#i thought that this would be an easy background study. but here i am with this thing...

[meawoo]

[tunastime]

do androids dream of electric sheep?

I am nothing if not a vessel for self-indulgent docsuma, especially @shepscapades's dbhc self-indulgent docsuma. sometimes you fall asleep in the lab, and sometimes your friend feels compelled to make sure you're okay <3

(3964 words)

Doc sometimes slips into daydream.

It’s not unlike him. He’d been doing it for some time now, some fix halfway between awake and Sleep Mode. Not quite his mind palace, but still wedged into predictive processes, still trying to work to replay memories. In quiet moments, more often than not, he finds that it’s easier to slip away, to tuck himself into his work, drafting, or building, or walking thoughtful circles and let the mechanical parts of his mind slip away into calculation.

In those same dreams, he tries to calculate the probability of events with what he has, blocking out the movements of who he knows best, who he may be able to pinpoint. He works in quiet as his mind runs in the background, wondering how conversations may go, how actions could be perceived. He maps what might happen if someone got hurt, or if someone needed help, or if someone fell asleep in the lab. Someone. Just anyone. He tells himself it could be anyone, but he would be lying if he didn’t know who.

It was hard, right—it felt wrong if he didn’t. Something he was designed to do, put to waste because it felt silly to imagine waking his lab partner, his friend, making sure he was alright, helping him. Was it wrong to want to be helpful? Was it wrong to want anything? It feels—it’s silly. Want was such a human word. He’s not sure he can really want at all. The paper in front of him is getting fuzzy around the edges, though, as he forces himself back into his true waking mode, and focuses on the task in front of him, now a line of text in his eyesight.

Doc leans hard on his hand, cupped around the side of his jaw as he studies the plans in front of him. He’s long since set them to memory, easily recalled with the summon of command, but he works out the fine details of the draft in front of him, still unsatisfied with his new creation. He works quietly, mentally mapping the lists of supplies he might need, the time it may take. If he were to concentrate the slightest bit more on the display in the corner of his vision, he might note how late it had gotten. Without any windows down here, the night sky can’t leak in, which means Doc doesn’t know it’s gotten dark until Xisuma starts to yawn or he manages to peek outside. 

He sets his pad down, eyes skimming the surface. Right, and where was X, anyway? The space, ever growing, up, down, sideways, that he used as his lab had gone still and quiet some time ago. Enough for Doc to take note of. Enough to be a little odd, he would assume, even for him, and the behaviors he knows well from Xisuma. Xisuma didn’t just wander off without a word—he was much too narrative for that. Doc sits up, hand falling to the table. 

“X?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The room stays quiet, aside from the hum of recirculating air and electronics. Doc taps his hand against the table—it was some sort of tic he’d picked up from Ren, a sign of his impatience. He couldn’t shake the habit of mimicking it while he was thinking.

Okay, right. Last time he saw X. He gathers up the recall of the path Xisuma would’ve taken from his side, checking over his work at Doc’s request, and around the lab itself, looping back to a series of benches to work on. Leaning from his spot, he tries to pinpoint the peek of green helmet or shoulder piece. He finds neither in the direct line of sight, though, and slowly, bracing his prosthetic arm on the table, Doc stands. 

It’s a gentle quiet that fills the room, nice and easy and soft to step through as Doc makes his way around the space. Despite having another work bench quite close, Xisuma had a habit of leaving his stuff about, flitting between projects as he saw fit. It was interesting, sometimes, to watch him move around the room—not that Doc had done any of that. He seemed to bounce from point to point, sometimes staying still for hours, unmoving, lost in work. It was in those hours that Doc found himself watching, just for a moment, studying the shallow curve of his nose and the way his hair fell into his face from behind his helmet. 

His office is here, too. Though it’s no different than any other working space in terms of equipment, the space itself is fully outfitted, lined with tools and a large work table, his computer, a desk with a chair. Through the glass, he can see the shape of Xisuma at his desk, likely too caught up in whatever he had been working on to notice Doc’s concern. Doc pauses as he slides open the door, standing in the doorway, announcing himself to the cluttered room.

“Xisuma,” Doc starts. “I know it’s late, if you want to head home, I’m sure I can finish…”

Xisuma is slumped over on  his desk as Doc enters. There’s a brief moment, no more than a second, where Doc’s mind spins a scenario hard and fast, the crumpled shape of Xisuma over his desk. But he can see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He registers the slow, steady heartbeat in Xisuma’s chest, and his shoulders sag with relief. He stands in the doorway for a moment. Xisuma looks small, head pillowed on his arms. He’s still running a series of code on the console next to him, which illuminates the back of his head in pale lines of data. His hair falls half loose across his shoulder, like he’d forgotten to finish tying it away from his face, and the slow, deep breaths make it seem like he’d been sleeping here a lot longer than Doc realized. He’s without his helmet, too, which sits beside him on the desk, discarded.

Long enough to get a sore neck and complain about his upper back hurting. Long enough to worry that he might not be getting enough oxygen. Doc sets his shoulders. There’s something in his chest that feels like it skips—regulator, pump, or otherwise. They work in tandem to produce whatever fluttery feeling invades the space where his ribs should be. He presses the heel of his synthetic hand against the depression of his chest, rolling his wrist. The feeling fades for a moment, shuddering through his wrists like it might rest there. He was never going to get used to it, was he?

He steps into the lab proper, sticking his hands into his pockets. He picks his way around the room, trying to walk quietly around it. Xisuma stays asleep, shoulders rising and falling in that even tempo. Doc crouches beside him—Xisuma is properly slumped, back curved forward as he rests. What little Doc can see of his face is soft with sleep, eyelids fluttering just so. When X doesn’t move, he rests his palm over the curve of his shoulder, gentle and slow. He tries not to focus on the fact that so much of his face is exposed to him, aside from just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen him before, briefly, every so often, but it was so different watching him now, calm and comfortable. Doc forces himself to focus.

“Xisuma,” he says, voice dipping low and quiet. He runs his hand over the part of his shoulderblade he can reach. He pats the high of his back. “Xisuma, hey…”

X takes a long breath in, making a squeaky sort of sound high in his chest. Doc feels him hum out from under his hand.

“Doc,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. It was a tired sort of rumble, just on the edge of being rough with sleep, just enough to bring that feeling back to Doc’s internal components, like thirium was sludging too quick too warm through him. He huffs a little breath, a sound caught in his throat.

“You fell asleep at your desk, X,” Doc says, not able to weasel the amusement out of his voice. He runs his hand over his back again, just to see Xisuma’s eyes open tiredly, and shut again. It was so unlike the version of him that he knew in his mind, seeing him savor the brief contact, even from Doc. Especially from Doc. Xisuma was always the one reaching out for him, repairing or correcting or studying. All with purpose. There was no lingering touch between them. And though this had its purpose too, Doc lingered, feeling Xisuma breathe under his hand. 

“Sorry,” X mumbles, finally moving to lift his head, to open his eyes. Doc’s hand slides away as X sits up, over his back and back to Doc’s side. Xisuma blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. A frown comes between his eyes as he tries to focus the world around him a little clearer. Like it were mimicking the score across his cheek and nose, there’s a fine indent pressed into his cheek. Doc smiles at him, scrunching his nose in a way he’s seen X do a hundred times. 

Xisuma jolts, half reaching for the helmet beside him. If Doc were to really look, he might see the pink-red flush over his cheeks and ears.

“Sorry—I didn’t…”

There he lingers, halfway to reaching. Doc looks away from him, purposefully averting his eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You have to be comfortable too.”

Xisuma hums, smiling a little, hanging his head as he leaves his hand on the table.

“Hah,” he says, ears still pink. “Right. Sorry, sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know where you had gone off to, so I figured I would come make sure you were okay.”

X nods. Doc watches him twist around, hearing the faint give and pop as his spine adjusts to sitting upright. 

“‘M alright,” he says. Then he laughs a bit—the sound is airy and half in his chest, enough to shake his shoulders but more of a wheeze than anything else. Everything fit so well to the timbre of Xisuma’s voice, it seemed, be it the way he moved about, or the way he laughed, or the way his shoulder sloped or face was shaped. Not that Doc had been looking. Regardless, Xisuma sighs, and smiles back at him.

“Just embarrassed is all,” he manages. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate you.”

X leans back in his chair. Doc watches him resettle and hum to himself as he gets comfortable against the plush backing. Doc makes a clipped sound, reaches out and moves away again, halfway between shaking him awake and letting him sleep.

“X,” he says. “Would it not be more comfortable if you were sleeping in your spare room?”

Xisuma frowns. 

“Would be,” he says, eyes still closed, mumbling. “It just gets awfully cold in there. ‘N if I’m perfectly comfortable in here, why not stay tha’way?”

It’s almost amusing, the trickle of stubbornness that leaks into the tired slur of Xisuma’s voice. It’s almost endearing. He watches X fold his arms over his chest, armor only partly discarded, watches his face wrinkle as he notices and tries to rearrange himself. Doc smiles, something that he simply can’t help—it feels so right, considering how ridiculous this is. He considers his options and weighs the success rates, the action taking a fraction of a second in time, though the scene plays out in his head in full.

“Because you’ll hurt your back,” Doc says plainly. X frowns, clearly mulling it over. There—that’s one that Doc knows, that face, where X slips into thought and worries the inside of his cheek and works his jaw. Doc raises his eyebrows, as if to question him without saying anything, without Xisuma even looking at him.

“Mhh,” Xisuma huffs. He pulls his knees up. Somehow, he manages to fit himself into his desk chair, curling his tall body over his knees and leaning sideways into the back. Doc hums, makes the approximation of the sound he knows.

“Xisuma,” he says. “I’m not going to let you sleep in that chair, you know. You are being stubborn.”

“M‘kay, okay…” Xisuma wheezes, finally uncurling himself.

It takes him a second. Watching Xisuma stretch and blink awake is like watching him come to life. He stretches up and around, face pulling as he likely unsuccessfully shakes the tension from the line of his spine. As he twists, he freezes, face scrunching all at once as he winces, hand shooting up to cup his neck.

“Ow. Jeez.”

He can see it tight in his shoulders and neck, even as X deflates, looking up at him blearily, still slightly slumped in his chair. His eyes shut again. 

“Xisuma…” Doc says, mouth twisting.

X sighs.

“‘M fine, Doc,” he manages to murmur out. “Just’a sore neck. Mm’exhausted.”

“Sounds like you need a real bed, mm?” Doc replies, setting his hands on his hips. Xisuma peeks at him, one eye opening, and shutting again.

He sees the fraction of a smile lift the corners of X’s mouth.

“Sure, sure…”

Doc looks over Xisuma’s face. With his eyes shut, face softening, hair tumbling over one shoulder, he looks comfortable. It’s as if someone took a brush to his features and smoothed out any hard edge—either that, or the static has leaked back into Doc’s vision. He feels a chug in his chest and his joints as he locks up.

X hasn’t moved. Doc reaches out, tapping his knee. Xisuma huffs, clearly startled from the half-sleep he’d drifted back into.

“Too tired t’stand,” he manages. Doc makes a questioning noise.

“I think you can make it,”

There’s a beat of silence. Xisuma cracks an eye open again, shuts it, furrowing his eyebrows. Doc watches him curiously, mind running through the list of possible scenarios. He’s made it part way when Xisuma says:

“‘M using you t’stand, then.”

And he makes a little, amused heh, before he says:

“That’s fine.”

There’s something he means to say alongside that, but as soon as X’s very warm, very human hand makes contact with the fabric of his lab coat and the cool synthetic of his arm, he loses focus. He should be used to this—the amount of times X has performed his routine maintenance, sweeping his hands over the replaced shoulder joint to check for seams, or made sure the regulator functioned, or backed up personal data, fingers skimming the shallow port at the back of his neck. He should be, but that contact alone sends a prickling-warm jolt up his arm. It feels foreign to let the touch linger. But Xisuma lingers regardless, hand flat against the space where Doc’s left ribs should be. He’s gone from holding, to simply sitting there, arm bent at the elbow, held weakly up. 

“Mrghh…” he complains. Doc taps his elbow, trying to jolt him back awake.

“C’mon, X, you can get up.”

X shakes his head slowly, his hand finding the inner curve of his prosthetic arm, squeezing just once, like he’s remembering it’s there. Then, X leans into him, all at once, slumping into his chest. Doc lets out a wouf in surprise. He holds still, aside from the simulated breath in his chest. After a moment, Xisuma makes a small, tired sound, almost like a laugh.

“Houfh,” he mumbles. “I, mm, don’t…don’t think ‘m gonna make it, Doc.”

“Mhm…” Doc chides. 

Xisuma laughs again, lying still for a moment, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a moment where he shifts, and there’s a small, painful noise that he makes.

“Ow, mrrgh—ow, okay—” he gripes. Doc’s synthetic hand finds the curve of his shoulder, patting gently.

“Oh, X—just…stay still, mhm?”

“Mm,” Xisuma says tiredly, “Alright.”

As much as he wants to move him, X is still wearing that damn armor.

Doc lets him lean into his chest as he tries to weasel off the bits of armor left over. It’s a struggle, keeping X comfortable and trying not to pull him around awkwardly, while trying to remove his chestplate with one hand. Once the armor pulls away, he resettles him, slowly scoops one hand under his legs. Something about this, about the way Xisuma leaned heavy into him, felt so painfully human he feels it curl up between the wires connecting his regulator to his side fans.

“Ready?” he says, mostly to the top of Xisuma’s head.

“Mmh…” X murmurs.

He hefts him into his arms, settling him against his chest. When Xisuma sighs, it’s profound and heavy and he tucks his face into Doc’s coat. Doc can feel the remnant of heartbeat from where his arm rests behind his back, thudding away behind his ribs. His breathing stays even, though shallow. One of Xisuma’s hands clasps over the back of his neck, keeping him still.

It’s a careful walk to Xisuma’s spare room. Doc is careful not to bump anything, measuring the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he walks. He drifts back to sleep, though, through the lab, through Doc shutting the lights off. He’ll have to come back through to power down their various computers, but for now, the dull white-blue glow illuminates the room. He carries him into the halls and through and to his room. It’s smaller than the room in his base by a sizable margin—just enough for the essentials. X stirs as Doc pauses to flip on the lamp, the light warm and yellow briefly illuminating the room. This can’t be a daydream, now, with the way X sighs and wriggles himself free as Doc pulls back the quilts and lets him down. He sits down with him, and the warm shape that Xisuma makes curls toward him, just a fraction, as he pulls the blankets over him. 

Part of Doc knows that Xisuma won’t remember him carrying him to bed, or making sure he was warm, or keeping the light on so he wasn’t disoriented when he woke. Xisuma sighs, sinking into the pillows, expression relaxed and content. Doc hums.

“That’s better, yeah?” Doc says. He reaches out, instinct, want, desire, something, hammering away in his chest, as he brushes hair from X’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He brushes through the hair close to the base of his neck, across his cheek with his synthetic thumb. His dark hair is fine and soft and it must be a daydream—or it isn’t and he was right, because there have been moments like this in his head. Wondering if Xisuma would let himself succumb to soft comforts. He’s spent his own share of time lying next to him, ignoring the way Xisuma curls up next to him, pretending he himself didn’t move closer when Xisuma lies still. It was this dance that Doc didn’t understand, that he wasn’t sure if he was overthinking. Or overstepping. But Xisuma shifts, pressing his cheek to Doc’s synthetic palm, and Doc suppresses a shudder. It sparks something that could’ve been painful right up his arm and through his chest, bright and warm and staticky. 

Doc hums, smiling to himself. Something like a dull thrum knocks in that space of his pump, pushing itself a little further, a little harder. It was sweet. X trusts him, not only to see him without his armor, but to help him to bed, to help him sleep. But Doc lifts his hand away, feeling that ache, the nervous shudder through his system.

X makes a sound, then, something small, eyes fluttering as Doc pulls away. Doc pauses.

“Mhh,” X manages. Doc swallows—he shouldn’t have to. That’s not something he should have to do, or be able to do, but the action just feels appropriate. It goes right along with sighing and laughing, and as he does it, Xisuma says:

“Thanks,” in a small, soft voice, and, muffled, and slightly slurred with sleep: “Didn’t have’ta stop.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, Xisuma,” Doc says. He can feel his temperature tick up several notches, no doubt a blue flush coming to the high of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. He laughs, just a bit. “Did I wake you up?”

X sighs, stretching as he does.

“No,” he manages. “No, y’didn’t…”

“Oh,” Doc says. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Xisuma nods slowly. Ah. Ah. Doc dismisses a temperature notification.

“A little.”

“Mm,” Doc hums. “Silly Xisuma.”

Xisuma laughs. The sound is high and a little fuzzy and a bit caught in his throat. His bright eyes blink up at him and shut again as a smile settles on his face. 

“Doc?” he asks. 

“Mhm?”

Xisuma yawns, smothering it with the back of his hand, just barely. He tucks that hand close to his chest, curling up further still under his thick comforter. 

“Could you…could’you do tha’again? The…” Xisuma lifts his hand, miming a brushing motion as he does. Another temperature warning, higher than the last, blips into Doc’s field of vision. It’s immediately dismissed, but he pulls in a breath, quiet, trying to turn it into a soft laugh.

“I can do that,” Doc says gently. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers through X’s hair, sliding back against his head. He combs through, lifting his hand to go back to his forehead, back to cradle his skull. X’s eyes fall closed again.

Doc can tell the moment that Xisuma truly slips into sleep. He lingers in his space, tracing out the base of his skull with his thumb, taking in the sensation of warmth and contact and stimulation, fingers flickering white up to his wrist. He wishes biting down on his tongue would do anything. He wishes that the hollow of his chest didn’t hold a weight that no diagnostic could fix. He felt too awkward and stilted and not nearly gentle enough. But as Xisuma stays asleep, he draws his hand away. He mumbles his good nights as he stands slowly, shutting out the light and wandering from the room. 

He makes his way back into the lab. He replays the memory of Xisuma’s small smile, the fine line of his scar as he’d pressed his face into the pillow, the way he’d relaxed against Doc’s touch. He replays the memory, again, and again. It has to be a daydream. Has to be. There’s no other logical explanation to all of that.

Maybe that would explain the ache in his chest, far too human to be his own.

Doc goes back to work. He sits down at the lab table, spreading his arms as he braces against the white tabletop. He furrows his eyebrows. Something doesn’t feel right, too warm or out of place. He feels gross. Not gross bad, maybe, gross different? Broken? Not broken, maybe. Weird. Wrong. Out of place. It doesn’t make any sense. Or it has, and he’s refusing the obvious answer. Xisuma didn’t ask for any reason. Xisuma asked because he was tired, and tired people do silly things, and silly people are a handful, and Xisuma is a handful—a lovely one. Doc shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It’s an awful hurt, actually, less painful than it is just weird. He thinks for a moment he might be better off if he left, maybe the weight of whatever lingered in his memory would be better off if he were to take a break from standing in the same spaces. 

He sends Xisuma a message. From his office, he hears his com ping.

Docm77 whispered to you… Xisuma I’m stepping out, sleep well :-)

[poorlittleyaoyao]

I am enjoying all of the thoughts. Here's a random scenario for you: Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue swap places. They have all of their original experiences up through the end of the Sunshot Campaign, but for whatever reason (mind-wiping? alternate-universe hopping? who knows) they don't waste any time trying to switch back. NMJ just has to Deal with being the newly-legitimized second son of the Jin, JGY just has to Deal with being a sect leader with the whole saber thing hanging over him. Who do you think would be most successful in their new role? Who would have the worst time?

Oooh, there was a poll awhile back posing this question (@qiu-yan was it one of yours?), and everyone responding had such solid reasoning for whatever choices they picked! Because neither of them is enjoying this.

For who is most successful, it's JGY, no contest. JGY doesn't have a background in saber cultivation, but he was born to manage and can handle logistics like a champ. In novel canon, he has field experience with the Nie that he can combine with day-to-day experience sect with the Jin; n CQL canon, he already has experience overseeing day-to-day sect business in the Unclean Realm itself. Easy! He'll just delegate all the saber stuff to someone more qualified! Meanwhile, NMJ does not have the skills set that JGY deploys in Jinlintai at allllllll. He doesn't have experience in negotiating with a superior (let alone a superior who doesn't respect him), he doesn't prioritize fine details, and he cannot (WILL not!) fawn. While JGY was learning customer service, NMJ studied the blade! He is AT BEST going to be too blunt and at worst going to throw hands.

For who is having the worst time, neither of them is doing great! From a physical standpoint, they'd both have a moment of "damn, you live like this?" as NMJ boggles at how long JGY's body takes to heal and JGY wonders how he hell NMJ built up so much resentment in his body. (A popular NMJ headcanon is that Baxia is a semi-sentient entity screaming at him 24/7 to fuel his bloodlust, and I do enjoy that, but it's also not actually in the text anywhere, so I am leaving that out. Ditto for JGY having lingering pain from injuries sustained in his fall.)

From a mental standpoint, if JGY is aware that NMJ is puttering around in his body, he is LOSING IT. It's his own personal "horse loose in a hospital" scenario. Not only might NMJ ruin all of JGY's standing within Jinlintai by being less-than-deferential, there are also THE SECRET CRIMES to consider. If this switch happens after JGY is entrenched as his father's fixer, NMJ could stumble upon the Jinlintai Murder Basement! He could reveal all of JGY's crimes! And even if he didn't, if JGS or whoever else deemed NMJ-in-JGY's body a nuisance, they might straight-up kill him rather than just dismissing him because JGY knows too much. After all, everyone saw what he did to his last two bosses! If QS and JRS exist, what about their safety? What about his legacy? What about his mother's wish? Any merit he achieves as NMJ will be credited to NMJ, not to him, and he would haaaaate thattttt.

Now, NMJ is also having a bad time, because not being accustomed to the kind of treatment JGY receives has made him ill-equipped to process it. Witnessing and being the recipient of so much injustice but not being able to do anything about it would be profoundly upsetting for him. He'd be even more upset if he found out about the crimes. His options for seeking justice are very limited! He could stab JGS and XY and then die himself, but even if he was successful, JGY's spirit would live on in NMJ's body to do who-knows-what. If QS and JRS exist, extended exposure to one or both of them could make him feel conflicted about all of the above, which would make him even MORE frustrated with the situation.

(Neither of them is bringing LXC into this.)

Bad times all around!

(Additional components of this scenario to consider: NMJ in JGY's body having to hang out with XY, and XY thinking his attempts to kill him are just fun enrichment. NHS figuring out something's up and (after assuring himself of NMJ's safety) using this as an opportunity to request soooo many budget items, pleeeeease san-ge? pleeease? SMS figuring out something's up because Lianfang-zun Would Not Fucking Say That and personally taking the initiative to get them to switch back. QS figuring out something's up because A-Yao Would Not Fucking Say That and also the specific way in which he is now refusing to sleep with her feels different.)

[tossawary]

A while back, I had a playthrough of the PS5 "Spider-Man" game going on in the background, and I don't actually remember much from it, but it did do one thing that reeeeeally annoyed me at the time. Although, admittedly, I am not sufficiently familiar with the comics to criticize any of the writing choices with citations.

See, in this game, they had a redheaded love interest for Peter Parker named Mary Jane Watson, BUT this MJ was a journalist. In fact, there were a couple stealth sequences where the player briefly played as journalist MJ investigating some organized crime group.

And I had to stop working to squint at the screen for a while, because I couldn't remember anything about any movie, cartoon, or comic MJ ever doing any work as an investigative journalist. I'd thought that she was a model and actress??? I'd been under the impression that MJ had more of a party girl persona, at least outwardly.

I had to stew on why I disliked this choice, but I concluded that I hated the idea that female characters and their ambitions could be interchangeable. Not all people's personal identities are irreversibly intertwined with their careers, but some definitely are, and for others, career choices are still going to say something about their personality and background.

There are some characters who can job-hop across a wide variety of jobs and it doesn't impact their general characterization much. But there are other characters where I'm like, "If they lost their job, they would have an identity crisis and struggle to shift industries." Someone who is an academically minded scientist is not always going to have an easy transition into a profit-oriented sales job. Someone who likes to fix things with their hands is probably going to dislike switching to a job filling out spreadsheets. Someone who hates kids is probably not going to be a good teacher. Someone who was really professionally ambitious may not adjust well to being a stay-at-home parent, financially dependent on someone else and responsible for the well-being of a helpless little human being. And so on. All for various complicated human reasons.

I don't remember enough about the aforementioned game to be criticizing it specifically here. But generally speaking, I disliked the basic concept that a female character couldn't be interesting and challenging if she had a "shallow" and "feminine" career. I disliked the general concept that MJ could be "improved" as a character by being given a more "serious" / "intellectual" career. I disliked the idea that Peter Parker was REQUIRED to have a redheaded love interest named MJ, as per many preceding comics, but who MJ actually was as a person in terms of hobbies she enjoyed, ambitions she dreamed about, her opinions and fears and messy behaviors, could just be swapped out as if none of that internal richness mattered.

In my very basic knowledge, the "Spider-Man" comics have a wide cast of female characters, some of whom have been journalists or employees of the Daily Bugle! Peter has had MANY love interests over the years! And MJ apparently being "shallow" gave her specific (admittedly often misogynistic) relationship dynamics with other female characters like Gwen, which made MJ stand out as a unique personality. Not all superhero love interests have to be Lois Lane, investigative journalist!

To me, it's a little like making Lois Lane NOT a journalist, and making her into a model and actress instead. Like, you COULD do that. In fact, if you were really willing to put the work in for an AU, I'm sure you could do a fascinating character study about what would have to be different about Lois Lane's life to put her on a wildly different career path. But if there was a "Superman" game and you randomly changed Lois Lane's career without a great reason, you would get tomatoes thrown at you.

This game did have a reason to make MJ into a journalist: she became a source of information to move the plot forward and it briefly made her a playable character. Which is... fine. That's fun, even. I think you could have probably written the story in such a way that actress MJ was involved with something that ended up being a front for organized crime, to achieve similar results, but it is easier in some ways to just make her a journalist, I guess.

And hey, for all I know, this game really did a great adaptation of comics MJ into a journalist; maybe the writing had some really solid AU characterization for her. I do not remember it well enough, but I do remember the writing in other areas of the game being pretty solid. As a standalone character, I didn't think that this game's version of MJ was bad or anything.

But, lacking those citations to study her as am adaptation of the comics character, I still feel a little suspicious and salty about it.

I think this came to mind again because I was thinking about fanfiction AUs which change a character's career, and why they occasionally don't work for me. Sometimes, you take a character who is ordinarily fighting genetically engineered aliens in an apocalyptic wasteland, plop them in a Modern AU, and say, "They're a daycare worker now!" And I might be like, "Yeah, that's exactly where they'd be. That's their happy place. Hell yeah." But with other characters, you do the same thing, and I'm like, "I'm gonna be real, I think this would be this character's personal hell."

[bootsukki]

1.

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Suno’s dining hall was like no other on campus. It was tucket away from the usual hustle and bustle of campus life. It was close to your building and it was the kind of place where people came to work, study or just enjoy a coffee with friends, the hum of muted conversations and clatter of coffee cups providing a comforting background noise. 

As you enter, you find an empty spot for you to sit. Your lat class finished early today with Professor Ukai wanting to end a few minutes early. Professor Ukai was your favourite among all of your professors and even though not everybody like his way of teaching, you always found his honesty and view of the world interesting. 

While waiting for Tsukishima you started to get more nervous and anxious about this lie of yours. There was no way that his friends wouldn’t notice that you were lying to their faces but, for some reason, you didn’t want to step out of his plan. You needed the social interaction, as pathetic as it sounded.

You saw Tsukishima enter the dining hall with a big gym bag on his back and he looked around, waving as soon as he spotted you, making his way towards your table. He left his gym bag on one of the free chairs.

“Sorry, I tried to leave practice a bit early. Have you been here long?”

“No,  just arrived.” You answered, smiling. “I still haven’t picked up a drink.”

“I’ll get it for you, what do you like?”

“Could I get a green tea?”

Tsukishima gave you a thumbs up, making his way towards the beverage table, where he started heating up some water for you as well as filling up his water bottle, taking big glups of it. Tsukishima was attractive, he was tall and had broad shoulders and he seemed to be very well-fit. You coughed, moving your eyes away from him, focusing on the other students that were there enjoying a snack or working on their laptops. 

“Here you go.” Tsukishima placed a steaming mug of tea in front of you and you muttered a quick thank you as he sat down. 

“Alright,” he said, setting his water bottle down. “I feel like we need to set some ground rules if we’re going to pull this off.”

You nodded, the warmth of the cup heating up your hands. “Yes. I don’t want to be caught on the first night.”

Tsukisima smiled. “Okay, I thought that the story could be pretty easy. As I said, we are neighbours, which makes everything easy. We met once, starting talking and just decided to go on a date a few weeks after we met each other.”

“Well, Yamaguchi knows who I am and how long I have been living there, so…” You said. “If we say we went o a date a few weeks after meeting, we would have been together for almost a year, don’t you think?”

“You are right.” Tsukishima nods. “After summer, maybe? They’ll believe me if I say we kept in contact through text. Talked during summer and took you on a date after being back from break. September.”

“That’s okay, it seems normal enough.” You answered. “About physical….?”

Tsukishima clears his throat and nods again. “I… Well… If we are going to act as a couple we should at least be comfortable enough to look… convincing, I guess?” You look at him, sipping on your tea. “I’m not big on PDA at all and my friends should know this by now, so I think the only thing they wouldn’t find weird is hand-holding.”

“That’s fine by me.” You replied. “Something else?”

“Nicknames?”

“Uh….” You think of the last lovey nickname you had and you start tapping your foot nervously. “No, I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, same.Simple is better. Although… All my friends call me Kei or Tsukki so… I think you calling me Tsukishima would be weird.” he said, adjusting his glasses. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll call you Tsukki.”

Tsukishima looks at you for just a second and takes a sip from his water bottle. “I may need to know some basic things about you, just i ncase.”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t any of your friends interrogating me about you and literally not knowing anything.” You laugh. “I need to know some things as well, like your birthday, your favourite food, if you play any sport…”

“Volleyball.”

You heart skips a beat at that.

“Volleyball?”

“Yeah, I’ve been playing with my friends since high school. I don’t aim to win things but I enjoy it a lot and I’m a part of the university team.”

“Oh.”

“And you?”

“I…” You think about the times you spent learning that same sport with your friends, all of them teaching you how to jump and hit the ball. You think about the times where he would pick you up and help you hit a ball, the times where he would take you to watch games or when you would hold him after everything in his mind was doubt after doubt about his career and decisions. “I don’t play any sport.” 

“Volleyball is fun.” Kei adds, smiling. “Are you a part of any club?”

“I write for the university paper and the newsletter, which no one reads but I guess it improves my skills for the future.” 

“Well, I’ll start reading it now.”

You smile for a second and finish your tea. Kei looks at you and takes his phone out of his pocket.

“This… It may be weird but I told Yamaguchi about us yesterday and he was really excited that he starting telling the groupchat about you and they… Well, they asked for a picture of you.”

“Oh.” You started to get a bit insecure about your looks for a second, you weren’t wearing the best clothes and you usually went to class without any makeup. “I don’t really good right now.”

“I think you look really nice.” Kei answers quickly and he looks at you. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Maybe I could use one from Instagram or something.”

“No, that’s fine.” You fix your hair for a second and smile. “Take the picture.”

Kei opens his phone camera and snaps a few photos of you and shows them, letting you choose the one you’d prefer people seeing before Kei sends it to his friends’ groupchat.

“I’ll show you a photo of them if you want. That way, you¡ll know something about them before meeting them.”

“When am I…?”

“Tanaka is throwing a small get-together at his apartment tomorrow night if you’d like to come. We usually play boardgames, videogams or watch a movie and drink.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Sounds fun.”

Kei smiles, moving his chair closer to yours. “I’ll pick you tomorrow at seven then.”

You nod, letting Kei sit down next to you, arms brushing together as he shows you a picture of his friends.

“I can’t believe you.” You turn, spoon on your mouth, looking at your roommate Yachi Hitoka, sending you a death glare. Your eyes widen, confused and you close the ice-cream lid. “I can’t believe I have to hear from Yamaguchi that Tsukishima and you are being all lovey-dovey.”

Well, being lovey-dovey isn’t what you would call it, but… You take the spoon out of your mouth and think about what you are going to say. You also need to lie to her, Hitoka is a really baaaaaaad liar and she’s not one to keep secrets. “It’s a new thing, really.”

Her death glare turns into an excited smile and she gets closer to you, moving your shoulders as she laughs. “I can’t believe it! How long?”

“Septemeber, I guess. We were talking a lot during summer so…”

“Girl, I can’t believe you kept this from me.” She says. “I’m really happy for you. You guys make a really cute couple!”

“You think so?” You ask, confused. “We haven’t been together for long…”

“(Y/N), I’ve thought about it for quite some time now. I started thinking about it one time we were all in the elevator and you were giving them their mail. Tsukishima was looking at you really weird. Now I understand that it was all loveeeeee.”

You laugh and shake your head, cleaning the dirty spoon and putting the ice-cream back into the freezer. You feel a bit bad for lying but on the other hand… 

“Do you…” You interrupt her and the petite girls looks at you. “Do you want to help me with an outfit? I’m meeting his friends in like two hours.”

Without answering, Hitoka runs to your room and opens your closet, taking all the majority of your clothes out and putting some music on her phone.

“Sit down, I’m calling reinforcements.”

Tsukishima fixes his hair and picks up his wallet and jacket, but before he can open the door, Yamaguchi runs to the door and closes it.

“We need to talk about two things. First of all, are you nervous? Second of all, were you going to leave without me? We are going to the same place!”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you are introducing all of your friends to the girlfriend we discovered you had literally two days ago. It’s a big step.”

“Well…” The truth was that Tsukishima was indeed nervous. He hated not knowing if he was going to be caught in his lie or if you would be too overwhelmed to continue with the arrangement. “Not really. She’s cool.”

“I know she’s cool but this is the first “girlfriend” you’re introducing.”

“That’s fine. Everything will be fine.” Tsukishima opens the door again. “And I don’t want to leave you alone but I want to spend some time with (Y/N) before we go to Tanaka’s apartment.”

“Oh. Ohhhhhh.” Yamaguchi smirks, pushing Tsukishima out the door. “Enjoy, champ.”

Before Tsukishima can respond, Yamaguchi closes the door on his face and he just sighs. He walks down the hall and knock on the door of your apartment, leaning away from the door as it opens. “Hey, I–” Tsukishima looks at the door number and confused, looks back at the girl in front of him which isn’t Yachi nor you. “Sorry, I–”

“You are in the right apartment, sorry!” The girls leans away from the door and Tsukishima notices, at least, 5 other girls looking in his direction. “We are just having a small gathering while (Y/N) gets ready. You are Tsukishima, right?”

“Right…”

“I’m Yuki Tsumoni.” Tsukishima hesitates, wondering if he should wait for you outside but Yuki pushes right inside and the other girls wave, making their way towards him. They start saying their names but he can't bother to remember them. 

Yuki leads him to the living room–a small place filled up with decorations and trinkets collected by you and Hitoka during this past year, a black coffee table and some bookshelves.

“(Y/N) is almost ready.”

“Okay.”

Just seconds after the girls surround him and start asking him questions (“Oh my God, you’re so tall, how tall are you?” “How long have you guys been dating?” “Where are you from?”), you make your way towards the living room. Tsukishima looks at your outfit, you are wearing a long green sweater and some denim skirt with boots. His eyes move up to your face, noticing the light make-up and your hair up in a ponytail.

“Hi, sorry, I–”

“Not a problem. Shall we go?”

Tsukishima moves away from the girls, who are looking at both of them as if waiting for something. You smile at him and make your way towards the door, saying goodbye and Tsukishima grabs your hand, looking back at the girls, whose eyes are focusing on the way his hand engulfed yours.

You pray he doesn’t notice your gasp of surprise.

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

can you please write #25 off your winter prompts with john carter? thank you for writing for him 🫶

A/N: In my head this takes anywhere pre-season 8. First ER fic! I am super stoked about it. Because ER is so old and such a small fandom I really don't expect this one to get any traction. It was more for me than anything else. HOWEVER, if anyone has any other requests for ER for John or anyone else, I'd be happy to do them

Word Count: 928

Warnings: None

To  say you were fed up would be an understatement. All day Romano had been on your case about “not pulling your weight” - which had been followed by an off handed remark about your weight. 

The asshole. 

Now you were going to end your year how it started - alone and annoyed. 

Romano had asked you to restock supplies for the suture trays, and with your luck, you’d managed to get yourself locked into the old supply closet. 

It had been at least forty minutes and no one had found you. You could hear the faint thumping of the music that Jerry had proudly curated. You’d long given up calling for help - no one could hear you with the music playing loudly in the background. 

You sat on the floor, your back resting against the supply rack. You looked up at the ceiling, absentmindedly thinking about all the ways your New Year’s Eve could have gone. 

The faint click of the door had your full attention. Your eyes widening, you watched as Carter searched the room until his eyes landed on you on the floor. 

“Hey, we’ve been looking all over for-” 

“The door, Carter!” You yelled, leaping at him. It was too late, in concern he’d stepped towards you, the door slamming behind him. 

“What the-” he started, turning to try and open the door. 

You let out a sigh, sliding back down onto the floor. 

“I’ve been locked in here for nearly an hour,” you groaned, dropping your head in your hands. 

“Ah,” he simply said. 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“Just about,” he let out a laugh, sliding down to sit next to you. “It’s kind of nice though, isn’t it? The quiet I mean.” 

You turned your head to look at him. He was smiling at you in that boyish way that made your heart race. 

“I’d appreciate it more if it wasn’t nearly midnight,” you mumbled. 

“Oh, had a big date did you?” He teased, his shoulder knocking against yours. 

You found yourself smiling despite yourself. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Jameson just proposed to me.” 

“Right, you and seventy-five year old Mr. Jameson are going to make such a lovely couple.” Carter rolled his eyes, a wide grin spread across his face. 

“Green is an ugly color on you, Carter,” you let out a laugh. 

John let out a breathy laugh, his smiler growing smaller as he turned his attention to the floor. He glanced at his watch. 

“What time is it?” 

“Uh,” Carter spared another glance at his watch, “ten til midnight.” 

You gave him a silent nod in reply. You felt yourself growing anxious. You weren’t sure why, you never felt more at ease than when you were with John. He had that way about him. Easy going and comforting. Everything with him just felt…natural. 

“Did you-” John’s voice cracked. 

You turned to look at him, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Did you have plans tonight?” He asked. 

“No,” you paused, “I thought I’d just drag through my shift like normal. I didn’t expect Romano to inadvertently get me stuck in a storage closet.” 

John’s eyes studied you. You wanted so badly to squirm under his gaze, but you held your ground. 

“Did you?” 

John let out a laugh, “No, just uh. I mean, Gamma tried to get me to do a charity fundraiser, but I’d rather be here honestly.” 

“Really, Carter? You’d rather be locked in a storage closet with me?” You let out a bubbly laugh. 

“Yeah, actually. I would.” 

Your laughing slowly died out as you looked at him. Carter’s smile only grew at your reaction. 

“John, you can’t mean that,” you said softly. 

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” he smiled down at you. 

You held each other’s gaze. It was quiet now, the thrumming of the music was only faint to you know. 

Your heart hammering against your chest, you felt your breath catch in your throat. 

Shouting in the hallways caused you to jump. The countdown had started. 

“What do you say?” Carter was already closing the distance between you both, his nose gently brushing against your own. 

You could hear cheers down the hall. With a smile and your heart in your throat, you closed the distance between you. 

John reached out to cup your cheek pulling you close. Kissing John Carter was gentle and warm. Comforting and all consuming. 

“There you both - oh!” 

You and John broke apart to see Susan trying to bite down her grin. 

“Uh, Romano is looking for you,” She smiled down at you. “Carter, Weaver’s looking for you.” 

“Right,” he said breathlessly. 

Susan held the door open for you both, she mouthed a silent sorry to you before walking back down the hallway. 

“Well, uh,” John swallowed. 

Pulling him down by his tie, you gave him another kiss. John let out a small sigh before you pulled away. 

“Find me after your shift?” You whispered against his lips. 

“God, yes,” he replied, his cheeks slightly red.

You let out a small breathy laugh. “Happy New Year’s, John.” 

John smiled broadly at you, that boyish teasing look back on his face, “Happy New Year’s”

“Alright, people fun is over! Time is money! Get back to work. It’s a wonder how this place manages to run at all!” 

You rolled your eyes at Romano’s shouting. You spared John one more look before you grabbed your suture supplies and headed towards Romano’s shouting. A smile spread clear across your face, the ghost of John’s kiss still pressed against your lips.

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Dark Side

Tom Riddle X Reader

Tom is aware you have come from a school where the dark arts are taught. He knows you can help him and he knows just how to convince you

Warnings: slight manipulation, dark arts

The restricted section of the library was quiet. Tom watched you scan the shelves, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You were so focused, so intent on finding something in these dusty old shelves. He knew what you were searching for, even if you didn’t know it yourself yet. Power. Knowledge that Hogwarts would never hand over to you willingly.

He let the silence stretch before stepping forward, making sure his footsteps were just loud enough to be heard. Predictably, you spun around, masking the flicker of surprise in your eyes almost as quickly as it appeared. A good sign. You were sharp, quicker than most, but Tom wasn’t worried about that. If anything, it made this more interesting.

"Looking for something forbidden, are we?" he murmured, keeping his voice low, watching you like a hawk. He saw the slight shift in your expression, the hint of wariness. Perfect. You were already on guard, already trying to figure him out. Good, he thought. Be curious. That’ll make this so much easier.

“Tom,” you replied, your tone carefully neutral. “Didn’t expect anyone else here.”

He smiled, just enough to put you off balance. “Ah, yes. You wouldn’t,” he replied smoothly, moving in closer, careful to make his steps calm, unthreatening. He had a knack for knowing when to press in and when to pull back, a skill that had already gotten him access to more knowledge than any other student his age. This was no different.

As he approached, he let his gaze drift to the book you’d picked up, one you’d clearly grabbed on impulse. The wrong choice, but he’d let you realize that on your own. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, amusement in his voice. "Interesting choice,” he said lightly. “But I’d think someone with your background would be interested in… other texts.”

He saw the faint flicker of unease in your eyes, the way you adjusted your grip on the book. So, he thought with a flash of satisfaction, it’s true. Your dark arts training didn’t fade as quickly as Dumbledore had hoped. He watched your expression carefully, knowing that his mention of your past would strike a nerve. It always did. People who came from the darker schools always felt that edge of suspicion in places like Hogwarts, the feeling of being an outsider, of hiding something.

“Maybe I am,” you replied, cool but not defensive. Not bad, he thought. You were trying to keep him at a distance, trying to keep control of the conversation. But you wouldn’t last long. He’d made sure of that.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he said, a hint of intrigue in his voice. He let his tone stay casual, almost amused, but not enough to hide the curiosity in his eyes. He’d learned early on that interest was a powerful tool; people always responded to the thrill of being noticed. “But Hogwarts might not have what you’re used to. Not openly, anyway.” He watched you closely, seeing the way his words drew you in. “Still, you know the things taught where you are from aren’t forgotten here. If anything, they’re just… hidden better.”

The way you studied him then, the hint of resistance, it was clear you weren’t going to give in easily. He almost smirked. Good, he thought, his pulse quickening. It’s always more interesting when they resist.

“And why are you so interested in my old curriculum?” you asked, your voice still light, but he could hear the guarded edge.

He leaned back a little, letting his posture go easy, almost dismissive, knowing how much more effective that would be than anything intense. “Oh, I’m not interested in that,” he said, shrugging slightly. “I’m interested in you.” He let that sink in, watching as the idea took root. “A student who actually knows what magic can do beyond the harmless charms and tricks we’re taught here. I’d think you know spells and techniques that others couldn’t even imagine.” He paused, just long enough to watch your expression shift. “Which, naturally, would make you quite valuable.”

Valuable. That word always worked. It was true, after all, though not in the way you might have thought. Tom’s mind was already racing, already calculating how he might use what you knew, what you dark school had taught you. And the best part was that you wanted this power, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it to yourself. That hunger—it was just under the surface, buried behind all the polite airs and restraint you wore. He’d seen it in the way you looked at certain spells in class, the ones that made the others shrink back in fear. He knew exactly how to draw that side of you out.

“Valuable?” You raised an eyebrow, keeping your tone casual. “And you think you’re the one to show me how?”

He almost laughed. Predictable, he thought. You wanted to believe you could see through him, that you weren’t impressed. But he could see it in your eyes, that flicker of curiosity. He tilted his head, letting his gaze sharpen, his expression just serious enough to make you feel like he was seeing something no one else could. “I think you have a potential that most at this school couldn’t even comprehend. Power that few would understand.” He paused, as if measuring his words carefully. “You could accomplish so much, if only you'd... let go of certain reservations.”

He watched as your expression shifted, and he knew he’d struck a chord. Yes, he thought, his pulse quickening again. Let that sink in. It was always the first step. Plant the seed, make them doubt their limitations. After that, it was only a matter of time before they came to him willingly, before they were willing to do anything he suggested.

“I know you don’t believe in the rules, not really,” he continued, his voice calm and coaxing. “And Hogwarts isn’t giving you what you need. Not truly. They’re holding you back, but you’re far too intelligent to let the Ministry’s silly morals stand in your way.”

He could almost see the thoughts racing in your mind, the way you were weighing his words, considering the possibility of everything he was offering. Yes, he thought, pleased. Think about it. Let it fester.

[sunny374940]

WIP... Thursday :D

@spinfins, @lavender-tea-fling, @mercars-musings, @starfleetteddybear, @redheadsramblings, @sorrowsfallallaround

Hi guys, sorry to summon you onto a post that's not fanfic, but I would really value your opinion. I have been GRIPPED by the beginnings of writing an original story and am wondering whether there's any merit in pursuing the thing further. So I'd be grateful for your thoughts, but no hard feelings if you don't want to look at this <3 (also consider yourself tagged if you wanna share any of your wips)

The story is shaping up to be a modern fantasy romance / adventure / something and it's v. gay. It's about a half-elf researcher who is assigned a bodyguard (he doesn't want a bodyguard and definitely doesn't need one, thankyouverymuch) and there will be much pining and peril and feelings from the look of it.

So if anyone wants to look at the thing, it's down here (this is the first page and a little, working title is Damn Sky Whales).

The doorbell rang, startling Fern out of his research. Was it the time already? Surely not, he'd been at this only for - he checked his phone - four hours now. Damn. It was the time.

He threw on whatever clothes he could manage to locate in the mess that was his bed, grateful to Past Fern for the great idea of taking a shower before settling down to more work, and ran to the front door. He opened it in a rush and found himself eye to chest with a stranger. The chest was quite wide, he couldn’t help noticing, bordered by well muscled arms. He took a step back to look the man in the face, which was some way up. Fern wasn’t that short, surely?

“You are not my driver.”

The man was giving him a curious look and Fern could feel his mismatched socks staring accusingly from his shoes. His hair was probably a terrible mess too.

“I’m your bodyguard, sir,” he said, as if that explained anything.

“I don't have a bodyguard.”

“Well, now you do. But I can drive, if that helps.” 

Fern could tell from the amused glint in his eyes that he definitely noticed his ogling, as well as his socks. And he was human. Of course. No self-respecting elf would take the job of safeguarding a half-breed like him. 

“I am certain I don’t need a bodyguard.”

He was being a bit childish, arguing like that, but the way he couldn’t dissuade him was getting annoying. 

“Your mom made the arrangements on your behalf.”

Ah. His dear elven mother. She did enjoy taking over his life. But for all her faults, her support put him through university, when it wasn’t easy for a half-elf to even be admitted to study. Though his academic success was entirely his own, she wouldn’t take the credit there.

It seemed that there was no point in arguing with the bodyguard. His bodyguard. Why would he need one, anyway? Yet another of mother’s idle fancies, most likely. He wouldn’t be able to protect him if anything went wrong today, but she probably felt better for doing this.

“Ugh. Alright. What’s your name?”

“Gareth, sir. So, where we going?”

“We will be inspecting a dragon's lair today. Their numbers have been dwindling over the past few years and I will get to the bottom of this. They are thaumivores and the background magic-”

The bodyguard was watching him with a stony expression.

“You don’t care about the dragons, do you?” he sighed. Why did he even bother?

“Sorry, never given much thought to the sky whales, sir.”

That damn comparison! Just because they floated calmly through the skies and allowed the magic to pass through them, everyone considered them to be useless annoyances that meddled with air traffic. He was being unfair to actual whales right now, but that was besides the point. He could feel the beginnings of a rant coming on.

“They are much more complex than that! They are not mere krill-feeders, the thaumic ecosystem itself is dependent on their presence. They harmonize the magical frequencies, do you know how many wild magic storms there would be without them?”

The corners of the bodyguard's mouth were quirked up just the slightest bit. He was trying to get a rise out of him! Fern deflated. He hadn’t really slept last night, he’d been too caught up in poring over maps of thaumic interference to notice that it was getting late and only nodded off for a few hours amongst the papers spread out on his bed.

“Let’s just go, it’s a long drive.”

“As you say, sir.”

“Could you dispense with the ‘sirs’? I’ve had enough for the whole week already. I’m Fern.”

He didn’t argue, to Fern’s surprise.

“Alright. And why do you need a driver? Your hands too soft for the steering wheel?”

“I don’t like to drive, simple as that. So this is the one thing my mother’s wealth allows me that I take advantage of.”

He didn’t have to tell him that his mother actually insisted on him having a driver after the last time he made a brilliant breakthrough in his research while driving to work and nearly killed himself by slamming the car into a lamp post when he got lost in thought.

[hunieday]

Yamato, Sougo, Momo 2024 Shuffle talk RabbiTV Episode 1

Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

*Doors opens*

Momo: Good morning~! You two are already here! You’re early~!

Nikaido Yamato: Good morning, Momo-san. We just got here a little bit ago.

Osaka Sougo: Good morning, Momo-san.

Osaka Sougo: It’s an honor for me to be able to join you on this "Monthly World Travel" special series. I know I greeted you at the raffle drawing, but I would like to thank you again!

Momo: No no, I'm the one who’s super happy to travel with you to Australia! I may be a bit clumsy, but I’m looking forward to working with you.

Nikaido Yamato: No no no no. I’m still inexperienced, so I would appreciate your guidance and support, Momo-san...

Momo: Ahaha! Everyone's being so humble!!

Momo: It’s gonna be just the three of us on this trip, so you can be more relaxed!

Osaka Sougo: I’m sorry for being so formal... Even Tamaki-kun tells me I’m too stiff a lot of times.

Momo: Oh, then how about you try talking more like Tamaki? Maybe you’ll sound a bit more casual!

Nikaido Yamato: Sou’s gonna call you “Momorin”?

Momo: Yup! Give it a try!

Osaka Sougo: Mo, mo... Momo... Mo...

Osaka Sougo: I’m sorry! I really still can’t do it after all...

Momo: Ahaha! You’re so cute! Thanks for trying your best to call me by that name!

Momo: Well, looks like this project’s gonna be quite relaxed so let’s take it easy. Yuki said there would be photo shoots and missions, but also plenty of free time!

Osaka Sougo: You’re right. I’ll try to take it more easy!

Nikaido Yamato: Looks like the weather will be nice too, so I’m looking forward to it.

Momo: It’s winter over there, isn’t it? I was considering going to the ocean for a swim but that might be impossible.

Nikaido Yamato: That’s true. It’s warm enough to wear short sleeves during the day though.

Osaka Sougo: Melbourne has many tourist attractions such as the Royal Botanic Gardens and zoos, so there should be plenty more to enjoy aside from the beach.

Momo: Aren’t you two a little too well-informed? Did you already do your research!?

Osaka Sougo: Yes, I was so excited that I ended up researching a lot of things.

Nikaido Yamato: He ordered all sorts of books. From travel magazines to Australian history.

Osaka Sougo: I thought I would appreciate the trip more if I understood its historical background... Yamato-san, you were also studying common English conversation phrases at the dorm so you could use them during the trip, right?

Nikaido Yamato: Just a little bit. I can speak English pretty well, but if you don’t use it you’ll forget it.

Momo: Having two capable little juniors is so reassuring!

Momo: I usually push myself real hard, but Momo-chan can probably just take it easy and enjoy himself this time!?

Nikaido Yamato: Re:vale works a lot overseas, right?... Must be hard to work together with that guy.

Momo: Ahaha! I’m used to it by now!

Momo: I always think about Yuki whenever I’m planning a trip and ask myself if he would enjoy it.

Momo: Thanks to that, I fully prepare everything from in-flight entertainment to what drinks to order at the hotel!

Nikaido Yamato: Oh, sounds good~ I’d like to try some of the local Australian beers.

Osaka Sougo: It seems like they tend to have a lower alcohol content and are easy to drink.

Momo: Sounds good! Let’s clear the missions and enjoy some delicious drinks together as a reward!

Momo: Wow, so this is Brighton Beach! Those colorful warehouses are so cute!

Osaka Sougo: Everyone’s taking pictures here and there.

Nikaido Yamato: Should we take a pic too?

Osaka Sougo & Momo: Yaaay!

*Camera shutter*

Momo: Yup! All of us have nice smiles!

Osaka Sougo: This will be a great memory of our trip!

Nikaido Yamato: How nice would it be if we completed the mission by spending time on the beach.

Momo: Things would be boring if it ends this quickly! Let’s enjoy the mission too~!

Accompanying Staff: Thank you everyone for traveling this far!

Accompanying Staff: Here’s the card with your mission written on it. Please take a look at the hint and the exploration map as well!

Osaka Sougo: Thank you. Um, for starters, the mission is... “Let’s meet a mermaid!”

Nikaido Yamato: And the hint is, “Under the water.”

Momo: A mermaid... under the water... Maybe we can swim to an underwater palace from this beach!?

Nikaido Yamato: That’s more like Urashima Taro than a mermaid, isn’t it? (1)

Momo: Haha! Nice one, Yamato!

Osaka Sougo: Hmm, I can’t make anything out of the hint being under the water.

Osaka Sougo: Shall we start by looking for clues around here?

Momo: Ah! Then it’s time for this!

Momo: Tadah! I brought soap bubbles from Japan!

Osaka Sougo: Momo-san, you went through the trouble of preparing this for us...!

Momo: I thought it would be fun to do this at the beach! Aren’t these containers so colorful and cute?

Momo: I’ve got four colors for each member, ones in Yamato’s and Sougo’s colors, as well as Yuki’s and mine!

Nikaido Yamato: You even brought one in Yuki-san’s color.

Momo: They were sold in packs of two and I felt bad leaving Yuki back home, so I brought his.

Momo: Here, the green one for Yamato and purple for Sougo!

Osaka Sougo: Thank you very much.

Nikaido Yamato: Wow, I remember blowing into the hole at the tip of the stick as a kid, how nostalgic.

Osaka Sougo: It’s been so long since I did something like this. It’s kind of exciting.

Momo: Alright! Let’s make some big soap bubbles!

Osaka Sougo & Nikaido Yamato: Yeah!

End of Episode 1.

Urashima Taro: A fairy-tale of a fisherman who, after visiting the underwater Palace of the Dragon King, returns centuries later​.

[atriza]

Timelines and Tethers

Yandere Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: On a mission with Five Hargreeves, Y/N seizes an opportunity to escape his suffocating obsession. But when dealing with someone who can manipulate time and space, freedom is an illusion. As desperation mounts, Y/N discovers just how far Five will go to keep them by his side, blurring the line between love and control.

Word Count: 2,050

Trigger Warnings:

Obsessive behavior

Emotional manipulation

Fear and tension

Themes of entrapment

Implied stalking

Unhealthy relationships

The city streets were eerily quiet, the faint buzz of streetlights humming in the background. You kept your head low as you followed Five, his sharp green eyes scanning the surroundings with the precision of a hawk. The mission was straightforward: infiltrate a small, abandoned facility and retrieve a critical item before disappearing into the night. But tonight, your thoughts weren’t on the mission. They were on escape.

It had been weeks since Five’s behavior shifted from protective to possessive. At first, you thought he was just being his usual overbearing self, but it didn’t take long to realize this was something else entirely. His constant presence, the way his gaze lingered on you, the cryptic comments about fate and timelines—it was suffocating.

You weren’t just a companion to him anymore. You were an obsession.

Five stopped abruptly, causing you to almost bump into him. “Pay attention,” he muttered, his voice low but commanding.

“I am,” you replied, though your mind was elsewhere.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Are you? You’ve been distracted all night.”

You forced a small smile. “Just nervous about the mission.”

He studied you for a moment longer before nodding. “Stay close. I don’t want you wandering off.”

As he turned and continued walking, you felt your chest tighten. He always had to be in control, always had to keep you under his watchful eye. But not tonight.

---

The facility was as decrepit as you expected, the faint smell of mildew filling the air as you stepped inside. Five motioned for you to follow him down a long, dimly lit hallway. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your footsteps echoing off the cracked tiles.

“We’ll be in and out,” Five said, his tone clipped. “No unnecessary risks.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the room for an opportunity. The building was a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, some of which looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades. If you could slip away unnoticed, you might have a chance.

“Wait here,” Five ordered, stopping outside a locked door. “I’ll handle this.”

You watched as he produced a set of tools and began working on the lock. His focus was absolute, his back turned to you. This was it.

Quietly, you took a step back, then another. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slipped into a side corridor, the darkness swallowing you whole. You moved quickly but cautiously, not daring to make a sound.

---

The further you got from Five, the more your chest began to lighten. Freedom felt close, just within reach. You found a side exit, the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, you stepped into the cool night air, your breath visible in the cold.

But your relief was short-lived.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You froze at the sound of his voice, low and deadly, coming from directly behind you. Spinning around, you found Five standing there, his expression calm but his eyes burning with fury.

“How—”

“You really thought you could escape me?” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I’ve been doing this far longer than you’ve been alive, Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You backed away, your hands trembling. “Five, this isn’t right. You can’t keep me like this.”

“I’m not keeping you,” he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m protecting you. From this world, from others, from yourself.”

“This isn’t protection,” you spat, your voice shaking. “This is control.”

For a moment, his expression softened, as if your words had struck a nerve. But then his lips curled into a cold smile. “Call it whatever you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you belong with me.”

You turned to run, but before you could take more than a step, the world around you blurred. In an instant, you were back inside the facility, the side door you had just exited now firmly shut.

---

Your breath hitched as you stumbled, trying to orient yourself. Five was already in front of you, his arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as ever.

“Running won’t work,” he said calmly, almost mockingly. “I can be anywhere, anytime. You can’t outrun me.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just let me go?”

He sighed, stepping closer until he was only a foot away. “Because I’ve seen the timelines, Y/N. I know what happens if I let you go. You die. Or worse, you leave me, and everything falls apart. I won’t let that happen. Not again.”

Tears stung your eyes as his words sunk in. “You’re not saving me, Five. You’re trapping me.”

“I’m saving us,” he corrected, his voice softening. “You just don’t understand yet. But you will.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pull back. “I’ve spent years fighting to keep the people I love safe. You’re no different.”

“You’re delusional,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “But I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me.”

---

The rest of the night was a blur. Five escorted you out of the facility, his grip firm on your wrist, as though he feared you might try to run again. He didn’t say much, his silence more unnerving than his words.

When you returned to the safe house, you immediately made your way to your room, locking the door behind you. But even there, you couldn’t escape him. You could feel his presence, his obsession, suffocating you like a heavy weight on your chest.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the locked door, a single thought consumed your mind: there was no escaping Five Hargreeves.

Not in this timeline. Not in any.

[radvimes]

A response to the LDS Church's new Anti-Trans Policies

I just sent the following email to lgbt@churchofjesuschrist.org, and thought it would be worth sharing here, as well:

To whom it may concern, assuming it concerns anyone in HQ-

This email may not be perfectly worded, but I felt it was more important to voice my concerns now than to wait to word them perfectly. I may send more emails in the future.

As far as I can tell, I am exactly the sort of person you want to remain in the church: lifelong member, returned missionary, temple recommend holder, temple worker, sealed in the temple, 3 kids, upper middle class educated Millennial straight white male Melchizidek priesthood holder with nonmember friends that I talk religion with on occasion. However, you're losing me and people like me. I listened to what the church has taught me all my life. I served a mission and went to a non-church college with an institute program and met all sorts of new people from all sorts of backgrounds. I learned that my mission president was secretly gay, and had been repressing it all his life due to harmful church teachings and cultural pressure. I sat with these experiences. When we started the Come, Follow Me program, I faithfully studied all 4 books of scripture in a way I never had before. As I did so, I recognized that the messages I saw taught over and over and over were ones of love and grace. I learned that Sodom and Gomorrah's sin wasn't homosexuality, like I'd heard all my life. It was pride and a refusal to care for the poor and needy. Jesus didn't call people to repentance for being lax in their temple worship or observance of church law; he called them to love one another, pray for one another, be humble, and actually feed and care for one another, especially those we deem unclean, unworthy, or the "least" of us. He showed over and over that his good news is often a kind word, a loving hug, and an invitation to share a meal and a table.

Today, as is poignantly demonstrated by remarks by leaders like Elder Holland and President Oaks, and by relevant church handbook policies over the last decade and the last month, it is easy to conclude that in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, our LGBTQIA2S+ siblings are considered the least of us, even unclean, unworthy, and unwelcome. I had a Jewish friend ask me to tell him about the recent policy changes re: how the church treats trans members, and I had gotten maybe halfway through the changes when he simply said, with a sober expression "so the church has made it clear they aren't welcome, then?" Whether that was the intention or not, that is the message we are sending, loud and clear. That simply cannot be the message our loving Heavenly Parents and loving Savior have for us and our queer siblings. If the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is meant to share the good news of Christ with all of God's children, then we need to actually figure out what good news we have to share with God's children who are queer, or who are like me and care about those that are, and we need to do it quickly, because right now, the only news we have is that they aren't welcome, that we don't particularly have a place for them, and that we don't especially care to. We can do better. We must do better. Right now, we are failing far too many, and it breaks my heart, and the hearts of so many who want to heed Jesus' good news and the 2 great commands to love. We went through a very similar struggle with regards to our black siblings, and did at least 1 right thing in 1978. We can do more right things again.

Regards,

[radvimes]

[geddyqueer]

i would love some tunnel fic AND (/or) ⛏️💕⛏️

ok i'm holding off on posting more about tunnel fic until i actually write more words. but because you asked so nicely, you're getting some background of geology fic AND a snippet.

this fic came about because annie sent me some bts shot of lou where he's wearing a fishing vest and i was like this is geology professor core. and then i simply couldn't stop thinking about it. back in my wayward youth i was a geology major and i've always thought that a field study would make for a great character study template, so the fic is laid out like a report:

the OTHER major player in this fic is that concept a few people were kicking around several months ago when that interview dropped about buck and tommy learning more about each other as their relationship developed (LOL LMAO!) that maybe tommy had a past partner who had died. and annie and i were sitting there in the sandbox, and we were like: what if his partner who died was older than him. what if his partner who died had been in a position of authority over him. what if his partner who died had been not only his professor and academic mentor, but also his gay mentor. and now, what if buck, a young spritely 20-something, recently self-actualized, with the hots for his older professor, was pushing up against all of that history of tommy's. all set against the background of my second-favorite thing to think about: rocks!

anyway, here's a snippet:

The room is dark, but the door's unlocked. Buck takes a chance and pushes it open. It doesn't look like there's anyone else in there, but there is a weird lump in the front corner behind the desk, and he can't quite make out what it is until he flips the light switch on and the lump startles and jumps and–it's a guy. 

Not just a guy, but the guy.

Even with the memory of the jacket he was sleeping on imprinted deep into his face, Buck can tell he’s good looking. He has eyes, after all. And speaking of eyes, this guy—and it has to be the same one whose papers Buck has been reading all week—well, his eyes are piercingly dark blue. He blinks rapidly, sits up, and stares Buck down with those eyes.

"Uh, hi," Buck says, as the guy shoves his jacket off the desk and slaps his own face a couple of times and gets to his feet. "Are you Dr. Kinard?"

"Shit," the guy says, his voice cracking a little with sleep. He clears his throat. "Was I supposed to have a TA this semester? Sorry–"

"Oh, no, no, I'm, uh. I'm just a student," Buck says with a chuckle. He doesn't mean to, but he bobs his head like he's shy. He's not shy! He's just clearly in the right place at the wrong time. Maybe he should let the guy snooze, come back in half an hour.

The guy–Dr. Kinard–frowns, and wow, the picture of him on the UC-Pasadena Geology Department website does not do him justice. He's really earned that spicy pepper, Buck thinks, and then mentally kicks himself for it. "Huh," Dr. Kinard says, then: "Christ. Did I sleep through class?"

"No! No, you're good, I'm just–I'm super early, first day on campus, all my classes were remote last year, and because I'm, you know, 'non-traditional', not fresh out of high school, I didn't go through the, uh, standard orientation." 

Real smooth, he thinks. He's rambling. He needs to stop rambling. At least the hot professor standing in front of him is starting to grin instead of rolling his eyes. 

"Anyway, I'm a Bio major but I picked this class because, well–"

"Easy credit?" 

Buck stares in shock, but Dr. Kinard isn't even looking at him; instead he's shuffling back toward his desk, hand reaching for the stack of papers that he was just using as a pillow. 

"What? No way," Buck says, and it comes out a little more forceful than he intends. "No, I read your dissertation. It was really interesting. The, uh, the section about the volcanism in the Quaternary era? Am I saying that right? At first I was just like, woah, this is cool, I didn't know about any of this but then I was looking at the timelines and realizing that the earliest humans were literally walking around getting all, you know, homo-erectus-y while that volcano was spewing! And now people walk around Yellowstone and we just have no idea!"

Dr. Kinard's hand hasn't moved since Buck started talking. He's just… still, leaning over his desk. "You. Hold on. You read my dissertation?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "It was good!"

[preciousmomentsfigurine]

hey, is anyone still here? looks like the last time i was on here was two years ago and change. things are really different now, but i guess then again it would be weird if they were the same

i was thinking of returning to this dead site because for a good fifteen years it was a big part of my life and provided me with a unique way to express my thoughts and ideas and feelings and opinions and musings to an audience of people who can hear me but not truly know me outside of my words that i share on this platform. and on the same coin i enjoy following the lives of people i know nothing about and watching their stories and selves develop and evolve from a complete distance in every sense

i'm five months sober now

i have a hard time pinpointing when exactly i became an alcoholic, but i guess i could say i dealt with it in some degree for about eight years, and progressively, as it always goes

i graduated with my masters last may (2023) in critical media studies where i spent my time writing and researching feminist cultural social and media theory. i produced a great deal of work i was and am very proud of including a thesis that is honestly my life and heart's work but unfortunately over the course of those two years my drinking escalated rapidly and by the end i was manically and drunkenly banging out papers and essays in the dead of night sleepless and naively inspired

somehow i got a 4.0 though despite that. everyone in my life always says i played off my drinking well anyway. beats me how or why

once i graduated i practically immediately began drinking all day every day while somewhat-hardly-kind-of-not-really looking for work which was fruitless and i quickly learned my degree i worked so hard for meant practically nothing to employers who were merely looking for experience i dont have outside of my teaching background in grad school

for almost exactly a year i was drunk 100% of the time i was awake

same old story, at some point i switched to bottom shelf pints of vodka, which constituted my breakfast lunch and dinner. sat on my couch in my filthy apartment occupying my filthy poisoned failing body either watching tv or causing problems somehow

this was when i was twenty-nine. for a while now i had known in my heart of hearts i wasnt someone who would ever be able to handle my liquor or drink like a normal person, whatever that means, and that too much was never enough, and that it was literally impossible to function so long as booze was a part of my life. any attempts to "cut back" or "take breaks", i knew, would end the same way, which was waking up to shots of room temperature vodka and being a prisoner to the worst shame a person can feel

i figured once i turned thirty, which was this march, that would probably be about the time i got sick of my own shit and said goodbye to the bottle. which i undeniably felt a kind of affection toward as if it were a lover. still do in a sense and thats why ill never flirt with it again

my sobriety date is april 16th 2024. my last drink was a shot of vodka at 8:30 am on the 15th after creating massive gashes in my upper arm the previous evening during a blackout fight with my boyfriend

im still unemployed and extremely mentally ill and my bipolar has gotten progressively worse over the past couple of years and will likely continue to according to what the science says and all of that. after my last manic episode last month i adjusted my meds (again) and for now they seem to be working but i don't hold my breath really

i do AA and i like it a lot, i do it my own way, i have a sponsor who approaches the program liberally and progressively and shares many of my comorbidities and has allowed me the freedom to define my relationship to the program and god in a way that works for me and i have made incredible strides through this. i have become a far far far better person.

being sober is easy and i never want to drink. not once not ever

ive never worked so hard on myself in my life because i got as close to death as i ever had and ive been very close at many points in my life for many years. when i was drinking i knew i wouldnt make it to see 35 if i continued as i was

therapy, AA, meds, a whole fucking lot of discipline

ive been with my boyfriend for two years and wed like to get married. thats nothing that will happen anytime soon but it is nice to think about. he has been by my side through unimaginable things that any sane person would not have stuck around for. he is my heart and my soul

im also trying to start applying for jobs again but im genuinely on the fence if i am capable of holding a full time job due to my severe mental illness. im exploring a bunch of options right now as far as that whole thing goes. the future is very uncertain as always

let me know if you see this or remember me or anything.

bye for now

[lolitastories]

Helpless

Description: She worked as a lawyer in New York until she received a phone call from the man she owes her career to. She knew she would be back and what she was in for but what she didn’t know is that her life would change even more than she imagined.

Part 2

Chapter 1

“You hide your emotions for a living but at this moment you are not doing a great job” I directed an eyeroll to him. We were currently sitting at the dinner table, waiting for his children to join us.

“Not really helping John '' I let out a sigh taking in his words. I know he was right. This family has been in my life since I was 17. I had met Beth, who at first wasn’t the kindest but somehow we both got along great. In my job you had to be assertive, judgemental,firm, confident and when things got rough, you had to be rude and tough. Not an easy thing to do on a normal basis and I thought to myself I was crazy for not only entering law but to becoming a General Practice Attorney. Somehow when I enter the courtroom or when I am making a deal my eyes dial in to my target and I blackout. I do what is needed to do and my streak of losing none of my cases shows that. But when I am outside the law and I am just me, I lose myself. With Beth, she was that for me. She was the assertive side in me and I was the calming side to her. We got each other and I was thankful for that.

“You didn’t tell me she was joining '' Jamie, sweet Jamie. I get up and give him a hug which he gladly takes. Right out of law school I was taken under his wing. John decided not to tell him how he helped me through law school and how he became a mentor to me since the night we met. Jamie took such pride in seeing me become what I wish he knew I could be. Soon I had to move on since I wasn't a specialist in only one thing. I now only see him if he or John needs help and needs me to work with him on something. We distance ourselves over the past years but nothing feels any different now. “Finally” He sighs, moving around the table to take a seat across from me, of course one seat down from John who was at the end of the table.

“Decided we couldn’t keep her a secret anymore and now would be a great time to have her here” After Lee’s death I was asked to come back to the ranch. I moved to New York as I was working on expanding my knowledge in more than just Law, but when I received John's call I dropped everything. Lee’s death was unfortunate and John mentioned in that phone call that things were just going to get tougher from then, and hell did it. I have been working in the background with Lee’s death and filing it under the table with the help of Jamie. Also helping him with Kayce and Monica. When the drug explosion accident happened and Monica’s accident at school. With the kidnapping of the girl Kayce found and the trips he took to jail. Not to mention Dan and Beth, and I have a feeling that won’t be it.

“He didn’t want to continue hearing my rants on driving from home all the way to town. Loved the peaceful rides but you know I am not a morning person” I was staying just outside of Darby. Of course I could stay in town but it wasn’t a risk John nor I wanted to take. He has enemies and everybody knows each other, we didn’t want to give them anything that could come back and damage the farm.

“That you are not” I looked up hearing a familiar voice. “You remember your finals week?” I shake my head in embarrassment. I had just turned 20 but in Beth’s head I was 21. So she made a trip from Salt Lake City to Connecticut. Of course I told her right but she didn’t care. She told me Yale could wait for a couple hours so I could have fun. I was unaware that her couple hours meant a whole night a day. John sent me to study in Yale a couple months after we met. I promised him I wouldn’t disappoint and for me, I never make promises so It was like writing it in stone. I took multiple classes and spent nights, days,summer,spring break, holidays studying and advancing as much as possible in my degree. Work paid off when in only four years I graduated when it usually took 7. Anyways I was in my finals and she took me out that morning.

“In my defense it was 3 in the morning when you showed up” yeah 3 in the morning, I was walking into my apartment hoping to take a 3 hour nap so I could continue at 6 the next day.

“That when New york wakes up” So she shook me off the bed and drove us down an hour and 30 minutes to Manhattan.

“I thankfully took a that ride a power nap”

“If that is what you want to call it.” She laughs while pouring herself a drink. “ I could swear her body felt more energized than ever because she looked like a zombie who hadn’t slept in years'' I hadn’t slept well in 5 weeks. I knew finals were coming and with everything going on I needed every hour I could get to prepare for it. “We got to the club and she was going on a mission. I am not going to tell you what she did to get in because it would ruin your image of her '' She meant I seduced and promised the security an amazing morning if he let me in knowing I wasn’t 21 yet. That might not seem bad but when your promises are very verglaur and detailed and also loud, well now that I think about it, it was more embarrassing but still. “But don’t worry I didn’t let her slip that night. Well maybe just a little.” I cover my eyes and my ears. Dancing on every surface I could find and wired with more alcohol than they had in the club I was having the best time of my life that night. But when we got out and I saw the sun I began cursing at it like it killed and took away everything I loved. I bet there is a video of me out there becoming New York’s crazy woman who hates the sun. After that I went back into the club and refused to come out until the sun was gone. And to be fair that was not what I meant by not being a morning person. I love sunrises and sunsets, I just hate waking up.

“Sorry I am late. Leaving Tate wasn’t easy today” I have only seen Kayce from afar. When I arrived at the farm, Kayce had already had the altercation with John. I soon left and didn’t hear about him until I came back. I have been only helping Jamie with his cases but never had the opportunity to speak to him once. I knew he had moved back and became the Ranch Foreman but I avoided the farm as much as possible knowing that was what John and I agreed on. Kayce walked in with his head down seating next to John and Jamie. He only focused on me when John spoke up.

“Don’t worry son. We were just catching up” he stood up at the end of the table looking over at us. “This is Y/N. She will be living here starting today” That is not what we spoke about. I gave him a worried look but he only shook his head. That meant I had to trust him. “Beth and Jamie have known of her for the past years but because of the circumstances of you not being present in the ranch” A little sadness in both their eyes could be seen. “You hadn’t gotten a chance to meet her” I sent him a nod with a gentle smile and his response was a cold stare that he quickly moved towards his father.

“What do you mean she will be living in the main house?” Not that I mattered more than him but somehow his words caused annoyance in me. You don’t even know me and speak like I was not important. John takes the chance to sit down as Gator comes out with the food.

“I want to take this dinner as a chance to not only tell you about her” he look over to Kayce and then followed his gaze to Jamie and Beth as he continued speaking “and to tell you two along with Kayce how she came to the ranch and why I asked her to come back and stay in the ranch” That last part he looked over at me and I knew he was asking me to listen and consider his question on staying and living in the ranch for awhile. We began eating but John didn’t touch his food as he began speaking. “One night almost 7 years ago she came to the farm. I know under what circumstance she came to run into our lands but that is up to her if she wants to share it with you” He looks over at me and I give him a nod thanking him for that. He looks back to his kids and continues. “That night 3 of our cowboys were out and found her. Thankfully Rip found her before anything bad happened to her.” I look down focusing on my food not really wanting to relive that moment. I guess it showed on my face since I felt Beth take my hand that was settled in my lap. “Rip brought her to me and that night I decided to bring her in. She made a good impression on Rip and I so I decided to help her from that day on.” I smile hearing that from John. Rip was a big softy but had a hard time showing that to people. Mainly because this kind of life didn’t bring out the best in him. He liked it and as much as I would like him to see the better side of things, I know he is better off that way he is.

“So what does that mean? Is she?-” Beth chuckles at Kayces words.

“She is younger than you Kayce! Just 22” Almost 23 I thought. Jamie's words cause a groan from his brother who looks over to John for answers.

“It means I saw something and helped her become what she wanted in life. She spoke to me about going into law school and to show her gratitude she promised to do everything in her power to make me proud and devote herself to this family and she hasn’t failed since”

“She has helped me keep this family running and keeps you from jail.” Jamie says, taking a bit of his potato.

“She had been working behind the scenes since I asked her to come back months ago.” John adds finally starting to eat his dinner.

“So you paid for her school and are now moving her into the house in exchange for her service?” It was a question but to him it was a statement that he made his own answer from. “It will become a great headline” I see the annoyance now in John's face.

“I can assure you that being here will cause no harm in the farm's image. I will assure myself of that personally.” Beth chuckles again but Kayce takes it the wrong way. Getting up and excusing himself from the table.

“You don’t have too, it's not something he has a say about” John grabbed my arm before I could walk past him.

“If I am going to devote myself to this family like I promised I need him to trust me.” John nods letting go of me as I try to catch up to Kayce. I see a dark shadow walking down the path towards the foreman’s cabin. “Kayce!” I don’t see him turn around but he does turn right and leans over the fence. Goddamn dramatic Duttons. I shake my head with a mission, yet I don’t know what I am going to say when I reach him.

“I’ll ask the questions and I’ll tell you if you deserve to be here” I only gently smile and give him a nod. It took everything in me not to roll my eyes at him. He spoke those words and it brought annoyance to his character. “What was the real reason behind him paying and allowing you to be here?” I shrugged in all honesty John and I never spoke about why he decided to help me out. I want to say it was for the kindness in his heart. We all know he takes prisoners and gives them work, it doesn’t sound like much but I can assure you it's a lot. Then there is Rip, a small boy who needed something and John gave him a start, a chance.

“I have no idea” I leaned against the fence, directing my gaze to the land before us. It was past 6 and the sun was way down. The crickets are already playing their tunes and the wind, singing along. “I am not one to usually put my take in things but I think it was because of you” I didn’t turn but I felt his gaze turn sharply to me. To be honest I was feeling a little nervous. Beth, Jamie and Lee had asked me the same question but I never told them what I actually thought the reason behind it was, one because I wasn’t sure and two because I was no one to put such an idea out there. “I came in around the time you left” Under his stare it felt like I was starting to run a fever. Chills went down my spine and I felt like I was burning, thankfully he turned back to the view in front of him. “I always was one to read people’s sadness and when I looked into his eyes, that was all I could see. At that moment I didn’t know why he was sad until later on when I met Beth. She told me all about it. The couple of weeks I spent in the ranch John was kind to me. Taking me in and treating me not like a worker but-” I cut myself off. It caused a bit of pain even thinking of such feelings. How for John I may be like his own child but I know that wasn’t true. Sure he cared for me but if it was between his own blood and me well, there was no question about it. I was pulling on my own heart strings and I needed to cut myself off. “I feel like I was just a right time, right place situation that helped him feel better about letting you go”

“How did you end up here?” He was avoiding my statement. The answer to that was something I haven’t told anyone except John. John had the right to know, but that wasn’t the case with Kayce or his siblings. I needed time. “By the looks of it I see you fighting yourself on whether you should tell me or not” I quickly shake my head.

“It's not a difficult choice. I have the right to not talk about it. Just like I told Beth, John had the right to know but it doesn’t mean it was easy. Am still dealing with my past and soon when everything is over, there will be no need to keep it hidden. Until then I ask them to trust me just like I trust the Dutton blindly”

“You ask for trust but we have more to lose with how much trust we put with you” He was right

“It might not be a lot but I could lose everything with putting my trust in you all. The Duttons are a full package and I choose to take that on no matter what. What you know of this family and its past since I have been here I have helped, if anything happens that could come back and bite me too. You know better than me that people here come and go just as fast as bullet trains”

A/N: I have found my new obsession.♥️. I don’t know where am going with this but I hope you guys like it. This app doesn’t have much of him so I hope that changes.

Thank you❤️.

[jasper-pagan-witch]

Hehe. more!

What's your favorite video game? What about show? And movie? And on each, what makes it your favorite?

What are some blogs you'd suggest to people that are kinda like yours?

When did you get into The Elder Scrolls? What about Magic the Gathering?

How often do you typically practice magic?

Optional additional question because it is a bit loaded and not everyone wants to answer something like this: What's your most hated discourse in the pagan/witchy community? It can be valid or kinda just ridiculous, your choice.

You are feeding me and I love that.

What's your favorite video game? What about show? And movie? And on each, what makes it your favorite?

O...only one? I like a lot of video games...but honestly I can't get over how fucking funny the Monster Hunter series is. Like yeah, random person, go fight some fucking monsters. Take up to two cats with you. Here's a giant sword or a gun. Godspeed.

As for show and movie, uh...I don't...watch a lot of things, admittedly. I prefer to just turn on YouTube videos in the background instead of a show or movie. But if I had to pick, I'd pick Robin Hood: Men in Tights for movie and Legends of Chima for show. If you've seen the fights I've been picking on my main blog, I hope they've been entertaining.

What are some blogs you'd suggest to people that are kinda like yours?

*cackles* Time to summon the friends and the people I follow.

@windvexer - Out here doing the most when it comes to musing on ways to take things from witchcraft 102 to witchcraft 207. A bunch of their posts about divination have taught me more about how to read tarot better.

@stormwaterwitch - Hey kids, do you like seeing someone else's fully-developed elemental system? Do you like deities? Do you like books? My dear friend does it all!

@lazywitchling - DIY galore. As someone who enjoys putting things together, I also enjoy seeing her stuff too!

@sewceress - *grabs you* If you have ever thought too long about astrology, planetary magic, and stuff like that, you will enjoy this blog. That's a threat.

@aesethewitch - If you think it's neat how I can drag people for filth with a single card, you will enjoy Aese doing the same thing on their blog. This is also a threat.

@the-weaving-cryptid - If you enjoy region-specific magic and are interested in Appalachia, give Runa a look!

@strixhaven-study-hall - My dear friend Faust who is on that MTG pop culture shit with me. I need to bother him more, actually. And so should all of you.

@fernthewhimsical - Like with the note on Runa, Fern is big into regional stuff - specifically, Dutch paganism. Fae has all kind of cool posts and shit, I've greatly enjoyed chatting with them.

@creature-wizard - Do you like when I drop twenty-seven source links in one posts? Would you like better critical thinking skills about the bullshit that appears in online religious and occult and witchy spaces? Check out this blog. Particularly their stuff on the New Age to Alt-Right pipeline.

@crimsonsongbird - A fellow follower of Greek deities with some of the most beautiful and heart-wrenching devotionals I've ever read. She's also designed spells based on my OCs in the past!!! They're very neat (both Crimson and the spells).

@will-o-the-witch - Another wonderful reader and a Jewitch. Incredibly easy to chat with through the ask box!

@stagkingswife - Another fun blog to follow if you're interested in folklore or seeing someone who's really comfortable in her path! I enjoy learning about their unrecorded pantheon (which is different from a constructed pantheon, I must stress).

@breelandwalker - The author of what is hands-down my favorite book on witchcraft ever, Grovedaughter Witchery. If you enjoy actual history, debunking misinformation, and beginner-friendly posts (they have a whole advice page for beginners!), then Bree is a good blog to follow.

I think I'm running out of the ability to tag blogs, so I'll pause here. But I follow or am mutuals with all kinds of really cool folks here on Tumblr!

When did you get into The Elder Scrolls? What about Magic the Gathering?

I started playing Oblivion on my biological father's PS3 before Skyrim came out when I was a youngin (I'm gonna say around the age of 9?) and just kind of. Kept with it.

Meanwhile, I finally got into MTG in 2016, when the Shadows Over Innistrad and Eldritch Moon sets came out. My first ever deck was the Blue-Red precon, Dangerous Knowledge. And I hated it. This was before I figured out how to make Blue work for me. The first deck I ever built was a Red-Green Wolf and Werewolf deck, and I still have it to this day - it's my most powerful deck besides maybe my monoBlack Rat deck.

How often do you typically practice magic?

It depends. When I'm in my fallow period, it's literally nothing. Once I'm out, it could be anywhere between "for my entire waking day" to "like, five minutes" to "I have not done anything magical in two weeks". I am inconsistent as fuuuuuck!

Optional additional question because it is a bit loaded and not everyone wants to answer something like this: What's your most hated discourse in the pagan/witchy community? It can be valid or kinda just ridiculous, your choice.

I am biased on account of being a pop culture practitioner, but the "is pop culture magic/paganism valid or not" question that keeps rolling back around every now and again is stupid. We're all magical practitioners and/or religious folks. We are at equal levels of verification, which is "basically none to someone skeptical enough".

There are actual, genuinely good concerns that can be talked about in pop culture magic/paganism, but everyone keeps focusing on "it's faker than our shit lmaooo" instead of discussing things like copyright or capitalism. And even when people bring that up, it's almost always as an addendum to people saying that our shit isn't valid because it comes from a piece of media instead of cultural stories or history. It's like "damn, you're already biased, so I'm not going to listen to your points because you stink", you know?

Anyway, thank you for sending all of these in!

~Jasper

[adwd-casper-the-grim]

The Reaper's First Dance

Prompt: Nora and Casper are having a quiet night in together to celebrate their 6 month anniversary. They turn on some music to have in the background and as the night goes on, they find themselves dancing around the apartment. 

Length: 1182 words

Fluff

No CW/TW

6 months. It had been 6 months since Casper abandoned his life and work to be with me. He left everything behind, except his beloved axolotl plush that now rested on our bed. Our bed. That has a nice ring to it. When I asked Casper what he wanted to do to celebrate our 6 month anniversary, he was confused, mostly because he didn’t know that was a thing humans celebrated. Once I explained, he thought for a minute before quietly asking if you could just stay home.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go out and have fun, I just think I would prefer to spend the night with you. Only you, that is,” he looked up at me from the couch with his big red eyes. It’s not like I would have said no, but once those eyes came out, it was set in stone. 

So now here we are, settled at opposite ends of that very same couch, enjoying the latest episode of our favorite TV show. As the show began to come to a close, I turned towards Casper and smiled. He was still deep in concentration, using the baking competition to help learn about the competitive side of human nature. It has always been easy to admire him while he’s focused. On a whim, I slide across the couch to rest my head against his shoulder. Without looking, he immediately wraps his arms around me and rests his cheek against my head. 

“Are you hungry? I got something special to make for dinner,” I tilt my head up to him as I ask, studying the way he looks tonight. His skin is soft and smooth, thanks to his elaborate skincare routine. He had let me braid his hair last night, so it fell in soft waves around his cheeks and shoulders, which almost brought a flirtiness to his appearance.

“Special? You know I don’t need anything special. I’m happy to be here with you still,” he turns his attention to me, and I can only imagine what he thinks about what he sees. “I am getting hungry, though.”

I smile bigger and hop up from the couch. On my way across the room, I turn the small sound system I brought home the other day on and listen for the telltale chime that my phone has connected. A small jingle rings out as my black cat hops off her perch to follow us to the kitchen. The small feline winds around Casper’s ankles as he comes up to lean on the counter just a few feet down. I quickly open my phone and turn on one of our favorite playlists and fall into rhythm as the music fills the apartment. 

“So, you gonna tell me what you were thinking of, Sunshine?” he asks as I duck into the refrigerator. Chuckling, I grab the bag of ingredients I bought earlier. “Well, I know you love bread, so I thought we’d have something in bread bowls,” 

“Bread…bowls? They have those?” An incredulous look pulls itself onto Casper’s face as the idea begins to formulate in his mind. Setting the bag on the counter, I pull two large loaves of sourdough from inside. It’s absolutely shocking that he hasn’t discovered a bread bowl yet, but also exciting that I get to show him another way to enjoy his favorite foods. 

“All of those baking shows and nobody made a bread bowl? You’re absolutely missing out,” Casper’s eyes light up at one of his favorite breads, and he turns to watch my actions. Before handling the bread itself, I pull the nearby slow cooker forward on the counter, open it, and stir the contents. Once the lid is replaced, I grab a bread knife and begin to cut the center of the bread out. After both loaves have the insides removed, I quickly butter the insides before sliding them into the oven and setting a timer.

“Not everyone goes as far as toasting the inside, but I think it makes it better. I made my dad’s chicken soup to go in them.” I turn my attention back to Casper, who keeps glancing toward the removed bread sitting on the cutting board. “You know, I was going to toast those up too to make something to dip in the soup, but if you wanted to eat some of it now, I wouldn’t be upset.”

Turning away from Casper to grab some glasses for drinks, I hear him shuffle behind me and then the crunch of him biting into the crust. I smile as I fill the glasses with sparkling cider. Casper quickly swallows the bread and takes a glass from my hand to wash it down. I slide around him to stir the soup, and my hips sway slightly as I center at the counter. Before the spoon hits the soup, Casper steps up behind me and sort of wiggles. I giggle a bit as I glance over my shoulder at him.

“Hey, I’ve only been here in your world for 6 months, I don't know how to dance yet,” he pouts. I set the spoon down and turn to face him.

“Let’s start easy,” I say, taking his hands and wrapping his arms around my waist. Brushing the hair back off of his shoulder, I settle my hands on either side of his neck. “Now just sway back and forth with me for a minute. It’s kind of cheesy, but it’s a good place to start.” 

Casper grumbles in frustration but follows my lead as we move along to the music. Being a grim reaper, he is usually good at everything right away, so not being good at dancing frustrates him. I gently push him into a larger space and gently take his left hand and hold it out to the side. “Isn’t this how you…waltz or something?” Casper tilts his head over slightly as he asks. I giggle and nod, gaining a small pout from Casper. “What did I do?”

“I’m sorry, you look like a confused puppy when you tilt your head like that. But you are right, this is part of framing for ballroom dance. We won’t try that tonight, though,” I smile and touch my forehead to his chest. He tilts his head back up and looks just over my head for a second. Before I can ask what he is thinking about, he lifts our hands above his head and turns me slowly. 

As soon as I face him again, he looks at me inquisitively, silently asking if he did well. Nodding, I settle back into the quiet small sway with a smile. Time seems to disappear until the timer for the bread goes off and Casper perks toward the kitchen.

“I guess it’s time for dinner, the bread is ready,” I smile just a bit. Casper looks back down to me and frowns. “Maybe we can take the bread out and dance a little more before we eat,” he says, questioningly. “I would love nothing more than to keep dancing with you, little reaper,”