#i think its more that i just oppose this being the only time certain people ever talk about dv

[egyptianking]

I said this after the last euros I think and it's like 1am so excuse my thoughts being a bit all over the place but I do feel like the stats thrown around another domestic violence are very well meaning in trying to open up people's eyes to the prevalence of domestic violence, starting that conversation and also signposting to helplines and resources BUT I do feel like it's kinda?? Unhelpful in some way in that it really reinforces that a domestic abuser is the stereotypical bigoted, drunken working class football fan coming home from the match or the pub...when on reality domestic abusers take all sorts of forms? They're from every walk of life, every class, racial and religious group, part of the country. They watch football, rugby cricket, they do theatre they do..idk? Tap dancing.

I'm not saying we shouldn't share those stats I just think we need to move away from the idea that 1) football causes domestic abuse (abusers cause domestic abuse.) 2) domestic abuse is some sort of English specific thing 3) you can tell who domestic abusers are bc they fit the stereotypical bald, sunburnt, stella-drinking ingerland til I die description.

Keep sharing resources and keep the conversation going, absolutely!! But idk these are just my thoughts..

Phone numbers for anyone who may need them or to share:

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[marsprincess889]

Yoni animal observations

I did something similar with nakshatras. This is them in a very simple way. This is based on traditional associations as well as my own observations of real life and art. 💕 The word "yoni", as well as meaning the female reproductive organ, also means "origin". Yoni animal represents the instinct of the nakshatra and ultimately, reveals its true core nature.

Also, disclaimer: it's very sad that I have to say this, and apologies if you're not one of those people, but if you're going to correct anything in this post by writing one or more long paragraphs of why you think I'm wrong, you might as well just start your own blog or make your own post about the subject. I've been observing yoni animals for years and I'm kind of sorry if any of this offends you, but I'm not trying to attack anyone personally, or even a specific placement (nakshatras in this case), cause that's just dumb. Of course, everyone is free to express their opinions but please do it politely and have some respect for the person who took their time to gain and share knowledge. It's very easy to correct others, it's very hard to be faultless yourself. So, factual corrections are always welcome(say someone got someone's chart placement wrong, or they have written a factually incorrect association, like if they were to write that Jyeshta is fierce as opposed to sharp/cruel in nature.), but, once again, everyone's view is different and so either respect mine or don't write anything at all.

With that being said, you can now enjoy this post💕

Horse yonis

Ashwini and Shatabhisha

Keywords: activity, simplicity, masculinity(solar/yang), independence, healing.

Straightforward people. They might tend to have black and white thinking, can be very blunt with their delivery and definitely prone to "deafness": not hearing others' views. Simple and utilitarian, goal-oriented. Their presence might not be really noticed until the moment they suddenly speak up about or act on something. Love to point stuff out. Either quiet or very precise while speaking. Not aggressive but can be combative. Most likely will oppose someone before making peace. Independence>sharing. Don't like anything "unnecessary", love to get to the point.

Elephant yonis

Bharani and Revati

Keywords: slow, authority, time, timelessness, strength, transitions, protection, completion, gentleness, complexity, depth.

Not revealing their innermost selves, only revealing it to a select group of people, if to anyone. They attach meaning to things based on their experiences. Protective and gentle with each other, closed off to most of the others. Very private. Not really concerned with trends. Observant but not quick to act. Can have many sides to them that some others might fail to understand. Have an air of wisdom, but not that of arrogance. Still, they are the most likely to knowingly take the high road but still protect their peace, making them very exclusive, although it's never for show. Defensive but quietly so. Accomodating to some degree on the outside, there's always more to them than what's obvious. See the bigger picture in every situation. They have a certain quiet strength and power. Nurture is important to them. Do not appreciate unnecessary aggression and try to dominate over anything they consider harsh/crude.

Sheep yonis

Krittika and Pushya

Keywords: precision, structure, minimalism, choosiness, contained.

Do not like excess in anything. They have a sense of balance, usually in almost everything. Prioritize sctructure and basics/essentials. Like clarity and clear-cut lines in their lives and around them. Can be snappy, but in a passive-aggressive way. Not harsh in a heavy/overwhelming way but still harsh about details. Have a soft demeanor with strangers and acquaintances, sometimes even people close to them in everyday life but can judge them quietly. Neutral to friendly on the outside, but if they have uncomfortable emotions they try hard to release them quietly/without much fuss. Might bottle up resentment in result. Very utilitarian and practical.

Snake yonis

Rohini and Mrigashira

Keywords: enjoyment, ease, materialism, basic awareness, growth, progress, sensory indulgence, instincts.

Very placid and calm. They focus mainly on material things but can live without luxuries, and can also share them, although privacy is very important to them. Very aware of their surroundings and their own presence. Attuned to their senses. Can get easily attached to people and things. Can exhibit selfish tendencies(or that's how it looks to others) when they feel like their desires are ignored, but Rohini and Mrigashira each do it differently.

Dog yonis

Ardra and Mula

Keywords: upheaval, critical point, rebelling, release, change, anchoring.

Tense but not frail. Might look tortured sometimes. Do not like to and probably even cannot focus on details, at least not how it's traditionally done(different to each situation). Like to display their individuality in one way or another. Dark humor or sassy comebacks. Either quiet or very loud, but either way, opinionated. If they're neutral then they're opinionated about being neutral. Can be kind of nihilistic but at peace with it. Contrarian and unapologetic. If they don't care about something you can't make them care. If they do care, they care intensely.

Cat yonis

Punarvasu and Ashlesha

Keywords: accumulation, buildup, purity, safety, protection, preservation, cycles.

Concerned with what influences them, not so much what they put out. Self-focused but also highly aware of others' needs. Can adapt to surroundings and can change their behavior based on what they need or really want. Not unkind but laser-focused on the boundaries. Always keep their cards close to their chest, not out of malice but simply to preserve their safety. Look more unnaproachable than they really are, and know more than they share with most.

Rat yonis

Magha and Purva Phalguni

Keywords: dispersion, creativity, planting seeds, the self.

Can be egocentric. Prideful and nonchalant. Love to show off. Might be aware of surroundings to some degree but even if they are, they rarely care. Getting what they want is the priority, along with self-expression. Not very moralistic, don't care much about labels. Sometimes they can be too detached. Will almost never catch them crying in front of others, although they can be dramatic if they want and can, without a problem, attract their dwsired attention. Their happiness is more warm and generous than loud and euphoric. Might have a poker face, they rarely show strong emotions. The strongest emotion I've seen them express is that of defensiveness, and that's not even an emotion. When they get defensive it's almost always because something has touched their pride or triggered their ego. Focused on what they can do.

Cow yonis

Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Bhadrapada

Keywords: stability, the long-term results, natural, softness, power/influence, unity, calm.

Stubborn. That's the only defense they have, because otherwise they're very soft. Naturally honest. They have an effortlessness about them that feels easy to be around, and they are pleasant to be around but not accepting of everyone. They avoid people they don't like from early on and stick to the ones they consider better. Not hesitant to defend themselves or people close to them, but not quick to waste that energy on just anyone, and when they do become defensive they still maintain "the high ground". Backing their allies and fighting proudly is natural for them. Again, very stubborn, so they rarely, if ever, give up on something important. Although they're tough, they're not sharp or cruel. They are mostly in a state calmness and assuredness rather than anxious defensiveness. Very fixed and comfortable in their ways.

Buffalo yonis

Hasta and Swati

Keywords: materialism, gain, comfort, strength, feminine(yin), ease.

More attached to material things than other yonis. Individuality is defined through connections and surroundings. Love comfort and ease. Interdependence>independence. Can be curiously neutral and accomodating. Self-focused but not selfish. Often phlegmatic and slow. Genuinely caring but can be cunning. Not the most direct people. They will let others know their views but won't push them aggressively on others. Almost everything about them is filtered through that neutrality.

Tiger yonis

Chitra and Vishakha

Keywords: building, gradual, defensive, expression, buildup.

The most defensive. Can look sweet on the outside but are not all soft. Can range from extremely forgiving to extremely vengeful. Aggression comes out while speaking. Rarely, if ever, present in a state of calm melancholy. They moreso go from happy/fun to agitated. Focused on development/building, and always look for more than what's natural for them. Witty but emotionally so. If they're highly agitated, it's very hard for them to exercise restraint in the moment. Not that direct in general but unfiltered during critical moments. It's easy for them to put on a mask, whether out of neccessity or just for fun. Can be very judgemental. If they're not aware, it can make them act in a "mean" way when they feel not their best.

Rabbit/Deer yonis

Anuradha and Jyeshta

Keywords: society, organization, status quo, responsibility, transpersonal, maturing.

Very non-aggressive on the inside, despite how they might look. Naturally have endurance and a sense of responsibility. Can be judgemental but also understanding. Love to give advice. Competitive but respectful. Can become arrogant. Love everything "classic" but want to establish their own, new structures. Choosy and sometimes exclusive. More warm than they appear, and capable of more emotions than how it seems. Often traditionally intelligent. Have a very civilized behavior.

Vanar yonis

Purva Ashadha and Shravana

Keywords: flow, alliances, connections, support, creation and preservation.

Good at reading between the lines, anything too structured is harsh for them. Otherworldly aura/mannerisms. Most likely to posses what others might consider as "quirks". Value their own individuality and uniqueness. Seeks to be different from what they consider boring, normal or basic. Not very reactive. When they get defensive, they get quiet. Can romatisize sadness and melancholy. Capable of seeing both sides but are often willingly biased.

Mongoose yoni

Uttara Ashadha

Keywords: independence, solitude, practicality, victory.

Truly neutral and unbothered. Value honesty and integrity. Not attached to material things at all. Easy to be around but their regal nature might put some people ill at ease. Naturally take on leadership positions. Might feel lonely but won't trade solitude for tiring/uninteresting company. Value practicality and simplicity, and are practical themselves. Surprsingly warm and feeling in certain moments, but can also be uncaring towards others.

Lion yonis

Dhanishta and Purva Bhadrapada

Keywords: notoriety, flashiness, power, aggression, pride.

Very unfiltered and loudly so. Unashamed and bold, proud. That pride and confidence fuels their calmness, but they can lack patience. In everyday interactions they can look very unreactive but if something "triggers" them, they will not hesitate to be a little(or not so little) aggressive. Love to spread their influence. Might strongly dislike anything that looks subtle and quiet to them, as it arises distrust in them. Rarely, if ever, use/appreciate sarcasm. They prefer directness. Can slip into being a bully, or can become a proud voice for others.

[baeddel]

when learning to be rhetorically effective, we often settle into typical patterns. one common pattern is 'finding the happy medium.' in this pattern, the speaker outlines two opposing positions and identifies them as two extremes. then they introduce their own position, which they explain is somewhere in the middle of these two extremes, which we are supposed to consider a more measured and reasonable place to be.

some people can only think in these terms, and strongly identify as centrists, looking for the space between both sides on every issue. other people find such an approach frustrating, and might use the cliche: 'the middle of the road is the most dangerous place to be.' for myself, personally, i'm in the middle; i don't disdain ever using this device, but i don't use it so much that it becomes a dogma...

ah, but there's another device: the 'finding the dialectic.' in the dialectic, there is one tendency, bringing about a certain state of affairs. but at the same time, there is a counter-tendency, called the 'negation', which will limit the first tendency's ability to express itself, such that the anticipated state of affairs never comes into being in just that way, but always in an altered form.

this way of thinking is so powerful that we have a tendency to want to explain everything as part of a dialectical system, everything moving in some direction yet being altered, everything consuming a reflection of its own limits. yet for most of us, we will find that we cannot use this paradigm comfortably to explain everything, and decide that sometimes we're overfitting the evidence, or we're ignoring other tendencies or states of being to focus only on ones that are easy to dialecticize. thus, in effect, none of us ever become fully dialecticians, but use it more or less, according to its actual power to explain the particular situation to hand.

[lemonhemlock]

I did not get into Game of thrones when it first started airing. In fact, I waited until it was long past it's heyday (around s6 or 7) to check it out because the marketing and the conversation surrounding it misled me into thinking it was nothing more than "grimdark" bullshit. As one famous YouTuber sarcastically called it "hot fantasy that fucks." So, I avoided Martin's work for literal years due to the impression that I got from online reactors and show-only casuals who did as you and a few others have described as his work being fundamentally misinterpreted.

Fortunately, I overcame my hang-ups, purchased the books (even the supplementary material) and fell down an entire rabbit hole of ASOIAF which led me to recognizing that this world he spent decades creating is far more complex than what had been portrayed onscreen. Regardless of the possibility of the books remaining unfinished (which I am fine with, personally), what George has created is a genuine work of art that I imagine took a tremendous amount of time and energy. So, for so many people online to behave like children and throw tantrums because they feel entitled to him (ew) instead of ushering forth more reasonable conversations and legitimate debates about the nature of his situation frankly makes me look at this fandom with a heavy dose of skepticism.

It is truly baffling to hear even professional critics and see articles describing George as being "ungrateful" or "unprofessional" when it has been well-documented just how often authors get locked out of the adaptation process and left to the wayside as consultants. Look at what happened to Rick Riordan and Christopher Paolini! George R.R. Martin is not the only author to have qualms with how a multimillion dollar studio has mishandled his creative work, and to act like he should remain silent just because he's amassed a certain degree of wealth is quite frankly, ridiculous. He shouldn't have to settle down, be grateful, and stay quiet because the greedy corporate executives and their media drones will get offended by actual criticism that could alter the perception of the adaption being revealed as mediocre for having departed from the source material.

TLDR: authors should be allowed to speak up about their art being sacrificed for commercialization.

Thank you so much for this message, anon! This needs to be talked about more, because I don't think a lot of commentators truly understand the vulgar, late-capitalistic sheen that seems to set in and slowly poison any ASOIAF adaptation. It honestly baffles me how quick some members of this fandom are to rush to the defense of, what is essentially (let's not be kidding ourselves here), a cashgrab by a giant corporation to the detriment of the actual artist and the actual creative foundation behind it.

Why else would "MAX" (if that is even their name) make another (or several other) ASOIAF adaptations? Not to stay true to any philosophical aesthetic vision, as it has become more than apparent with Season 2, but to increase shareholder profits by appealing to the lowest common denominator. Even the basic premise has been shifted in order to address popular trends and satisfy the mindless consumer that doesn't want to engage with anything deeper than their favourite tropes, prettily packaged:

from a story about a doomed ouroborous family superimposed on the pitfalls of feudalism, with villainy and heroism to be found on both sides, it has been simplified and reduced to a narrative that exalts white feminism and disqualifies anyone who opposes its girlboss protagonist. This is Sheryl Sandberg's version of Fire and Blood.

Truly, I think Sara Hess did (unintentionally) outline it the best: "civilians don't matter in Game of Thrones". They don't matter in Game of Thrones, but they matter in A Song of Ice and Fire. The entire heart of the series is contained in Septon Maribald's speech. The writers "kind of", must have forgotten, though.

[y-rhywbeth2]

To-do list for the inheritor of the newly re-established office of High Primate of Bhaal of the City of Baldur's gate, circa 1480-something: politics, re-establishing the faith and getting Bhaal more sorely needed worship. And because there's only so much entertainment you can get being a group of twitchy killers living under the sewers.

Negotiate terms with local government for freedom of religion (presumably a private audience with the Grand Dukes, maybe the Parliament of Peers, maybe both, idk) Negotiations will probably begin with a more diplomatic version of: "I apologise on behalf of my Father for that thing where he manifested an avatar and went on a murderous rampage through the streets just over a century after my siblings almost drowned the world - and this city specifically - in blood. But also, considering the power just illustrated I think it's fair to say that it's in the best interests of a quiet life and an easier clean up that you just give us our temple back and let us worship in exchange for assassination and spying work on your behalf." This being the usual arrangement with evil faiths, it is in fact a winning argument. You don't kill anybody who matters (so criminals, travellers nobody knows, the homeless, etc) and honestly nobody will consider it worth the time and resources to stop you anyway. -

Weaken the political hold of enemy faiths Ilmater, Lathander and Helm have an established presence in the city, and the Ilmatari have done well enough since 14th century to upgrade from a shrine to a temple. All three of those faiths are better established, more influential, and will oppose the growth and activity of a Bhaalist presence, for some strange reason, -

Re-establish ties with traditional allied faiths (such as they are) Bhaal's traditional allies were Loviatar, Talona, Bane, Myrkul, Mask and Hoar. While none of these faiths hold the same level of sway in the city their enemies do, they all have at least one shared enemy. -

Eliminate rival/dissenting thieves and assassin guilds and organisations. Maybe establish some. Don't expect to have the thieves guilds at your beck and call (Mask is their patron god, but Bhaal generally worked with him fine - and you'll be fighting the Sharrans for influence too) but do make a space for yourself in there and ensure they understand that patronage and cooperation is mutually beneficial. Assassins? They're Bhaal's and he and his worshippers are going to expect all killers for hire to be paying their dues to the Lord of Murder or expect a "cease and decease" regarding their attempts to profit off of his domain without paying him back. -

Acquire Temple holdings Most of a temple's wealth and influence is going to come from owning land and properties. All members of the clergy of pretty much all faiths are expected to go out and claim some. Unfortunately being out of the picture for a century+ means the temple has lost a lot of its original holdings, so you might need to start working on taking some from the other temples... -

Network, Infiltrate and Recruit Gods always need more worshippers, and that goes double for gods who've been dead for a long time. Serial killers need the law to play nice. It's time to remind the peasantry to pay their "don't murder me taxes" (known as "tithes" for legal purposes) and find the city's more murderous members - even many who'd proudly call themselves upstanding citizens may just desire the execution of certain criminals the law won't touch or can't catch - and seek sympathetic ears amongst the rich and powerful... and remove and replace those who aren't. There are plenty of people like unscrupulous younger children whose ear you might have if only you helped them remove the pesky barriers standing between them and control, known as their relatives. And then you have blackmail! Things like that. Remember to wash the blood off before attending any fancy wine tasting parties in estates and pavilions in the upper city. You want your faithful in the ranks of the city watch and the Fist sooner rather than later. -

Establish presence in the Undercellar As the local criminal underworld hub where the law dare not tread (unless they're off duty and here for some crime themselves) this is where a lot of your "public" work and contracting is going to be. Remember to buy one of the back rooms for the "private shows". -

Consider a Daytime Identity, if you don't already have one An important part of being a typical Bhaalist is maintaining a separate, normal life outside the temple that allows you your own income and solid alibies... or you could just live in your dad's house, cling to your divine status and refuse to do any of that mortal stuff, I guess. -

Start repairs on the Temple It's been a dusty, out of date ruin for 100+ years. Consider the structural damage. Maybe have the butler do a bit of dusting.

[roninfromtheops]

unordered headcanon’s

some with explanations some not

Mr.mcprideypride definitely has either a dent or like minor swelling from holding his pen so often

Beel doesn’t actually spill crumbs or anything, I know the story says otherwise but I feel like he’s the kind of guy to eat a passionflakey without any crumbs (which is magic and horrifying to watch)

All of the brothers (-minus Satan) possess shapeshifting to a certain degree, Asmodeus is the best at it. (Based off of how some archangels in the bible can change forms by ‘possessing’ humans)

Solomon’s magic didn’t turn white from magic, or even was natural. It turned white from stress of undoing all of the magic he had previously done during his time used by the ocean spirits.

Levi is really athletic…. Under water. I just know he swims in that big tank.

Mammon is a good big brother to Luke, Mammon views Luke like a young Satan (if Satan had gotten to be a child)

Barbatos isn’t really a demon, he’s more akin to Satan in where his existence was created by an angelic power separating. The difference between Barbatos and Satan is that Satan’s was based of emotion rather then dulling and existing power. (Space and time, being separated into space, time.)

Solomon’s cooking isn’t actually bad. It’s not good but it’s not terrible. It’s like how cilantro is either good or tastes like soap, this is because of how accustomed the taster is to Devildom food (hence why Simeon and Luke find it disgusting while Raphael finds in good and Mc finds it… not poisonous…)

Before the fall Lucifer had much brighter eyes (I know canon says otherwise, but let me believe) now they weren’t bright pink but more like albinism on human eyes.

Levi has some form of rosacea that comes back no matter what he does, he’s really hygienic too.

Piggybacking off the last one, Asmo is weary of lending makeup to Levi because of how many products can trigger his skin. Asmo ends up making a custom line of products for Levi.

Lucifer isn’t half as mean as he’s portrayed in the game to his brothers. It’s like how most people are affectionately mean to their friends.

Lucifer… likes screamo music, at lower decibels. But he specifically only likes siren scremo.

Satan isn’t as biased to dogs as he’s usually shown. He finds them adorable, he finds almost every friend-shaped animal adorable, its more of a act to oppose Lucifer.

One time Satan made Hell’s Coffee for Lucifer and tried to put a ton of sugar in it. It was unpalatable because Lucifer could taste extremely bitter coffee mixed with sugary syrup.

Mammon usually always finds a way to make up for what he did to his brothers.

Monthly movie nights (In mammon’s room, why else would he have such a large couch)

Belphie has fallen asleep against Lucifer and Mammon more times then he’d ever admit, there’s something so comforting about resting on his eldest brother’s.

The brothers can feel when Mc commits their sin through their pact. Vice versa, And sometimes their human committing their sin is better then committing it themselves.

The sins are less of a part of the brothers but an overwhelming feeling to them, for example. Satan isn’t an angry guy, it’s just how suffocating wrath is. ( think of it less as a feeling they have and more of a aura around them)

[kanohivolitakk]

Ok let me explain why I reacted as I did in my last post, which was indeed regarding the scrapped Toa Inika concepts essentially vindicating why I'm one of the few people who believe love not being canon is a good thing.

Firstly, before anyone gets assumptions let me clarify something. I don't think having romance existing in Bionicle is inherently a bad idea in and of itself. Those who followed me in le olden days know I do ship characters from this stupid series. Romance existing in the world and characters having romantic relationships is something I don't inherently oppose.

That said

I've always believed that romance wouldn't work as a proper element of the story itself and would've made the series worse for a few factors.

For starters, I feel romance kinda, clashes with Bionicles core essence. Bionicle is fundamentally an action adventure story that focuses on mystery, intrigue and discovery in a fantastical setting, with heavy emphasis on worldbuilding and intrigue. Sure, there are other series with similar styles and goals that have romance. But usually they happen to only have part of those elements than all of them. Bionicle is already packed as is, so as such having romance would've just muddied the pack than made actual worthwhile addition to the story

Secondly...romance in these kinds of stories is rarely done well, unless it is one of the core components. In action and fantasy stories aimed at kids and teens romance is rarely (if ever) done well. Usually it's regulated to onedimensional love-interests, will they won't they plots or compelling characters being ruined by forced romance plots. While there are exceptions, most of the time romance in these stories feels forced rather than organic, and as such more of a detriment to the narrative than a benefit. Given how Bionicle was released during the heyday of mediocre forced romances and how the series already isn't that character centric to begin with, I absolutely believe the series would've stumbled with handling romance.

Thirdly, it's just nice to have a story that doesn't have romance at all and instead focuses on fun adventures and interesting mysteries. As I said, romance could've most likely been felt shoehorned or forced in, and thus its nice for Bionicle to exist as is without any unnecessary elements to drag it down. But in addition it's just...really refreshing and freeing. A lot of stories (especially of the time) feel very amatonormative where romance is expected as a natural part of live and thus exists in everything no matter what. As someone who both was annoyed by romance being everywhere no matter what (and is possibly onarospec on some degree) that kind of..refusal to amatonormativity is just...really nice.

Fourthly, it allows platonic relationships to shine. I feel that often (both in real life, fiction and fandom spaces) romantic relatinships are put bigger emphasis on than platonic relationships, whenplatonic relationships are just as valuable if not moreso. Platonic relationships are undervalued and certain traits are seen as inherently romantic. As such its just...nice to see characters have deep bonds and connections without being forced red string of fate either by the narrative, fandom or both.

And lastly...I just kinda prefer shipping in fandom over canonical relationships. Unless the story is focused on romance, has romantic relationship being important for the larger narrative/themes or there's a relationship that is geniunely compelling and fascinating I just prefer when audience can choose which characters they see being "together" rather than the writer "forcing" a relationship onto them. Like, I love Daggerspider but part of that is because I get to choose the ship myself rather than Greg (or anyone else) forcing me to accept it as canon.

So yeah that's why I always believed romance not being canon was ultimately a good thing and why I am somewhat against the fandoms desire to make it canon. If you want to meet me halfway I'm willing to accept romance as an element of the setting or have romantic relationships be subtext/canonicaal couples. But Bionicle should never be focused on romance because its lack of romance is ultimately for it's benefit I feel.

[apomaro-mellow]

I'm finally starting it, the full-fledge version of my king eldritch abomination!eddie and prince steve ficlet series. Eddie is in the middle of a feud with an opposing kingdom. Running out of options, he decides to kidnap their prince. Part 1/?

Dark clouds descended over the castle. It had been raining for days. A fact that the king was certain had everything to do with the monster that made their home in the neighboring kingdom. Alric prided himself on being a successful monarch. His lineage was the stuff of legends. But there was one blemish on the Harrington name. And it was that none so far had been able to best the beast that lived on the horizon.

It was an unfortunate state that his land shared a border with that of a King Edward. He wasn’t a man, he was a…a creature. A thing with many voices and many faces that masqueraded as a mortal human.

If there was one thing Alric could do to seal his name in the annals of history, it was wiping that entire place and all its inhabitants off the face of the map.

Such a thing was easier said than done. As much steel and iron as his armory possessed, the monsters were numerous. 

“Increase the patrols. I want eyes on every inch of the border”, he ordered.

“Do we have enough men for that? Recruitment has been low”, the prince said.

An amendment to a previous statement. There was a second blemish on the Harrington family. And his name was Steven. His son, who did nothing but sleep with whatever girl looked his way. Complacent and unambitious. The rare day he was allowing the disappointment to join in on the session with his war council and he was speaking out of turn.

“You would do best to watch your tongue”, Alric said.

Steve turned his head down, deferring to his father. He was good at one thing at least. Obedience. He looked down to the map again, pacing about it, trying to think of where best to send his men to quell what was surely a slow uprising.

“He is right, my liege. We can’t afford to send more men to the borders. This year’s crop of squires hasn’t met expectations.”

Alric glared at anyone who dared to disagree with him, even if they were right. But the reasoning of the lack of bodies would give him an excuse to do what he’s been wanting to for a while. It wasn��t enough to kill the monsters that inched along the border. It was time to officially go on the offensive.

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

The rain coming down wasn’t by anyone’s hand but nature’s. You couldn’t tell a Harrington that though. They were stubborn as mules. He knew this quite well. King Edward had been ruling his realm for long enough that he had been dealing with Alric and his father and his father’s father. All who saw him and his people as only pests to be exterminated. 

He could look past the odd villager slaying one of the demogorgans when they came into a town looking for an easy meal. That was simply self defense. But as of recently King Alric had begun sending soldiers into his forests to start seeking out any beasts and ending them on their own ground.

In response, Eddie used his powers to erect a thorny barrier. Anyone who wanted to enter his kingdom from that side would have to struggle through a dense bramble. It would be difficult for soldiers on horseback to get through. This sort of back and forth continued for months. Alric would sent more people, despite the harsh terrain, never caring for the champions he lost. The border would be strengthened to try and keep him out and he would just find another way in.

Eddie was losing his patience with the man and the straw that broke the camel’s back was when a messenger arrived with news of what happened to one of the towns close to the border.

“My lord! It’s terrible!”, the messenger bellowed as he crashed into the throne room.

“What is it?”, Eddie asked, concern showing through his voice and face.

“King Alric’s men! They’ve-! They’ve-!”

They had trespassed the line once again but this time they didn’t go attack a nest of demodogs. No, it seemed for this visit they saw fit to lay waste to a township of innocent civilians. They hadn’t slain a single monster. Only people.

It was practically a declaration of war. 

“This can’t go on”, Jeff, one of his most trusted knights said when he heard the news.

“And it won’t”, Eddie promised. He was going to have some words with this tyrant. If he could avoid war, he would. But Eddie had a feeling if they ever got into the same room, he would kill him.

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

Alric barely gave the sealed envelope a glance before tossing it into the fire. Steve shot up from the chair he’d been sitting in. 

“What are you doing?! King Edward has finally sent a correspondence. Don’t you want to talk with him?”

“Steven! Don’t raise your voice at your father”, his mother, Juliana, scolded. “He knows what he’s doing.”

At the queen’s stern look, Steve sat back down. After speaking his mind in the war room, Steve hadn’t been allowed back. The privileges normally afforded to a crown prince, coming to the meetings, providing his own insight were taken from him. He didn’t want to think about what else would be taken if he kept speaking his mind. But this couldn’t be the right way of doing things. After shedding blood, the opposing monarch was trying to talk.

And his father was just ignoring it.

“That letter was most certainly just the incomprehensible scratch of an illiterate”, his father spat. “He wears the face of a man but that is not what he is.”

Steve ventured a question. “Then what is he?”, he asked quietly.

Alric stared intensely at the fire. “He is an abomination. Borne of the dark void which sucks all light and warmth from this world.”

“He can change his shape. That is why he is so dangerous”, Juliana added. “It is why he must be stopped.”

Steve understood that. He had heard the stories, which at this point were legends. One day, something had risen from a black pool and no one knew what it was. But it was powerful. Powerful enough to conjure up more from the black pool. More that were like it. Able to use the muck to make walls rise from the ground.

King Edward and fought with his great grandfather, which was how the border existed in the first place. He had fought his grandfather, which was why beasts like the demogorgan kept sentry at his borders. And now it was happening again.

Alric ignored every single letter that came, determined not to speak or negotiate. In the mean time, he continued to send squads to attack at towns and villages, stoking the other king’s ire. -----------------------------

Eddie was once again, meeting with his council, squatting in his chair while their voices rose in volume. Each one angry and hurt and wanting to finally bite back. Eddie thought that this time he could choose peace. That this time he could get away without fighting. But it appeared wise old Alric was ready for a war.

“SILENCE!”, Eddie shouted while slamming his hands on the table. All conversation ceased. He rubbed at his face. “We have one last step before waging a war that could kill more than it saves.”

“And what’s that?”, Gareth asked.

Eddie rose to stand on his chair, then stepped onto the table that held a map of both of their lands. “If Harrington won’t sit down with us well then”, he stalked over to the pieces on the table that represented the royal family. He plucked up the one that was meant for the prince. “We’ll make him sit down.”

Part 2

[storgicdealer]

one of my BIGGEST and important rambles on ava that questions a lot of stuff that was accepted as factual a lot of times

dimensions, rocketcorp and virtual reality in ava

initially inspired by these tags from @sticksstonessteel and the thinking about rocketcorp simulations. and a certain hc i saw on ao3 once and remembered

eventually it turned into an existential crisis. im sorry moots

warning: OKAY. so. this is very clumsily made and its an assumption made both of canon info and theories that might feel as a complete reach.

this text touches upon possibility AND obscure ideas that might not have definitive proof in canon. there might be not a direct link of events here. but it is very, VERY long and touches many different subjects at once. takes of this long ramble are bold (i could also mention strangely opposing points in the text because i re-thought many concepts along the process of this ramble and mightve not noticed it)

i was wondering about the way the technical-machine device stuff intermingles with the whole literal mercenaries (and a box used for torture) thing. but these tags made me think not only of that

what we've seen so far is that rocketcorp controls a variety of tech, both pc-like interfaces that only they have access to and more "regular" tech, like tvs on which videos from youtube can be played on. [kings backstory]. we've also seen a variety of different tech in the wanted-the box episodes, but not much of it can be used outside whatever advanced shit theyre doing inside the corporation. one of these things however can be used which is surveillance tech, it feels like an important thing to note given that the importance of the corporation might suggest that rocket is responsible for city surveillance in one way or another as well

yet how exactly does a tech corporation tie in with mercenaries, weaponry (and literal torture)?

• rocketcorp

given, again, the grand variety of tech they possess and advanced technology they use, them using literal devices that real world users/sticks from a pc would use (control panel of the box) and it being restricted to them only made me think of something. the whole story of ava/m is built inside digital realms, outernet and internet. taking that into account, obviously, any kind of technological advances in these worlds are crucial to the way of how sticks in it interact with their already technological reality. which made a tech company like rocketcorp so influental in the first place

due to a piece of rocketcorps existence in the king episode and ava s2 teaser and prior to the release of the box i had a thought that the company specializes and presents itself as a "domestic" tech company. not the kind of company that meddles with grand technology and digital stuff, but the one that is accustoming citizens of the outernet with regular tech such as the mentioned tvs. the work of the mercenaries was always perceived to me as just an underground shady work of a company. but the box and a reminder of the chosens wanted poster made me rethink and question whether rocketcorp specializes on technology that changes and affects the reality they're living in, outernet and dimensions itself

i tried to observe the possibility of it and came around to three big thoughts, the most major one being the last

first thought that can give something to this thought is that mercs tech weapons influence physical properties of their world — ultimately damaging objects and people (like it was with the corndog stand and chosen), rendering the objects out of their usual state and bringing actual pain or messing with the state of a stick.

(its also worthy to mention that in the corndog short, prior to the merc and chosen chase appearing onscreen people in the short were already running away, and it does make me wonder if it happened out of potential fear of these weapons or, maybe, potential fear of the chosen one? bringing me back to my post on thinking how chosen & dark crimes were perceived in the internet and possibly outernet)

the fact that weapons changing literal existence of an object and glitching them are available to mercenaries of rocketcorp is a pretty big thing

another potential argument for it is about the memory scanner itself — a thing used for intrusion into a literal brain (code?) of a person. the obvious thing aside – the scanner literally looks like a vr helmet and i initially thought that it was its function before i saw what it was used for

the whole fact that this kind of advanced technology exists, honestly, surpassing the already existing level of technology in stickcity is something that could potentially connect victim and rocketcorp respectively to an ability to meddle with a literal living being, their memory and potentially their code. victim, aware and knowing the process of being directly created from someone's hand might've acquired the knowledge of influencing a stick's literal process of living over the course of all the years. which brings me to my major point:

• dimensions

we all know about the fact that initial pc programs are able to be used in the outernet, which by itself is an interesting discussion of internet and outernet intertwining once again. we know that rocketcorp and pc sticks use interfaces that real world users use. and we know about the existence of the adobe tool board that agent uses literally all their screentime and the adobeflash instruments in victims office. it wasnt a surprising thing to see given that we have mostly explored the way of how pc and internet programs work throughout the series, and it was thought about that well! nothing surprising about these tools being in the outernet as well, mustve acquired it from somewhere! (and honestly, given all the new insane character plot i didnt think about that deeply either)

over the course of events happening in the outernet we have never really seen pc apps used there physically prior to season 2, except for one time of alan's cursor being used there... that required an insane amount of coding and manifestation of the cursor in the outernet space that couldnt be achieved without a stick that is familiar with with a pc.

not only talking about yellows feats, the creation of darks portals is something worth mentioning as well. we know that he is extremely skilled in coding, with it most likely being his main activity (aside from terrorism) in his life in the outernet. no sticks that we've seen created something like literal dimensional portals, like dark did — and he is a stick that is accustomed to the pc and internet as well. and oh, orange. bringing their stylus to outernet and have it revoked almost immediately when caught (which is not surprising at all anymore, that the mercs and rocket workers took an immediate interest in it given canon information and all these theories lol)

and, unsurprisingly, purple, king and the unknown merchant in "the king" episode as well. we know that the minecraft icon could be accessed through a travel to a pc, and that purple was first introduced literally inside of a mac — and the whole bit of purple coming to alanspc trying to steal the icon that the cg had.

(another thought to mention is about the interdimensional travel — the whole fact that the internet and the pc realm is able to be accessed through programs brought to the outernet. (e.g. minecraft portals). but again, these programs were initially coming from a pc, and didnt exist in the outernet. where the actual hell did the blue merchant in the king episode come from????)

this whole fact shows that the only way to access pc programs in the outernet is for something or someone to bring it there.

and victim, posessing all the tools of the whole program he was created in, wouldnt be able to get it through regular means. whether that means acquiring it from someone's elses hands or going to a pc by themselves.

• virtual reality and the position of rocketcorp in outernet

now, im going to bring up outernet and internet intertwining again. outernet sticks do not interact with pc programs physically, like all avam main characters do.

the only times we've seen pc programs and apps physically interact with outernet were shenanigans with the cg, hollowheads, purple & king. people that actually had access to a pc in one way or another.

(..and the damn merchant.)

the fact that these programs existence is quite rare in outernet and maybe even unknown to some, having rocketcorp being a full-on restricted company with classified information, having high influence over tech, exchange of pc programs being seen as a shady activity(!!!!) (the king episode),

— could rocketcorp be somewhat of a main corporate that controls the fabric of the outernet and internet itself, being some sort of a power force and government-ish corporation to the outernet? perhaps, them being seen as officials that have limited knowledge of unaccessible pc programs and internet itself and exclusive (even divine?) power of it that only they are able to possess, providing it to the outernet, initially making them "the people in power" that stand higher than regular sticks of the outernet?

(essentialy, making victim a literal fucking dimension mastermind)

• important part about outernet sticks (that ill probably ramble about in an another post independently)

supposing that rocketcorp does possess power... would they have control over what they decide to stream and show with their tech?

the tv that we've seen in the king episode didnt show any other episode except for the minecraft one. heck, it could've been the only thing shown there.

and in general, it begs the question: are outernet sticks that never traveled beyond its space even aware of internet?

and could've they interpreted the episode above as just fiction, along with the confirmation that our main characters are the ones that are inherently tied with the pcs and the internet in different ways?

(PLEASE tell me if there's proof that confirms otherwise because its a very bold statement given how much outernet and internet are interlinked in the main story. its 2 am i havent slept sometimes i have amnesia and i might be forgetting something very crucial. this assumption was not fully comprehended by me before specifically because most outernet sticks are the same type with the cg and it was confusing when i was just getting back to avam a few years ago)

we also know about the box itself. or, to be more accurate, the boxes. the ones that both chosen and second were trapped in, at the same time, in different places. the ones that were, quite literally, simulations. the ones that have also used pc programs tools.

simulation isnt something that was seen as an ordinary occurence, but it was literally seen twice in the rocketcorp in the same episode. creation of a simulation doesnt seem like an activity that could be used by ordinary sticks either. giving potential highest influence of rocketcorp over pc and internet technologies and its providence, are they able to give simulation experience to others, allowing regular sticks to experience different dimensions in a controlled way? say, for example, in a game?

whoa finally i got it out of my brain. im going to drop family guy pose style

afterthought rollercoaster:

• as far as i remember we didnt see outernet citizens interact with internet like users do, but we do know they possess tech such as television again, that can be bought. there IS tech such as computers (tdls room) but we havent seen them being used by sticks that werent exposed to the concept of the pc and the internet. there is a possibility i missed out on outernet sticks using phones or other tech, but even with this, its possible that our internet is simply not accesible there

• given the possibility of rocketcorp delegating all technology and simulations, providing it to others, possibly allowing smaller companies to use their resources in different cities... is there a possibility that rocketcorp might've been responsible for the gold simulation incident?

• going back to weapons of the mercs, i do wonder whether, even with the pc apps ability to be used in the outernet, the apps themselves having any kind of influence over processes in the outernet — given the whole glitching thing that literally messes with physical objects and people. it is just my own theory, but i dont believe that the glitch thing that is embedded in these weapons comes from the outernet, either

• okay this is going to be a wild concept you dont have to read it

talking about the creation of outernet and the whole race of stickmen, right now i am tending to believe that outernet is still an extension of internet that might've appeared with its creation. i was always open to accepting it but slightly confused by the concept of outernet being natural (bc i constantly try to find logic in worldbuilding el oh el) and tried to suggest a theory that sticks of outernet might've also been created directly (which does feel like a reach atp). with the concepts i discussed in this ramble i dont really feel that confusion, but im honestly not abandoning the idea of creation at some point, either: specifically i had a thought that when outernet first appeared first sticks of that dimension were also created, potentially them finding a way into outernet in some way. but eventually outernet was built as an independent place for their kind and prospered by itself like any civilization would

oh my god im going to drop with exhaustion. but im so happy i got it out

self portrait of my sticksona right now

[bugcatcherkit]

What are your thoughts on Reigen I'm so curious now

Ohhh where do i start with Contradictions Georg himself.... Masking Andy... (clenches teeth) I have to make a list so I don't rant about one particular thing only.

the thing that hits hardest for me about his character is his Existentialism man. it's terribly relatable. Indeed, he is a Very Small Guy in a Very Big World and it's difficult to be Seen because of that. But also he's littered with Fear of Being Perceived and Understood. So he deals with his Existentialism by reaching for something (he doesn't know what) that'll make him somebody (he doesn't know who, just that it can't be his genuine self). MAN!!!!!!

Second thing that hits hard about his character is his unfiltered insecurities and self-loathing. Every time someone goes "We have to talk" he goes over every mistake or possible mistake he's ever made. He's the type of guy to search up the meaning of a word before he uses it, even if he's used it a 100 times before. Because what if he's wrong this one specific time?? Also his insecurities frequently make him act worse (sometimes on purpose, sometimes not) rather than better (as opposed to Mob most of the time) and i appreciate that so much.

I appreciate his Just Some Guyness over his babygirlness (not that they can't coexist i guess). Sorry guys. This is also why i think i prefer manga Reigen over anime Reigen. Like i can appreciate anime Reigen's maxed-out eccentricities and stuff, but overall I like the more Reservedness (?) that manga Reigen has. Personally it makes his groundedness, bad actions, and self-improvement hit a little harder. It goes well with his struggle to display his emotions in a loose and genuine way.

but despite this he's still silly. and frequently outlandishly embarrassing. and these are super important to his character also. Alongside his very genuine concern and care for the lives of others at any given moment.

He's always talking about his interpersonal relationships in terms of the Respect the other party holds for him. and then Separation Arc comes in with a steel chair that says "you have to give respect back to make a relationship Good and Fair and Genuine, idiot."

the only relationship this doesn't hold true to is with Dimple. Neither of them have any respect for each other really. And it's awesome.

i love how he is always just some Mediocre guy. He slowly self-improves certain aspects of his life but at the end of the day he's still paying Grown Man Serizawa 300 yen an hour (last time I checked). So.

Him being Mob's foil also means he has a lot in common with other Mob antagonists. But he has so many Mogamisms that it drives me up the wall. Sometimes he'll say a Mogamism and in my mind Mob looks at him with such a sudden intensity that he gets Scared

I frequently think of the scene where he is at the bar during Separation Arc and he realizes the bar people aren't his friends. And he says "I'm not good at this" and leaves. I don't have much to expand here but just know that when I think of how he experiences interpersonal relationships I think about this line. Because he's so good at a lot of things but Not This (Relationships overall. But also probably solving their problems in the moment).

not a fan of Dad or Uncle Reigen. To anyone really. Sorryyy. No hate to those who are though.

uhhhhhhh umm this has gotten so long. Sorry this is so unorganized i think i do better with more direct questions because i suck at staying on topic/being concise when i have free reign. There's so many aspects of his character that I didn't get to here that I also love. But its so hard to think of them all. I hope this gives you an idea though?

[dotthings]

Thinking over some things I've seen over time from spn fans: the anti-lit crit takes in spn fandom are in fact classist, elitist, and pretentious.

a) pretentiousness against spn which is a shoestring budget genre horror series that aired on a bottom-rung network. There is an assumption it couldn't possibly good, and assumption the writing team couldn't possibly know what they're doing. (Have to wonder if people have seen any of their post-spn work...then come tell me the network wasn't a problem, that these writers weren't doing amazing work inside the imposed fencing of spn on cw. Or even a later show on cw itself, which proves how much spn had extra fencing). People who genuinely appreciate spn (even if we criticize sometimes or have gotten mad at it as people do, because nobody is claiming it's a perfect piece of media, it's a flawed media, and I've never denied that) are assumed to be stupid, lacking in good judgment on what good writing is, low in taste, and if we appreciate anything about modern spn, assumed to be too dumb to comprehend spn.

b) anti-genre bias. These elitist viewpoints toward a horror genre tv show often goes hand-in-hand with anti-genre biases, not always, but often. In my direct experience, people who watch a lot of genre tv are less likely to do this to spn. They are also far more familiar with genre tv's uses of symbolism and literary devices and how genre tv conveys its narratives and so are more facile at picking up on what spn is doing. spn fandom has a certain number of fans who seem like they'd really be happier not watching genre tv. I'm not knocking things that aren't genre tv, but mainstream dramas have different kinds of rules. I do watch and appreciate some mainstream dramas, I'm not dissing mainstream drama, but mostly I watch genre tv and I like it like that. What I have noticed though is systemic biases against genre, and ironically it affects spn fandom. There is a societal assumption that "mainstream drama" is superior to genre tv. Lingering biases that say fantasy and horror and SF are silly. And therefore not worthy of close media analysis.

c) assumptions, even aggressive assertions, that academic degrees are what make people the superior, more reliable narrators on the canon. Even attempts at gatekeeping and attempts at fencing--that only the academics know what they're talking about. (Not a knock on the academics who write enjoyable commentary on spn, not everyone weaponizes it to be elitist).

anti-lit crit, anti-intellectualism that keeps collectively bashing spn's writers and collectively attacking spn meta writers, is actually elitist, or it's driven by chronically bitter lenses, people with their own agendas.

The spn meta community is in fact more egalitarian in its approaches, posting in an accessible style, asserting that media literacy is open to all, and you don't need degrees to get it, that fiction is powerful and instinctively understood by human beings. It's just a matter of people figuring out how to talk about what's in their heads.

So pretty much it's the people who default look down on spn who think they're the smartest in the land, as opposed us fools who actually take the canon seriously and enjoy talking about it with good faith approaches.

[aalghul]

Idk if youve answered this before sorry if you have lol but what is your stance on jason and romance/romantic partners hes paired with? personally im an aroace jason truther and im not fond of most romantic ships he gets roped into but outside of personal hcs its mostly how his romantic relationships are written that makes me so critical of them. rosejay writing imo can be something SO heinous it makes me upset for them as characters

i actually don’t like any of jason’s canon relationships except for rena to be honest (they were adorable). all of his other canon relationships fall...very flat. jason's fast to care about people, but that's true for all people, not just those he might be romantically interested in. so far, no canon relationship has done anything to earn my interest in him and the other character being lovers as opposed to friends. none of the writers have ever quite managed to justify to me why certain characters become love interests.

isabel, for example, could have been a fun character she quite literally only exists as a love interest. and jason's interest stemmed in her from...she's pretty? i suppose? i was biased against this pairing from the start because the idea that jason could start a relationship on that casual a premise makes me laugh, personally. i think he needs time to realize he loves people, sorry. he can be charming and like people instantly, but he's also not normal enough to attempt at casual relationships so that's meaningless when it comes to romance.

it's a different problem with artemis because her and jason do get to know each other before anything romantic happens...but the lead up could not have lacked in chemistry more severely than it did. it felt like they got together because boy and girl who are really close.

jayrose is one of my least hated canon jason ships and it has nothing to do with how they're written, i just appreciate them being on panel together sometimes (and other times i can't even appreciate that lol). but again, this goes back to: why a love interest and not a friend? what about this relationship justifies that dynamic? what about it is more compelling if it is a romantic relationship rather than a friendship? because they have done nothing to convince me. i don't care if they've been married or if they kiss on panel. what does a romantic relationship with each other do for either of these characters? because so far, it hasn't made them grow or challenged them in any way that's fair to their characters.

[alexiswritingstuff]

Saved by the unexpected.

Pairing: Frank Castle x teen! reader (Gender Neutral)

Other appearances: Micro, aka David Lieberman. 

Summary: Your run to the grocery store goes sideways on the way back home that leads you to being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and with a fresh gunshot wound. Upon waking up you find yourself somewhere unknown with people you had never seen... Or so you thought.

Warnings: gun fights, murder, gun shot wound, mentions of other injuries like cuts and bruises, implied parent loss. 

Be aware of possible spelling mistakes or sentences that are worded wrong. I read over my writing before posting but stuff still manages to slip under my radar!

A/n: Bro I really am bad at creating titles for fics. Anyway, I watched The Punisher a few months ago, and previously finished DareDevil, and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about a certain Mr. Castle. That man in general already activated my daddy issues and then I watched season 2, and... Yeah, that was a lot, but this is what my brain created! 

Like I say whenever I write for new characters, because this is my first attempt, the way portray them and the characteristics may not be a 100% accurate, so bear with me while I find my footing.

Either way, I hope you enjoy reading! 

It was supposed to be a morning like any other. One that started with a bright sky and chirping birds before slowly melding into the warm afternoon. 

You had just done the weekly shop, collecting everyday items, things that would give the most important nutrients, with basically the same amount in snacks and drinks. 

I mean, what else could they mean by a balanced diet?

The main route you would usually take had been closed off by the time you had finished with the store, the road cracked from something unknown, meaning that you had to take a detour. 

It was one that you had walked through many times before, leading you almost directly towards where your trailer was stationed without having to wind round block after block of apartments. 

So, the decision to choose it was simple. 

You took off down the pathway between two very large buildings that almost looked as if they could reach the sky from your angle.

This part was more commonly known as the run down area. The complexes on either side of you were empty. Most had the windows boarded up, due to the lack of repair, and the walls themselves were stained from a plethora of things. 

Some parts even looked about ready to fully crack and crumble. 

It was a lot harder to get funding for these buildings the further they got from the main street. The only people even coming here were probably residents from some that managed to become apartments. But the rest was pretty much just abandoned property.

You had moved under an overhang section created by the walkway above, connecting the two opposing buildings. It honestly sort of felt like a tunnel due to its width, but definitely not by length as you were quickly welcomed by the next area. 

To the left, behind a wall that separated a descending pathway from the ground levelled with your own feet, was a car park. 

The size of it would give the implication that there was a mass of vehicles coming in and out during the week, easy access for people working in the surrounding buildings. 

Though now, it was always empty.

… Or it was supposed to be. 

In the furthest corner was this very specific looking handful of cars; big and black, almost blocky in structure. A sight that should have been acknowledged as the first sign. Your first warning. 

But not fast enough.

Out of nowhere, there was this echo that felt like it drilled through your ear drums. It was a violent sound, one that rung for almost a full minute through the complex to your left. 

It wasn’t something you really questioned off the bat, somehow. I mean, the building was old. 

It could’ve been a loose panel finally deciding to break free from the ceiling, or a cracked wall weighing in on itself. Maybe even someone trying to fix up the damn building.

In fairness, those assumptions weren’t exactly bad... 

They were just the wrong ones. 

The sounds repeated, and whatever it was reverberated from the broken windows in a way that properly allowed it to be heard in its entirety. It was closer this time, more full. “What the...”

It was a series of bassy pops, collectively almost imitating the blast of fireworks, but within the sounds were these clinks like something was falling on the floor right after. 

And though it was a very muffled detail, that took a moment for your brain to register, it didn’t stop the cogs from making their final turn. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Within the same moment that you had made the decision to practically slide to the side, trying not to completely slam into the wall that you ended up behind, the doors of the building burst open with such force that it echoed.

There was a chorus of yelling, even more shots, and heavy boots that practically skidded against the concrete as they moved. Like you had just stumbled across a damn army.

You were sat on the ground, one leg stretched out from your hurried movements while the other was still bent at the knee, ready to move if necessary. The backpack was still strapped around your shoulders meaning that the further you tried to press against the brick wall, the more certain items began to stab into your back.

Your heart was hammering, chest heaving, as you continuously looked up and down the path you sat on. 

It was the only thing you could see. Everything was happening on the other side of the wall, so pretty much all you could do was just sit and listen for the people that might decide to come your way.

You fought the urge to cry out when bullets skimmed the top of the wall, causing little clumps of rubble and dust to hit the top of your head. “Why me, why me, why me!” you hissed through a whisper, trying to ruffle the stuff out of your hair. 

Hurried shouts were passing back and forth across the huge car park like a game of tennis, though it seemed that due to the other sounds that followed, and the panicked state of your mind, all of them were unintelligible. It sounded like they were coming from everywhere.

The multiple objects in your bag had started to make your spine ache so, at the same time as yet another shot, you leaned forward. Quick enough that the sound of items unsquashing themselves would ring at the same time as the bullet. 

You reached back, making sure that your bag wasn’t going to hit any surface, and then took it off one arm at a time before the bag was finally placed in front of you.

Your fingers immediately unzipped it to begin the search. You wanted some kind of weapon, or if not that then at least some form of protection... But you had in fact just gone shopping. 

I doubt a banana would be useful in a gun fight. 

So, you moved onto the pockets that sat on either side of the bag. A huff of air passed through your lips while your hand shuffled through the left pocket. You felt around, following the lining of stitches for at least something, but the most found was a wrapper from some candy or gum. 

So, it was on to the next. 

This time, to do the same routine, was a bit more difficult as this pocket was where you kept your water bottle. A more careful process as you started to comb through the compartment. 

And then, finally, you felt something.

In that moment it was hard to tell what it was. It felt long enough to at least administer some form of damage, or maybe only threaten someone from a distance, so your stressed mind just chose it. You began pulling your hand out. 

But, despite what you wanted, it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

Right as the item had been tugged vertically, an attempt to make it easier to pull it out, the movement had caused the bone of your wrist to hit into the bottle.

Ordinarily, it was something that you wouldn’t think twice about. You were just trying to get an item out of a pocket, surely you could do that without something bad happening... 

However, half of whatever you were trying to grab had been stuck under the bottle in a way that already had it tilting. And then the impact landed. Your wrist hit near the top of the bottle and that was all it needed. 

It started to tip out of the pocket. 

A sharp breath sucked into your lungs at the feeling, but with no ability to catch it in time, the metal cylinder simply fell to the floor from a very unfortunate height for you. 

In fact, even after the sound echoed in a way that most definitely had already blown your cover, the world seemed to have other plans for you as after yet another bounce and a few more smaller ones, it was starting to roll. 

You leaned to the side as fast as you could, reaching your arm out to its full extent with your hand wide open. But it was like trying to catch a fly, and soon, it just rolled right passed your fingers, moving even faster the more the water sloshed inside of it. 

The only thing you could do was watch in utter horror as the bottle travelled right passed the edge of a wall for the whole world to see. 

And eventually, about halfway through the path, it ran into a rock or a crack in the ground. The bottle bounced about one more time before it finally stalled. Though, at this point it didn’t really matter. 

The shots had placated a bit, the only ones being fired sounding farther away, as murmurs of confusion had dispersed through men on the other side of the wall. 

“What was that?

“Did you hear that?

“Where did that come from?” 

Your eyes squeezed shut, teeth biting into the skin of your bottom lip as your body just purely froze no matter how much your brain was telling you to make a run for it. 

“Okay, okay, all of you keep moving! Spread out more while I check it out. We’re not alone out here!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Okay, sir!”

However many people were on the other side of the wall scattered within the next beat of your heart. More shots and shouts began to ring out with the same loudness, now joined by the heavy smacking of boots as they moved further away...

But a pair of footsteps still remained. 

Now, your heart was purely thumping in your ears. It was by far the most prominent thing you could hear in that moment, though the sound of those harsh shoes kicking up stones without care was an active competitor. 

Especially when they started getting louder. 

Your eyes flicked to the open backpack in front of you, an ache beginning to pulse through your forehead while you stared at the contents. 

There was this sort of desperation, and almost disappointment, that built in your system at the thought of losing the freshly bought items. Though, what was the point in trying to save the food if you wouldn’t be alive to eat it. 

Within the next second, and after a very deep breath, you propped your hands firmly against the path below on either side of your body. You pushed your strength into the unstretched leg until it was folded under you. 

By now you looked like some kind of runner getting ready to do race, and honestly it was pretty much how you felt. The thought was the only thing suppressing the panic active in your chest, so you indulged.

There was this internal count down as you moved your other leg behind, even if there wasn’t that much space to do so. And then the timer went off. 

You were about to push yourself onto your feet. About to get up, adopt a sort of hunched over posture so that no part of your body could peak over the wall, and run like hell.

But again. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

A movement was caught from the corner of your eye. 

You had barely even started carrying out your wanted movements when a man suddenly appeared right round the corner of the wall, slow and intense. 

He was pretty decked out from what your panicked mind could comprehend. There were a multitude of weapons that clung to his belt, and he was in fact holding this massive gun. 

Initially, his focus was on your bottle. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly at the object of confusion, as it didn’t really look like the standard water bottle from afar, his finger hovering over the trigger. Ready to fire at any moment. 

At this point you had resumed this sort of weird crouched position, stuck between wanting to stand up and staying frozen to the ground as if you could just meld into it. 

Either way, it was the kind of stance that didn’t provide a sense of balance. And soon, despite how much the dread utterly pooled at the bottom of your stomach like it did on a rollercoaster, you fell. Right on your ass.

The gun, that you had pretty much only seen in movies or on the news, was pointed right in your direction before you could even blink. 

You attempted to crawl backwards, winding round your backpack, eyes wide and fully open as they trained on the man who in turn had started to follow your movements. And then you stopped, knowing full and well what was coming even if you got to your feet. 

Your breathing was erratic, arms moving stiff and slow as you raised them above your head with your palms open, facing the man who made no implications that he was going to put that gun down. 

“Listen,” You gulped, “I didn’t see anything, I swear-- Look, there. My bag is there-- Take it. Take anything.” 

“Anything you want.” 

It was no use. No matter what way the words tumbled from your mouth, that finger never tried to move away from that trigger. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the way your body heaved with every breath, the way your hands shook. Your ears listened out for the wind, the wildlife that had most definitely moved on from here already, or just something that wasn’t from guns. 

But then a shot rung out. Right in front of you.

It was an indistinctive reaction when your body jolted at the sound as it echoed through the large area and pinged within the windows of the abandoned buildings. You had almost fallen, your arms springing down even if you thought there was no time to protect...

You could still move?

Your eyes snapped open, the ability to take in full breaths yet to come, and you looked down at yourself. You tried to scan across what you could see of your body, that was somehow still alive, and leant on a hand to further support yourself. 

However, just as your brain attempted to register a lack of a gunshot wound, the sound of something hitting the ground stopped your investigation. 

Your head sort of bobbed for a moment, the want to continue your search fierce in your veins, before your gaze finally tore away.

The man before you had tumbled to his knees. His hands were moving around for a few seconds, desperately trying to grab a part of his chest as if in disbelief of what just happened. 

And then another shot fired. 

Like before, your body had jolted in response, still having no idea which gun it was coming from. 

However, when a particular part of you scrunched, the shock in your system decided to completely drain, your pain receptors activated in a way that you weren’t at all ready for. 

It was hard to pin point exactly where the feeling had originated as it spread like a wildfire, but it was intense enough that the arm you were leant against almost buckled within seconds. 

Sharp burning. A sensation that made it feel like you had been bitten by thousands of fire ants over and over again. 

Or, when you finally managed to get yourself to look down again, it was because you had in fact gotten shot. “Oh...”

He got you.

“Oh, shit.”

There was this hurried voice that bounced through the walls. Your head attempted to snap up like it had previously done, but this time it was just unsteady. Almost like it was moving in points.  

By the next blink, that practically didn’t even feel like one, another man had made his way round the corner. He also had a gun raised... but, it seemed different.

His general stance, the way he carried the weapon, the expression on his face even if you could only see half of it. It was clear that he had a lot more experience than the last guy. 

They weren’t from the same group. 

The man lowered himself onto one knee beside the body, head still raised cautiously to make sure to keep full awareness of his surroundings while he searched over any pockets he could see. 

And then he stilled. 

You didn’t have to move, or even make a sound, for this guy to spot you.

Within about a millisecond the man had the gun right back in his hands in a way that had you immediately raising your own despite the pins and needles that ached through your muscles.

The world around you was starting to spin, making it more difficult to pay attention to the mans movements. “Don’t... Don’t kill.” Your lips were heavy, the ability to even part them becoming some kind of workout. 

And then, like someone just flicked a switch, it was like all the strength and power in your body decided to dissipate at once. 

For the second time now, you fell. Though, in this instance, it was your back that collided with ground in a way that had your head smacking into the concrete path right afterwards. 

Every inch of your skin felt hot, yet cold at the same time. You were trying to move, wanting nothing more than to get back up and go home. Just curl up in bed and forget this ever happened.

But the ability to even budge a limb had faded from your brain until you couldn’t even feel if your arms were lifted in the air or not.

So, you just laid there, eyes staring blankly up at the sky while your eyelids acted like they had forgotten their main function. “Hey!” 

And right before you gave into that nagging want for them to close, something blocked whatever view you had left, “Kid? Hey, kid, are you... Oh, no-- Kid, can you hear me?” 

You could feel hands on your arms, and soon, one had pressed onto the wound in a way that urged a gurgling sound from your throat. 

“Kid!”

~~~

It took your brain a significant amount of time to realise that you had awoken when the time eventually came. 

The sensations within your body were either mild or piercingly intense. There was no in between. 

Every muscle in your face was rigid, aching in a way that made the want to move diminish within seconds. You were trying to blink, your eyelids remaining heavy and ignorant no matter how many attempts were made. 

It hurt to breathe. Any movement within your torso would stretch the skin closest to your armpit and immediately sent a crackle of fire spreading through it like a shock of electricity. 

Your muscles flinched, almost spasming, as you slowly reached back, trying to grip onto some part of whatever lay beneath you so that you could push yourself up.

There was no attention aimed at any sound that spilt through your lips and it was only when a harsh pain erupted, engulfing your shoulder, that you had realised how loudly a sort of strained yelp had burst from your throat. 

You fell back onto the pillow, the agony in your body burning so hot that it had you light headed.

If it wasn’t for your current state the sudden echo of quick footsteps would’ve registered a lot faster through your ears, and in your mind. 

There was words passing across the air, some may have been aimed at you for a response, but this was the first time you had fully managed to open your eyes since you had actually woken up.

Your head slowly turned as voices continued to echo, muffled no matter how many times it rung in your ears, until your right cheek met with the pillowcase. Your eyes cast through a metal wall, more so the frame of one, which looked as if it previously had some sort of murky glass within.

The place was massive. 

This dim lightly spread throughout most sections as the source above couldn’t reflect on any surface due to the fact that everything around was either a form of black or a gloomy grey. The lights themselves were also the kind of ones that aimed straight down, meaning that it would only cover what was directly beneath. 

“Hey.”

In the centre of the main area was this sort of ring. There was a walkway that cut through the middle so that people could get from one side to the other, and on either side were desks that followed the rim, a plethora of monitors and electronic devices cluttering the surface. 

Some you hadn’t even seen before.

“Hey, uh, kid?”

Your head snapped back into its previous position in a speed that felt like it shook your brain. You squeezes your eyes shut for a good minute before they opened again. 

And after blinking a few times, your vision came back into focus. 

There was this dude stood to your side. He was tall, slim in width with curled mid length hair and a beard that wasn’t connected to the moustache covering his lip.

“Oh, yeah-- Must be pretty disorienting to wake up in a place like this.” The way he sounded matched almost exactly like you had guessed. It was nice. Not harsh and not too soft. 

He held your gaze in such a way that made it seem as if he could see right through you, even taking a slight step back when he noticed how wide and cautious your eyes were set on him, “It might take some time for you to believe us, but I assure you that we don’t want to harm you. You’re all good... Well, I mean, apart-- apart from your injuries.”

“Generally, you’re good-- Or like... Yeah.” 

Your hand lifted from where it had previously flopped and you reached it to your left shoulder, slow and steady. 

Your fingers travelled lower, gliding across the exposed skin before it reached the edge of tank top arm slot. Your movements halted in the space between the end of your shoulder bone and the beginning of your chest. 

Finally, you realised where the source of pain was coming from.

Somehow, the shot taken at you had landed right above your first rib. And from the uncomfortable feeling, constantly there, from what you were guessing was another bandage on your back. It had gone all the way through. 

The dude that had been previously talking cleared his throat after a moment. He was sort of shifting the weight back and forth from one foot to another, unsure of what to do or say which then ended up with him looking away. 

Your attention landed back on him, your arm happily moving back to lay by your side. Though, your eyebrows then furrowed, realising that the guys eyes had settled on something, and it even looked like he was asking a question.

So, after allowing yourself to give into your curiosity, you followed the direction he was looking in. 

You almost jumped out of your skin.

There, leaning against the thing you could barely call a wall, to your right was a guy stood perfectly still with his arms tight across his chest. 

It was that man from earlier. The one that found you. Saved you?

His eyes were already on your own which left the questioning gaze from the other dude unanswered. At first the muscles in his face were visibly tense, crinkled eyebrows, slightly narrowed gaze, jaw clenched tightly. 

And then you looked at him. 

In an instant it was like everything taking over his features eased. He raised his head a single time before it lowered back to where it was usually held. A greeting. 

“I’ll bet your hungry, huh?”

Your attention snapped back to the other dude once again to find that there was this gentle smile pressing into his lips once your eyes met his. 

The question circled round your mind for a good few seconds before it fully processed. It had you thinking, a silence falling within the little room while the hum of electricity barely caught your ears. 

In all honesty hunger had been the last thing on your mind. To solve the sudden mystery was even more difficult since you couldn’t even remember the last thing that passed through your body, other than a bullet. 

Though, right before you could even try to figure out the wanted response was to be, it seemed like your stomach decided to do it for you as it suddenly rumbled through the quiet. 

It may have not exactly sounded like some kind of missile, but considering the building was very echoey and your lack of answer had created a pause within the people stood in the room, it was louder than any other sound at that moment. You were horrified.

The man with his arms crossed dared to huff a quiet laugh through his nose and before you could even send him a look, or give any sort of reaction for that matter, the other guy took a step back with this expression on his face.

He was practically beaming as he clasped his hands together, “Good answer.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed once again, gaze now following the man as he moved round of what you now realised was a cot underneath you and out through the doorway a moment later.

You were going to attempt to continue watching him, wanting to know where he was walking despite the context clues, but after trying to look through the empty frames in the wall, the figure of the quiet dude blocked your view.

And for the first times since your initial meeting, if you could even call it that, your eyes properly took him in. 

Regardless of the position of his spine from the leaned pose, his posture was sharp. Straight like he had to practice it many times. He was tall too, though a little shorter than the other guy. 

The hair on his head looked like it was just growing out from being shaved, the sides a lot shorter than the top. It looked like a marine cut. 

Admittedly, he could’ve done his hair that way cause he simply wanted to. But you saw him earlier. 

He knew the ins and outs, every little detail, of the gun he held strong in his arms. You saw his stance, one that could more commonly only be from having to do it 24/7. 

And where was the most known place where you had to stand at attention almost every day?

Any item of clothing that covered his body was full black, including the shoes and his belt, which was a drastic contrast to any skin that was exposed. It also meant that you could spot any cut or bruise he had very easily. 

There was a good few on his face. Some had become scabs already, looking like they had been there for some time, while others almost looked fresh. The most noticeable appeared like it followed his cheekbone. 

Your eyes immediately snapped away upon realised that you had been looking at him for so long that he had in fact noticed it. I mean, there wasn’t really anything else to occupy his mind. 

You tried to shift your body against the cot, a mixture of wanting to distract yourself and a test to see how much you could move without it hurting. 

But either way, it was hard to do anything without being able to properly use a side of your body.

So, ultimately, you were stuck. Trapped under a blanket which forced you to lay flat on your back, against something that you wished had the same feeling as your bed, while sounds started to echo from what you were guessing was the kitchen. 

“Hey, kid.”

The voice that hit your ears was a lot gruffer than expected, gravelly enough that it almost sounded like it was hurting his throat. The way the words passed through his lips were clear, but also hushed as if he was trying not to be loud for an unknown benefit. “What were you doing out there, hmm?” 

With his stance, you half expected that whatever he wanted to say was going to come out harsh. That he was going to yell and tell you off for something. But he didn’t. He was... actually concerned?

“It’s a decent walk from the store you went to.” he then added on, and now that seemed to get your attention. 

Your head rolled to the side, narrowed gaze finding him with a newfound cautiousness. 

The man in turn must’ve realised the suspicion his wording caused, so he simply gestured to the side with his head, “I got your bag.”

Sure enough, as you moved your lower against the pillow, it was in fact there. The first familiar thing you had seen all day was sat on the ground beside the guy. It may have had some slight rips, some of the material had even been scuffed enough that it was visible. 

But it was there. Zipped up and everything.

Your favourite backpack.

Despite your distance, the bag looked plump with some of the contents clearly poking against the sides of it. All of the items were still in it. Hell, even the water bottle was back in the same side pocket you always put it in.

“We couldn’t find your name in the system,” the man spoke again, and honestly you had forgotten that he was there regardless of the fact that he stood next to where you eyes were aimed. “Did your parents know where you were?”

You looked at him within seconds of the question catching your ears and that dread from earlier began to pool at the bottom of your stomach all over again. 

I mean, you should’ve expected the question at some point.

It was common for you to forget that other people could look at you and see a child, ask the whole ‘where are you parents’ when you had to buy stuff that apparently didn’t seem normal for a child to get, even if it was just household items. 

You will never forget the time you tried to buy scissors. 

But the question still stung. It would make all of the memories of countless things flood right back until it was fresh in your mind, creating a wave of nostalgia that you hated at this point. 

Your head slowly rolled back to its previous position, your gaze now cast up at the rotting, grey ceiling while a deep breath seeped through your nose. Your body practically deflated when it went back out. 

Like before, you didn’t need to say anything for the guy to understand the situation.

Obviously, from your position, you couldn’t clearly see him as anything more than a blurred blob from the corner of your eye, but he had sort of loosened his crossed arms. Was the look of loss that clear on you?

How could he even notice it that quick?

Your body almost jolted when he cleared his throat and pain shot through your shoulder that had you biting back a grunt.

“Listen, we’re not-- We’re not going to hurt you... all right?” His tone was different this time. Lighter in a way that reduced the grumble of his voice, even if it didn’t sound unpleasant. “You’ve been here for a few days so that the, uh, big guy could fix up your shoulder.”

“That’s all.”

From the feeling of his gaze aimed in your direction, you could tell that he was doing what you had done, except he was more so trying to analyse your movement no matter how miniscule. 

It made you nervous enough that your mind was trying to zone in on the sounds coming from the kitchen, fiddling with the fabric of the blanket. But that just meant that a silence had started to layer. 

“Can you speak?”

Your body stiffened within a matter of seconds. 

At this point there was no reason for you to remain quiet. It was unclear as to why it had even been done in the first place. Was it to conceal your voice? Hide your identity? 

Even then, they had already ready seen your face and might possibly have looked through your backpack. The things they’ve could’ve known about you were unknown.

Maybe it was that thing you were told as a kid that kept you holding your tongue. You know, the whole stranger danger thing? Do not interact with people that you don’t know unless absolutely necessary. 

People seemed to get stuck on specific moments in the past regardless of it directly links to a moment of stress, or trauma, if you remembered correctly what that article said. Maybe that was your thing?

Your contemplative eyes flickered over the ceiling above for another moment before they finally made the decision to move, and so did your head. Once again, it rolled to the side until your right cheek touched the pillow.

You met his eyes. His gaze anything but harsh no matter how long a silence remained.

This guys wasn’t strange. 

I mean, the concept of waking up in some massive building that you didn’t recognise with two other dudes that you had never met before was in fact a little, sure.

But there was no reason given beyond that as to why you should fear either of them. Be scared of them. 

After all the dude talking to you had in fact saved your life.

You sniffed, that same feeling of nervousness making a comeback the longer the eye contact was held. It had you needing to look away for a few seconds before your eyes went right back. You stiffly nodded your head. 

The man straightened his back against the metal, his spine probably tired of the frame digging into it. His gaze sort of narrowed for a moment. Maybe a few questions sprung into his mind? Maybe he was judging you, or needed to sneeze? Who knows.

“You just won’t.” He nodded his head once, the look in his eyes switching to something unreadable as he got the message despite the lack of words, “That’s... No. No, I get it.”

“Well, I’m Frank. Uh,” he began, dragging out the last sound for a little bit as he tried to locate something through the wall behind you, “Dude in the kitchens name is David. I usually call him Lieberman, that’s... It’s his last name-- He’s the big guy I was talking about. Dude who fixed up your arm.”

“I tried to help too, but, uh... Not exactly my field of expertise.” 

You were about to figure out some kind of gesture to make in response so that you wouldn’t leave him hanging again. And had even started to move your arm. 

But then that name cycled through your head once more. 

Frank... Castle. 

Frank Castle.

It seemed that the cogs had made their final turn once again. His face found their link to certain memories in your mind.

Holy shit. 

He was the guy on the news a while back. The dude had been deemed a vigilante as he had been running around and killing bad people-- Well, it was practically only you and a few other people that thought they were the bad guys.

Either way, after that trial thing, the man that was currently stood to the side of you had supposedly died. Killed in an explosion on some kind of boat, if you remembered correctly.

I mean, it could be that you were the one who died and this was just what came after. And honestly if you were still as delirious as you were before it might have been believable, but that pulsing burning in your shoulder said otherwise. 

So, it was true. He really was here in the flesh, and all in one piece. 

Frank Castle was alive. 

Your expression, and maybe how intensely you had been staring at him, must’ve given away your thought pattern as he sort of tilted his head when he noticed the shift in your eyes, “You know me?” This time your gaze remained unfleeting in the line of attention. 

Frank didn’t seem at all worried about the realisation of his identity. In fact the only change in his expression was done to display his curiosity to the new information. 

Sure, worst comes to worst, he has the upper hand at this moment and it would probably be the same at any other. He could do whatever he needs to do to make sure that you wouldn’t blab before you blinked even once. 

But from his worn out state, and the way he interacted with you, it was visible that he wasn’t going to do that. He must’ve been fighting for quite some time before he had stumbled upon you. 

Why the hell was he even there? Out in the open in a place like that?

Who were those other guys?

Regardless of the want to let your mind flow down that rabbit hole, you were fronted with your previous realisation as your eyes actually focused on Frank again.

You were right. Frank  Castle wasn’t the bad guy.

Without paying attention to it, there seemed to be this smile that began to curl at the corners of your mouth. You moved your head began to move back to its your previous position, your eyes wanting to find the discoloured ceiling to zone out on in a way that further made you forget about your pain--

Shoes suddenly scuffed against the hard ground in a way that stilled all over your movements. Your gaze flickered to whatever had joined you in the room as apparently you had missed the approaching footstep.

It was David, the height difference between the two guys now a lot clearer as he had stopped beside the man whose arms were yet to uncross. “Can you hold this for a second?” Until now. 

Frank sort of looked at the man for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again before he complied to the request. And the moment the plate had been taken into his hands, David moved as if on autopilot. “All right,”

He wound round the foot of your cot, taking back the same position he stood in when you woke up, “Gonna need to sit up so you can actually digest this shit.”

He felt a little bad when he saw the look on your face, though he remained still while you prepared yourself, starting to fidget with his hands. He didn’t want to touch you without permission, but it appeared that your eyes were already closed.

You slowly but surely moved the arm of your injured shoulder to sling across your torso, hoping the position would stop it from moving about too much. And then you braced yourself, awaiting whatever sensations were about to come. 

By the time a hand had been placed on your body, your teeth were already gritted. One was placed on your back, a way to properly bring guide you into the needed position, while the other gently cupped the back of your head so that everything would move in unison. 

“Deep breath.”

The pain was immediate. It was such a thing that purely seared up a side of your body. Engulfed everything in its path.

It was impossible to see from your closed eyes, but there was a reaction from the man stood to the side when a slight whine escaped your throat. He had stepped forward, looking as if he was about to reach out if he didn’t have something in one of his hands. 

It was thoughtless. A movement that he had undone the moment he had realised by pressing back against the wall. But it happened nonetheless. 

David was muttering stuff of assurance, many forms of sentences letting lose into the air. You couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t catch onto a singular word. 

All you could think about was the pain. How stupid it was that you made the decision to take that route. How you didn’t run back the way you came after that first shot. Or how you didn’t even end up trying run until it was too late. 

Your legs bent at the knees the more your torso raised, as if trying to protect it of something, which slightly kicked up your blanket and made the heels of your feet dig into the cot below. “There you go, there you go!”

It was like a ripping of a band aid. 

At first, it was the stage of holding onto the edge, trying to hype yourself to get it over and done with. And then it was off. It may give a twinge of pain that lingered more than wanted, but overall the act had been complete.

“Right on, that’s you done.”

And so had yours. 

The biggest breath of relief huffed out of your mouth in a way that had David wanting to lightly pat your back, but it could accidently hurt you. So, instead, he resorted to turning his attention Frank, hurriedly gesturing towards the thing he held.

The man in question seemed to shake his head as if trying stifle his amusement, though he took a step forward to hand over the plate either way.

And then, by the next time you had blinked, it was held out in your direction. You just looked at it for a moment. 

It was a sandwich. One that may have been made with the most simple ingredients, and was probably the exact replica of what you would picture in your head upon hearing the name, but for some reason your whole body yearned for it. 

The plate was in your hands within seconds.

David took a step back, a slight smile reappearing on his lips at the progress. He gestured to the plate you held in the same position and then towards your mouth, seeming like he couldn’t get himself to stand still, “Eat up.”

You were. 

Oh, a thousand percent, you were getting ready to chow down on something, since the last time solid food had been eaten was probably the day you had gotten shot. And even then, you had no clue as to when that was.

However, right as you were about to bring the plate onto your lap, grab onto the sandwich and consume it with the upmost excitement... You paused. Stopped right in your tracks. Eating by yourself felt a little weird.

You looked back at David. 

It took him a moment to realise that your eyes were on him again. But when he did, he sort of rocked on his feet. His eyebrows furrowed as he sent a look towards Frank, “What, um... Is it-- Is it bad, or something?”

There was a mixture of confusion and almost offence tugging at certain features and it had your head shaking immediately.

Within the next minute, it was almost like a game of charades as you attempted to relay the words in your mind. 

The plate remained in the hand it did before. You bent your left arm at the elbow, trying to avoid any movement that would attack the area surrounding your wound, and you gestured. 

The first time you pointed your index finger at him and then at the plate, but he merely blinked. So, you then did it in reverse, directing the line of attention to the plate and then him. 

Frank even seemed confused as he watched with narrowed eyes, apparently unable to deduced the situation himself which still left David with nothing. “Kid, I don’t... I can’t understand what you’re trying to say, are you-- are you allergic to something?” 

“Are you asking me what’s in it? If I made it, what--”

Biting back the biggest sigh of your life, and in the fastest way that you could in that moment, you restored to just holding out the whole plate towards him. Even repeated the previous gesture one final time to make your point. 

“Oh,” David dragged out the sound as he began to nod. Finally, he understood, “Yeah, man, I’m boutta make my own.”

He remained for only a moment more, watching as your plate slowly lowered to your lap so that it wouldn’t drop. And then he started walking again, moving back around the edge of the cot before making his way through the doorway.

Franks eyes were already on your own by the time your head turned in his direction, as if he expected it to happen. 

This time without accompanying the movement with gestures, you simply held out the plated food towards him. Franks head shook instantly, he even waved a hand, “It’s for you, kid. Need to get that strength back.” 

His eyes directed towards the kitchen almost immediately after. He was either counting on David possibly making him one or waiting for him to leave the kitchen so that he could do it himself.

Thing is though, he only gave you a reason as to why you should keep the sandwich held for yourself.

He didn’t say no. 

The plate was brought back to your legs, flat against your thighs, and then you began looking around. Your eyes scanned across any close surface for something that could be used as a cloth, something to wipe your hands with, but there was no luck. 

You resorted to just scrubbing your palms, and more importantly your finger tips, against the cleanest clothing you had under the blanket. And then you grabbed the sandwich. 

Despite what Frank thought was going to happen by the time his attention was once again redirected towards you, when the sandwich was held horizontally in your grasp, instead of bring it to your mouth and taking a bite. You began... pulling at it each side? 

It started to rip.

“What are you doing?” he questioned pretty much immediately, his face and voice both riddle with confusion. And maybe even a little disturbance. But that didn’t stop your movements at all. 

In fact the only time you had stopped was when the entire thing had been torn through the middle, completely halved. However, even after that, you reached for one of the parts. You took it from the plate, stuffing it into the hand of your unmoving arm.

And then you held out the plate all over again to the man with very furrowed eyebrows. 

He just looked at the poorly halved sandwich for a moment, a part of it being more of the contents that the bread, and then his eyes found yours. There was an unreadable expression within them.

When he still didn’t take it, and due to the fact that your arm was starting to get tired, you redid your act of holding it out towards him. 

And this time he couldn’t withhold a response. 

Frank scoffed, shaking his head in the same amusement from earlier while he stared at the plate calling his name, “You’re very persistent, aren’t ya.” 

Despite his point still standing, the consistent want for you to get the nutrients needed to fully recover, it was like he couldn’t say no to you. At least to your face. So. Frank took the plate.

The next few minutes were spent by the two of you choosing the perfect side of the sandwich and then going to town, chowing down on it like it was the first one either of you had ever had. 

And man, that David could sure make a meal, even if it was just slapping ingredients between slices of bread.

“Damn!”

Seemed like someone else agreed with you.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing all this time, huh, Lieberman? Cookin’” Franks words were incredibly muffled despite his constant chewing, but either way the sound still echoed. A laugh soon followed while something poured, “What else would I do, man? Wasn’t just gonna do nothing.”

“Well, you can add cooking to your... I don’t know, list of talents or something.” Every time that man spoke, his head lowered right back down so that he could see the plate, taking another massive bite that you were just waiting for him to start choke on.

“Why did you... Why did you say it like that?” David's voice was more monotonous than usual, either playing fake offence or he was too preoccupied with arranging the order of his sandwich ingredients. 

You took another bite, a piece of lettuce almost falling onto the blanket without you knowing. Frank turned towards the kitchen again, speaking midway through putting a part of the sandwich in his mouth, “Like what?” A plethora of crumbs fell onto the plate in a way that made your nose crinkle.

“Like... Are you lying to me? Lying isn’t very nice, Frank.” 

“Nah, come on, man, I wouldn’t-- I wouldn’t say that If I didn’t mean it, you know that-- You could put these in a-- a--  a sandwich shop--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay,” David practically grumbled at this point, placing down what sounded like a butter knife on the counter before he sniffed, “That at least mean that our little friend likes it too?”

Frank turned to you, placing the little chunk of sandwich he had left onto his plate before he rubbed the fingers that touched it together. 

You swallowed down your bites, the act proving to be a little harder to from the lack of eating solid food, and noted the fact that he was awaiting some form of answer to relay to David. 

Your sandwich was finished by now. It wasn’t a contest but it was almost wild how fast it had been consumed. And now you sat there, wiping your hand against your trousers while attempting to get any food stuck between your teeth. 

And then you cleared your throat, your nose scrunching for a second when the action ended up shaking your chest a little too much, “Y/n.”

Frank had turned his towards the kitchen moments prior. He had parted his lips, even slightly leaned back against the wall to get a proper view of the man awaiting an answer through the empty frames. 

Now his head snapped in your direction, eyebrows raising more than you had even seen, “What was that?”

You may have made the ultimate decision to use your voice in the first place, however, having that gaze of his on you once again caused this overwhelming feeling to surge through your body. 

Your spine had straightened, this time managing to ignore the shock of pain that hit your system, while your eyes widened just a smidge.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

The echo of David's voice had caused you to turn to where he stood in the kitchen, still busied with making another one of his masterpieces. It was something done half out of anxiousness and just wanting to distract yourself.

And then it made you think.

Surrounding you was this big, more empty than full, abandoned building. The only other people there was Frank, a man who was supposed to be dead, and David... who you presumed was also most likely to be the same due to their team up. 

If they were going to kill you, or hurt you, they would have done so already. 

But even then, when you woke up this morning you hadn’t been restrained or anything. There was nothing keeping you there other than the fact that they wanted to treat your wounds. 

A deep breath filtered through your nose as your eyes slowly met with Franks again. 

His expression was practically the same as it was before you had looked away, giving you a patience no one ever had. The gaze he held was warm. Encouraging. 

Thus, you swallowed once again.

“My... name.” Your voice was hoarse from waking up not that long ago, but also from it’s lack of use. There was always this feeling in your throat as if something was stuck in it, and you coughed, the urge to squeeze your eyes shut presenting itself yet again when it shifted your shoulder.

But you composed yourself, sucking in another breath and rubbing your hands against your legs while David was still left with no answer, “It’s Y/n.”

Franks head had already been nodding before you had finished saying your set of words. He pursed his lips, finally swallowing down the bite he had previously taken.

Frank sniffed, turning his head towards the kitchen yet again. Though this time it seemed like he did so to conceal the change of his facial expression more than to get David's attention. “You hear that, Lieberman?”

Regardless of his attempts to hide his reaction, the smile was clear on his lips. Such a one that it had even reached the skin around his eyes as they started to crinkle.

He looked back at you. There was this emotion on his face that remained unchanging. It seemed like a fondness, but at the same time he almost looked... proud?

“Y/n likes it.”

[compassionatereminders]

mostly the thing that made me fall out with the system of psychiatry is just. how rigid it is and how unwilling to bend to the patient's individual needs, that if a treatment doesnt work its implied the patient didnt try hard enough to engage as opposed to....every single person is different and just because one treatment works for the majority of patients with that illness, the illness does not make all those people the same.

as well as that i also have issues with how people in the psych system trust their colleagues. i was psychologically abused by my psychiatrist for two years which consisted of him removing any medications, lying to me and discharging me for punishments. i tried to kill myself twice under him and his treatment of me caused that. he still works at the outpatients i attend bc who is going to believe a psychotic patient over a psychiatrist (which is another thing about the system that psychotic patients raising any concern is seen as delusion). and not only that but all his coworkers think hes a great guy. so how am i meant to get treatment for the damage he did to me when all of his colleagues are more inclined to try to protect their coworker than face the fact he is Abusive and Negligent to patients with personality disorders. How am I meant to get treatment for that trauma when all the system wants to do is protect itself first?

And that's not even bringing up how hard it is to be any kind of minority in psychiatric care. I've known Deaf people left on units without access to interpreters, essentially themselves from family, friends and anyone who speaks their fucking language, unable to defend themselves or even understand what doctors are telling them. As a trans person I have to go through my transition history every appointment. For what? and when transphobic legislation gets passed and I start thinking abt how i dont want to live in this world it is exhausting to phone a hotline knowing i will have to explain this whole thing to someone who doesnt know/care. and that black people are restrained, sectioned, diagnosed with schizophrenia and labelled aggressive at exceedingly high rates compared to white people. AND THEN the fact that Being a minority at all has negative effects on your mental health but psychiatry often seems to fucking treat mental illness like its exactly the same in everyone and will not sit down with minorities and hear them out on their struggles.

my like tldr is psychiatry is a system now and it refuses to engage with patients on an individual level it doesnt ask patients what they want and instead bases things off "reccommended treatments" which involve invasive interventions for certain diagnoses that patients dont get a choice in. and people are content to just have psych patients sectioned and isolated and they dont wanna think about the fact their human rights get taken away for indefinite amounts of time for WHAT?

it frustrates me endlessly. i dont want to be this ill but the system wont help.

Well said. I really hate how psych professionals will so often see a recommended treatment not working or making things worse and treat this as proof that the patient isn't trying hard enough instead of going "hey maybe this approach just isn't right for this person"

[khalixvitae]

Ok so rip @6okuto and everyone else who has to see this but: here comes my breakdown comparison of Vil and Asmo. I have been adding to this for two days now.

So in short: are they alike? Yes. But no. But also yes! It’s complicated. Because really, we’re not talking about two people here- we’re talking about four. Both Vil and Asmo have extremely public occupations, but that doesn’t make either of them devoid of a private life. But what it does make is a clear difference between their private desires and their public personas, which both have carefully curated to fulfill certain needs. They are both people, yes, but they’re also both Names. Brands, even, if you want to push it a little further. And like, naturally, this is going to cause friction because ultimately they are people with wants and needs etc etc.

So the best way to talk about this is to sort of break down their individual public and private desires/personas and the subsequent internal friction that creates👍. As well as the similarities and differences they share👍

So Vil, to the public, is poised and charismatic. Eternally put together, media trained for his whole life, somehow good at everything he puts his mind to; effectively perfect. That’s a big draw for his fans and admirers in the canon- he’s just so good that it’s impossible not to notice. But as effortless as it all may appear from the outside, it’s actually a product of intense labor. That’s par for the course, though- Vil believes he should work hard and be acknowledged for his immaculate results (but to beg to be praised publicly for your work/efforts??? For the process itself? would be so tacky in Vil’s mind). Vil’s “brand” as a public figure is about his perfection, and his work towards it, but only in moderation. It’s got to look effortless even if every move is carefully thought out, but all credit must go to his routines and regimens. It’s like his discipline in itself must appear effortless. It’s. Really convoluted when you think about it. But I digress.

Anyway, the difference in branding when it comes to Asmo should already be somewhat apparent. Asmo is all about being charismatic and beautiful, sure, but in a hot mess party girl kind of way. Like he’s curated this whole persona where he’s meant to be perfect and oh so lovable not despite his mannerisms, but because of them. He’s turned hedonism into an endearing trait- which I would assume flies so well because he’s. Yk. A demon and all. Which also the mechanic of him being a demon definitely contributes to the differences between his and Vil’s public personas. Asmo is flashy, and loud, and his antics are publicly received as cute. Endearing. He’s a hot mess and the devildom’s most beautiful resident. Not to mention his innate charm thing- I mean that. Definitely contributes to his whole. Thing. And also, Asmo’s whole bit about loving himself more than anyone else is a major part of this persona!!! That is critical to keep in mind!!! They are both insanely smart and have carefully designed the way that they are perceived!!! Even if they have created diametrically opposed personas, they are meant to have similar effects in their respective universes/social groups!!!

But despite these differences, Asmo and Vil are both public figures and influencers with a particular aim: to be adored. To be the favorite of their respective audiences. Which I mean, really, makes sense all things considered. They couldn’t be more different on the surface, but at the same time they’ve both carefully curated their public images to achieve the same end. But then we get into the personal sphere, and everything really turns on its head.

In both of their respective personal lives, Asmo and Vil are… honestly very compassionate. They both go out of their way to care for the people closest to them/that they feel responsible for, especially through acts of service. I feel like we do see that more with Vil than with Asmo, but also that feels unfair considering that they have very different personalities??? So while we may see Vil doing things like making personalized skincare products for everyone in his dorm and doling out tough love to his dorm mates, Asmo dotes on the MC similarly but with a much softer touch. Both are very keen on helping those they care about become better versions of themselves, even if their respective ideas of what that may look like do differ.

I feel like some of the more personal characteristics of Vil and Asmo get lost in fandom interpretations, which makes me sad?? They’re both frequently painted as shallow and self absorbed beauty queens, but in all actuality that’s just ??? In universe propaganda??? Like these surface level traits people so often ascribe to them are derived from the gossip of their peers, and also both of them are known to use these misconceptions to their advantage in their respective canons. Vil and Asmo are so incredibly smart, I really cannot stress that enough. Everything about them is planned, preened, and perfected so that it elicits a particular reaction. And in their personal lives, away from the public, those personas are hard to shake and often their peers have wildly inaccurate ideas about them. Which creates a crazy amount of tension within both of them, because at their very core they both want the same thing.

To be seen for what they are, and appreciated for it. Loved for it, even. To be seen as people and still be chosen, to have all their efforts recognized and respected.

And that creates problems for them! In Asmo’s case, he’s clinging to this persona he’s created both in public and often in private. He’s built his entire new life as a demon around the corpse of his past as an angel. He’s pivoted, essentially rebuilding himself from the ground up because as we’ve seen in OM, angels don’t have much in the way of a sense of independent identity. They’re strongly tied to their titles- so when Asmo lost his place amongst the heavens, he lost /everything/. He’s clinging to his former self by nothing but his fucking fingernails because he has to make it work in order to still be Asmodeus. He has to perform. Not to mention his whole innate demonic lust charm thing. From the get go, people look at Asmo and think a particular way about him. And it’s so interesting because he seems both comforted and repulsed by that. Which is why when the MC has no reaction to him, he’s threatened by it. Because while Asmo wants, no needs, someone to see him and want him for what he is, someone to read between the lines and make the effort to understand him (his Snow Angel (?) UR+ card is my Bible btw), the fact that someone could evade his charm makes him vulnerable. And he hates that. It’s the same reason he can’t be honest about how he feels in the first place. Asmo is a house of cards and he knows it. That’s why he makes a pact with the MC in the first place. He’s pivoting.

So similarly, Vil also has this delicately constructed persona that he’s white knuckle gripping. His entire life he’s been type casted as the villain- he’s effectively been used as a prop for years. And the only way (in his mind) to escape that is to be better. But people have these wildly inaccurate ideas about him that continue to have him type casted even in personal situations. Which in turn makes it impossible for his goal to be realized- it’s a never ending cycle of trying to be good enough to be recognized as any good at all. But the harder he tries, the more he’s misunderstood. Plus with the whole “cast as a villain since childhood” thing going for him, he’s already got his work cut out for him. And no matter how hard he tries, he’s always bested by someone who doesn’t even see him as proper competition. Not because he doesn’t acknowledge Vil’s talent, but because he doesn’t consider their occupation to be competitive. But so yeah you get this really fucked up mess where he cannot bear to be vulnerable because he’s only ever had himself to rely on (because people like the idea of the shiny celebrity Vil, not the normal guy, so eventually they leave), nobody wants to get closer to him because they have insane ideas about his personality, and then Vil can’t even admit he wants to be recognized because he’d feel desperate and Vil Schoenheit is not desperate. Which is why when he cracks in book 5 of twst, you really get to see the messy root of it all. That he needs someone to look at him and see all his hard work. He wants to be chosen and valued and respected, not just flaunted to draw in views before being thrown away. But he also can’t stand for people to see him in such a state, because that means being seen “under construction” rather than in pristine condition. More than anything though, he wants the people closest to him to see that and choose to stay, to still follow and adore him.

So like. In private, both Asmo and Vil want to be recognized as people. They both have really fucked up senses of self/personhood for their own respective reasons. They’re both intelligent and compassionate and keenly aware of their situation. They know what they are and what they want to be and they’ll tear themselves apart and reshape the scraps until they get it just right because that’s the only way they know how to be. They both want someone to see them for what they are, acknowledge it, and still find god in their eyes. They have everything in the world except the one thing they’re actually after, and that’s to be favored by all and simultaneously loved by people who actually know them. It’s difficult to admit that what you want will contradict what you’ve put years and years worth of effort into. It’s. Messy??? And convoluted ??? And I feel like I haven’t explained this well???

Anyway yeah so. Are Vil and Asmo similar? Yes. But also no. But also yes? I hope this helps rip. I am definitely missing things so I’m calling in reinforcements, @v-anrouge if there’s anything I missed I truly do consider you the foremost expert on Vil 🫡