't feel like it's just a slime HRT, not anymore at least. I just have to remember to confront him. Memories are getting worse, concentration is completely shot from the pains. I just have to remember. I just need to remember… I just need to… I… I'm… hungry………………………

“hm? A recorder? Oh right! I was recording for the doc today, I'll send him this later. I feel so famished right now, when I get too hungry I start forgetting things and all that. Well… bye!”

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[ofdragonsdeep]

5: Stamp

To provide with a distinctive character

Riennaut takes up the lance.

(mentions of general Gridanian racism)

Moving through Gridania was, in a word, exhausting.

Not that Riennaut was a stranger to moving through Gridania. Indeed, he had lived most of his life within the embrace of the Shroud, even if he claimed Gelmorra as his heritage before he would Gridania. He was more than used to the typical attitude.

This was different.

It had been some days since he had last heard from any of his Adventurer's Guild contacts, and longer still since they had heard from him. He had not anticipated becoming an honest-to-gods White Mage, complete with the capital letters, when he had last spoken to them, but he did not imagine they would be all that concerned so long as his healing still functioned fine enough. But Gridania at large did not approve.

He was a duskwight. Even the padjal were only tolerated as users of white magic, the idea that a duskwight might take up the staff was nonsensical. He had been accused of a great many crimes, since he had walked among the public. Theft, primarily. Blasphemy against the Elementals, which included theft. Lying, although that one wasn't new. Typical duskwight behaviour.

What was not typical was the assurances of the Padjal. Your average thief was not protected by all three Seedseers, and certainly not tolerated by the Elementals. E-Sumi-Yan had also spoken out on his behalf, though that, at least, did not surprise Riennaut.

It irked him that it was necessary at all. But it was more effort to hide the horns, and he was tired of humouring the thoughts of terrified reactionaries.

Life moved on, no matter what they thought.

---

His newfound position, as it turned out, was far from the least of his problems.

It had been a distressingly long time since he had last heard word from Ar'telan. He had, of course, heard the news of Titan's defeat, and had thus assumed that he was fine - it would have been at least mentioned if their hero had died in the act. But there was nothing. Not a word.

He was not concerned that he would need to stop adventuring, or whatever passed for helping Ar'telan with the many chores a variety of ungrateful heads of state threw at his feet, despite his status as a newly-minted padjal. A-Towa-Cant had been famous as the only travelling Padjal, and while he could not quite understand the whispers of the Elementals, they did not seem to be binding him to forest service like the more regular Padjali. What he did know, however, was that Ar'telan had been involved in research that had led to the healing arts of Nym. Indeed, Ar'telan had spoken to Riennaut a great deal about conjury, and even learned from E-Sumi-Yan in the hopes of deepening his arts. It was not, therefore, a poor plan for Riennaut to diversify his own portfolio.

As tempting as it was to leave the city to learn another trade, he did not much fancy the idea of being stranded somewhere like Thanalan should there be a development, either with his own powers or the situation that had led him to having them. The archer's guild did not much interest him, and that left him with but one option: the lance.

He received no fewer than ten suspicious glances on his walk from Stillglade Fen to the Lancer's Guild, and upon his arrival, a group of lancers were shouting down a harrowed-looking duskwight. It was not a good omen, but he doubted the archers would fare any better, so he strode past behind them and into the building.

---

He was greeted at the door by an incredibly puzzled receptionist, who was clearly unsure if he should even have been there, and was only saved from having to leave with naught for his efforts by the timely arrival of the Guildmaster.

"Ah, I've heard the stories. An adventurer, aren't you?" he greeted. "I'm Ywain, the guildmaster here."

"Charmed," Riennaut responded, and did not reach out to shake his hand. To his credit, the man seemed unperturbed by the snub. "I am an adventurer by trade, yes. You may call me Riennaut."

"An adventurer? But…" the receptionist began, but stopped when Ywain held up a hand.

"That's all the credentials he needs. Sign him up," he said. "If that is, in fact, what you're here for?"

"Yes," Riennaut replied, keeping 'against my better judgement' behind his teeth. They both heard it, though, and the receptionist looked nervous as she took his details.

An auspicious beginning, and not of the fortuitous kind, but he had weathered worse.

---

The first clash was, perhaps, inevitable.

It had been but a sennight at the guild when it happened. He was doing the same drills as all the others, despite the glances they shot his way, and the same trials that many of them undertook. It was on one such trial, a fairly by the books test of nerve in the central Shroud, that they first met.

Foulques was an angry man. Many duskwights were, if they spent too long near the heart of Gridania, but Foulques had turned it into an art form. Not a particularly engaging one, but there were points to be had for intensity.

"They'll sell you out," he growled. "Those horns don't make you special. They'll have done with you, and the Elementals-" He spat as he said the name "-will use you up and hang you to dry."

"A fascinating theory," Riennaut remarked. "I have some critiques." Foulques growled.

"You can critique the end of my lance," he snarled, lips turning up like a riled dog. "Keep your staff when I can see it and use a real weapon." Riennaut raised an eyebrow at the tirade, and drew his lance as requested.

"If you insist."

---

Foulques was dogged. He dragged recruits into helpless situations, and Riennaut dragged them out. It was clear there was something driving the man - some source to his rage beyond the background tarring brush all duskwights dealt with, something that led to him baiting Riennaut over and over again. Riennaut did not have time for childish shouting matches, and even less for endangering the lives of others, no matter how distasteful he found the other recruits.

Foulques was many things, but he was not, Riennaut thought, a murderer. Certainly his reckless behaviour could make one of him, but it would not be him that dealt the blow. He ranted about the treatment of their people, and acted just like everyone expected him to.

Wild. Uncivilised. Brutish. A danger to the good folks of Gridania.

He did not see the irony.

Trying to get the man to sit still for long enough did not produce results, however. Riennaut played by his rules only enough to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, but even outwardly respecting the rules o fhis ridiculous engagement did not give him opportunities for anything other than listening to a lecture. He had enough of those from the Padjals, and more coherant besides.

He went to Ywain. Stated his thoughts, and his case. That Foulques was a danger, and mostly to himself. That he wanted to prevent the inecitable self-destruction his path was taking him down. Ywain listened, to his credit. It was more than most of those at the guild did.

"…Foulques is angry, yes," he said, which was quite the understatement, but it made the point fine enough. "It is not… entirely without reason, however." Riennaut folded his arms and waited. There was a story, and Ywain knew it - Foulques was clearly a lancer with guild training. He was not leaving until he heard it. "Though you may not like the history."

"With respect, Guildmaster, every time I walk into this hall I have stepped past at least three people convinced I stole the crystal that gave me these horns, and one other convinced the Elementals are but days from striking me down for my heresy. There is little you could say that would surprise me."

Ywain sighed at that, his face falling. He was a tired man at the best of times, but the lines in his face seemed haggard now.

"There was a theft from the Guild," he said. Riennaut thought he did not need to hear the rest of the story. "Foulques was involved, aye, but so too were some other men. Not that I learned that until too late." He folded his arms. "They'd made an agreement to confess to the crime. Foulques was first. The others did not follow."

"I'm surprised he was fool enough to give them the chance," Riennaut remarked. Ywain shook his head.

"Before the incident, things were… not good, but they were better. In the wake of it, it feels like the recruits have only doubled down on the blame, despite my best efforts." There was a saddened look on his face at that, though Riennaut doubted it had ever been good enough to be notable. "I only found out after Foulques had been disciplined and ejected from the Guild, and the Wood Wailers considered the matter closed. If I'd known it would lead to this…"

"No man is perfect," Riennaut replied. "While I understand the… concern this must have caused him, and the hurt, it does not excuse his actions now." He shrugged. "I will attempt to talk him down, though I think him deaf to most reason. We shall see."

"I can only hope you are successful," Ywain said, and his tone did not bespeak confidence.

---

Their final encounter, too, seemed inevitable.

It was a foggy day in the North Shroud as Riennaut answered his challenge - his walk through the woods to the location of what Foulques doubtless intended to be a final challenge blessedly unmolested. The Elementals whispered in his mind, as they always did, and though the words were incomprehensible, there was a notable undercurrent of concern.

Foulques was angry. Seething. More rage than man, like the beasts driven to madness by the spirits. Riennaut would not have been surprised if he began frothing at the mouth.

"What makes you so special?" he demanded. "Why do you get to-"

"Get to?" Riennaut cut him off. "Do you not have eyes in your skull?" That made Foulques pause.

"They wouldn't just let-"

"I did not ask for this," Riennaut snapped. "Indeed, when I got it none where more surprised than I was. E-Sumi-Yan had to assure me three times that I would not be executed on the spot for providing the assistance he requested of me, and he has had to earn that promise since. Do you think they trust me?" He scoffed at the idea. "I am a blasphemer. A heretic. A thief and a blemish. I cannot walk two steps in the city without some slur being screamed after me, and I am chosen by the Elementals. It changes nothing, Foulques. I am not specieal."

"Then why the hell are you allowed to-"

"Because I am not stupid enough to keep friends," Riennaut said, curling his nose in distaste. "Because I have been taught the hard way that the only one I can rely on is myself. And your desperate grasping for revenge has not helped with that, by the way."

Foulques paused. Put his lance up. Scowled like the devil had crawled out of a void fissure in front of him.

"They deserve it."

"Yes, I'm sure those helpless recruits you tried to feed to raptors were personally involved in your struggles."

"They were all complicit. All of them! Even the Guildmaster teaches of courage, and he didn't even have the stones to-"

"Foulques." Riennaut held up his hand. "You have treated me with nothing less than disdain, but I will offer you this regardless. Gridania is a poor fit for you - yes, you were guilty of the crime, but not alone. There is no work for you here, and no redemption, and so you have flung yourself into this mess in some vain hope of feeling… what, fulfilment? Reparation? It matters not." He shrugged. "I may have a Padjal's horns, but I am an adventurer by trade. For reasons that may be obvious to you, I prefer to spend my time outside of Gridania. So. My terms. I will duel you, and I will win, and you will join my adventuring party."

"And what if I win, you arrogant sack of bird shite?" Foulques replied, which was incredibly rich coming from him. Another shrug.

"Then you can do whatever it is you were planning to doKill me, and add murder to your growing list of felonies? Stage a righteous assault on the lancer's guild?" He took his lance from his back. "I do not intend to lose, so I had not paid it much thought." Foulques growled.

"Then you can shove it up your elemental-blessed backside," he said. Riennaut rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure."

It was not a quick fight, and it was not pretty.

Rage made of Foulques a man far stronger than most would be. He was rash, and reckless, and threw everything he had into the fray - and he would pay for it in the aftermath, though Riennaut had no time to think of it. The fog had made the ground slippery, and it soon churned into mud under their feet. But Riennaut had not spent the month training to lose to an angry whelp of a man.

Foulques hit the floor, lance clattering from his hands. He slid through the mud, up against the face of the cliff, and spat out a tooth.

"I will remind you of my terms," Riennaut said, the tip of his lance against Foulques' throat. "Come with me, or prove them right. The choice is yours."

"Fuck your choices," Foulques said, and kicked him in the shins. Riennaut saw him stagger backwards, scrabbling in the dirt for his lance - and the cliff rise to meet him.

"No!" he exclaimed, lurching forward, but he was but a second too late.

He would not even be given a grave. Marked a remorseless criminal, vilified by the Gridanians with nothing to stand against it, another notch on the tally chart of useless, criminal duskwights.

The earth moved.

There was a sound like cracking, snapping twigs, and the trees bent to meet Foulques' fall. The edge he had fallen from collapsed beneath him, and the earth reformed to shield him from the chasm below. With a yelp, the duskwight found himself enmeshed - a leafy net to catch him, and not the cold, unfeeling ground.

"What in the hells?" he managed. There was terror on his face, a hypocritical mask of the bravado-led villain he had tried so hard to play. He knew he had made a mistake. He knew death would have, should have been the answer. But it was not.

There were whispers in Riennaut's head. Soft, insensible, gentle. The spirit of A-Towa, resting inside the crystal that hung from his staff, seemed to chuckle.

Your worry. They felt it. Sometimes they answer.

Riennaut huffed, walking fowards towards his downed opponent.

"My terms," he repeated, holding out a hand. "Though if you wish to traipse home through the mud on your own, you are welcome to refuse me a third time."

"Fuck you," Foulques spat. "I thought you didn't have friends?" Riennaut shrugged.

"I have associates," he responded, "and acquaintances. You are welcome to pick which."

Foulques hesitated just long enough to hear the branch of the tree crack beneath his weight. He threw out his hand, not in thoughtful acceptance but in desperation, and let Riennaut pull him back onto solid ground.

"I shall consider that a yes," Riennaut remarked. Foulques glowered in response. "Now, if you don't mind, I've an appointment in Coerthas. You are welcome to come along."

Surely he couldn't meet worse, after all.

[forevergoldgame]

Post-Demo Update

So, we're a few days out from the demo being out for a month, and so I thought it was about time we start giving proper updates... or at least a proper followup on the event!

We would like to give a(nother) warm thank you to everyone who has left feedback so far.

THANK YOU! 💛

Honestly, we're delighted at how well such an experimental shot-in-the-dark of a project has been received by the small audience who has chanced it!

Both compliments and criticisms are very valuable to us at this stage of development. Do continue to send us your thoughts if you have them. We want to hear everything - what you liked, what you didn't, which character you want to punch in the face most, etc.

Now, onto more specific talk about development, because that's something we can be reasonably open about now that people can actually see and smell how the game works.

So, what've we been up to since the demo dropped?

The short version is: we've been hard at work building the first proper release of the game.

However, we have a little cleanup to do (not to mention writing) to get everything in order! The tasks at hand are...

Fix some back-end stuff.

Nothing is ridiculously broken, don't worry. The demo just taught me a lot about managing Twine variables and how the engine handles memory in general. In the 27-ish days since the demo dropped, I've done a ton of data reorganization that should greatly reduce the amount of memory the game uses in browser saves and prevent the twine variables from bloating as the the story progresses and the amount of information tracked increases. 👍

Do some minor interface fixes based on user feedback.

Again, nothing crazy - mostly simplifying navigation and choreographing information better. Look! A nicer, more intuitive codex with a search function and better touch navigation for mobile users!

Write like crazy. Conjure new portraits for all the characters appearing in the first release.

As usual. ;) We're on it. Don't worry.

And the big one: reassess how we plan to handle releases.

When this project was in the planning stage, we came up with the "2 Acts, 4 Parts per Act" idea with the intention to release the game in 8 installments, with each installment being comprised of multiple large quests and spanning roughly an in-story year. However, once we got into the meat and gristle of development, we realized this would make each installment take a ton of time to make, leave unpredictable gaps in releases, and complicate testing & bug fixing.

So - we're aiming to ditch our original release approach for one which allows us to make smaller, more frequent updates and give you more new stuff to play faster.

This does not change anything about the story itself, but it will take some squinting on our part as we figure out the most logical "breakpoints" in the story so that each installment feels like a satisfying addition.

Until next time!

-LS

[chai-fi-rush]

Hi-Fi Rush and Capitalism

I've seen multiple posts about how Hi-Fi Rush is capitalistic/neo-liberal propaganda and like. I'm not gonna say they're wrong but I'm also going to say it's a little more nuanced than that. Or at least there's multiple angles to look at this thing and I want to do that so I will.

Also I just want to quickly say that I think that even if something endorses certain aspects of capitalism while critiquing others doesn't mean that what it does critique is meaningless, or that everything that critiques capitalism should end with a radical change in it's story's system. Sometimes things that are sort of milquetoast can be fun or make some good points, albeit not rly something to strive to.

The first thing to address which is undeniably on the side of those posts I've seen is that HFR basically assumes that capitalism is the default. It tacitly accepts that the system must function through capital, and not just at the end where instead of getting rid of the company they just replace the CEO. This comes up the most in Zanzo's level when CNMN and Macaron say that budgeting and development are a balance. There's no implication that the idea of well-managed projects shouldn't have to rely on money to be able to function, just that Zanzo himself is bad with money due to unrealistic goals and Kale's light hand as long as he gets what he wants. Honestly, this is where a lot of real life people get tripped up on. They genuinely have a really hard time conceptualizing how a world without capital would function and often think of it as some lawless world. So, even when they disagree with capitalism they often try to think about how to change it without the removal of currency.

That being said, it's more accurate to describe Hi-Fi Rush's early stages not as a critique of capitalism, but as a critique of the conditions of capitalism (I know to us red-blooded commies those things are basically the same but hear me out). The only point where money is really important to the plot is in Zanzo's level and the overarching point of Kale using SPECTRA as a market manipulation tool. There are also undercurrents of class when it comes to Chai and Kale as foils, but that point is also linked with ableism (which is linked with classism under capitalism, but the game is very purposefully vague about Chai's backstory so I don't necessarily feel comfortable making too much speculation about it). The game vlog's heavily discuss the labor and physical exploitation of their employees, such as how all of the old Vandelay units such as CARR1E are being overloaded for the sake of productivity and you know. The fact that there are three or four Mondays. But the game rarely mentions the wages of the employees. I'm not going to say it never does even though I don't remember a time, but needless to say the actual working conditions of Vandelay's labor force is a much bigger focus. It does sort of come into play when Kale talks about how he's planning on firing almost everyone once SPECTRA gets up and running (something we are supposed to consider is Bad because without those jobs those people won't have money).

Breaking all this down abstractly, HFR is a story about corrupted intentions. The game's narrative exists in two different camps, the experience of what Vandelay is right now, and how everyone talk about what Vandelay was when Roxanne was in charge. Obviously, the first one is going to be more powerful. Characters like Peppermint, Macaron and Korsica can talk all day about how cool Roxanne was, but we basically have to take them at their word. There's no reason for us to consider them untrustworthy, but lets just say that as an audience member it's hard to fully reconcile the idea without actually seeing any of it in action besides Roxanne being kind of chill in the final cutscene and some vlogs about how the company used to work (particularly from O5KAR).

But what we can glean from this narrative is that Vandelay under Roxanne was not productivity driven. You get this idea from both the Zanzo and Roquefort levels, and a couple of those aforementioned vlogs. One that comes to mind is about how production used to take the time to actually fix defected products, but under Kale they all just get immediately scrapped because it's faster to just make a new one. Roxanne was someone who wanted to make things whereas Kale just wants to sell them. I mean, Roquefort is literally crushed underneath the quarter profits. HFR has a lot of metaphors, and they never really claimed that any of them were subtle.

Something that hangs over the entire story but rarely comes up (even within meta discussions about it) is that Project Armstrong was something born out of Roxanne's love for her disabled daughter. It's not just that she came up with the implant tech and then had Kale make the project as a scheme, Peppermint specifically says in Track 12 that it was Roxanne's idea. This was something that was made to genuinely help people, and Kale warped it into something that would get him more customers because it's not profitable to just "help people."

That's the story that HFR is trying to tell. It's about a project that was good, became bad through its management, and then had people who believed in the original intention of said project (I should note that Korsica's inclusion as someone who hadn't worked pre-Kale was also probably intentional so it wasn't solely a return to the old guard). The game isn't trying to say that any company can be fixed with the right leadership, that this one had its reigns taken away for the sake of profitability. A corruption of intentions. If you're willing to accept capital as the implicit base of society, it's incredibly inoffensive, but if you can conceptualize outside of that system it becomes a hand-wavey response to the problem. We all know that "just put good people in charge of capitalism" isn't actually a solution the the problem.

It's also worth mentioning that HFR bears a lot of meta-narrative about the video game industry specifically. The director said that some of the emails were literally taken from ones that he had received. It draws attention to its relationship in several ways, ESPECIALLY with the addition of Vandelay Gameworks. It's all stuff that can be applied to companies in general, but there's still that undercurrent of game devs upset about crunch time or being forced to throw out something that they worked hard on at the last minute because it "Just doesn't work." The kind of people who love what they're working on but work underneath conditions that make it feel like hell.

Anyways, hope that made sense. Hope I didn't sound too apologetic because I also take beef with endings that handwave capitalism away as an individual issue. Honestly, I think that HFR has far more interesting things to say about disability, but that's something that has to be its own post.

[alaffy]

Deadpool and Wolverine

There will be some spoilers below the cut.  I won’t be going into any great detail about the cameo’s (although I will go into some general spoilers here and there is one character I will end up spoiling in the last paragraph); but I will be going into detail about where Deadpool stands in the MCU and that will have some spoilers for the plot.

Saw this a couple of nights ago and thank God it lives up to the hype.  I mean, from the beginning to the end; it hits ever beat it needs to.  Now, would I have had more criticism for parts of the plot if this had been any other Marvel movie? Yes.  But the Deadpool movies have always acknowledged how screwed up the X-Men timeline is, and how Deadpool is kind of shoehorned in, and it’s no different in this movie except that it also (somewhat) involves the MCU now.  And, yes, they also take a few cracks at the issues facing the MCU.

Also, Emma Corrin’s Cassandra Nova CANNOT be a one-time villain.  Establish the new X-Men team in their first movie; make Cassandra the villain in the second.  I need Charles vs. Cassandra. 

Of course, the biggest question on everybody’s mind going into the film is if Deadpool is going to join the MCU?  The answer is mostly no, but partly yes.  Most of this film isn’t even set in 616 or 10005, which is Deadpool’s universe.  But at the end of the movie, Deadpool is still in 10005.  And it seems like, if they so choose to continue with making Deadpool movies, they would be set in 10005. 

This film, for the most part, isn’t about the MCU at all (emphasis on the most part).  Like Spiderman’s No Way Home, this is more a celebration of what came before.  At Fox, they created a ton of X-Men movies…and several other movies highlighting Marvel characters.  So, yes, there are characters from the X-Men franchise that pop up here; there are also characters from other Fox made Marvel movies that also appear.  And, just like No Way Home, it was fun to see these characters one last time. 

Now, that being said…

Let’s talk about how the TVA and 616 do fit into this story.  So, this is a little complicated because all of this is kind of spelled out with a few not-so-subtle hints and reading between the lines as the events take place.  So, the TVA no longer is pruning timelines (as we know); but it’s clear that any timeline, bar the Sacred Timeline, they aren’t going to actively save if something causes it to unravel.  Which is what’s happening to Deadpool’s timeline.  The complication is that, this Deadpool apparently is going to be important to a future event that happens in the Sacred Timeline.  So, a rouge TVA agent decides to pull Deadpool out of his timeline in order to stick him in 616.  (I should note that I’m simplifying this a bit.  Pulling Deadpool out also has to do with the plan the rouge agent has for Deadpool’s universe as well, but I don’t want to get into all of that).

So, basically, the MCU is somewhat continuing the multiverse storyline here.  It’s letting us know how the TVA functions now.  It’s letting us know that, while Deadpool’s universe won’t be merging with the MCU; he will play a part in the universe at some point (probably Avengers 5 and 6).  That it will probably be the TVA who will bring him (and probably other characters as well) to the MCU during the big event.  So, Deadpool is confirmed to be MCU adjacent and will interact with the 616 characters as some point.

What about Wolverine?  Um, it’s less clear.  They make jokes about keeping Jackman in the role until he’s 90; but beyond that…basically, the end of the movie sets it up to where Wolverine and one other fan favorite could easily come to the 616 universe; but they don’t actively say that they are a part of whatever happens in the future. In other words, if Jackman or the other actor I won't mention want to return, they can.   

Bit of an edit here given tonight's announcement, it seems like Deadpool set up more than we realized. At the very least, there was that "cameo" joke that seems to tease RDJ's return. Also, while we've known for awhile one character can look different from universe to universe, Deadpool and Wolverine showed us that it is also possible that two characters have the same face. That's right, what we thought was a simple joke was the MCU establishing cannon.

[dogaquarium]

Hey Laika, I saw your post about nightmares and I hope you’re doing alright :( that sounds really hard and on top of all the other stressors must be rough.

I’ve been curious about your thoughts on alien 9 recently, and was wondering your thoughts on it! If thats too much to think about right now how about some of your favorite foods or items?

Hope this helps a little 🫶 <:D

Hi star thank you so very much for the ask <3 I'm feeling a little better now, just takes a little bit of wind out of me whenever I wake up from something like that. Let me focus on answering your questions now though....

Asking me my thoughts on alien 9 in such a vague sense is a recipe for disaster, lol. I have so many thoughts and opinions on so many different elements of it. So feel free to ask for specifics later if you'd like, but I suppose I'll do a quick overview on as many things as I possibly can! Also going to try to make this as relatively spoiler free as possible since I'm pretty sure neither you nor a few other people following this blog have seen it yet, and I'm not sure if you're interested in attending movie night or not whenever I have time to plan a date for that.

Boy, where do I even start..... alien 9 is something so special to me. The entire franchise definitely does have its issues, and I do wish some moments were expanded upon or changed slightly. The pacing can be a little strange in the OVA, and even stranger in the manga (which is one reason I enjoy the anime a lot more; the manga sometimes feels almost detatched entirely). But it's something really valuable as it is regardless. It's such a foundational media for me that I came away from differently. Something I've found a lot of comfort and security in! The characters are all extremely charming, the story itself tackles such serious taboo topics in a proper sense, such a large part of it corresponds to the young queer experience, it doesn't poke fun at childhood mental illness, the core concept of the universe it exists within is endlessly compelling, the list goes on..... plus, kumi's character themes of identity (which I've already mentioned in precious posts) is something you can dig into forever. It's all so interesting. And it resonates a lot with me!

Episode 3 is one I'm especially excited for everyone to experience when I stream it. It's my personal favorite episode for a lot of reasons that I think we're masterfully tackled. It's a beach/vacation episode! Which sounds, admittedly, very frivolous and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. And to some degree it is!!! But what I personally find so compelling about episode 3 is the fact that it serves as a medium through which we can see how the main three girls function outside of a traumatic environment. It provides a baseline for us. It allows the audience to see them just be kids. I truly do not think it'd be as impactful of a series for me without that.

And now, since you can't have a general dump of my thoughts on alien 9 without mentioning the spinoffs.. prepare yourself......

I firmly believe that hitoshi tomizawa should have not been allowed to expand on this franchise any further after the original story had been wrapped up because after seeing what he's done with it you're bound to get a headache. There's two spinoffs from the original three classic volumes: namely alien 9-emulators and alien 9-next. I will not dwell on emulators (at least in this ask) because my rant on it will likely be even longer than this response, but know that with the way it handles the original subject material, it's not only incredibly insensitive, but I'd go as far as saying actively harmful. Tomizawa is a fuckin pedophile which SHINES in his later works in particular, and is very ironic considering so much of the point of the original classic series concerns the harm done by csa and how cyclical it can become (most blatantly in relation to kasumi's character). That's all I'll get into it for now because if I talk any more on it I'll get even more pissed. Idk where to even begin with Next, though.... such a strange expansion of the universe...... this spinoff takes place after the girls have all grown up and are on some kind of outer space mission.. idk how to even explain it to you and it's been far too long since I've read it but it's utter horseshit, such an anomalous entry in the series. Also the art style changed to be 3D models for no reason and it's ugly as sin.

Besides all the....... obviously glaring problems with both next and emulators..... there are also some simpler things that don't work for me in them. Namely kumi and yuri's relationship! In the classic volumes, such a major plot point is the evolution of their relationship from one that is tense, angry, and unhealthy to one that is mutually supportive and uplifting. There's a lot to be said about this change in relation to both parties- be it relaring to kumi's home life/preconceived expectations of her to yuri's mental illnesses/the way others treat her due to that. They act the way they do for a reason, is what I mean. And so when the audience finally gets the relief of them forming a genuine bond together, you expect that to be that, it's a plot point wrapped up and done with. And does stay wrapped up..... in the classic volumes, at least. In the spinoffs, kumi suddenly reverts back into someone aggressive and untrusting. Yuri reverts back into someone who has made no advances in her bravery and independence. All because fuckin tomizawa had no idea how to craft a story with meaning after he finished the first three volumes.

^ so cutes.. awwee......

I suppose this turned more into a response of why I dislike all the spinoffs rather than why I like the originals.. oh well..... easier to avoid spoilers in that way I suppose. Maybe you still found this interesting enough? Don't hesitate to ask more if I didn't answer how you'd expected!

[mmaurysiek]

how does a mechanism of a Mechanism work? - vague musings

(please do argue and share your own headcanons if you'd like! I'd love to start a discussion :3)

I imagine that the origin story of these functionally unbreakable mechanisms was simple. I mean, look at the inventor -- a disabled ADHD vampire. Carmilla had to be fed up by having yet another version of a working artificial eye unexpectedly start breaking on her at least once every few decades or so.

(what i don't get is - why not just go on living with one eye instead - but I guess that literally unlimited amount of spare time and Carmilla's love of creative tinkering have played a huge role in that)

Hence, a sci-fi dream of a prosthetic/medical device that:

seamlessly or near-seamlessly connects with the nerve system and provides natural-like neural feedback,

is as effectively self-repairing as Carmilla's own vampire flesh,

doesn't require the user to remember charging it, as it passively collects whatever (eldritch) energy it needs from the environment.

Near-perfect for a space-faring vampire scientist with ADHD!

And when you already have that sort of tech, why not use it to improve other people's lives? And sure it has worked, at least to some degree. Not that most mortals would live long enough to truly appreciate the unbreakability of these mechanisms, but still, it's improved people's lives. And it got Carmilla enough rapport with the locals to keep the G-Pol's investigations (and their "serial killer" charges - honestly, a girl has to eat!) off Carmilla's back. So it was very practical to have different types of these little unbreakable miracles at hand (an advanced enough science is indistinguishable from magic), ready to use for strangers who'd need them, and pay for them.

Jonny was an accident. See, usually that sort of surgery is pre-planned. Usually, a significant amount of effort goes into keeping a patient safely alive thorough the surgery process. There was no way to guess (and thus test) beforehand what would happen if one of these little miracles got connected to an extremely fresh corpse. I mean, why would anyone waste one of these on a corpse, fresh or not, if not for the desperation of a parent who refused to let death win? (necromancy is just first aid that's delivered late)

And so the eldritch clockwork blood-pump fussed with the entire body, integrated the flesh into its template design, most likely as a powersource, a battery, and included that "battery" in its self-repair function.

mechanical heart: - access point, - medical-grade steel (microwave-safe), - it pumps blood in timed pulses, - maximum simplicity to minimise vulnerable break points, - smart pacer + fallback clock (1.17 pulse per second) note: his brain should be filtering the noise out note: Jonny, what the hell, trauma symptoms aren't "side effects"

extra notes:

- the access point should have allowed for DYI repairs, but Jonny is more likely to try to break something than to fix it,

- he may be one of the people who can hear their own heartbeat,

- the fallback ticking tempo of the device is just slightly differently paced than ticking of an analogue clock.

So the medical device that was supposed to keep its user alive - and it has the side effect of keeping its user alive. Like, infinitely, and through experiences that no mortal should've been able to survive.

I expect that Jonny's newfound immortality was a surprise to Jonny and Carmilla alike. I expect that they didn't know why it had happened for Jonny and not for other people. When the effect had reoccured with Nastya's blood replacement - that may have narrowed down the why, but still left a whole lot of variables that might or might not be necessary for a mechanisation process to take.

Jonny, Nastya, Ashes, Ivy, Scuzz, Brian - none of them would've been able to survive without what they had replaced by the mechanism. There are mentions of failed mechanisation attempts, but going by how many of the potentially important variables are kept, and yet at least some prove to not be necessary later? Carmilla actively tried to avoid mechanisations that could fail over those variables. Carmilla chose to keep those variables in every attempt, chose to avoid the risk of trying to mechanise the people who didn't meet those variables - the scientific method put aside for the sake of something more important.

mechanical lung (internal) - access point, - medical grade steel, - oxygenates blood, - air filters note: Ashes, please stop testing the capacity of the filters. these filters need time to self-clean

extra notes:

- the access point was placed on their back due to a lesson learnt with Jonny and for the sake of everyday comfort and ease of accessing the lung area directly,

- the fallback pace was set to a resting tempo to better allow for "sleeping it off" until the mechanism fixes itself (no need for another Mechanism getting slightly hyper during a malfunction)

mechanical brain (opening the cover illustrated) - extra batteries allow for higher performance, - cannot be turned off, - AI with personality pre-programmed - don't treat her like a baby, she is learning - make backups!!! nanorobotic blood - not intended for warm-blooded species, - was to be temporary, - not mercury, WTF - thick, silver, liquid, transports nutrients maintain bio-heart - do not replace! - do not attempt to remove! - more in the manual note: where?

Has Brian mechanised that priest, effectively?

And then there is the Toy Soldier - who has mechanised itself by a process notably inverse to everyone else's. The Toy Soldier who has replaced a part of its self-repairing wood-based body with a fleshy-meaty component it's scavenged out of a very fresh mortal corpse. (wood is more versatile than metal, for those with knowledge and patience needed to work with it.)

The Toy Soldier did not need a voicebox to survive. Gunpowder Tim was mechanised after Carmilla left, but he could have survived as a blind mortal, too. Raphaella gave herself a spinal structure to attach two extra limbs that she never had as a mortal (in the world shaped for humanoids - more of a social hindrance than a boon) - was she even dying before the process? Marius wouldn't die from being one-armed.

- metal-bone fusion zone should not move, - openable casing (responsible for eye movement), openable shell, lenses and filters, neural interface (tech-nerve fusion zone) note:any mistakes in the fusion zones will be permanent note: use eyelid slices to cover the shutters to make sure they don't fuse permanently open!

I think the lines by Tim's eyes are sort of a gate in the flesh, installed so that the space around his mechanism-eyes would be accessible for repair -- it's much easier to open the mechanism the way it's designed to open than to exercise the futility of trying to separate it from the flesh it's fused with. I think that part of Tim's mechanisation was replacing his still-healthy eye sockets and part of optical nerves, too.

mechanical wings: spinal fusion 1 (neck), attachment port (triangular), motion support (also triangular like 4 extra scapulas), 2 "rib" processors, spinal fusion 2 (lumbar region), neural cabling through the vertical middle column parallel to the spine

Raphaella can swap between the wing models, but the port for connecting them, her mechanism, stays firmly there.

Can TS, Marius and Tim take their mechanisms off? I think not, at least not TS nor Tim.

mechanical arm - notes: Marius, why? All the fucking weapons were two-handed and it was marketed as cutting-edge tech and it was a war-zone liability: the arm can be separated by cutting through the stump fusion zone around the stump neural interface cannot be accessed, cannot be fixed unknown contents between the stump and the elbow elbow: the joint is made out of three: pivot, hinge, and another pivot unknown contents of the zone between elbow and wrist - pressure and temperature fluctuations happen wrist appears to be constructed like the elbow, but the functionality is partly broken a broken spread-fold structure mid hand - it can only spread and needs external pressure to fold fingers have two hinge joints each, except for the thumb that has the base joint constructed like a smaller version of the elbow external fixtures improve the functionality

is the self-healing factor is likely to be more intense around the mechanism?

Jonny is an unreliable narrator, what is the chance that the story about trying to use a black hole to separate his mechanism and flesh has happened?

Unlike medical devices and prosthetics - a mechanism has a primary function of keeping the flesh attached to it alive at all costs. The medical / prosthetic function is secondary. Unlike contemporary prosthetics, these mechanisms cannot be taken off.

At least some (if not all) of the Mechs are gonna yearn for the impossibility of taking those off -- mortality aside, it'd:

- it'd make cleaning much easier,

- it'd be nice to relieve the muscle tension from having one's body-weight distributed differently than what the humanoid body is prepared for,

- the neural feedback that's only partially compatible with the nerve system is disorienting, and makes tasks that require any precision - extra difficult.

like, my own biological optical wiring has a tendency to go weird, so at times it was literally easier to just cover my eyes (eyelids wouldn't fully cut off the light) and go around do stuff sight-less - than to keep dealing with sensory overload of just slightly wrong light - unfortunately, i never had a computer with enough RAM for a fully functional NVDA (non-visual desktop access)

I definitely think that Tim would sometimes do that.

I definitely think that Marius would default to doing precision tasks with his left hand. I may be ambidextrous (more like ambisinistri honestly) myself, but this rant is also very very insistent on it (content warning for medical abuse and discussion of ableism) :

i've ran out of steam before i could figure out the precise inner mechanics of each mechanism, but i guess this long rambling post is long enough?

i'd love to hear other people's ideas!

[margonozako]

Beans Critical Analysis

Beans (2020), directed and co-written by Tracey Deer, is a semi-autobiographical film that follows Tekahentahkhwa (“Beans”) during the Oka Crisis (July through September of 1990). This violent conflict between a group of Mohawk people and the town of Oka in Quebec, Canada, in a way, began centuries before when the Mohawk (the most easterly section of the Iroquois Confederacy, located in southeast Canada and northern New York state) first settled in the area in the late 1660s1. However, this specific event arose because “The Pines” (indigenous land) and a nearby Mohawk cemetery were to be cleared to expand a golf course and build new condos. While not all residents of Oka supported the plan, the mayor refused to discuss and hear from the people. By the end, the crisis was successful in halting the development, but resulted in two killed and over one hundred wounded.

Tracey Deer, who was born and raised in Kahnawake (one of the Mohawk communities in the region of Oka), was 12 when she lived through this crisis. In the grand scheme of things, there are very few who could be entrusted to create a film on this specific event, and luckily, Deer is one of those. This won’t be a tale of the white savior entirely misunderstanding and misrepresenting colonization conflict! A nice change of pace.

Critical Race Theory

Critical Race Theory is at the heart of this film. It’s centered around an undeniably racialized conflict: First-Nations (and their supporters) vs. Colonizers. But, as mentioned previously, this is co-written and directed by a Mohawk woman who grew up in this community and experienced this conflict first-hand (the other writer is Meredith Vuchnich and it seems as though she is not indigenous). As we all know, relations between indigenous populations and settlers around the world are violent and oppressive, to say the least. Speaking for myself, I am most familiar with the North American history and from what I know, it is relatively representative of global indigenous genocide. So, what is so special about this film is that it is a coming of age story that takes place during a widely unrelatable historic moment and proves that the fight for sovereignty is not over. We’ve all been Beans: should she go to the private school she was accepted to? Are her new friends good for her? But also will her community succeed in the protection of their land? Deer sets the story during a somewhat recent conflict, proving the battle for sovereignty is not over as some might like to believe. In their article “Colonialism, Racism, and Representation: An Introduction,” Stam and Spence write that “[a]n ethnocentric vision rooted in North American cultural patterns can lead, similarly, to the ‘racialising’, or the introjection of racial themes into, filmic situations”2. I would argue that Beans is a functional execution of this idea: Tekahentahkhwa is just a pre-teen coming into a difficult world as she witnesses Canadians and their government fight against her existence and right to save her land. Stam and Spence also write specifically about indigenous populations, arguing that the “attitude toward the Indian is premised on exteriority”2 and the “besieged wagon train or fort is the focus of our attention and sympathy, and from this center our familiars sally out against unknown attackers characterized by inexplicable customs and irrational hostility”2 (2009, 759). While this is true in wider film history, I would argue that it is only partially true in Beans because Deer brings us onto the reservation and into Beans’ family. We’re not viewing the Mohawk community from the outside and watch them be victimized by white Candians. The viewer does not pity them and is more familiar with the attackers. However, it is clear that the hostility of the Canadians is irrational and wildly disproportionate (considering there should not have been a conflict in the first place because they were proposing to steal even more Mohawk land). Deer deftly navigates a relatable coming of age 90s story and the experience of indigenous women and populations in modern history. 

Montage Theory

Another theoretical approach that this film utilizes is the montage. I love a good montage, especially if it makes use of archival footage of historical events, and Deer does this flawlessly in Beans. She intercuts the narrative with footage of the actual protests to provide context and transition during the film. If we follow Sergei Ėjzenštejn’s Soviet Montage Theory, I would argue that Deer employs a metric overtonal, not just tonal, montage, because “movement is perceived in a wider sense”3 and it’s “based on the characteristic emotional sound of the piece,”3 but “it is distinguishable from tonal montage by the collective calculation of all the piece’s appeals”3. Furthermore, these archival montages are “capable of impelling the spectator to reproduce the perceived action, outwardly,”3 meaning Deer is looking to evoke an emotional reaction as the viewer is confronted with undeniable, clear evidence of the vitriol and hatred of the white Canadians. Through it direct confrontation, Deer sets a emotional tone, lest the viewers forget that Beans is not simply a coming of age film: Tekahentahkhwa and her family are battling a centuries-long genocide, something that most pre-teens are unfamiliar with. The structuring and score of almost every single montage is identical, creating an overarching tone conveyed by her. Many of these montages are accompanied by the newscasters’ voiceovers and a tight, quick, string-heavy score, almost reminiscent of a horror film, which I believe sets the consummate haunting tone and reveals the “psychological turmoil of [the] characters”4.

Beans is an amazing movie about an event that I, hate to admit it, had never heard of. I loved how Deer balanced a coming of age story with a violent crisis that is simply one event in a long history of colonial oppression by white settlers. Viewing this film through the lenses of Critical Race theory and Soviet Montage theory enhances her storytelling abilities and allows the viewer to melt into Beans’ world.

Sources:

Ėjzenštejn, Sergei. “Methods of Montage.” In The Film Form: Essays in Film Theory, translated by Jay Leyda, 72-83. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1949.

Melinda, Meng. “Bloody Blockades: The Legacy of the Oka Crisis.” Harvard International Review, 30 June 2020. https://hir.harvard.edu/bloody-blockades-the-legacy-of-the-oka-crisis/.

Pudovkin, Vsevolod. “From Film Technique [On Editing].” In Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen, 7-12. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.

Stam, Robert, and Louise Spence. “Colonialism, Racism, and Representation: An Introduction.” In Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen, 751–66. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009. 

[letters-to-rosie]

mhm, I think for Jinx interpersonal relationships definitely take the highest priority, so whatever enforcer killing she might've wanted to do over the years, she wouldn't have done it if she didn't think she could make it up to Silco afterwards. I think that's why both sets of killings (the lab and the bridge) are related to her getting the hexgem, even though she probably could have done all of that in a less bloody way. I suspect she chose to do it in a bloody way for cop-hating reasons, but yeah, she clearly only acts in that way when she thinks her relationship with Silco will be able to survive the action

I also draw some of the implication that enforcers are a big part of her story from the Enemy MV, considering those are the enemies she takes down and she's shown to suffer under them regularly as a kid

the interesting thing about Jinx, though, is she doesn't really seem to care about existing on top of the hierarchy of the undercity when it's under Silco's control. she certainly cares about her freedom, and she enjoys being enabled, but this is all more interpersonal than it is a desire to maintain hierarchical property relations. Jinx doesn't have "greed-confused motives." she's romping around in torn-up clothes all day! lol caring primarily about freedom and relationships means any future she imagines isn't necessarily resting on the continued oppression of the rest of Zaun. I'm firmly in the "let's repoliticize Jinx" camp, but I agree she's probably not aware of her ideals, even if her actions suggest she has some

Sevika is really interesting to me because she's (imo) the most ideologically committed character in the show. she's made it clear her loyalty is based primarily around whether or not someone's plan of action will get her closer to her goals. and she defects when Vander puts down the possibility of organizing a mass movement, in the same scene where Jinx/Powder is confident one would work. Ekko of course then reveals that this is because of Vander's deal with Grayson. I think Sevika would be happy enough with a bourgeois revolution, or at least happy enough to see it as a step (there are limits on this, as seen with Finn), but I doubt she's entirely opposed to mass action. it would be interesting to think up a "what-if" about Vander capitulating and agreeing to lead an uprising with her help

but the advantage Vander did not have that Silco was later able to negotiate was the lack of surveillance. Grayson had a deal with him, but it wasn't like the enforcers were functionally out of Zaun, and she certainly didn't answer to Vander. she had almost all the real power in that dynamic, whereas Silco has much more of the real power over Marcus, making a mass movement much more viable

Interestingly, a few pages later in Blood in My Eye, George Jackson writes something that I think makes a pretty good critique of Vander lol

We clearly cannot dodge our responsibilities by giving credence to slogans built around “conditions.” Conditions will never be altogether right for a broadly based revolutionary war unless the fascists are stricken by an uncharacteristic fit of total madness. Should we wait for something that is not likely to occur at least for decades? The conditions that are not present must be manufactured. Recall: we had people who felt conditions weren’t right in the 1930s also. The government’s bread lines were backed up around every corner, and baseball was at its peak. Private ownership of public property should have been destroyed in that decade, but the “conditions weren’t right.” The vanguard elements betrayed the people of this nation and the world as a result of their failure to seize the time. The consequences were a catastrophic war and a new round of imperialist expansion, this time carried out by the greatest imperialist of all time—the Yankee brigand. There would now be no Indochina “situation” (to mention one of dozens of like situations) if we had taken ourselves seriously then, when all conditions were favorable. It was a slightly below-conscious desire to avoid doing the U.S. further violence, and perhaps a general distaste for organized violence, in particular, that robbed us of our chance to win on that occasion when, ironically, a win would have cost very little. There wasn’t then even the illusion of well-being.

tbf Jackson was not alive in the 30s but I think he has a point lol. Silco is basically manufacturing his own conditions, which is good, but he's not using them to their fullest potential, which he pays for. I guess the real question is the one you raise about Sevika, and if others will also see the rocket as the thing that creates the conditions they need

so not that long ago, I sat down and wrote out some thoughts about why Silco didn't start a mass movement in Zaun and why I think that's lame (while also recognizing it's not all his fault). this is here

but you know what's kinda wild about that? the first person to suggest a mass movement after Vander's rebellion fails is JINX! in the first act, she suggests everyone in the Lanes get together and fight the enforcers and she believes they would win! and Jinx, you're correct! you would win! you're all too important to the system topside has set up for them to crush you all! I wish you had been able to win your new dad over to your position! 😭😭😭

[tredderwrite]

Symphony ~ Technoblade

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: c!Technoblade / reader

Warnings: explosives mentioned, reader in a dress

☆   ☆    ☆   ☆   ☆    ☆   ☆   ☆    ☆   ☆   ☆   ☆    ☆   ☆   ☆    ☆   ☆  

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” his jaw tensed up, hiding his disgust, he had a story to sell and no plan to fail. “No,” you smirked, pushing your luck, your taunting stare burned into his eyes, “you haven’t, tell me about it.” He paused, to anyone who didn’t know any better he looked unphased, but you saw the shock in his eyes, so sharp he could kill you right there, but passed quickly, at least quicker than his following words, “ I cannot.” The room lit up, laughter flared from every corner, and every unsuspecting victim mistook his words for friendly banter, remembering his nature, keen on his deep sarcasm. 

The mission was clear, you were paired up with Technoblade, well known for his competence, and highly skilled in many things, especially assassination. He was the only one up for it, immediately jumping at the idea of putting all his enemies in their well-deserved grave, what he didn’t know was the plus one he’d have to bring when attending the function.

A soiree, dress coded strictly, putting you in a ballgown, not the most efficient attire when it came to hiding weapons, the heavy red velvet piled on top of the both of you, your flowing floor-length dress and his cape to match, the weight only added to the disadvantage. However, though far from practical, the outfits did paint the perfect picture, pushing your courted appearance above actual couples in the room. 

You shifted your weight as the laughter died down, leaning your shoulder against his, your chin resting right above your collarbones as you smiled at him, shifting your eyes toward the hall, quickly signing for a meeting. He stood up, excusing you both as he took your hand in his, walking slowly, showing no signs of his intentions, completely calm and confident in his stride. Conversation continued at the comically long dining table as you stood up and followed him, voices fading the further you strayed. 

Pulling him into a corner you sighed, the stress already shaking you up, yet he seemed to be going strong. “When do you need to go?” you asked, ready to hear the plan over one more time, making sure you aren’t capable of screwing things up. “I’ll go now, you make up something to tell them, I’ll plant the TNT, start the timer, and come back, just make sure everyone is distracted, okay?” he stated, not missing a beat, his brows furrowing the longer he waited for your response, “Alright,” you nodded, about to speak again, but he stole your words, “I know you like fighting better, but there’s no way we could show up with armor and weapons drawn here, just go along with it once.” his words were quick, eyes already shifting for the fastest route to take, you turned your head away from him, eyebrows raising momentarily, showing your concern with the whole situation, “We’ll make it out in time,” he spoke up again, already turning to leave, “don’t worry, and don’t blow our cover.” his footsteps quickly getting quieter.

Walking back you rehearsed your words, desperately searching for an excuse, but your thoughts were interrupted, questions about his sudden disappearance already thrown your way “He’s in the bathroom,” you blurted, the worst one you could’ve come up with, thankful there were multiple scattered around the property so if anyone was determined to find him they’d spend a good while searching, keeping you safe for some time. Heads nodded in understanding, and the discussion continued with no further concern for a while, about twenty minutes before you were doubted again, your heart racing as you stood up, face twisting in a fake frown, “I’ll go check up on him,” your hands came together to fidget with the top rail of your chair as you pushed it forward to the table “he should be back by now,” the statement only partially made up as he had to have something in the way to take that long. 

Walking the corridors was different when you were alone, everything suddenly seemed so dark, closing in on every corner in your vision, speeding up your pace, a final push to find him before anyone else does. The time seemed long and drawn out, a couple of minutes took hours to pass as you walked up and down every stairway, opening every door to try and see if he was around. Luck smiled your way at the end of what looked like a hidden staff tunnel, the door opened in front of you, a moment of panic taking over before you saw his famous pink hair, pieces falling on his face right above his scars, pushed in place by the crown sitting heavy on his head. The tall man jumped back, startled by you just as much as he startled you, quickly grabbing your forearm, dragging the both of you out of the forbidden ground. “Why are you here?” his voice was hushed, angry yet quiet, breath heavy as he basically ran back to safety. 

He let go of you just in time, instead stretching his hand out in front of your body, putting a finger up to his lips to stop any questions. Footsteps echoed your way, careful and quiet, yet still audibly closing in on you, he nodded at you, hoping you play along with his next move. “You didn’t have to worry baby,” his voice echoed louder than the walking as you turned the corner, you held back a scoff at his words, going with the conversation as you passed by Dream, seemingly headed for the bathroom, or at least you only guessed, no clue to where it actually was. Too scared of anyone else you kept a pleasant small talk going, no harsh remarks that could give you away but no overly informational planning either. All eyes were on you both upon your return, the short walk from the doorway to your seats excruciatingly awkward, the silence only adding to the discomfort. 

Clearing your throat you took a step toward your seat, the pink-haired male already reaching for your chair, pulling it out then going to his, all four legs scraping against the floor while he pulled it closer to yours, leaving an inch or two between them before he sat down. His arm reached for you, hovering above your thigh, heartbeat quickly ascending to the base of your throat, bringing heat to your cheeks. “Lift my sleeve.” his voice came in a whisper, directly in your ear, his breath ghosting past your neck, into your hair. You obliged, pulling it up just enough to see what he was hiding, uncovering the timer strapped to his wrist for a second, quickly pulling the fabric down, afraid someone else might see, you lifted your head back up, now looking at his smiling face, passing off the moment as a romantic gesture for the rest to digest. Straightening up, he went right back to his food, ignoring the vicious thump against his chest, unwilling to admit to his strange feelings for you, who he once called a rival, now a fake date to a team operation. 

The music changed, a fast tango urged on by the melody. He pulled up his sleeve again, eyes widening at the widget on his wrist, caught off guard by the surprisingly short amount of time you two had before you needed to make your escape, tuning it to end at least 10 seconds early giving just enough time to avoid the detonated explosives below your feet. Standing up quickly he kept a firm hand on the wrist with the time, smoothing the sleeve over before he kneeled down, extending out his palm for you to take. “Care for a dance?” his voice laced a charm too convincing, the same heat from before returning in your body. “Sure.” you returned the smooth tone, taking the opportunity to talk to him. 

Every head was turned toward you, nobody else dared to step up on the dancefloor, piling on the pressure. A firm hand was placed on your waist, pressing you close against his chest, you both leaned in close, faces lacking distance, he took the lead, taking you in circles around the space, only talking at the times you were furthest away from the table. “There’s not much time left.” he said, quickly shuffling back to where you could be heard, the silence fell again shortly. 

Once you reached the distance point again, he spoke up, “I’ll tell you when, you just run, I’ll meet you at these coordinates.” he pointed your interlocked arms down, catching a paper falling from his sleeve in your linked hold, pressing it against your palm. You pulled your fingers out the space between his, clutching the item in an closed fist, his hand enclosed over your knuckles, bringing the dance to a slow, dipping your body down, you gripped the fabric right below his collar. 

“Ready?” his voice quiet, never once wavering despite the distraction, “born,” your response was brief, the sound strained through your teeth, tightly pressed together, creating the illusion of an innocent smile, one without any hidden intentions.

“Run!” he whispered, not even a second after your response, arms immediately dropping your sides, you knew he meant every man for himself.

At least, he wanted to, his body flew forward, every step faster than the previous, but his heart was pulling him against the effort, his mind stuck on the moment you were no longer in his hold. 

You ran behind him, still following his lead despite the harsh farewell. But he saw no issues with it, barely noticing while his head clouded, the itch to put your safety first kept poking at his gut, the anxious feeling spreading up toward his chest.

While you ran down the front entrance steps the explosions began to sound off, the shockwave pushing your forward ever so slightly, speeding down the marbled surface, still chasing after your companion. Panic rose in the building once you stared running, reaction far too late to save the rest, getting no headstart to the chase. He whipped his head back in the midst of all the chaos, eyes quickly scanned the building up in smoke, searching for you, but he didn’t need to look far, your path only straying from his once you had the time to read the paper, heading for the predetermined location, you assumed he had something to take care of before joining you, setting off by yourself. His gaze followed your figure, speeding off away from him, he felt a bit relieved, glad you were at least alive, yet still pulled to chase after you and make sure you’re alright. 

Shaking the thoughts from his head he continued on, climbing on a horse he had tied up within a mile or so, speeding down the same route you had taken mere minutes ago. You ran before him, not alone for long, the harsh clack of hooves against the packed dirt below alerted you of his presence, coming in view soon after you stopped running to catch your breath. He slowed down too, jumping down he took the lead on his horse and walked beside you, his lungs still burning just as much as yours did. 

“You’re okay?” he panted, words fast and breathy. “Yeah, where were you?” you gestured to the horse, attempting to chuckle but the lack of air only brought you to a cough. In a split second he was at your side, hand on your back, soothing your outburst. After you calmed down he finally felt at ease, nerves settled at the thought of your guaranteed safety, only with you next to him he could get rid of that drowning thought you were somehow in danger when away. “Had to take this guy,” he patted the saddle on the horse, smiling gently, “I couldn’t leave it behind.” 

“Oh,” was all you said, tearing your eyes from him and instead pointing your field of view toward the sky, counting the stars above you as you kept your body close to his. 

“You know,” the numbers scattered from your head once you heard him speak again. “Hm?” turning to look at him again, you found his sight glued to the horizon, “We should do that more often, like, go on missions together and stuff-” “Oh my god?!” you gasped, pushing him aside with your elbow, “are you asking me out?” a teasing smile spread wide across your face. “HEH?” he turned to look at you, bewildered at your pride. You only laughed, mocking his reaction, everything from the look on his face to the way his neck craned forward. He scoffed playfully, mounting on the saddle again, “Whatever, I’ll see you there”. You watched as he sped off, welcoming the warmth of your fluttering heart, finally at peace with the newfound feeling.

[sunshine-on-my-mind]

𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 1

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

word count: 2k

series warnings: 18+ (minors do not interact) mature themes, smut, ANGST, Fluff, toxic parents

chapter warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of toxic parents, being neglected by parents, fake friends, soft moments.

series summary: Steve and you were mean to be together, but life had other plans. Your heart belongs to Steve and you’ll do anything for him, even at the cost of your own happiness.

a/n: I am so excited to share this series with you all, i really hope you like it. This series will have 3-4 parts, the concept was given by @zaraomarrogers in detail. I hope you all like this story. If you do, please reblog or comment. If you want to be added to the series taglist let me knowr. (pictures taken from google/pinterest, credit to the owners)

series masterlist ; main masterlist ; next chapter

High school seemed like perfection in those movies you watched, but real life told a different story. You came from a rich family, your father was a big name in the corporate world and your mother came from riches as well. The people you had around in your high school, weren’t really your friends. They were there for the money, for the status. You could have told them off, but decided it was better to have fake friends than be alone.

It all changed the day, a sweet boy, the sweetest boy, entered your classroom and your life. You saw him, warm as sunshine with a big smile on his face as the teacher introduced him to the class. He was a new student.

“May I sit here?” he asked, with a bright smile. You were sure that was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. The seat beside you was empty since you mostly sat alone, you liked having your space, at least in the classroom. Something about this boy though, made you say yes.

“Hi, I’m Steve” You kept looking at him, with a expression on your face that could have been considered cold. Your experiences made you cold, on the outside, it was better than getting hurt or used.

“Steve Rogers” Steve gave his full name when he didn’t get any reaction from you, and flashed that beautiful smile again. You gave him your name. Steve repeated your name, to see how it felt. He tried making small talk but your nerves got the best of you.

“I assume you know about my family and that’s why you’re talking to me?” Your voice was cold, just like your expression. But that question was truly based on what usually happened. Even if people weren’t direct, you could understand they only liked your money and status, not you really. Most of the times when you went out with your friend group, you paid for everyone. They never asked you directly, but they didn’t take out their wallets either. As if you were supposed to, as if that is the only function you had in that group.

“I don’t actually, should I?” Steve chuckled nervously. “I’m just trying to get to know you” he smiled and you stared into his blue eyes, deep and gorgeous.

“I am new and trying to make friends, and I don’t know how to say this but I think there’s something about you, which made me wanna sit here, talk to you and try to know you.” Steve continued with a slight blush on his cheeks.

You didn’t know how to respond, you kept looking at him. Slowly a smile crept up your face. In minutes that boy started having some effect on you, you wanted to bring down all your walls in front of him.

“Okay, we can be friends if you want” you told him with a soft smile.

“I’d love that”

Soon the boy became the happiest part of your high school life. Steve was the best friend you ever had, you could tell him things that you didn’t share with anyone. You trusted him, and he had earned that trust by being the sweetheart he is. Steve took care of you, made sure you were doing well. You didn’t always communicate but he could understand if something was wrong and tried his best to comfort you. Since he was new in school, you helped him to catch up with his studies.

You told him about your parents who were so busy in their own lives they hardly looked after you, unless looking after you meant spending money. They felt they are giving you so much, more than you deserve, specially your mother, who made sure you understood you were somewhat of a disappointment. You didn’t want all the stuff they bought you, the money they spent on you. You wanted to be loved, to be taken care of.

Steve on the other hand, had a loving mother. He told you about his mother who was a hard working single mother, very kind and caring and tried to do her best for her son. Steve reciprocated that love and worked a part time job to help her with the money. They weren’t rich like your family but they had love and dedication. Both Steve and his mother, Sarah were hard-workers.

“You want Pancakes? My Ma made them, they are delicious” Steve put his lunch box in front of you. You weren’t used to such small sweet gestures and you appreciated them a lot. You started eating one.

“This is truly delicious.” Steve smiled, looking at you in awe as you relished the taste of the pancake.

“You should come home sometime, Ma will love to meet you.” That offer seemed like a dream, but a dream that was difficult to fulfil. Your parents, specially your mother didn’t let you go out much, unless it was with your so called friends. On the days she did give you permission, your friends rejoiced, not because you would accompany them, because they would be able to ride in your car, get that luxurious feeling and all. You weren’t allowed to go anywhere without your designated car and a chauffeur.

“I really want to go but I don’t think I can” the gears seemed to be turning in your head, trying to come up with some way, some excuse, some plan. “Unless I don’t tell anyone where I am going, I can say I am going to someone’s birthday party and when the car drops me there, I’ll walk to your house. That can work right?”

“You know I am not a fan of lying” Steve frowned. He was a man of principles. You really admired that about him.

“Well I don’t think there is another way, if I tell them I’m going to your house they’ll start asking thousands of questions and even after that, the chance of them agreeing is very little.” Steve nodded, but he looked sad.

“I assume your parents don’t have any idea about me being your friend?” The question made you keep quiet, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings but you’re parents were complicated, specially your mother. You took a deep breath, trying to formulate an answer.

“Steve, my parents hardly know, or want to know anything about me unless it’s somehow valuable to them. And yes, they don’t know about you because I didn’t tell them. I have told you they are pretty judgemental, my parents care about money and status and materialistic stuff. They are orthodox as well. I don’t want them to judge you, or worse, come in between our friendship. I really don’t want to upset you, but to be honest I don’t think they deserve to know about a sweet boy like you, specially my mother.” You looked at him with sad eyes.

Oh how much Steve hated to see you like that. He nodded placing his hand on top of yours.

“I understand.” A soft smile graced Steve’s face, he gave your hand a small squeeze.

So there you were, walking with Steve to his home, who insisted on walking with you even if it meant taking a longer route because the chauffeur dropped you in front of a classmate’s house. A classmate, who was rich, maybe not like you, still rich enough enough that your mother approved of, a classmate who was a snob and whom you didn’t like.

It felt so refreshing to take a walk, specially when you had such great company. Steve looked at you from time to time as you took in the surroundings. You didn’t go on many walks and you tried to cherish the moment. Steve smiled. He loved seeing you happy. You looked back at him, he blushed being caught staring.

“You’re so cute Steve” you giggled and held his hand, swinging your arms together. Steve blushed some more, letting out soft chuckles.

Steve’s house, not it was a home, Steve’s home was nowhere as big as yours but it was one that had love, you could feel the love and warmth as soon as you stepped in.

“Ma, we’re home.” That statement made you feel warm and fuzzy. You liked hearing that, more than you would ever admit. An older, kind looking, beautiful woman came out and greeted you both.

“You must be the one Stevie is always talking about.” Sarah smiled, Steve felt bashful, he didn’t always talk about you, did he?

“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you.” You smiled at her

“The feeling is mutual, darling.” Sarah gently wrapped her arms around you. That was surely one of the best hugs you had till date. It felt like a hug you had always craved. A hug full of motherly love.

“Come on, you both must be hungry, food is ready.”

It was the most delicious meal you had ever had. Sarah was so sweet and kind, she asked about your day, about how school was going, and she listened earnestly. A beautiful smile on her face. Steve got his smile from her, you thought. Sarah felt more like a mother to you than your own.

“You know Stevie is a very sweet boy, but spending time with you made me realise I’m missing out on having a daughter. I can understand why my boy is always talking about you, you’re very sweet my dear.” The older woman told you, patting your head softly. All you could do was smile, even though you could feel your eyes brimming with tears. It felt so good to be wanted.

You thanked Sarah for the delicious food and the lovely evening. Steve went to drop you from your chauffeur would pick you up. You couldn’t spend as much time as you wanted in Steve’s place but you were more than happy with what you got. When you reached near your classmate’s house, you squeezed Steve’s hands and thanked him.

“Thank you for today Steve, I had the best time, your mother is amazing, and you’re the sweetest person I know.” Without thinking you kissed his cheek.

“Wow- I- You’re welcome” Steve blushed and scratched his head. “I had a great time too, with two of my favourite women.” He confessed whole heartedly. You bit your lips to suppress a huge smile.

“Well you do know how to charm them, Rogers” He chuckled but then he cleared his throat. Steve checked his watch, there was still some time left before the car would arrive.

“You know you’re amazing, right bubble?” Steve used that nickname sometimes and you loved it. You didn’t know why he chose ‘bubble’, but you felt happy every time he called you that.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you, there is something about you that draws me to you, all this time i’ve spend with you only-“ He cleared his throat again and took your hands in his “only made me like you more.” He blushed. “I really really like you bubble, and I want to ask you out, on a proper date.”

You kept quiet, couldn’t believe a sweet boy like Steve could like you for who you were. On the other hand Steve grew nervous with your silence, he was about to leave your hands when you gripped them tightly.

“I would love to go on date with you, Stevie” You flashed a big smile, as a tear rolled down your cheek. Steve wiped it with his thumb, chuckling softly. “I really like you too, you’re the sweetest and nicest person I know, and I think you’re the only person who cares about me so much. Spending time with you is the best part of my day.” You confessed and immediately Steve wrapped you in a hug.

The weather outside was nice that day, warm and sunny, and you felt the warmth in Steve’s hug. He held you close, as if he didn’t want to let you go, you giggled at the thought, as if you would ever leave him.

-> next chapter

taglist: @writing-for-marvel @mrsdrysdale18 @turbolisedcomet @midnightf @aynanasstuff

[endobiologist]

How is hormone therapy going? I've considered it myself but I'm nervous about it. Can you tell me a little about what its like? :)

Ah, thank you so much for asking!! I appreciate it!!

Well, the experience is really quite vastly different for every person on HRT.

For me, it was one of the best choices I have ever made in my life. I was hopelessly and horribly dysphoric for my whole life to the point of nearly not being able to function (dysphoria coupled with severe mental illnesses is for sure A Bad Time) and I was lucky enough to be able to get on it fairly early, thank God because I probably would not have lasted longer-apologies for that dark subject but it is necessary to mention for how much it turned my life around entirely.

I am still not fully transitioned to my liking per sé, as the full range of Testosterone's complete effects is a maximum of 5 years according to my research. I have been on it for nearly 2 years now. I plan to be on it for the rest of my life if possible, as I'd like all effects to stay forever-- I fucking ADORE every second of it, honestly I'm not afraid of needles either like most are so I literally get ecstatic & excited every time it's time to inject LOL!! Probably a weird reaction but--it legit makes me wanna throw a party every time those 2 weeks pass & it is time to.

(Not all forms of HRT have to be injected however, though it is the "strongest, most evenly distributed form" especially if done every 2 weeks instead of every 1 week,

as my doctor described it, which made me choose it--and coupled w my lack of giving a shit about injecting lmaoo)

I have had a lot of effects, I am also finally growing actual facial hair which is nice-though I learned I prefer my face clean-shaven or at least mostly, which is a hilarious twist tbh as I thought I'd want a full beard. I'm cool with both but I definitely prefer how I look without, so I shave every now & then currently.

My body looks entirely different, at least my shoulders and arms HELLA, I've had strong asf cis men say I'm built better than them which gives me giggle-fits of pridefulness LMAO--im petty ig--

but anyway to get to the true point--I would not be where I am today or perhaps here at all, myself, if I didn't go on it and exactly when I did. I am so extremely grateful for it occurring and that I have access to it at all--I am honestly hardly feeling dysphoria except on Really Bad days when it still hits me. Even things I should be dysphoric about and was in the past, idgaf about now. My chest barely bothers me now, and used to be my personal Hell. I have even decided to not do top surgery in the future which is... really bizarre as I was DESPERATE for it before (however this most-dysphoria-removal effect seems to be rare, so don't expect it to "cure" dysphoria, it didn't for me either but I'd say reduced it by like 90% or something lol. But most don't have that strong of a reaction)

My advice for you and every trans person on the fence about it, would be do a CRAP TON of research, on its every effect, type, etc. and talk to or read about/etc. as many people you can find who can give their opinions on their own experiences-as everyone has a different story!

If it is a "HELL YES" after that, then definitely go through with it. If there is still doubt, I'd wait. There is no rush as you can always decide to begin in the future

Know though, that if you do start it, but wish to stop later,

in some ways there's a "reset button",

but in some ways there is not.

Some effects will reverse if you stop taking T, like the fat & muscle redistribution, etc.

however some will stay, for example any body or facial hair that develops will then grow forever as the follicle is "activated" (male hair is a different subtype of hair, so once it's made it can't be reversed) and etc.

Be aware of which effects do this, and just in general, get as much information you can gather.

This info-gathering also has the added bonus, of impressing TF out of your endocrinologist if you do happen to choose to go the route of beginning taking it--

During the consultation, they'll ask if you know about it well, and for me, I began on a spiel of the things I knew & how much I researched because I was so excited to begin and how much it would help me.

By my Dr's reaction she was blown away by my very informed decision, that I had thought about it VERY hard, & I think that is what assisted me greatly in acquiring the prescription for it so fast.

Basically, if they either know or just think you are going into this without much context or don't seek it passionately, they think you may change your mind and that you're "going through a phase" or that you can't consent due to not enough information that you know on it for such a majour medical decision.

If you come in confident asf that this is what you need, and you're like "Yeah I know this, I got this shit locked down" they know they're dealing with someone who is very damn sure this is the path they need, and thus the doctor doesn't have to worry nor explain more, which speeds everything up.

Overall, I will end this by saying I wish you the utmost good luck, and that whatever path you choose, you feel happy and gender-euphoric!! Thank you for asking my advice & I hope I helped in any way!! 👍👍💜🏳️‍⚧️

(ALSO I SEE UR USERNAME MMMMMNN YES, SOMEONE WITH QUALITY TASTE IN CHARACTERS--LMAOOO SRRY IM A SHAMELESS WILLIAM FANATIC, I GOTTA MENTION THAT

UR USERNAME MADE ME LEGIT SMILE-- HAHDJGNGJGJGJG)

[egittae]

Though not a shepherd, Lambert was confident that he could do something as simple as herd a group of animals from point A to B. Most of them simply demanded patience and an understanding of how they functioned as beings, their instincts, their fears- and how to best use those tools to aid the process. The aid of a horse or a dog was a welcome boon, not to mention the participation of a companion to cover the other flanks. So, when Lambert was told that he was supposed to help herd a flock of exotic creatures towards the stables alongside another teacher, he didn’t worry about it in the slightest.

There were just two problems, though.

First, the exotic creatures seemed…like a demented fusion between wyvern and man, with an almost humanoid-looking body and legs with feet that almost resembled hands, but arms replaced with wings and a head defined by draconic features. And they were big. The professor had never in his life seen an animal like that before.

Second, the person he had to do this with was Matthias.

Their first encounter had been…something. Their greetings were through punches square to the face, and the talking was done in mumbles and short sentences while sitting on the sand, waiting for their respective nosebleeds to stop. Lambert’s face was still bruised from all of it, though he had asked for some aid to conceal it- made up some story about being hit in the face with a coconut or whatever and thankfully the clerics seemed to buy it.

In his heart, Lambert knew this man meant something to him. Something good, something familiar. That they had shared a portion of their lives together, that he should trust him.

But his heart also said that this guy was annoying as hell and rough on the edges, and that the only language that would work between them was that of throwing hands in the least chivalrous way possible. Alas, they had been given one very specific rule- that all creatures needed to be transported safe and sound, without a single hair missing, so they’d need to tone down their brawling for now.

Only time would tell about that, though.

Armed with a long stick he found on the ground, Lambert stood before the flock of…whatever this creature was, both waiting for his companion and trying to gauge the best way to get them to the stables. The path there was mostly straightforward, but because those stupid things could fly they’d most likely have to be on wyverns or pegasi…and Lambert didn’t know how to ride any flying mount.

“This is absolutely ghastly…” He mumbled to himself as he sat atop his wyvern’s saddle, disturbed by the lack of reins and…well, the lack of everything that could keep him from falling off. With a horse, the ground was fairly close. He could recover with a sore butt at best- but a wyvern…

“If you even think about having your creature advance on mine, I will break this stick on your head.” The professor made a quick remark to his companion, though it lacked some bite as his focus seemed to be on getting comfortable on the strange saddle and being mindful of the drake’s wings. “We were both given this map…and we should be able to funnel those things into the stables once we reach the fifth checkpoint. The problem being that they are able to fly, and that we were asked to not use any type of weapon of threat against them.”

“Ideally we should be also flying close to the ground or trotting, as if we fly any higher they might follow and the flock could scatter.” He parroted some of the info he had been given earlier, before turning to fully face Matthias. “And while I know how to herd cattle and horses, flying draconic beings with disturbingly primate features are beyond me. So…any plans, Matthias?”

they're all like cursed bat monkeys | lambert & matthias

closed starter for @cielenruine | +1 flying

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 7

Chapter 1     Chapter 6

Marinette rubbed her head as though the action might actually have an effect on her throbbing headache.  It hadn’t any time she’d tried it in the last hour, but it gave her brain the illusion that she was doing something to help other than just waiting for the painkillers to kick in.  The action also gave her something to focus on other than the pounding hangover from not getting nearly drunk enough last night.  Because somehow despite the massive amounts she, Jason, and Roy had drunk last night, all of her problems still existed.  Utter bullshit, that.  And now she still had to deal with all her problems and felt like crap on top of it.  Double bullshit.

She adjusted her sunglasses again, fighting the urge to squint because squinting hurt.  Although honestly, she wasn’t sure which hurt more, the florescent lights, the sunlight beaming through the hotel windows, or squinting.  She was sure there was some way to settle the glasses on her face to block out all light, she just hadn’t been able to figure it out.  She now realized why people significantly smarter than her wore those godawful, ugly glasses that wrap around their head and cut out all sun.

She took a deep breath and braced herself for the full blast of a suspiciously sunny Gotham morning. Gotham has like three sunny days a year and one of them is today?  What the Hell did she do to Tikki to deserve the last few days?  She wandered out of the hotel still contemplating revenge. How does one get revenge against a god anyway?  How many ways can she destroy cookies?

She didn’t get more than a few steps before she sensed someone in front of her.  She weaved slightly to the left but quickly realized there was someone there too.  She weaved to the right and finally looked up when she realized there was someone there. There were people all around her, taking pictures of her, shoving phones in her face as they yelled questions at her.

She stumbled back a few steps and blinked at the group of reporters that had apparently been camping out in front of the hotel for her.  She quickly plastered on one of Adrien’s patented PR smiles and nodded to them. She tried to push through them, expecting them to move out of her way, as they did in Paris for Adrien.  But reporters in Gotham clearly did not show the same respect that Parisian reporters did because none of them moved out of her way.  

Her smile strained slightly as she looked to the one in front of her.  “Excuse me, please,” she requested in the most sickeningly sweet voice she could manage.

The reporter sent back an excited smile.  “Ms. Dupain Cheng, would you care to comment on your relationship with your family? Perhaps explain why Gotham hadn’t had the pleasure of your presence before?”

Marinette looked the reporter up and down.  She looked at the group surrounding her, noting how they had closed the circle to the point of touching her.  She’d been to raves with more personal space.  She moved to push through a small gap between reporters, but stopped when they quickly closed the gap.  Marinette gritted her teeth and widened her smile.  “There’s a reason we’ve chosen not to speak about this and that reason was NOT to discuss it in an exclusive with you at this exact moment.  Now if you will excuse me, I would very, very much like to get some coffee.  I’m sure you can understand the difficulty of starting a day without it.”

She gave them a conspiratorial smile, hoping if they felt like they were in on the joke they would let her through. Instead, her response emboldened the reporters, who started shouting out her name and more questions.

“Will you attend more Wayne functions now?”

Marinette didn’t even know which reporter shouted the question to address them if she wanted.  She huffed and decided to give up on pleasantries.  She was hung over.  She was hungry.  She wanted coffee.  “Why would people change a relationship that doesn’t involve you because you know about it?” she grunted as she tried to push through the cracks between people.  

The reporters closed ranks tighter around her, making it impossible for her to break through without injuring someone, which she was sure was the plan of at least a few of them.  Whether it was to get a more salacious story or to sue Bruce Wayne, she wasn’t sure.  Probably both.  She looked back to the hotel lobby hoping the concierge would see her predicament and help her, but he was determinedly ignoring the scene in front of the hotel.

She set her jaw and prepared herself to create a scene channeling her best imitation of an irate Chloe Bourgeoisie.  She’d deal with the fallout later.  Right now, she needed to get out of this situation before someone actually did push a little too hard and tiny gods decided to curse the city.  She opened her mouth to yell but instead heard someone else’s voice boom through the crowd.

“I think my sister told you to leave her the fuck alone.”

Marinette looked around to try to find the source of the voice but couldn’t see past the wall of reporters.  She didn’t have to wait long for him to push his way through the crowd like a wrecking ball, not worrying about injuring anyone as he shoved his way through.  Jason stopped in front of her with a smirk.  “She just says it in a much more polite way than I do.”  He held up a bag and a tray of coffee.  “I come bearing gifts so you don’t have to deal with this shit out there somewhere.”  

Marinette shot him a grateful smile and turned back toward the hotel.  “That sounds brilliant.  Thank you.”

Jason winked at her.  “I got you.”

They didn’t stop or even look at each other until the elevator doors closed behind them.  Marinette leaned against the wall and finally took a full breath.  She looked over to Jason with another grateful smile.  “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting that and I…” She looked down for a moment to collect her thoughts.  “I wasn’t prepared.  I’ll do better next time.”

Jason’s eyes softened.  The press was a lot for all of them to get used to.  None of them had taken naturally to it, especially Gotham’s press.  They at least had the advantage of starting young and knowing what to expect, not to mention since they were kids, the press didn’t have a lot of chances to get to them.  Marinette had just been thrown out there without a life preserver.  Bruce didn’t even send any guards.  “Don’t worry about it.  I thought you could use the save.”

Marinette laughed and narrowed her eyes at him.  “That was a socially acceptable version of a kidnapping.  I had no way of getting out of that without exposing that there is no relationship.”

“Should have just exposed it then,” he shrugged, not remotely nonplussed by her comment.  “I just thought you could use some sustenance after last night.”  He held up the bag for her as they exited the elevator and made their way to her room.  “I know you must be used to fancy French food so I got a variety of food from the best bakery in town.  And I didn’t know how you take your coffee or if you prefer tea so I got both and lots of sugar and creamer.”

Marinette giggled as she opened her door.  “You’re not wrong.  My parents owned a patisserie.  I grew up on the best baked goods in France.”

Jason blinked a few times at her before setting the drinks and food on the coffee table.  “That’s it, next family reunion is at your place.”

“Not so sure that’s going to be a thing,” she said quietly.  She reached for one of the croissants and ripped off a small piece, popping it in her mouth.  “Not really sure I count as family.  That’s kind of been made clear.”

“Yeah well, we didn’t know and we’d like to get to know you, if you’re okay with it,” he said biting off a chunk of cheese Danish. “Look, I’m not looking for family dinners and brunches and shit, I just… want to make sure you’re okay.”  He looked up at her earnestly for a moment before his eyes turned mischievous.  “Although if you grew up in a bakery, I might want all that at your parents’ place.”

“At least you’re asking.  That’s something anyway,” she grumbled as she took another small bite.  

“Speaking of family, where is model boy?”

Marinette puckered her lips in disapproval as she watched the crumbs fall from Jason’s mouth as he spoke.  She looked away before she snapped at him.  “He and Max went apartment hunting.”

“Without you?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Neither of them were suffering from a raging hangover that took double the normal dosage of painkillers just to take the edge off of,” she said pointedly.

“Coffee,” Jason grunted, motioning toward the coffee. “Lots of coffee and food and water.” He pushed the bag toward her. “Not the bird bites you’ve been taking.”

She studied the croissant in front of her with a furrowed brow as though it had some kind of answers for her.  She nearly dropped it when she heard a knock on the door. She looked through the peephole and gasped, flinching back from the door.  Jason immediately jumped up and ran over to her.  “What is it?  Another reporter?”

“No,” Marinette rasped out, her eyes never leaving the door.  “Worse.” Her heart started racing and her breathing became labored.  She wasn’t ready for this.  She wasn’t ready to speak with him.  What was she supposed to say?  How was she supposed to speak with him?  She didn’t even know how she felt yet.  She hadn’t sorted through this all yet.  Tears threatened to fall from her eyes.  She wasn’t ready.  This was happening too fast.

She flinched visibly when he knocked again. He’d had time to prepare.  He’d had time to think this through.  He knew how he felt about this.  He’d had time to plan and prepare.  She had none of that and here he was on her doorstep.  He knew about her and she knew nothing about him. He was ready and she wasn’t given that chance.  

She was just expected to deal with it.  She was just expected to handle it.  She was just expected to accept it.  He’d created this entire situation and she was left to pick up the pieces and move on.  And now he was here.  He was on her figurative doorstep in person and now she had to deal with it, on his timetable, according to his preference, because yet again it all had to be done on his terms.  Her preferences didn’t matter.  Her feelings didn’t matter.  Her opinion didn’t matter.

“Want me to kick their ass out?” Jason offered already reaching for the handle.

Marinette shook her head and let out a calming breath. He thinks he can come in after twenty years gone and act like everything is fine and expect her to play nice, he has another thing coming.  He wanted a detached relationship?  She could do that.  She’d seen it enough growing up with Adrien and Chloe’s parents.  She knew how to play the game.

She shook her hands to get the tension out before finally reaching out to open the door.  “Mr. Wayne.  This is an unexpected pl… experience,” she stuttered.  She mentally grimaced.  She was showing weakness.  She needed to be strong.  She plastered on a clearly fake smile.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being weak.  She wouldn’t cry for him.  She hadn’t cried because of him in the twenty years he’d been absent, she wouldn’t do it now.

Bruce took a breath.  “Marinette…”  He froze for a second.  He hadn’t thought hard enough about this.  He knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to tell her, but he hadn’t thought about how to tell her, how to lead into it.  “I was hoping to speak with you,” he rushed out, wincing internally at the sound of it.

“Well, that’s a first,” she scoffed before she could stop herself.  She slapped her hand over her mouth and mentally berated herself.  What was she doing?  She was supposed to be calm not cruel.  She was losing this game!

Jason grinned and propped his arms behind his head as he kicked out his legs, the very picture of relaxed.  “I like her.  I’m keeping her.”

Marinette shot him an appreciative smile but Bruce did a double take, frowning at the sight.  His mind raced as to what it meant that Jason was there.  Was it good?  It was good, wasn’t it?  She was getting close to one of her brothers already.  But that brother was Jason, and despite the fact that he loved Jason, he was well aware their relationship was still contentious at best.  Not exactly the best brother for her to get close to. And he was already encouraging her hostility against him.  Not that he didn’t deserve it, he knew he did, it was just that any of the other brothers would help mitigate that hostility.  Jason would fan it.  “Jason, what are you doing here?”

“Brought baked goods and coffee,” he answered casually, a smirk making its way onto his face.  “You?”

Bruce let out a heavy sigh through his nose and smoothed out his face.  Getting annoyed now would do nothing for his goal.  If Marinette was connecting to Jason, getting frustrated with him would just push her further away.  “As I mentioned, I was hoping I could speak with Marinette about the… situation.  I wanted…”

“‘The situation’,” Jason mocked shaking his head at Bruce.  God was he always this bad with his kids?  He thought it was just him.  “Way to sound sincere, B.”

Bruce’s lips pursed until they were no longer visible. He didn’t need Jason sabotaging him right now.  He was doing a good enough job of it on his own.  “I’d like to speak with Marinette on our own, please.  Why don’t you go home?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide and her chest clenched. She didn't want Jason to leave.  She wasn't ready for Jason to leave.  Once Jason left it was just her and him.  Just thinking about it suddenly she couldn't breathe.  Suddenly the air felt too thin and too heavy at the same time.  No.  She needed somebody else here.  

Jason shot a look over to Marinette, letting his eyes pass over Marinette like he hadn’t been noting her body language.  He let his eyes wander for a second before returning to Bruce with a tilt to his head.  “No.  I’m witnessing this, unless Pixie tells me to go home.”

Marinette could have kissed him… on the cheek. Because he was her br… it was complicated.  But she was beyond grateful he had spoken up for her.  She let out the breath she’d been holding and raised an eyebrow at him. “Pixie?”

“Small, violent,” Jason grinned at her.

Marinette laughed and playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine, whatever, Goliath.”

Jason leaned back again.  “Oh, no, that one’s already taken.  By a dragon bat, no less.”

Marinette’s face scrunched in confusion.  She tried to search through her Americanisms for what a dragon bat could be.  It had to be a species of bat right?  Maybe? But then again it was American English so for all she knew it could be a flower.  “A what?”

“Jason!” Bruce admonished.  He was really not looking forward to trying to explain what a dragon bat was or how Damian came to be in possession of one.

Jason rose up enough to grab one of the croissants and shove half of it into his mouth before he spoke.  “I’ll introduce you sometime, or Damian will have to actually… which he won’t.  I’ll show you a picture, you seem like the kind of person who likes terrifying animals as long as they’re fuzzy.”

“I… fair,” Marinette conceded easily.

“If I can bring us back to the topic at hand,” Bruce interjected loudly, cutting off any more discussion of dragon bats.

“Family bonding, right?”  Jason cut him off with a pointed look.  “Isn’t that what we were doing?”

Bruce glared at Jason for a few seconds, which did nothing to wipe the smug smirk off his face.  Giving up on Jason, Bruce focused on Marinette.  “At the gala you mentioned you didn’t plan on being in town much longer, leaving today actually.  I was hoping I could convince you to stay a bit longer.”

Marinette examined him with a dour curiosity.  She cocked her head to the side.  “And why might that be?  You don’t need me here to make an announcement that we prefer to keep our relationship private, hence they didn’t know about me.”

Bruce let out a deep sigh.  That was fair.  It was a fair response.  Sabine had warned him she would be suspicious of him.  “This isn’t for the public,” he assured her.

“Isn’t it?”  She blinked a few times at him, her face blank.  “Are you sure?  It feels like it is.”  She turned to Jason.  “Doesn’t it feel like it is to you?”

“It does indeed,” Jason nodded in agreement, keeping eye contact with Bruce as he did.

“Jason…” he started threateningly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you relying on me to make fixing your fuck up easier for you?  Wrong kid.  You’re looking for Dick or Tim… actually I wouldn’t rely on Tim for help explaining why being an absentee father isn’t actually that bad.”

“Jason, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Bruce growled.

Marinette straightened up and moved between him and Jason.  She wasn’t going to let him bully Jason for standing up for her.  “I don’t think so.  So far he’s the only member of my family I like.”

“Ooh, you should totally give Cass and Steph and Duke a chance too,” Jason offered with a faked enthusiasm as though the confrontation with Bruce didn’t just happen.  He kept his eyes on Marinette but relished the increasingly frustrated scowl on Bruce’s face as they ignored him.

Marinette nodded.  “I’ll consider it.”

“Oh and Alfred… and I guess Tim too.  He’s a prick but he’s alright I guess,” Jason continued.

Marinette blinked at him.  It was like a never ending list of people.  An ongoing list of people he had taken in after walking away from her.  A long list of people he’d cared about and for without having to be pressured into it by the press.  A mile long list of people he wasn’t pretending to care about.  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“We have a lot,” Jason corrected her.  They were in this together and he’d remind her of that as many times as she needed.  “Alfred isn’t a sibling though.  He’s like a grandfather.”

Marinette paused at that.  She hadn’t considered that.  Another grandfather figure.  Another grandfather that didn’t want anything to do with her.  Sure now Grand-père Roland loved her but for the first fifteen years, he’d known about her and didn’t care.  Maybe it was her.  It had to be her right?  Two grandparents, that isn’t coincidence.  That’s a pattern and the only commonality was her.  She pursed her lips together to focus on something other than the tears welling up behind her eyes.  “Sounds like the kind of person who definitely would have known about me.”

Jason’s eyes widened.  “I… don’t know the answer to that,” he answered slowly.

Marinette nodded, slowly going numb.  “So, what I’m getting from this so far is I have a another grandfather-type figure that knew about me and didn’t feel any kind of interest in me and a ton of people that my father decided were worthy of his love and affection when I wasn’t.  So it isn’t that my father didn’t want to be a father, just that he didn’t want to be my father.”

“That isn’t…” Jason started.  This was going down the wrong path.  He was trying to show her he had her back, not remind her about the pain.  But instead, now Marinette was getting hurt, remembering the pain.  She’d lost her sass and impertinence and now was moving toward hurt.  And she was blaming Alfred.  Alfred was one of the only good things about being a Wayne!

“Jason!  I think it’s time for you to go home.  Now!” Bruce roared.

Marinette contemplated Bruce coldly, numbness consuming her fears and insecurities and morphing into cold, analytic contemplation.  He was blaming Jason.  Her frustration wasn’t because of Jason or anything he said. Her pain wasn’t because of Jason, it was because of him, because of his decisions.  And instead of taking responsibility for it, he was blaming Jason.

Jason blinked a few times, no longer certain of his role in this interaction.  He looked back and forth between Marinette and Bruce, noting Marinette’s hardening features.  She was getting ready for a fight.  He could see it developing, but he wasn’t at all sure Bruce did.  He held up his hands in surrender and sat back down calmly. “I promised I wouldn’t leave unless Pixie asked me to.  I intend to keep my promise to her,” he said calmly.

Bruce glared at him again and faced back to Marinette, a fake smile plastered on.   “As I was saying.  I’d like a chance to get to know you, if you would let me.”

“And how many members of the press did you want to be there when you do?” she inquired sharply.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “That’s not fair.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped and she shook her head at him incredulously.  “Wow. Way to pull the rich, white guy entitlement card. ‘I know everything about this situation has been unbelievably unfair to you, but now I’m being inconvenienced in the mildest way possible and I don’t like it,’” she mocked. She rocked back on her heels and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Rest assured M. Wayne, I do not intend to speak out against you.  Your reputation will not be harmed by me.  Tell the press whatever you want.  I won’t contradict you.  You can relax.”

“Marinette…” he started, unsure of where to go. Everything she had said was so far from the truth, he didn’t know where to start.  Her view of the situation was so skewed, he didn’t know how to put it back on kilter.  His shoulders sagged in defeat.  “This has nothing to do with the press.  I had put plans in motion to get in contact with you before any of this started.  Mr. Fox will confirm that for you if you don’t trust me.  You seem like quite an impressive young lady and I would like to get to know you better, if you’ll give me the chance.”

His tone was contrite and quiet, but Marinette wasn’t done being upset yet.  She wasn’t ready to move on and let go of the anger.  “And if I wasn’t, you would continue to ignore me?  If I was a problem child, if I had social issues, if I couldn’t find a job, you’d continue to treat me like I never existed?  I’ve finally done enough to gain your attention. Oh thank you so much for letting me know.”

“That isn’t what I said,” Bruce rushed to assure her. “I meant to compliment you not say you had to earn my attention.”

Marinette pursed her lips and looked over to Jason. He was looking back at her with sympathetic, concerned eyes.  She let out a long sigh and looked away from them both.  “Look, I meant what I told the press earlier.  I had no intention of you seeing me at the gala.  I had no intention of anyone finding out about me. I didn’t even know there was anything to find out when I made the plan to come here.  And I have no expectation of anything about our relationship changing.”

Bruce perked up slightly, but focused on keeping his body language the same, so she wouldn’t see the difference.  That was an opening; expectation instead of intention. It wasn’t that she intended not to change it, it’s that she didn’t expect it.  “I do,” he assured her, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, keeping it calm and even.  “I would like to change our relationship.  I would like the chance to explain and try to start to make it up to you.  If you would like to try.  

“If you’re open to it, I can extend your reservation until you are ready to move on, or if you would prefer, you are more than welcome to stay at the manor.  I would love to have you stay with us but I understand that may be overwhelming.  Or, WE has have some flats available, with multiple bedrooms.  You and your friends could stay there for a while.  Your friend is going to need a place to stay while he looks for an apartment, right?

“I’ll leave the choice to you.  Whether we pursue a relationship, if you stay, where you stay; they’re all your choice.  Here,” he handed her a paper with several numbers hand written on it. “These are my numbers; office, home office, cell phone, manor.  You can use any of them to contact me.”

Marinette took the paper impassively.  She squeezed her other hand in an effort to keep the tremble from being too obvious.  “Thank you, M. Wayne.  I will consider your words.”

Bruce nodded, letting the very formal use of his name wash away.  This was still progress.  This was still movement in the right direction, even if it wasn’t as much as he would want.  He knew it could take a long time.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to fix this today.  “Thank you, Marinette.  That’s all I can ask for.  And I’m sorry for ambushing you here.  I tried to call and text you all yesterday to set up a time to talk in person so you could prepare but it seems like your phone was off.”  

He let out a small breath seeing her eyes widen at his admission.  That had to be a good sign.  Maybe he actually said the right thing for once.  He nodded to her and left her to think, hoping Jason would urge her to call. He seemed to want a relationship with her as well.  Hopefully, he would realize this was the best way to get that.

Jason sighed and looked up at her as soon as the door closed behind Bruce.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not.  It’s… it’s a lot.  I think I want to be alone,” Marinette said absently staring at the numbers in her hand.

Jason nodded.  “It is.  I understand. If you want to talk, at all, about anything.  About where to drink in town, best burger, anything, give me a call.”  He gently took the paper Bruce had handed her out of hand, letting her decide if she gave it to him or not.  When she let go, he put his number on it as well.  “I only have one number, but now you have it.”

Marinette nodded at him.  “Thank you, Jason.”

Jason hesitated briefly.  “For what it’s worth, if you decide to stay you should take him up on the flat.  The hotel is stupid expensive and WE offers the flat to visiting collaborators all the time, so it’s not like it’s all that special… if you want to avoid being treated special.”

Marinette nodded at his words, barely taking them in as her mind tried to fight the numbing process.  Jason watched her tentatively.  “You look like a hugger,” he said uncertainly.  “Did you… do you want a, um, a hug?”  

Marinette looked over at him and blinked a few times, not sure how to take his words, partly because he seemed unsure of them himself, but partly because things were having a harder time permeating her brain right now.  Jason took her curious look as doubt.  “Oh come on. It’s fine.  I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.  Trust me.  I tell Dick to fuck off enough when he tries to hug me.  I have no problem saying no to hugs I don’t want.  I’m offering because I mean it.”

Marinette blinked a few more times but finally nodded vacantly.  Jason pulled her into a warm, comforting hug.  After a few moments he pulled away.  “It will all be okay.  No matter what you decide, it will all be okay.  And no matter what you decide, I’m here.  Nobody’s replacing you as my sister.  So get ready for some completely inappropriate Christmas presents this year.”

Marinette smiled absently at his joke, her eyes never meeting his.  “Thanks, Jason.”  She leaned against the door after she closed it behind him and slid down it, staring blankly at nothing.  The room felt colder than it was before, but she couldn’t manage to care enough to get up and get a blanket.  She thought there might have been ambient noise going on around her but none of it registered.  Nothing registered.  Not the numbing sensation that was rapidly overtaking her body from her fingers and toes up to her head until she stopped feeling anything.  Not even the point she was staring at.  She didn’t know how long she stared at the nothingness before black overtook her vision and she passed out.

Chapter 8

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