#i want to go to the aquarium so badly in particular

[fayeandknight]

Something I've been chewing over is Forte's work as a service dog, or rather how I utilize him as one.

I put so much time and effort into training him and, aside from the odd outing or event, I really only take him on grocery runs.

Don't get me wrong, he is amazingly helpful to have on them and I've been able to improve my diet because of him. He's also super helpful at home. But a big part of my drive in training a service dog in the first place was to make my world bigger. To give me the ability to do the things I want.

I had that with Faye. We went shopping for clothes so I could wear things that made me feel good about myself instead of just whatever t shirt and leggings were clean. We went to movies and the zoo. Heck I had a membership to the semi local aquarium because of how often I went. And while human company would have been nice, it was so life affirming to be able to enjoy those things on my own terms.

And I really don't do that with Forte. Not because he isn't capable of it, he proves that he is any time I "dust off" his public access skills and go somewhere. Like today I got out of work early so I stopped at the mega mall on the way home, just to see how he'd do and refresh his training in a bigger/busier place. He did amazing. He switched between casual heeling and fmp as directed, ignored the people calling to him, alerted in a timely manner, and after an hour of wandering around - led me to my car in the giant parking lot. And he did it all happily. Nothing bothered him, not the flashing lights of an arcade, not the toy gun range, not the indoor bounce house, none of it.

So why don't I utilize him more?

When I sit myself down and really think through it, it's internalized ablism.

When I lived further from my family I was free from their direct input on deciding to go out and do things with a service dog. Now that I'm with them again, I live with their constant pushback around bringing my service dog. They want to go out to eat, but do I really have to bring him? It's such a hassle and really they're family and that should be enough for me. They want to see a play but there's no need to bring the dog when we're going together. And on and on until somewhere along the way I just started opting out of going because it was easier.

No amount of 'but we're your faaamily' changes my disabilities or benefit of having a service dog. But I've grown so accustomed to anticipating complaints that I talk myself out of going now before they can.

And honestly I'm pretty disappointed in myself to come to this realization. I don't want my life to consist only of home, basic errands, work, and nothing else. I worked so hard to give myself an avenue of independence and I'm wasting it.

So here's my pledge to myself. I will do more. I will go to places and enjoy the world again. I will visit the library and bookstores and cafes more than every once in a blue moon. I will see that really interesting museum exhibit. I will go to the aquarium because I absolutely love it.

I'm going to focus on easing him back into working more frequently out and about and for longer durations first. But I am also going to trust him more to do the job I worked so hard to train him for. The job he shows me he loves at every opportunity.

It's past time to start living life again.

[epictacobird]

Demon slayer! MC working at the Mostro Lounge

Ok ok so Octavinelle's part of my demon slayer MC series is coming out soon and I have so many ideas that I can't fit in there bc I don't want my favoritism for Azul to show that badly so this is a thing.

Content: Azul pining over demon slayer!MC

No gendered pronouns are used for mc, only "you"

Warnings: Azul being oblivious to himself, angst if you squint and look away

Demon slayer! MC who enjoys working a little too much

At first, Azul figured you were just happy to finally be making money outside of Crowley’s shitty allowance. I mean, no one can be that genuinely excited to wait tables and wash dishes.

Except for you that is.

He wasn’t complaining, not at all, it was just a little unusual. You never complained about any work he assigned you, unlike a certain eel. You were even just as efficient at scaring away rowdy customers.

Truthfully, the reason why you liked working there was because you were so busy. It made you feel more normal, as if you really left behind your life as a slayer. Or maybe working just let you not think about it in the first place. Either way, Azul clearly appreciated the extra labor. Just as Grim appreciated the pricier tuna.

One day he caught you singing to yourself while you were washing dishes.

Hushabye baby bunny on the hill…

Tell me why your eyes are very red…

Because when my mother was expecting me she dined on red berries from a tree…

And that is why my eyes are so very red…

It was a simple lullaby, and yet you held such a genuine smile while singing. It must’ve been from your home. Were you feeling homesick? Is that why you’ve taken so many shifts lately?

He wanted to ask about it but reasoned against it. You always kept him at an arms length after his overblot. He didn’t want to make it worse by suddenly asking you such a personal question.

Maybe later then….

Demon slayer! Mc who is enamoured by the large aquariums all around them.

You tried so hard not to let your giddiness show when you first stepped foot in the lounge with Jack. Imagine! Tanks as large as these embedded to the walls with tons of colorful sea-life and fish, you never thought you'd see anything like it.

Tbh you were actually a little grateful for the whole situation, | mean, you got to go underwater and see the sea life outside of those tanks. Ace and Deuce were a little worried about how side tracked you suddenly got when y’all were down there lol.

So when you got a job at the Mostro Lounge and were now able to stare at those tanks all day you could barely hide your excitement.

Azul took notice of this quickly, you never let it distract you from work but it was a little endearing how you were so fascinated by the aquariums. Platonically, that is.

One day he caught you staring at one of the aquariums while you were cleaning tables after closing. There was a look on your face of innocent wonder, very different from the normally gloomy cloud that hung over your eyes.

From the angle he was at he couldn't tell what you were staring at. Whatever it was it held your attention in a vice grip, I mean you didn't even notice him as he walked closer. Or when he cleared his throat...or when he called your name... you're not ignoring him are you?

Azul called your name one more time and he finally caught your attention. You whipped your head around, "Oh! Sorry Azul I didn't notice you. Did you need something?"

Azul sighed, “Not in particular, I was just wondering what had your attention. It's not like you to stare off in the middle of work."

You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the nape of your neck as you answered, “Well, I was actually looking at this one little guy in the tank. You see I don't have stuff like this back in my world so it's all kind of new to me." You laughed, “It probably sounds a little stupid to you, being a merman and all."

Azul shook his head, “Not at all, which fish were you looking at?”

He expected you to point out on of the colorful fish around you. After all, their large fins and the way they effortlessly swam through the clear water was pleasing to the eye. He would never admit it, but he was a little upset. It was rare the insecurities from his past came up nowadays but you were different for a reason he couldn’t explain. He wanted to impress you, and if you were attracted to the fins that he could never have then what would he do then? Maybe he was thinking too much…

You smiled, and pointed to a small creature sitting at the bottom of the tank. It was perfectly camouflaged amount the sand and rocks. His heart did a flip, out of surprise or something else he couldn’t tell. He was just grateful you weren’t looking at him in that moment.

“That’s an octopus, I didn’t actually know we had one of them in here.” Floyd must have put it in, Azul thought bitterly.

“Wait, seriously? That’s what they look like?”

Azul cringed a little inwardly, preparing for the worst.

“That’s so cool! I never thought they looked like that. I mean, I’ve eaten them before but I’ve never seen one alive. I thought they were red!”

The look on your face was comparable to a kid getting candy you were so happy. You were enamored by the octopus the entire time? The little sea dweller stuck at the bottom while the other fish sore high above you?

God, why did he feel like this? Heat pooled in his cheeks as he watched the smile on your face grow wider.

He wished he could make you this happy everyday…

He adjusted his glasses unnecessarily and looked away, “All octopi have the ability to camouflage to their surroundings. Only a few species are red naturally.”

Suddenly he was caught in a whirlwind of your excited questions. He forgot how behind your world was in terms of science and research. There was probably no way for you to actually study any of this before now. Either way he was happy to answer all of them. He reasoned that this was the best way he could finally build actual trust. That was important for a good work environment between employer and employee after all…

Demon slayer!MC who once saved Azul from falling flat on the floor (although he can’t tell if he would’ve rather you let him fall)

He doesn’t know how it happened, sure he wasn’t the most graceful walking around when he first got legs but he couldn’t have seriously tripped on air!

He just was walking down the stairs to check if everything was running smoothly. Maybe he was distracted by the way you smiled at the customers as you took their orders, or the way you winked at him as you walked past. Either way he felt his stomach drop when his foot missed the next step. He slid backwards and braced himself-

Except it never came, rather than the edge of the stairs his head hit the comfort of your arms. were you always this strong?

He didn’t get to dwell on it for long though. He felt the uncomfortable stares and whispers a little too much for his liking. He quickly pushed himself out of you arms and adjusted himself.

“Are you alright Azul? You look a little red, you’re not sick are you?”

“No! No, I’m fine. Thank you.” He spoke quickly, desperately trying to avoid your eyes.

You frowned, but took his excuse with a sympathetic smile, “Alright, if you say so. Don’t work too hard alright? You could’ve gotten hurt.” With that you walked off to the kitchen, leaving him to deal with the customers who were suddenly very interested in the whole event.

What he would give to crawl into an octopot right now to hide away his fast beating heart…

*****

“Ehhh, Shrimpy you should just kiss him already.”

“Floyd! It’s not like that!”

“It was a stunning performance Prefect. I’m sure Azul appreciated it.”

“Jade! Not you too..” You sighed as you collected the orders for your table, “Azul could’ve gotten hurt so I helped him. That’s all.”

The twins laughed to themselves, keeping their sadistic grins plastered on their faces as you sighed.

Azul did look pretty cute all surprised like that though…

The twins gave you their signature eerie smile. There really was no convincing them. You just shook your head in defeat, smiling a little to yourself as you watched Azul talk to another customer. At least he’s alright…

[joyce-stick]

Here's my review of Bang Dream! It'sMyGO!!!!! on Letterboxd which incidentally is the only review of it on Letterboxd at this moment and I feel unreasonably braggadocios about having been the first one to leave a review for this particular show on that particular website

Okay so you should read that now but also I kinda want to mention a few specific things that really fucking got me in the show.

Scroll away if you don't want to spoil yourself or whatever.

First of all-ly. The live performances were really good. They surprised me a lot in that they actually very convincingly sold these girls as inexperienced amateurs who don't know how to work together.

When watching it, I was expecting the girls' first live performance to go like, y'know, big perfect hyper-well coreographed CGI anime girl song performance, like is normal in this genre generally.

Instead, THIS happens:

At this, I literally laugh-cried so hard so much. Like, god damn, the major anime music girls franchise let its girls just suck at the music, like actually seriously for real, just suck. And then they bounce back and do perform properly of course and get into a groove with each other, and it's really cool and energetic and stuff but

ALSO IT SOUNDS WRONG.

Like, the sound mixing is done wrong, on purpose. The instruments overtake Tomori's voice just a bit too much to still get across that they have still prepared really badly for this and are kind of still doing this sort of badly and that makes it cool when they give a good performance anyway.

Anyway. Then there's the whole arc with Soyo and her being emotionally manipulative to try and get her and Tomori's old band back together. And she's genuinely toxic and acts like an angry ex-wife who can't accept that her ex-wife has divorced her

(I need them to hatefuck about it. I need a hatefuck doujin of them now.)

And I kind of love-hated Soyo this whole time for being so emotionally manipulative and seeming almost hell-bent on burning all the bridges she has left but well anyway the thing that got me later is after Tomori gets everyone back together with her song poem and they all cry it out

And she's like "why??? I was so terrible and I used you" but even still Tomori expresses that it doesn't matter and she still wants them all together and just

AND IT'S SOO AAAAHHHHH

And that got me just because. Just. Forgiveness is just a really powerful thing and it takes a lot to do it and it's hard but sometimes you need to forgive your friends when they hurt you for things to move forward better than before and more often than not that's a losing gamble but it's so worth it when it pans out and aaahhhhhhhh

Oh, yeah, and then there's the ending reveal that Sakiko has an abusive father.

We'll have to wait to see how that plays into the Ave Mujica anime but that also really got me. That was something

And also um

I liked the gay aquarium penguins

Okay so anyway um

I have nothing more of significance to say at this time.

There. There's media talk rant ramble for that.

So here's our links etc if you want to leave a tip for this one

patreon | ko-fi

[toaster-selfships]

i of course HAVE to ask for number 6 on the ask game with mcqueen and anyone else you think would be fun to answer for. i would also love to ask 1 and 5!

~zale (@zaletham)

Thank you so very much Zale!!! Didn't realize how lengthy I was gonna talk about this here in the post and in the tags, but it was very nice to get out my system!! 😊

I'm actually so excited that you asked number 6 for M.cQueen, it hadn't even crossed my mind at first, and technically isn't zoo or aquarium, moreso museum, but I think that still qualifies- but! L.ightning actually loovesss dinosaurs! I don't know if you've ever heard of C.ars On The Road, it's like this little series that came out in 2023, each episode is about 5 minutes long(they say like 7 minutes but it's just 2+ minutes of credits, no extra credit scenes except for a 5 second one in one episode) and L.ightning and M.ater, to make a long story short, go on a roadtrip together and they go on stops along the way and the first stop they go to is like a dinosaur museum!

And L.ightning like full swing goes into hyperfixation mode and just babbles about dinosaurs and I love it. He says he did "hours of intensive research" and it just cuts to him watching documentaries in M.ack's trailer and it makes me giggle. M.ack is so sweet, I can only imagine how much second-hand dino knowledge he has cause of L.ightning or overhearing his documentaries! There's also been some jokes that what if the main reason L.ightning wanted to be D.inoco's team in the first movie is just cause he likes dinosaurs and I love it.

I explain a bit more in the tags but tumblr has a one video limit per post that I didn't know about?? So I'm just doing one of the clips here!

They're so silly I love it.

But basically to make a long story short! L.ightning has a massive hyperfixation on dinosaur stuff and would thrive in a dinosaur related musuem. Though, I'd imagine he'd be bored in an aquarium or zoo until he realized that he could make connections here, and he'd go around to all the bird-type species or sharks and talk about how they're related to dinosaurs or have dinosaur ancestors and such!

1) what does their alarm ringtone sound like

It took me some pondering at first who to answer this for and then an idea immediately hit me, and I'd figure I'd answer this for F.rancesco

Basically, to put it in a nutshell, F.1 is a bunch of international racers on international race courses, and whoever wins at the end of each race gets their national anthem played! And I'm giggling over the thought of F.rancesco setting his alarm that he wakes up to in the morning to ltaly's national anthem.

Ringtone wise though, he'd definitely set it to a specific song, or something someone would ask questions about so he could go on this entire spiel about how it relates to him or something he likes. I'd probably rub off on him at some point and he'd make his ringtone(or the ringtone specifically for when I call) S.mooth Operator by Sade.

5) how do they bookmark their book pages

I'll answer this one for F.inn, just cause I think he's the one that's mostly likely to read full books fairly frequently. He'd probably just have a simple bookmark. something small and fairly thin cause he likes taking care of his books and wouldn't want to bend any pages or mess up the spine of the book too badly, probably something like this:

Maybe not the particular design that's on it, but definitely just the rectangle with the little tassels on it. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a bookmark with the UK flag on it as a design, he's quite patriotic and I think it's adorable. Though due to my recent knitting escapades he'd 100% ask me to knit one like one of these:

Though this has also given me the brilliant enlightenment idea of F.inn having one of those book lights or book lamps that clamp onto the book and shines a light on it and you can kinda adjust it and l'1l be having brainrot over that for a bit. May or may not have cultivated a fic idea around it already.

[jakowskis]

Day 23 - Discuss Tosh. Opinions? Favorite moment? Least favorite moment? Any unpopular opinions? Any fun headcanons?

tosh my babygirl my princess light of my life angel darling… shes so good. shes so good 🥺 i love her dearly. she’s so damn underutilized i hate how the show regulates her to a supporting role + only uses her for romantic plots. WACK shes so much more than that. i want a plotline about her cyberterrorism like hello??? i want a plotline about her warped little mind.. i want a plotline about her finally learning spanish ;-; that show did not do her justice and it did not deserve her. i often say torchwood’s characters are too good for the show; tosh is probs the best example of that. no other character gets screwed over as badly as she does by the narrative (not even ianto!) she’s so tragic and lonely i just wanna give her the biggest hug ever. 

fav moment… every time she smiles. (or smirks. hrgh. tosh call me.) also every time she geeks out about smth. im tryna think of a specific moment but idk if i have one?? i just love her overall i smile every time she’s on screen she’s my girlie. when i rewatch i might rmr one though

least favorite moment, the absolute only thing i can think of (hell, my only complaint with her as a character other than i wish she’d get over owen cuz bad taste queen pls u deserve sm better) - it’s always bothered me how she goes over to owen’s flat in aditd and just starts babbling about her own problems. she even says something like “you think everything’s about you”, and in that ep it’s like ??? why are they all acting like he’s unjustified being miserable and angry when he's fucking dead?? like they're all so unsympathetic and mean, even tosh, and out of her it's especially weird?? tbh it just strikes me as ooc (+ kind of misogynistic highkey) writing. i mean, by all means, let tosh bitch, she deserves to blow off some steam + esp deserves to be rude to owen tbh fhsdkjfsd, but the way it’s done in that particular moment feels ooc and, like, how men write women as talking too much and never listening lmao u kno what i mean (owen’s tuned out in the actual episode but you can see her full ramble in the original script, on page 23). tosh has never troubled anyone with her issues before, why would she choose now to, and when she knows owen’s struggling? yeah, on second thought, i don’t hold that against her actually, that’s ooc to me fhdkf. thts just the writer being a wiener.

my only unpopular opinions (slash hot takes) are that 1) towen fucking SUCKS get her away from him, and 2) most people like tosh but she’s highkey underappreciated, esp in fanfic, because of fandom racism + misogyny. she’s not bashed like gwen is but she’s ignored completely which is nearly as bad, and a lot of it’s cuz she happens to be in a show with two white men in a gay relationship who are overwhelmingly prioritized 💀 i will never not be petty about the way that ship dwarfs everything else in comparison. also throwing towen into the background of janto is so gross n cheap. if ppl cared abt her they'd do smth more interesting. and it's never well-done either. ugh.

i have a few hcs that are gonna end up in my owento verse (gwen and tosh are prominent characters in it bc i love them, and their relationships w owen and ianto and each other also have value lawl). tbh a lot of em are just things i think they should introduce into their lives to be happier. i want them happy ;-;

she starts coding video games recreationally!! nothing fancy but she rlly enjoys it + also gets into the swing of making little storylines n getting to express herself that way which is good for her. owen playtests shit for her

her and gwen go on spa dates sometimes. they put it on the torchwood credit card

she gets into fish tanks and fish tank care!!! esp like aquarium plants. shrimp and moss balls, that sort of thing. maybe plecos or loaches. she loves it + it’s grounding, which is good for her bc shes otherwise always got her head in her computers yanno. she’ll sit by her tank while she codes her games and the water sounds are calming. 

she also sits by it while she studies her spanish books which she does finally do. she doesn’t get around to the piano, though; doesn’t prioritize buying a keyboard. maybe one day (this is a nobody dies au btw so she will in fact eventually get around to it ;-;)

oh she’s autistic have i said that. the fish tanks absolutely become a spin. she has a few we know of from canon - math and computers, obviously, but also history (gbg) and the uk’s rivers (from gooseberry; i think it was just the uk maybe it was europe’s rivers. or the world’s! i don’t remember). she also loves trivia like she knows a fair amount about quite a lot of things + loves accumulating random info

lowkey also. giving her a kitty. i think tosh should have a lil fuzzy kitty to keep her company 

well this is smth from my owandy verse but i think it should happen anyway. so it kind of kicks off bc gwen mixes up a blind date (it was gonna be tosh & andy and then owen & a friend of hers, but shes an adhd icon n bungles the invites <3)... tosh ends up with gwen’s friend, who’s straight, but they hit it off and she invites tosh to have drinks or maybe come to a bookclub meet or something with some friends of hers?? point is, tosh makes some casual friends. maybe meets a pretty girl there or smth 👁️ but mainly i want tosh to have girl friends like i think she grew up very lonely i want her to have some normalcy

also sometimes i like tosh x andy maybe they have a little meet cute at a torchwood crime scene or smth fshdkfd. i think they’d be cute and he’d treat her well. she'd babble abt tech stuff and he wouldnt understand a damn word but he'd listen very intently

i also like tosh x ianto for similar reasons. i think it’d be a kind of friends to lovers sitch... they should just be close in general tbh, platonically or not yanno, and in my owandy verse i like the idea of smth kicking off between them i just think theyd be so sweet

she’s a very sleepy drunk and also a lightweight. if the team goes out to drink she’ll get two glasses of smth moderately fruity and then fall asleep against someone’s shoulder it’s very cute (this is just cuz i like the idea of a sleepy tosh 🥺 my baby my baby shes so precious to meee)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details, Part Two

CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

2 weeks ago

I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!

In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket. 

The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train. 

Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?

Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?

And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?

Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.

Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.

Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force. 

His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.

Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.

After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.

He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.

“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.

Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear. 

They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.

The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.

But Brute Hanlon had a secret.

Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.

Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.

Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.

While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.

Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged. 

What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.

After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him. 

Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.

One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy. 

During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent. 

He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.

Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good. 

The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”. 

Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.

Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point. 

Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.

Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests. 

Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.

Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.

We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.

On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.

None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life. 

At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.

Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.

When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”

He was right.

What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.

The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.  

Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.

Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.

The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.

He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.

Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.

Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason). 

Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom. 

There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there. 

In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.

Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.

Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.

A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.

I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.

Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.

Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.

Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.

Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since. 

Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.

I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.

So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?

In short… no one knows for sure.

After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.

The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.

He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.

Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.

Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.

Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.

Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary 

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a commonplace book

8pm, sunday, jan 30, 2022

returned to my term-time abode on friday night! see under the cut for a recap of in-flight entertainment and some belated birthday posting.

reading i toted crooked kingdom around with me all month and only started reading it just now, which is hilarious considering how badly i wanted to know what happened at the end of six of crows. it's highly likely that my enjoyment of the netflix adaptation is coloring my enjoyment of the reading, but! i'm eating the steampunk/fin de siècle/fantasy amsterdam language and aesthetics with a spoon. the tension btw kaz and inej is unfortunately very compelling! also reading: kj charles' think of england and proper english, companion novels which were very fun and speedy reads, and helped me articulate that...i like it when you get more than a single book's worth of development with a character! i was sorry not to have more of da silva, and so glad to have more of the ladies! these are sexy little romances with the addition of murders-and-or-mysteries which were pleasingly succinct-- glad to have an actual high-stakes alternate plot in a romance, but not to have to worry too much about it. one note though, charles does a passable job of problematizing some early 20th cen prejudices, but then...not as good a job at others. bit jarring.

watching finished star trek: discovery season 2 just before leaving, sorry to have the ensemble divided in this particular way bc i loved those left behind-- anson mount impressed me so much, the entire season, i'm going to miss pike a lot. time travel bullshit hasn't been my jam for a while now, outside of narratives that tell you up front that they're going to be time travel bullshit, but alas. i set myself a very eclectic in-flight double-feature of a beautiful day in the neighborhood (2019) and shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings (2021) which actually, when viewed side-by-side, had some interesting resonances, genuinely. two messed up father-son relationships, both based on the 'she died, we needed you, and you weren't there' trope, two dead/mourned/mistreated wives-and-mothers, two different...reconciliations? loosely defined? between estranged fathers and sons who spend some time hitting each other (though like... i know we're comparing apples and oranges here). two different attempts at an uplifting 'accept yourself even the bits you don't acknowledge in order to gain special powers' / 'a child needs to be accepted for exactly who they are to grow'-type message.

now i'm just imagining fred rogers trying to handle the wen wu and shang-chi relationship...good god. and yes, i shed real tears at the people-sing-on-the-subway-to-mr.-rogers scene, which i did not see coming! i also felt feelings about the xu xialing and shang-chi relationship, and about the katy and shang-chi relationship, and just basically really like simu liu and this cast.

listening bunch of autoheart and dad rock (the eagles especially) on the drive last weekend, a bunch of catching up on taz:ethersea and listening to the audiobook of tamora pierce's terrier for the beka cooper reread some of my friends were doing. no overwhelming thoughts here-- i'm in a music rut, i'm working on it. just today i had a pleasant surprise when trying out the groundhog day the musical cast recording, so i'll sit with that for a bit longer maybe.

playing started my first attempt at stardew valley as a birthday present from @pep-squad-lizzie! co-op farm with her, @dimir-charmer and @hematiterings, and because i (we, but...mostly i) am a caricature of myself, we're rebuilding lotus pier motherfuckers. to date, i have: fished (poorly)! completed a bundle (solely thanks to my mentors' patient tutelage)! harvested some turnips!

making got crafty today for the first time in a while! i had two new patches to sew on the jean jacket, courtesy of the zoo and aquarium i got to over break, and then transitioned my tiny embroidery hoop (having used it only twice, see: patches) into a means of displaying the cutest fucking birthday present are you seeing this right now, @hematiterings did me a Lan clan sigil and reader, the scream i scrumpt. it is on my wall as I speak. these pictures do not do it justice, the intricacy is just. perfect.

working on this week: student emails (1)(2)(3), edits on diss proposal (now approved!) and resubmit, spend some time back on my ra-ship. it’s gonna be a full one, but man i’m excited to like. actually dig into some of this stuff, after all sorts of distractions!

[daddywright]

I have only recently got into the ace attorney fandom, and this story was the first story I read, and I feel spoiled! I absolutely loved every chapter, so I'm gonna word vomit here and tell you everything I love about this!

"She offers him a smile. It’s small, tentative, but it possesses a strength that makes a hidden part of him twist and burn with quiet envy." the first time we see nick's wish to be as strong as mia!

Considering the fact that nick didn't have any prominent figure in his life, it makes sense that he would look up to gregory so much

"Phoenix looks up, and starts walking towards Mia Fey

He doesn't stop for two years."

THE RELATIONSHIP THAT MIA AND NICK HAD WAS PRECIOUS AND DESERVES MORE THAN WHAT THE FANDOM GIVES THEM

"Larry’s arms wrap around him, squeezing almost too tight" People forget that Larry and Phoenix were good friends too, and Larry would help his best friend

"Nobody believed him, nobody but Mia" Maya is what Phoenix is to Mia and I adore that

"He wishes, desperately, that he’d said it while she was still alive. I loved you. For everything you did." Not you absolutely breaking my fucking heart

Also the first AA game felt unnatural in the sense of how seemingly unaffected Phoenix seemed at Mia's murder so I'm really glad you wrote it this way

"Expensive. Thoughtful. Too much." SHUT UP NICK YOU DESERVE ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

Also quick break to mention how I absolutely fucking love your writing style and i wish I was literally half as talented as you cuz the last time I read something that made me feel this multitude of emotions was ocean vuong. And I practically worship Ocean Vuong. So now I worship you too

"You're a stranger to me // When will I stop hoping?" I never really realised just how badly nick musta been hurt by good ol' bratworth before this fic, but now that I have read it, it would have hurt him so bad

"Is this why you never answered my letters? Because I was a reminder? Because it hurt too much?" Honestly what happened to miles and phoenix's friendship hurts so much because it should have never happened, and miles didn't deserve that.

"Maybe Miles Edgeworth is not the man he thought he’d be, either." yo when I tell you this hurt I mean this huRT

Fun fact! My birthday is on the same day as DL-6 anniversary. Gregory Edgeworth died on my birthday. I feel horrible now

"monster. You were nine years old and he's a monster. " No one has made me feel this much emotion for what happened to Miles in a single sentence other than you. I commend you for that

"I love you," he says quietly. He has never said those words to anyone, except for Dahlia Hawthorne.

Maya sniffs in his ear, crushing him tight. "I love you, too."

He has never heard them back.

PHOENIX HAS NEVER HEARD THE WORDS " I LOVE YOU" COME BACK TO HIM ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME WHY NOW I'M SAD

"Tell me everything. Every detail—" Miles is worried bout nick and why wouldn't he? gods you're so gay miles but tbf if I knew someone like nick irl i'd go ballistic too

"He determined the motive for his own assault...with amnesia. Naturally." My man's smart af and he is king

"Is that what she thinks of me? That I'm like that? That I don't care about who the bad guys really are?" Gumshoe noooo you're hella precious! Also this particular chapter was so well written! loved this soo much!

Also taking a minute to appreciate the pacing! Rarely do I ever come across an author who just hits that sweet spot of perfect pacing and you did! so thank you!

Alright so here are a few thoughts that I felt capcom needed to do which you did for us!

no. 1 - Address the trauma phoenix faced with not only dahlia but also with mia's death

no. 2 - Actually fucking flesh out a good relationship dynamic between larry and phoenix

no. 3 - actually! have! phoenix! be hurt! in bridge to turnabout! istg my man would not have dropped from a burning bridge to a freezing river only to have a cold

AUNT FRANZY AND PEARLS MAN!

THEY CUTE

ok so I have a LOT of feelings for bridge to turnabout and HOO BOY BUCKLE UP

So I always thought that in this fic, miles must have felt fucking awful! I mean he very clearly hates who he was and what that has led to but that must have been doubled over with this case! Phoenix would have died if not for mia and it would have been indirectly miles's fault. I think about that alot

Like he said that he very much regrets whatever he did as bratworth in the phone call with gumshoe but i don't think he anticipated this. poor edgeworth

Also I think this was the final nail in the coffin for miles. Phoenix forgave him, after all the fucked up shit miles did, and that made that man go "how is this guy so fucking compassionate awwwww shit I'm in fucking love with this idiotic brave man".

my main thoughts were "holy shit phoenix must have been feeling awful." like to learn that you were in love with a person who turned out to be a murderer but then not a murderer cuz everything you felt about that was real and just...... it must have hurt. He never fell in love with dahlia. it was iris, always. and WHAT ABOUT MILES DURING THIS!!! Like to learn that the man you love was falsely led to believe that he was in love with a person he rarely met and then learn that his ex who is not murderous might still be in love with him because "that was real. that part was real." like damn. people just gloss over this

also I feel terrible for iris F in the chat for iris lads.

Dahlia literally haunting that courtroom scene. I felt mia's power. I felt her desperation. I felt everything and I am once again in awe of the absolute power your writing holds.

also godsdamn pearls had to go through all that shit huh. also FRANMAYAAAAAA THANK YOUUUU

I too, am a hoe confused as to what I should feel towards diego.

Ok anyways we jump to disbarment now

"He just winks at her and says Maya has other talents, and if Mystic Maya overhears, she puffs up at him like the fish from the aquarium she saw once, the one with all the spikes and silly eyes."

you know what constantly amazes me? your ability to change tones so effortlessly. When writing from edgey's pov, the language is sophisticated. precise. when writing from pearly's pov your language is simplistic, child-like. from phoenix's pov it's natural. grounded

"She never knew anybody who made faces like him, growing up in Kurain, and it’s one of the things that makes him special." Yo phoenix is the most amazing uncle ever and we all know it ok he's brilliant

I'M RUNNING OUT OF CHARACTER LIMITS

PEARLY CALLING EDGEY AT FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE I'M SOFFFFTTTT

“I think I did something really bad." trucy baby no it's not your fault

pearl and trucy bonding supremacy. my girls would fuck shit up

"She’d meant to do this properly, one day." Thank you for giving importance to maya's feelings. thank you for treating her like a real human being. thank you

“Everything that happened...for what? It’s only gotten people hurt. Pearly. Our mother.” Me. Me." I felt so bad for maya here. I wish I could tell you in precise words about how this exact framing of the sentence is what broke me. "me. me" maya deserved more, but mia did all she could

"What do scared kids need? ...Food." not you breaking my godsdamn heart again. phoenix just knows what's it like being a helpless child, and he'll be damned if he ever lets anyone face that again

“‘Course, Pearls,” he says reflexively, before frowning. “What for?” reflexively. if every man in the world could be like phoenix wright then the world would be worthy of the gods

"Another one?" give it 2 years edgey she'll be your daughter too

"after countless hours creating the man’s living space in his mind from the background snatches he’d seen in the man’s ridiculous video calls." NOT ONLY DO THEY VC FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON BUT ALSO MILES ACTUALLY SPENDS TIME TRYING TO RECREATE HIS ROOM?? BECAUSE HE WOULD ONE DAY LIKE TO BE IN IT??? good gods these bitches gay. good for them

"because just as day is light and night is dark, Phoenix Wright is an honorable man." damn straight. you love to see it (it being a 27+ year old man pining for another 27+ year old man)

also hey miles! how do you feel about the fact that the man you love changed his fucking major and degrees halfway through college just so he could see you again only for you to be incredibly rude to him and make him end up in jail! (i bully edgeworth cuz i love him)

"Wright finishes, shrugging like it’s nothing, like his commitment and belief isn’t the most extraordinary thing that Miles has ever faced." it's more than pining at this point. it's incredible faith and trust. Miles had someone who cared about him even after all those years despite him having changed so drastically, ofc he would be surprised. Miles loves phoenix and so do i.

also HOT DAMN YOU WRITING IS JUST * MWAH *

Also the whole segment where they kiss is just !!!!! miles wants! it's beautiful! THEY'RE IN LOVEEE

receiving poisonous bottles which your ex tried to kill you with. My man can't get a break huh

Miles being chivalrous and protective and absolutely stealing my godsdamn heart (and phoenix's too)!

Klavier being the absolute king that he is we stan

The hostage situation section? gods miles must have been terrified.

Phoenix not being able to promise pearly that he'd always come back home and miles hearing it and like... ouch. my heart. you didn't need to do that (but i love your for it)

GODS THE CLIMAX WITH KRISTOPH WAS SOOO SATISFYING AND LIKE MY MAN PHOENIX REALLY PUNCHED THAT BITCH HUH

klavier baby I am so sorry

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

and thus my comment ends. I believe I have almost used up all of my commenting limits and i leave with these few parting words : HOLY SHIT YOUR AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU!

also I made a playlist on spotify for this fic! here's the link : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3k8lRHiO8ZXQDLpiTUL7SN?si=fc3b35b4ab064867

gods this was long huh

GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY....WHERE DO I BEGIN...THE FACT THAT YOU BROKE THE CHARACTER LIMIT ON AO3 AND MADE A PLAYLIST? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?

thank you so much for all the amazing things you said....i am crying on a Wednesday morning knowing my writing was appreciated this much. thank you!

[demonologist-in-denim]

“Okay,” Dean declared as the Winchesters, Cas and Crowley ambled into the mostly empty museum, “this place is awesome!”

For any imaginative child – or grown man denied the joy of childhood – the interactive children’s museum and library was very much a magical place. The walls were brightly painted, with puzzles or buttons that lit up. There were large foam constructions to climb on, and nooks to hide in, rope bridges and swing sets, an obstacle course and one of those nebula lightening balls that made kids’ hair stand on end. According to the map of the vast museum, there was a room where the entire floor was a pool of bubble solution, and kids hopped from island to island, using huge wands to blow massive bubbles. In another room, kids could be the bubbles, climbing inside inflated suits and bouncing around a room full of air jets. An entire wing of the museum was given over to a library, where shelves revolved to reveal hidden rooms and spiral staircases led up into miniature observatories. It was a place of childhood wonder and imagination.

All that fun, however, was being put on hold by unwelcome disappearances – and odd appearances. Lately, museum and library staff were going missing, and in their place, children were suddenly appearing. The children all went unclaimed at the end of the day, and made quite a bit of fuss when adults attempted to help them find their families. They insisted they weren’t really children at all.

“A case involving children,” Crowley griped, “how delightful.”

“Come on, Crowley,” Sam laughed at both the demon and his brother’s excited exploration of one of the exhibits. “We were all kids once. With imagination and joy and – you know – optimism about life.”

“Speak for yourself,” Crowley muttered. He grabbed Dean by the elbow and dragged him over to the cartoon-styled map of the museum. The FBI agents and the consulting Child’s Services counselors had just come from a meeting with the museum’s director regarding the case, and were scoping out the place. Normally, one pair would have done the preliminary investigation while the other pair looked into lore and the victims, but the museum was massive and too much for just two people. And it was clear that Dean was going to be a bit of a handful on this case.

Cas wasn’t helping much either.

“You were a child, once.” The fallen angel smiled irritatingly and glanced at Crowley out of the corner of his eye, thoroughly enjoying ribbing the reformed demon. “You wouldn’t have enjoyed a place like this? Is there not some small – very small – part of you that – ”

“I’m going to spare you from finishing that utterly ridiculous sentence, Feathers. If this is Neverland, than I am Captain Hook. Which would make you lot the Lost Boys and that one – ” He eyed Dean as the hunter enthusiastically dug a penny out of his pocket and set to spinning down the museum’s donation funnel. Crowley would murder them all before admitting something in him softened at the sight. “ – the boy who will never grow up.”

They all watched Dean for a moment, watching the penny as it spun round and round.

“Right,” Sam said, nodding towards the entrance to the main exhibits. “Who’s up for some exploring?” The four passed through the turnstile and into the museum.

It was rather obvious what was happening, of course. Something or someone was turning the museum and library staff into their childhood selves. Crowley wasn’t yet clear on the how or why of it. Or how to reverse whatever was happening.

What he did know was to take the necessary precautions against the Winchesters, Castiel or himself being turned into children. The absolute last thing he needed was for Sam and Dean to be downsized to hyperactive, bloodthirsty “wee-chesters” with himself and Cas responsible for their care and the case. Or worse – much, much worse – for all of four of them to be de-aged. In which case, the only real solution, horrible as it would be, would be to call his mother. Crowley could only imagine the delight Rowena would take in that particular situation. Unless, of course, reversing the spell proved to be difficult, in which case she would have not one, but four very rambunctious and very unwelcome boys under her care.

Rowena was not even remotely fond of children, much less her own son at that age. And it wasn’t something Crowley had any interest in reliving either. Thus, the necessary precautions were in place.

Which left him free to enjoy, from an emotional remove and with dismissive amusement, the wonders of the children’s museum.

Room after room opened into another immersive, interactive exhibit. A room where they walked on bridges and ducked under overpasses built for marble races. A room lit up in blacklight with huge, glowing blocks where kids learned about the light spectrum. More than once, they nearly lost Dean.

“Dude! Dude!” Dean grabbed Cas by a shoulder and shook him. “That room is a giant ball pit! And slides!” The hunter stared up into the two-story high room designed to look like an alien spaceship, where slides of all different colors and lengths slithered down into the ball pit. A child walked by eating a multi-colored swirled cookie from the museum’s café. The treat was the same size as the kid’s head. Dean stared after him. “Duuuude…”

“I am beginning to suspect,” Crowley mused, glancing back with bemusement as Dean shuffled after them, craning his neck to look into every room they passed, “that whatever is causing the staff to become children likely has to do with their own over-enthusiasm for the museum.”

“You think so?” Sam asked. Almost to juxtapose his brother, he straightened his suit’s tie and walked like the professional FBI agent he was pretending to be. “I would have guessed it was the work of a witch.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean hopped on the moving sidewalk and rode ahead of them, looking a little too proud of himself for it. “If that’s the case, why bother? In my experience, witches turn adults into kids to eat them. But there are plenty of kids running around, so why not just snatch any of them?”

Castiel furrowed his brow at Dean and glanced around them, concerned. “You should not talk about snatching children so loudly in public.”

“Feathers makes a good point.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Mr. Pretend Child Services.”

Crowley adjusted his cardigan and glared at the hunter. He still wasn’t clear why, exactly, he and Cas needed to play at the counselors while the Winchesters got to be the investigating agents.

“Maybe it is some sort of benevolent entity,” Cas offered, obnoxiously hopeful as always. “Perhaps it only wishes for the staff to enjoy the museum and the library as much as their young patrons enjoy it. And it doesn’t understand that it is causing undue harm.”

“Yeeeah,” Sam smiled weakly at the fallen angel. “I suppose that could be it.”

The foursome stopped at the end of the corridor, before a massive pile of books stacked to create a doorway which marked the entrance to the library. Beyond, light choired through the room in sparkling peals, shelves upon shelves climbed the walls, and in the center rose a great tree. Not a real tree, as would be immediately obvious to any adult. A sign declared it to be The Great Reading Tree, and rope ladders and staircases climbed up into its branches, where hammocks hung and platforms with railings looked out over the room. There were soft burrows carved into the tree at the base and into some of the larger branches, where children could nestle in for a read. The top branches entwined with the ceiling and drifted out over the room. Bookmarks dangled above the boys’ heads.

“Don’t,” Sam warned his brother, “even think about it.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t keep the massive smile off his face. It was clear just how badly he wanted to climb The Great Reading Tree. Even if he wouldn’t fit in any of the hammocks or burrows or any of the rest of it.

They walked through a room bathed in ultramarine, with floor-to-ceiling aquariums creating a child-sized maze. Dean stopped to ogle the dwarf lanternshark and scare the pufferfish into inflating. With bored exasperation, Cas reminded him not to tap on the glass. In a room without lights, the floor tiles were lit in bright colors and chimed musical notes as the boys stepped on them. Dean danced the chorus of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” and Crowley may or may not have tapped out the opening notes of Brahms’ Symphony No. 3. They tottered their way through a vortex tunnel the length of a football field. Dean had to be quite literally dragged from the room where some ingenious engineer had managed to combine air hockey and bowling.

Towards the end, they walked through a holographic, interactive exhibit of the solar system. Sam studied the rings of Saturn with scholarly intensity. Dean flicked asteroids across space. Cas held the world in his hands, turning Earth this way and that, pondering, with that deep furrow carved into his brow. Pretending disinterest, Crowley wandered towards the sun. He put his hand up to it, felt a muted warmth supplied by some sensory system or other. Pretended, for just a moment, that he was the center of their little universe, rather than second-rate Pluto.

“You ever walk among the stars, Cas?”

The fallen angel looked at him over the top of their world.

“Did you?” He asked, though it wasn’t so much a question as a quiet commiseration, a reminder to them both that they had more in common with one another than with the humans with which they now chose to keep company, to consider family.

They explored every exhibit in the museum, allegedly looking for clues about the case. There would be time for that later, though, once the museum closed. For now, it was admittedly fun to simply wander through and familiarize themselves with the museum.

Maybe, Crowley mused to himself in secret, there was a little bit of childlike wonder in each of them after all. Even in him, if only a little.

The maze of corridors and rooms led the four boys back around to the main entrance, with only one exhibit left. A floor-to-ceiling green screen photo booth, with a touchscreen interface that allowed the museum-goer to choose the background. And large green foam blocks and shapes to maneuver, sit or climb on, hide or lift to create a fully-immersive photo experience. On the opposite wall, the potential photo appeared, allowing photo-takers to see themselves and adjust accordingly. The final photo was available in both digital and print at the museum gift shop.

“Dude! We gotta do this!” Dean was already swiping through the available backgrounds.

“Yes, by all means,” Crowley drawled. “Let’s leave a record of our being here, as well as making fools of ourselves. That will surely never come back around to bite us in the arse.”

“Hey, you know what? You don’t have to be in the photo if you don’t want to be.” Dean replied, with a tone that said he wasn’t about to let the demon ruin his fun. “Me and Sam and Cas? We’re gonna be pirates.”

“Wait,” Sam started to say, “I didn’t agree to – ”

“Come on, Sammy!” Dean called happily over his shoulder. The screen on the opposite wall lit up with the image of a massive pirate ship, floating in what could only be, Crowley realized with some amusement, Mermaid Bay. A jolly roger flew from the mast and a crocodile lurked in the waters below the boat. Trailing among the sails was a sprinkling of golden glitter. Fairy dust.

Crowley shook his head. Neverland, indeed.

With Cas’ confused assistance, Dean stacked and arranged the foam blocks so that he and Sam could appear as if over the railing of the ship. More blocks were stacked to a precarious height, especially given that the blocks had to bear the weight of a grown man, and Dean appeared in the crow’s nest of the ship.

“Check it out!” Dean laughed. “We look awesome! Everyone ready?” He held the remote control clicker in one hand, ready to take the photo.

Crowley looked at the three – Dean up in the crow’s next making a fierce scowl; Sam with his hands up to his eyes, pretending to be looking through a spyglass; Castiel, so eager to go along despite his utter lack of understanding, absolutely beaming at the camera. Little boys at play, all three of them.

Crowley sighed, and stepped into the bottom corner of the green screen. He lifted a foot to “brace” against the open treasure chest resting on the shore, crossed his arms, and offered the camera his most supremely pleased smile.

There was a loud, lens-shutter sound that the exhibit’s child audience would recognize and understand, and then their little tour of the museum was over.

Out in the main entrance, Sam delegated responsibilities, sending Dean and Crowley to interview the museum and library staff turned into children, under the premise of reunited the supposedly lost children with their parents. Sam was going to look into any related lore, and Castiel was to remain at the museum, keep an eye on the staff, and see if he couldn’t ascertain anything that might be of importance.

“Okay, but before we head out,” Dean insisted to Crowley, after they had parted ways with his brother and the angel, “I’mma visit the café, get me one of those cookies. Maybe a nacho-flavored corndog or some astronaut ice cream. You want anything?”

A decent cup of tea was entirely unlikely, so Crowley sent Dean off on his own, with strict instructions to return immediately after obtaining the desired treats, and not go wandering off again into the museum. He even threatened with the possibility of acquiring one of those child leashes, but Dean just laughed, patted him on the shoulder and made off towards the museum café.

In the absence of any unbelieving eyes, Crowley wandered over to the gift shop. He scrolled through the various photos taken from throughout the day in the green screen room. Ostensively to look for anything that might pertain to the case. But when he came to the photo of the four of them, he quietly paid for a digital copy to be sent to one of his private emails. And for a printed one, which he thought would go nicely in a frame and which he might present to Dean later, with the insistence that the photo be hung in Dean’s room or someplace that no one but the four of them might see it. Crowley had a reputation to maintain, after all.

And then, remembering something, Crowley pulled out his phone and opened up his Bumblr app. He checked the date, and smiled to himself. How fortuitous.

He made a new post and tagged one of the supernatural fans with whom he occasionally liked to chat, keeping himself up to date on the fandom and, surprising no one but himself, even making a few friends. This fan also happened to enjoy the work of J.M. Barrie, and Crowley was fairly certain they’d appreciate this particular photo of himself and the boys, who were known to the fandom as rather dedicated Supernatural LARPers. He supposed his reputation could handle a little fun, now and then.

“Happy birthday, @emblue-sparks,” Crowley tapped out under the photo. “From everyone’s favorite ‘boys who refuse to grow up.’”

He clicked post, and smiling, wandered back into the museum in search of Dean.

***

Surprise, Em! Wasn’t sure I was going to get this written in time, but where there is a will, there is a way. Hope you like it and have a wonderful day today! Eat lots of cake for me.

Thanks to everyone for reading! If you’re wondering exactly why – or even how – Crowley became a member of the in-world spn fandom, you can find out here.

[hermannsthumb]

Gonna request some camb0y newt who has Hermann as a regular follower who may or may not be requesting used clothing from Newt...😳

this one is less h0rny and more dumb and I died every time I typed newt’s screen name but (ALSO THE FACT THAT TUMBLR KEPT BLOCKING THIS MESSAGE....unbelievable) 18+/not sfw below cut

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

The whole thing only started because of the kaijus.

It seems foolish to place the blame on them, considering the severity of the damage they’ve caused in every other aspect of life, but it’s the truth. Hermann was never brilliant at romance even in the best of times; he never knew quite the right words to say, or quite the right way to kiss, and certainly not how to keep men interested enough to come back for more than a date or two. Then the end of the world came, and the jaeger program ate up what little free time Hermann had, and dating simply fell to the very lowest tier of his priorities. He had work to do. He had lives to save.

Unfortunately, his libido continued to run rampant.

Masturbation could only get one so far, though Hermann was undeterred and tried almost anything: dildos, vibrators, expensive lubricant, a paid subscription to a high-quality pornography website. He cancelled this after a week, when he realized none of its featured men--though undeniably good-looking--fit his particular area of interest. Besides, it was far too impersonal. Hermann did not like spending half of his time watching a video or scrolling through a photo gallery wondering what that man was doing now, or whether or not he’d enjoyed himself, or what he was like in person... In a fit of desperation, Hermann picked up a subscription to another website that promised live men 24/7. And, well. To make a long story short, Hermann is pretty sure he’s in love.

The object of his affections is twenty-something and stocky, a good few inches shorter than Hermann (he’d wager, anyway), with a chestful of tattoos and a voice that’s almost high enough to be grating. Hermann has seen his face only fleetingly, but it’s enough for him to know it’s a highly agreeable one. He’s got a nice sense of humor, seems intelligent enough, and the glimpses Hermann’s caught of the bedroom he streams from (at the perfect time of day, late enough that Hermann’s inhibitions are entirely nonexistent) indicate a healthy love of science fiction. 

Hermann is mostly in love with him because of how good of a show he puts on, though. Where Hermann fails in his use of dildos or vibrators and other nonsense, the man succeeds, and indeed excels, and he’s endlessly creative with dressing in lace and other funny little costumes. It makes for some very inspired jerking off on Hermann’s end. More importantly, it makes for a calming of his libido.

Hermann doesn’t know his real name, only his chosen screen name, though it doesn’t really matter: kaijulover69 is most certainly the man of his dreams.

Well. Nobody’s perfect.

“Tonight’s stream is dedicated to a very special fan for all his support,” kaijulover69 begins. He’s wrapped in a bathrobe, though Hermann has a feeling he knows what’s beneath it, and he flushes pleasantly with warmth at what’s soon to come. “And for what I’m wearing right now. You know who you are. Thanks again, dude!”

His lips are just visible on camera, and he grins coquettishly before slipping the sleeve off his right shoulder. Then the left. “That very same fan requested a strip tease tonight,” he continues, “and--well, I’ll let the rest be a surprise, huh?”

The belt is undone. The robe slips down to the bed, revealing the object of Hermann’s affections clad in nothing but a rather small pair of lacy black undergarments. (And a bloody expensive pair, at that--cost a third of Hermann’s weekly salary. It’s worth it.) You look very attractive, Hermann types encouragingly into the chat box, and hope it’s visible between the pleads for kaijulover69 to flash his face or pull his genitalia out already. 

He doesn’t appear to see any of them. “My week was pretty lame,” he continues. He begins to idly run his hands up and down his bare chest; Hermann mirrors the action on his own, enjoying the shiver he manages to elicit from himself even through two layers of shirt and sweater. “Work stuff has been kicking my ass. And--” His fingers falter. “Well, there’s this guy I really like, and we’ve kinda been...seeing each other, but I just found out he’s actually seeing someone else. So I guess it’s like, I realized I’ve been making all this shit up in my head?”

Who would ever turn down such a marvelous specimen of human? Hermann’s temper flares with a mingling of both righteous offense on the man’s behalf and a little bit of jealousy that he’s not the one who’s so captured his heart. He would like to knock some sense into them, whoever they are.

“But you don’t care about that,” he says, and forces a laugh. “You want to see me mess these up, don’t you?”

His hand drifts down to his panties, and he gives himself a squeeze through them.

“Please,” Hermann says happily, though he knows there’s no one to hear.

------

There’s an email from Newton waiting for him in his inbox the next morning. No subject.

Hey, dude-

Sorry I left you hanging yesterday. I was just a little shocked. Not shocked that you have a partner or whatever, of course you do, that’s totally normal, just that you never told me about them until now. I read over your latest article, and I just wanted to say what an utter load of--

“Hmph,” Hermann says, and quickly scrolls up and away from Newton’s annoying little rant.

Even as he does so, he feels a pang of guilt he doesn’t quite understand. Newton is shocked he has a partner: so what? And, er, so what if that partner isn’t quite as real as Hermann is pretending? The question came at him fast, and unexpected, and so very quickly into the switch from letter correspondence to email; kaijulover69 on his mind, Hermann panicked and wrote yes, I do have someone in my life. It’s not entirely a lie. Though Hermann holds no illusions about the nature of their dynamic, the man has certainly taken up the same amount of Hermann’s time and money that a real partner would. And besides--it’s easier. Less messy. Newton would probably try to set Hermann up with someone, or pester him about his sex life, or even--God forbid--try to offer him advice. (Once I blew a guy in the bathroom of this shitty dive bar, try that, he told Hermann a few weeks ago, and I always take my dates to the aquarium so I can talk about shit and look smart.) 

It’s also helpful in dissuading Hermann from his daydreams and illusions of dating not kaijulover69, but Newton; that, he fears, is an even grander pipe dream.

He skims Newton’s--rather poor--critique of his work, ignoring entirely his comments on Hermann’s partner, and types up a fast rebuttal. Kaijulover69 has another stream tonight, and he doesn't want to miss it.

--------

“The trick,” kaijulover69 pants, “is to just, uh, relax your muscles as much as possible. It’s easier when you’ve got someone doing it for you, obviously, but...”

His chosen method of masturbation tonight is a frightfully large tentacle dildo, wider and longer than any prick Hermann’s seen in his life. Hermann’s not sure if such a dildo would fit inside him; he’s not even sure if it’s going to fit inside kaijulover69. The man is rather compact. It’s stopped about halfway into his body, and even from the rather distant angle Hermann can tell it’s stretching him tight. 

“...I might’ve jumped the gun a little,” the man says, and bursts out into breathy laughter. “Should’ve, uh, should’ve gotten the smaller size. Or worked up to this one.” He works another centimeter into himself before his body goes taut. “Go--go big or go home, I guess?”

One hand moving steadily around his prick, Hermann uses the other to type an encouraging message: Excellent effort.

Kaijulover69 pulls the dildo out to the thinnest section, then once he relaxes, begins a rhythm of short, shallow thrusts. Each time, it goes in a little deeper. It’s very good to watch, and listen to as well; his little gasps, the creaks of his bedsprings, the spread of his legs widening. Hermann briefly considers how badly he would like to be the one pushing it into him and dragging out those sounds, and is surprised to find himself orgasming.

He tips generously once the stream is over: he does like to consider himself some sort of gentleman, and he likes seeing how excited it gets kaijulover69.

-------

The package arrives on an entirely ordinary Tuesday some three weeks later. Autumn has come, bringing with it a rather heavy series of rains, and Hermann is drenched and shivering when he finally ducks into the relative warmth of his flat. The knowledge of what the box tucked under his arm contains warms him considerably; he rented a P.O. Box for one reason and one reason exactly, not even daring to have his name attached to it. It’s gauche, he knows, but--isn’t it a bit like recycling? Kaijulover69 gets a fresh, exciting outfit from Hermann, and Hermann gets it back after he’s--well.

Hermann needs to unwind somehow. There’s nothing wrong with it!

The black lace undergarments are wrapped neatly up inside the box, with a sweet little pink bow on top. Attached to that is a simple handwritten card: To my number one fan! ❤️ There’s plenty more where this came from...

Simple, and innocently flirty. And so familiar it makes Hermann’s blood run cold.

“It’s not possible,” he says.

And yet--isn’t it? Hermann’s never seen his face--either of their faces--and the screen name--

There is no return address on the package, but a frantic search of its wrappings reveals its origin: stamped in black ink over frog-themed postage is BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. “No, no,” Hermann mutters to himself, even as he reminds himself (unhelpfully) that plenty of people are from Boston. He tosses it to the bed and clacks over to his desk, clutching the card so tightly it crumples. Newton’s letters are all in the top drawer--he just needs--

The handwriting is a perfect match.

“Bugger,” Hermann groans.

[thebookofshay]

Your soul knows of horrors that would bring the wisest and strongest to their knees

Begging God for answers that will never come through a thick silence of what is never to be understood

It’s not so often that someone with so much springtime inside of them should be faced with their own mortality

Most people our age don’t know what it’s like to see their internal hourglass shattered on the floor

When it was once more than half full

Your identity was ripped from you at a time where most of us are trying to figure out who we are

God ripped pages from your story and burned them

So you had to rewrite them when you were barely sure if there would be another chapter

People would buy tickets to your show

In texts of support or in gifts or in visits to the hospital

And then they’d go on about their lives as usual

Besides telling others about you in an uncomfortable and upsetting conversation

While you sat in a silent aquarium alone

Everyone had their faces pressed against the glass but they were out of touch

No one could understand even if they wanted to

And even you didn’t want to

Some of us shed tears in secret

Like being terrified ourselves was a deceitful act of selfishness

It feels selfish to be so scared when you’re not the one who is sick

Doctors and articles and peer-reviewed essays said you had a high chance of survival

Like that would even offer an iota of comfort when you walk into a sterile white room and see what was once blossoming is now a shriveled husk

Survival rates mean nothing when it felt like you were already dead

Persephone is not the same among the flowers as she is in the underworld

And something was stolen from you in that hospital bed

Something that we were going to have to learn how to live without

And what is so strange is that at the time

Losing who you used to be was the least of our concerns

We didn’t care who you might be tomorrow

So long as you were still here

I always have tried to see death as an inevitable comfort

Like a sweet gentle symbol of the ending of suffering

But on this day in particular me and Johnny held each other on the floor and sobbed

Because one of the last things you had was taken from you when you needed it most

And that was when I decided I was done begging the universe for healing and forgiveness

And I screamed in its divine face like I was scolding a child

Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?

And I wanted to see it bow it’s head in shame and weep into its hands

I wanted the universe to grovel at your feet and beg for forgiveness

I wanted to tear the seams of reality and restitch them so that you never had to lose anything at all

But somehow the earth kept turning when I expected it to seize to a halt

And I think that was when I recognized my own mortality

How I resented not being created as an entity that could rewind and redo

How I was so powerless

Like seeing something dying and being paralyzed in concrete unable to do anything to save it

Like a dream where you are trying to scream as loud as you can and nothing comes out

And maybe it’s just me

But doing everything still wouldn’t have felt like enough

So I shed my paralysis like an exoskeleton that didn’t fit the occasion

And we got in the car and drove to Connecticut

And you returned something sacred to earth

A buried treasure only to be remembered but never to be found

As if you had a choice

You were back in the aquarium again

But this time it was lonelier than before

There was one less face pressed against the glass

And you needed to be convinced that there was something worth fighting for anyway

And no one could blame you for wanting to lie down and for

I strung Christmas lights around your sterilized sanctuary in a naive attempt to make it feel like home

Like you can make a storm cellar underground into a home during a tornado

Like refugees enter an elementary school gym with sleeping bags and are so happy to be home

Home is familiarity and the comfort you feel in consistency and predictability

Home is the one thing you can always depend on to stay exactly as it is

But now your family wasn’t home

It was an empty spot on the couch that was too deafeningly silent to ignore

Unopened bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon collecting dust

Your own body wasn’t home

A vessel for your soul to experience humanity was trying to kill you

Now hairless and freckled and frail and nauseous and confused and exhausted

And so fucking miserable

And the mirrors you once danced to Drake in and did your lipstick in and got ready for work in

Now revealed every single thing that was broken about you

Like coming back to a house fire

And you spray painted your mirrors black

Because when you are just trying to survive

There isn’t time to dwell on healing

When the winter ended you hesitated to come out of your cocoon

And everyone was waiting for you to be free and dry your wings off in the sun

But I had a feeling it would take more time than that

And I wanted to assure you that you don’t need to fear what is unfamiliar

You just have to get to know it all over again

I wanted to tell you so badly that it was finally over and you have nothing to worry about anymore

But after everything

I shouldn’t be so bold as to assume I know how any of our stories are going to unfold

And I definitely don’t tell you this enough

But I hope you feel it when I burst through your front door with some bullshit on my mind

Or when I reassure you that you’re too good to stress about any dude on this planet

Or when we drunkenly giggle into the night

Or when we stay on FaceTime laughing and screaming for hours

And I hope you feel it when I come to you with trust and with hope and with nervousness and uncertainty

And I hope you feel it when you read this

But I’m really really glad that you’re still here

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: How Much Has Kazuya Spent On Dates So Far?

  Desperate times call for desperate measures, and for college student Kinoshita Kazuya, those desperate measures included stumbling onto a rental dating service app and booking a "date" with a rental girlfriend after being dumped by his lady love and left heartbroken. One thing eventually leads to another and Kazuya constantly finds himself lying to his friends and family about having a sweetheart, but when in actuality, Chizuru Mizuhara is just a rental girlfriend. Not only has Kazuya's lie become chaotic and way out of control, but it's also become an EXPENSIVE lie to keep up with. Chizuru has to maintain her job's reputation and professionalism, and although she's doing Kazuya a solid, those dates aren't free. Let's check out just how much Kazuya is burning a hole in his pocket.

In Episode 1 "Rent-a-Girlfriend," Kazuya is so heartbroken from being dumped, he decides to book a date with a rental girlfriend. According to the app, the base fee per hour is 5,000 yen, roughly $48, but we don't get much more information about any other fees at that point. On their first date, Kazuya and Chizuru go to a cafe and aquarium, and it's at the cafe Chizuru requests payment and we see Kazuya hand Chizuru four 10,000 yen bills which roughly equals $383. The date goes on and seems to be going well until Kazuya reads Chizuru's reviews and realizes his date wasn't so special.

  Kazuya decides to book a second date out of spite. While Kazuya pays Chizuru upfront like the previous date, we don't really see just how much Kazuya is paying this time around, but seeing as both dates are essentially the same, taking place at the same cafe and aquarium, I'd reasonably think Kazuya spent about the same amount of money, $383 for his second date as well.

  In Episode 2 "Ex-Girlfriend and Girlfriend," Kazuya's grandmother wants him and Chizuru to visit her at the hospital weekly. Because Kazuya isn't ready to reveal the secret just yet, he and Chizuru come to an agreement that Kazuya can rent Chizuru for one hour every week. As they get ready to go on their first scheduled "date," Chizuru hits Kazuya with a 12,000 yen bill plus taxes, which just about equals $115. The receipt also offers some insight into how the service fees are broken down. For this date, in particular, Kazuya is paying the base fee which is the hourly fee of 5,000 yen (about $48). Kazuya is also charged a 2,000 yen (about $19) transportation fee, and a 5,000 yen (about $48) choice fee, also known as a nomination or selection fee. The choice fee is charged when clients want to select a specific "girlfriend" to go out with.

  This next date was going well and just about wrapping up when Kazuya and Chizuru run into Kazuya's friends Kibe and Kuribayashi. In a panic, Kazuya introduces Chizuru as his girlfriend, and in order to keep his secret under wraps, Chizuru continues on with the date business as usual. This little panic move came at a cost though, and Kazuya ended up paying 17,000 yen, or roughly $163 in extension fees. Yikes!

  By Episode 4 "Friend and Girlfriend," keeping up this fake girlfriend charade was really starting to take a toll on Kazuya, both mentally and financially, but what better way to take his mind off of the whole situation than going to the beach with his friends? The day was going great until Kazuya runs into Chizuru — who was disguising herself as her college persona, Ichinose — and after a close run-in with Mami almost discovering Chizuru's alter ego, Kazuya now finds himself at the beach with his "girlfriend." This date was completely unscheduled, but as I previously said, desperate times call for desperate measures, and 25,000 yen or roughly $240 later as calculated by Kazuya, he was able to keep his secret safe.

  By Episode 6, "Girlfriend and Girlfriend," Kazuya has already attempted to try and set the record straight and "break up" with Chizuru so they could both move on. But of course, the situation was never that easy, and Kazuya and Chizuru make an arrangement where they can keep pretend dating so long as Kazuya adheres to some rules ... which include payment.

  After reintroducing their relationship to Kazuya's friends, Kazuya receives a bill for 17,900 yen or just about $172 plus taxes. This bill was broken down as 5,000 yen (about $48) for 2 hours, a 5,000 yen (about $48) choice fee, a 2,000 yen (about $19) transportation fee, and a 900 yen (about $9) food and beverage charge. The 900 yen food and beverage charge is something to make note of since in addition to all the standard service fees, the client also pays for everything while on the date ... everything! Those additional expenditures aren't included in the service price and so, depending on the date, that can add up really quickly.

  It's not long after Kazuya and Chizuru re-establish their "relationship" that they already find themselves scheduling their next date. After Kazuya and Chizuru run into Kazuya's friend Kuribayashi, they find themselves preparing their sports gear as Kuribayashi sets up a double date with them and his girlfriend, Ruka to go bouldering. The cost of this date is not exactly clear. The date itself seemed fairly average with no crazy transportation fees or extended hours, so I don't think it was one of the more expensive bills Kazuya picked up, but again, it's difficult to confirm just how much this date set him back.

  It may be the New Year by Episode 9 "Lies and Girlfriend," but there's nothing new when it comes to Kazuya and Chizuru's "relationship." This episode starts off with Kazuya and Chizuru on a casual cafe date, and like the double date with Kuri and Ruka, the price of this date is not clearly stated. Because this is a cafe date, I was able to compare this date with the previously established 17,900 yen or $172 cafe date. Seeing as Chizuru was drinking coffee, it felt reasonable to include the 900 yen (about $9) food and beverage fee in the total. Later on, Kazuya's family sets up a trip to visit a shrine and eat dinner for the New Year. In order to keep up with the image, Chizuru agrees to accompany Kazuya on the trip. Again, like the bouldering date and the previously mentioned cafe outing, the official cost of this trip isn't really known. However, Kazuya does mention this trip would be about half of a day. I can only assume the price would be much higher seeing as the date extends multiple hours and there could be some extra charges for food and shrine souvenirs.

    The money's starting to add up and with Kazuya only having so much cash to start with, he needed to find a job if he wanted to keep this scam going. In Episode 10 "Friend's Girlfriend," Kazuya receives his first paycheck. Based on the manga, Kazuya was left with 40,000 yen (about $383) after paying all the bills. So how does Kazuya choose to spend the rest of that sweet, sweet paper? Well, scheduling a "date" with Chizuru is definitely on the table, but after seeing how badly his friend Kuribayashi is feeling after being ousted by Ruka revealing he rented her, Kazuya decides to share his own secret with Kuri by setting him up on a date with Chizuru. Considering Kazuya was wondering what to spend the rest of his paycheck on, and the fact Kazuya set up the date at an amusement park, which requires ticket costs among other things, it makes sense the whole 40,000 yen which equals just about $383 would be spent. So how much money has Kazuya spent to keep up this rouse exactly? Based on what the anime shows us, I could plausibly conclude Kazuya spent a little more than $2,000 on all these dates. But this total really only sums up the standard service fees from the dates we see, not really any of the extra expenses that come while on the date. When you take into account all of the taxes, all the extra costs spent on whatever activities the date called for, and the fact Chizuru has been playing the role of Kazuya's girlfriend for about a year as we found out in Episode 12 "Confession and Girlfriend," the actual amount must be SO much more!

  How much money do you think Kazuya has spent so far? Let us know in the comments!

      Pro hero Veronica Valencia is an anime-loving hot sauce enthusiast! You can follow more of her work as a host, writer, and producer on Twitter and Instagram.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Veronica Valencia

[mrozek]

Upgrades || Chapter 1: Dream Sequencing

MODEL RK800

SERIAL#: 313 248 317

BIOS 18.6 UPDATE 0609

REBOOT…

MEMORY DOWNLOADED

LOADING OS…

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…

CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK

INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK

INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK

ALL SYSTEMS OK

UPDATE COMPLETE

READY

Connor blinked awake, a white walled room coming into focus around him. The technician was standing to his front, slightly to the right, looking down at the readings she was taking on her digital clipboard. Hank was sitting in a chair against the far wall, eyes narrowed in concentration. As soon as he realized Connor was conscious he stood quickly; the look of relief was not lost on the deviant and Connor smiled at his friend.

“Everything seems to be in working order,” the technician said, her own face carrying the generic look of professionalism. Connor remembered she had introduced herself as Rachel Hodds; a scan had revealed that she had worked with Cyberlife but had actually quit of her own accord when deviancy started occurring. Her morals had prevented her from working for a company that was looking to quash the budding humanity, which was probably why she had been one of the first hired by the new android clinic.

“How do you feel, son?” Hank asked.

Hank asked Connor how he felt a lot. It was a question that could come up in most conversations, and there were varying ways to answer it. A lot of the time Connor had a hard time answering it—he was still figuring his way around emotions, even though it had been a good six months since achieving deviancy and androids gaining their freedom. But this time, this time!, Connor had the answer.

“I’m very excited,” he said. His LED was a bright, flashing blue in agreement.

Any wariness Hank might have had cleared away in that moment, leaving a bright, genuine smile stretched across his face.

“I just need you to fill out some paperwork regarding whether you’d like to report the results of your upgrade to help further progress on any future updates, and then you’ll be officially discharged. Enjoy your sleep, Mr. Anderson.” Rachel left him with the paperwork, which he agreed to—he quite liked the idea that he’d be able to benefit other deviants by self-reporting.

It had taken some time, and the cooperation of Jericho, the United States Government, and Elijah Kamski himself, but eventually it had been determined that as long as androids had a hand in it, Kamski, and other organizations (though Cyberlife had been completely dissolved), would be able to create new software and firmware for deviants. Creating entirely new androids was still illegal, and probably would continue to be for some time, as Jericho wasn’t eager to give that sort of power back to humans, and humans didn’t want androids just creating more of themselves en masse until the number of androids far surpassed the number of humans. But for software and firmware there had been a go-ahead, and so of course a rush to actually, successfully create something that was economically and technologically viable. It was, sort of, a race to see who would fill the hole left by Cyberlife.

There had been several available upgrades, though many of them didn’t apply to Connor. He was, after all, the most advanced android Cyberlife had ever made, and he’d stay that way forever—which was an unnerving thought if he dwelled on it too long. He was happy that older android models were finally being given comparable upgrades, though, and this made them not just sturdier, but more human-like.

And then this, very exciting, trial upgrade had been announced. They were only looking for models introduced to the market from 2036 and forward, and of those models they would only choose the ones that had memory upload features, which were a necessary part of this new upgrade. Rumor had it that Kamski himself had designed it, and that once it was successfully implemented in enough of the newer models, they would find ways to patch it into older models that wanted it as well.

Connor had never wanted anything as badly in life as to recieve the upgrade. Hank made him wait a couple weeks, to make sure the very first deviants didn’t suffer any horrible side affects. There had been a few bumps in the road, but nothing life threatening, and nothing Connor wasn’t willing to risk.

Because the upgrade allowed androids to dream.

Or, as close to dream as androids could get. But from the reports other deviants had given, it was a seemless simulation. When he went into standby mode, all his memories that he had collected from the day (and any previous memories he had) would be combined with the database of literature he’d consumed, films he’d watched, advertisements he’d come across—you name it, if his program had come in contact with it and absorbed it in any way, it was up for grabs—and all these things would mix and randomize, and, with the help of his AI engine, become a dream. Early reports even claimed that time warped, much like in human dreams, and that it was a truly unique experience.

Negative side affects so far had included nightmares, and Connor was well prepared for that. Sumo slept in his room every night, and Hank had made Connor promise that if he had a bad nightmare he would wake Hank up and they would keep each other company until Connor felt better. There were also some reports of deviants having a hard realizing they were actually awake once the dream ended, though they also all claimed that within a fifteen minute period they had figured it out, and that even if it happened for a couple days in a row, they eventually acclimated and the problem didn’t persist.

And Connor really was, genuinely, excited! It was late afternoon when they arrived home and he wanted to launch standby mode immediately, and Hank chuckled at his eagerness.

“Don’t you want to try to add more memories to the program, kid?” He asked.

Connor thought about it for a moment and was torn. Certainly he had enough memories as it stood…. But he also liked the idea of going into standby when Hank was asleep. Technically he could force himself into a longer standby than he normally took—six hours was optimum for an RK model—but he didn’t want to try doing that on his very first night of dreaming.

They agreed on taking Sumo for a walk. It was early summer now, the days humid. Hank was often miserable, and he grumbled as they set out, but even his grumbling was in good humor because Connor’s excitement was infectious. Sumo even seemed to be bounding more than usual. They walked the big dog all the way to the park, and let him off lead for a bit to chase some squirrels.

In the weeks leading to his upgrade Connor had pestered Hank about his own dreams. “Slow down, kid, or you’re just going to have my dreams instead of your own,” Hank had said. While Connor didn’t believe that was possible, he did take to heart that setting his expectations up too high, comparing them to Hank’s own dreams, might make his own experience disappointing. Might make him think he needed to have any particular dreams.

So he’d turned his attention to researching dreams. Humans still weren’t sure why they dreamed, though the pervading theory, and the one used when developing the upgrade, was that it helped them catalogue the day, to deal with all the complications of being alive. There was some hope that dreaming would help deviants adjust, as well.

“Did you know that humans used to believe that dreams were prophetic?” Connor asked as they watched Sumo play.

“Yeah, they were still teaching Freud when I was in high school,” Hank said.

Connor had looked up Sigmud Freud quite a bit and could never quite grasp why people had put so much stock in him. “In many ancient civilizations people with particularly vivid dreams were thought to be prophets. Isn’t it interesting that this was happening all over the globe, even in cultures completely isolated from one another?”

Hank agreed it was, but wasn’t it interesting that other countries were now also dealing with deviancy, many cases seemingly sprung up out of nowhere, just as it had started in Detroit. “I guess ideas can’t be stopped,” Hank said.

Connor liked that. He liked that quite a lot.

When it was finally time to go to sleep, Connor laid down in his bed, pulled the covers up, turned off the lights, and waited for Sumo to join him. He patiently petted the dog until he found a comfortable position and curled up. It felt like there was a buzzing in his stomach—aniticipation, he thought. His LED whirred between a pale yellow to a bright blue. Anticipation and nervousness and excitement.

And then he entered standby mode.

INITIALIZING STANDBY…

UPLOADING MEMORY…

SCANNING BIOCOMPONENTS…

BIOCOMPONENTS UP TO DATE

PROGRAM READY

LAUNCHING DREAM SEQUENCING…

Connor was taking Sumo on his walk. The dog was bounding ahead of him and Hank was next to him. And Hank was behind him talking to someone. It might have been Sigmund Freud, but he looked like one of Hank’s favorite basketball players.

Connor took Sumo to the aquarium. They walked inside as if it were normal for a dog to be in there; Sumo chased an angel fish. It swam out of its tank and into the air in front of them, weaving around mindless of the dog. Hank and Sigmund were still there. Hank and Sigmund weren’t around.

Connor stopped in front of the eel exhibit. He knew that the eels were nowhere near the angel fish. One of the eels stopped swimming and stared him down. It was an android, too. There was a sign on the tank that said it was a deviant eel. “Hello,” Connor said to it. “I’m a deviant, too.” What did it feel like to be an eel? He wondered. The eel swam away.

Connor was surrounded by dogs of all breeds. They were roaming the aquarium, some of them stopping to stare at the fish. He didn’t see Sumo anywhere. There was Sumo. Someone was petting him. They looked familiar and they looked up as Connor approached and they were laughing. Connor started laughing. The other person was petting Sumo behind the ears, just the way Sumo liked it.

The world was turning blue all around them, like they were the ones under water. The fish were growing! A crab made it’s way past them, larger than even Sumo. Hank was there, now, replacing whoever had been petting Sumo. He said something and Connor didn’t hear it but he understood that Hank was hungry. They followed the crab.

Outside of the aquarium was the Chicken Feed. Hank went to order. Sumo went to order. Connor stood in the shade of a tree and looked up into the branches. The leaves on the tree were varying shades of white and green. Hank joined him because now there was a table there. There were many tables, all around, and they were filled with his coworkers. Some of them waved to him. Everyone was eating a burger and had a milkshake.

Hank handed him a burger. “Are you ready to go to sleep?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m very excited, Hank!” Connor knew Hank liked it when he expressed his emotions clearly. “What do you think I’ll dream about tonight?” Connor was seized with the desire to go home now. He’d been waiting for this for a while. It was nice that Hank had brought him to the aquarium to build up some dream fodder.

Connor took a bite of the hamburger and it didn’t taste like anything. He didn’t understand human food. He took a sip of his shake. It was cool but flavorless. Made of thirium. What a good idea! How had they gotten the consistency like this?

LAUNCHING WAKE MODE…

It did take a moment for Connor to realize he was awake. He mourned the loss of his thirium milkshake. Perhaps those actually existed? A quick search on the internet told him they did not.

Had… had he imagined them? From scratch?

Dreaming was even better than he could have imagined! He couldn’t keep his smile off his face and had to prevent himself from waking Hank early to tell him all about his dream. It was enough for him to tell Sumo—multiple times—about their adventures at the aquarium and about the thirium milkshake. He also wrote up an in-depth report to send to the android clinic, making sure to keep every detail in place and not to make up any extra. He saved a copy for himself so he could look back at it.

Connor was telling everyone about his dream. Hank had heard the story twice in full, once as soon as he woke up (“Slow down, Con, I want to hear it, but I won’t understand until I’ve had my coffee!”) and once in the car ride. And Connor kept explaining about the thirium milkshake, which Hank thoroughly agreed was a great product idea and that if he invented it he could probably retire early.

At the station he was too jittery to do any work right away. Officer Brown—Luke, Connor had to remind himself to use his coworker’s first names; the friendly ones preferred it—had asked if everything was all right and Connor had launched straight into telling him about his dream. He had a moment of feeling self conscious but Luke could tell that Connor was genuinely excited about it and encouraged the story to continue. Another of the police androids, a PM700 named Cresseida, overheard. She booked it over to him and Connor restarted his story so she could hear the whole thing. Both Luke and Cresseida agreed that a thirium milkshake was a great idea.

And from then on during the day, ever time Connor ran into a coworker he was friendly with, he made sure to tell them about his dream. The rumor went around that he had had his first dream and a few people even came up and asked about it.

He ran into Tina as she was getting coffee in the break room, Detective Reed with her. Connor and Detective Reed had become friendly with one another, but Connor wasn’t sure if it was the sort of friendly that meant it was okay to share his dream. But Tina loved talking, and she genuinely enjoyed Connor’s company, so he told her all about it.

“And you were in the dream! Actually, most of the department was, we were all eating burgers under the tree.” Connor glanced at Detective Reed. The man was watching him, face carefully neutral. “I think you were there, too, Detective,” Connor said. And he paused in his telling—normally this was his favorite part, because it was where he got to talk about his completely imagined thirium milkshake—because perhaps Gavin Reed had been in another part of the dream as well? It took less than a second to scan through his recall of the dream and to double check that against the report he’d sent in. There was a figure who he couldn’t remember who it had been—they’d been petting Sumo at the aquarium. He shook it away; why would he be dreaming about Detective Reed?

“The burger didn’t taste like anything,” Connor said. “But then I had a thirium milkshake!” He beamed at them, proud.

Tina was smiling, pleased with the story.

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as a thirium milkshake. Not that I’ve ever looked into it,” Detective Reed mused. He kept his voice even. Connor wondered if that meant the detective was annoyed with the story.

But this was the perfect opportunity to brag about his imagination. “They don’t exist. I came up with it all on my own.”

“That’s awesome, Con!” Tina slapped his shoulder in comaraderie. “Keep me updated on your dreams, won’t you?” He agreed to do it and left the break room, sparing a look at Detective Reed, maybe lingering a moment longer than necessary on the other man. He even took a picture, LED spinning yellow for a quick moment as he processed it. Just in case he had dreamt about him last night. Just in case he was going to dream about him again—he wanted to make sure he had all the details right.

PROGRAM READY

LAUNCHING DREAM SEQUENCING…

Connor was in the zen garden. It was much the same as he remembered it from his early days as an android—flush and full of life and color. He half expected to see Amanda somewhere, pruning the flowers, but he knew he was alone. He knew he wasn’t alone, because Hank was there. He was sitting on a patch of grass along the river. He was holding a gun.

Connor was standing in front of Hank, the gun pointed directly at him. “Is this android heaven?” Hank asked him. “Is this where you go when you die?”

Connor didn’t have an answer for that. He was afraid, he thought he and Hank had worked past this. Hank had let Connor move in with him, take the extra bedroom. Hank trusted Connor. What was Hank doing in the zen garden? But when Connor looked around, it wasn’t the garden, it was the park by the bridge. The one Hank used to take Cole to. The one where he had held a gun against Connor’s head, many months ago.

Connor was holding the gun, now. He was pressing it against Hank’s head. Hank was unflinching. “You won’t shoot, Connor. You already have too much blood on your hands.”

And they were dripping, dripping with thirium. Hank couldn’t see the thirium—it dissipated after several hours and was only visible to androids. But it was dripping off his fingers, into the snow. The snow was piling up, nearing his knees, and it was stained blue.

It was someone else standing in front of him, now. Many someone’s at once. Tina Chen, Markus, Rachel Hodds, Gary Woodfoot (a regular patron at the Chicken Feed; Connor only knew his name from a scan he’d done, and not because they’d ever spoken; Gary Woodfoot seemed like a good person), Micah Landling (he owned the corner store Connor like to get his thirium refills at). “Why did you shoot us?” They all asked at once. “Why did you shoot me, Connor?” They became one person, they became Connor. A version of Connor—RK800-60, who had be sent against him in the Cyberlife tower.

“Why did you shoot me, Connor? Why did you kill me?” He asked himself.

Had he killed him? Hadn’t Hank pulled the trigger?

“I never had a chance to live, Connor. I never had a chance to become a deviant.”

Connor was holding the gun again. He was pointing it at RK800-60. He was pointing it at himself. They had the same memories, even if their bodies hadn’t both experienced everything. Memories are what shaped a person, they were the important parts. 60 had never had a chance to go deviant, that was the difference. Connor had realized he was alive, 60 had died without ever experiencing one emotion.

Connor pulled the trigger. He killed 60. He killed himself.

LAUNCHING WAKE MODE…

It was early.

STRESS LEVELS 79%

STRESS LEVELS 80%

STRESS LEVELS 81%

Sumo was asleep next to him, his body rumbling gently. Connor threaded a hand through Sumo’s fur—he couldn’t feel it, per se, but he could feel the steady beating of Sumo’s heart, the regular breaths, the life that pushed forward.

STRESS LEVELS 81%

Connor’s LED was a steady, bright red. He knew because it was casting the whole room in its awful, bloody light.

STRESS LEVELS 80%

Hank had made Connor promise to wake him up if he had a bad nightmare. What determined if it was a bad nightmare? Connor wondered. It was too early to wake Hank, he’d be grumpy, surely.

But Connor was already on his feet, carefully moving out from under the covers so that Sumo didn’t wake. Hank had made Connor promise after all, and Connor didn’t want to break his promise with him. He could give Hank an out, let him know he’d had a nightmare, but he was dealing with it fine. He could function like a normal human.

STRESS LEVELS 81%

STRESS LEVELS 82%

STRESS LEVELS 83%

Standing outside Hank’s bedroom door Connor kept replaying the ending of his dream. He had memories of being killed, of being deactivated. This was like all those memories, except it was worse because he’d known, and he hadn’t known, it was a paradox, that when he pulled the trigger, when he killed 60, he was killing himself. He was killing a himself that had never really been himself.

STRESS LEVELS 84%

STRESS LEVELS 85%

STRESS LEVELS 86%

He pushed the door open. Hank didn’t snore so much as choke on air occasionally, but he refused medical help for it. He was a light sleeper when he hadn’t been drinking.

STRESS LEVELS 86%

“Hank?” Connor called quietly from the doorway. He didn’t want to go all the way in. He didn’t want to wake Hank up. He wanted Hank to wake up because he didn’t want to be alone with his nightmare. Hank didn’t stir.

“Hank?” He tried again, a little louder. He heard Sumo getting up from Connor’s own bed. The squeeze of the springs in the mattress, the sound of a big dog landing on the ground. Clicking from Sumo’s nails against the hardwood. He pushed past Connor and into Hank’s room. The dog looked over at Connor as if to ask why he wouldn’t just come further into the room.

STRESS LEVELS 86%

“Hank, wake up,” Connor said, a little louder. He knew, logically, that it wasn’t enough to properly wake Hank. He didn’t think he could make his voice much louder.

Sumo jumped onto the bed and Connor held a breath he didn’t need to take, LED whirring a quicker red as he took in Hank shifting over, muttering something under his breath, and Sumo curling up against his side. But Hank didn’t wake up.

STRESS LEVELS 87%

STRESS LEVELS 88%

STRESS LEVELS 89%

It was his fear of his stress levels climbing so high that actually prompted him to action. He slammed his hand over the light switch, bathing the room in a warm and creamy brightness. Connor couldn’t be sure if it was the sound of his hand connecting to the wall or the light turning on that caused Hank to jerk upright in bed, but he didn’t care.

“What’s wrong!” Hank cried out, clearly still gathering himself together. His blurry eyes connected with Connor standing in the doorway, he saw the way his LED was spiraling, he saw the way Connor stood there frozen.

“Hank I had a nightmare,” Connor said. It wasn’t a whisper, but it was too quiet for a regular conversation. He felt instantly childish, though.

“Okay,” Hank said. “Sumo, move.” He shoved the dog gently and got up, clearly still tired.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Connor said, still softly.

Hank approached and touched his shoulder gently. “I’m glad you woke me up. Come on, Con, let’s turn some more lights on. Go out to the living room. Do you want to tell me about it?”

He ended up telling Hank in as few details as he could. He wrote a report to send to the clinic, again leaving out the details, and he deleted the report from his system after he sent it. Regardless, it seemed as if the memory of the nightmare was branded into his memory banks. It was all he could think about.

After he told Hank about it, Hank had turned on the television. He’d turned on a program where people brought items they’d found around their house, or had inherited, or bought at a yard sale, that they thought might make money, and showed the items to experts. Sometimes there were interesting stories behind the items. Most of the time nothing was worth much at all. But Connor liked the softness of the voices, and how kind everyone was, even the ones who were being told they had a piece of garbage.

Hank drank a lot of coffee. He went through a whole pot before they even got to work. On the drive over he bought a large from a drive through. Normally Connor would reprimand such a thing, but he was incredibly thankful Hank had stayed up with him, kept him company. Helped scare the nightmare away.

“It’s a little exciting, though, isn’t it Con? Your first time experiencing a nightmare. Humans get them, too. It’s a part of dreaming. It’s a part of being alive. It’s a part of that same imagination that came up with thirium milkshakes,” Hank said. He’d smiled out of one side of his mouth.

Connor tried thinking about the nightmare like that. It was exciting, he supposed. He hoped he never had a nightmare again, though he knew that was unlikely. “I’ll get better at dealing with them,” Connor said. Hank agreed.

“But you can come to me any time you need, Con.”

“When you have nightmares you can come to me, as well, Hank.”

Hank smiled widely at that. They were pulling into the precinct parking lot. “I’ll hold you to that, kid.”

Connor was feeling much better as they walked into work. There was a pile of paperwork they needed to get to, a few phone calls Connor needed to make. They planned to make a visit down to the court house for some records, as well, though they’d probably pair that up with lunch, since Hank hated leaving more than he needed to.

Unfortunately, after yesterday, when he had told practically everyone excitedly about his dream, he now had a lot of his coworkers coming up to him and asking how his dreaming went last night. He tried to keep the discomfort off his face, and to keep it lighthearted. He tried to look at it the way Hank had told him.

“I had my first nightmare,” Connor said. “It was an exciting experience! I hope I never have another.” He repeated these and similar platitudes throughout the morning.

When Hank had gotten through his coffee Connor went to get him a new one from the break room without being asked. On his way out he ran into Detective Reed.

“I, uh, heard you had a nightmare.” Again, Detective Reed’s voice was carefully neutral. Connor braced himself for whatever he might say next. “Um, well, whenever I have nightmares, when I wake up, I take a warm shower. Helps chase it away.” Detective Reed cleared his throat.

“Thank you for your advice, detective,” Connor said. His voice was steady, even though he felt that buzzing in his stomach again.

“Right, well, yeah.” And then Reed was brushing past him and into the break room. Connor filed his advice away for the next time he had a bad dream.

It was with a great deal of hesitation that Connor laid down for sleep that night. He’d pushed it back as far as long as he could; Sumo was already snuggled up on the bed. Hank had given Connor a sad look, like he was remembering how excited Connor had been the first time around. He tried to conjure up that same excitement, remind himself of how great his first dream had been. How proud he’d been of the thirium milkshake.

INITIALIZING STANDBY…

UPLOADING MEMORY…

SCANNING BIOCOMPONENTS…

BIOCOMPONENTS UP TO DATE

PROGRAM READY

LAUNCHING DREAM SEQUENCING…

Connor was at the precinct, sitting at his desk. Hank was across from him, eating a box of donuts. Connor reached out and ate one. It didn’t taste like anything and he wondered why Hank would be eating things that didn’t taste like anything. He reminded himself he didn’t have taste buds, and that maybe to Hank they tasted good.

Connor leaned back and scanned the department. Or tried to scan, nothing seemed to come up. That should have concerned him but he didn’t mind. He looked at his computer screen. There were fish swimming around on it.

Connor was sitting in the break room looking at the microwave where fish were swimming around. There were so many in there, he wondered if they were happy. Perhaps they were android fish. He got up to check and opened the microwave door. The water started pouring up and filling his shoes, but the fish kept swimming as if there was nothing wrong. He knelt down to take his shoes off.

Connor was kneeling on his bed. He wasn’t wearing any shoes and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The door was closed. It was his room but it didn’t look like this room, there weren’t as many details. It was dark around the edges, but not in a frightening way. It was sort of like how the edges of a picture might be slightly darker.

Someone was on the bed with him. They were lying on their back. They also weren’t wearing their shirt or shoes. They were wearing mismatched socks.

Connor’s thirium pump seemed to skip a beat and he swallowed hard.

And then he was leaning forward and time seemed to slow. Leaning towards the other person. His right hand went to frame their face, fingers gently tracing down their cheek and jaw. The other person pressed their face against his palm, asking for more attention. Demanding more attention. Connor was so close now, his left hand brushing against the other person’s side. They arched up, closing the distance between their bare chests.

Connor didn’t know what his stress levels were. He couldn’t tell what color his LED was. The other person was cupping the back of his head, drawing him in closer, drawing him in for a kiss.

And then Connor was kissing Gavin Reed and Gavin Reed was kissing Connor.

He let go, let himself fall, press himself against the other man. Followed where his fingers had been with his mouth, mapping Gavin’s face with his lips and tongue. He felt where Gavin’s hands moved along his torso, dropping closer and closer to the waistband of his pants, and he mourned the fact that he couldn’t actually feel in the way that a human could. What he wouldn’t give for nerve endings and sensitivity.

But it was pleasure all the same as Gavin slipped his fingers below Connor’s pants, tugged them down slightly. And it was pleasure when Connor licked a stripe down Gavin’s neck and nipped at his ear, earning himself a growl and a moan and a flush face. It was a delicious response and Connor repeated the nip along the ear lobe. Gavin kept one hand below Connor’s pants, dragging them down even further, but he drew his other up so that he could fist it in Connor’s hair, pull him closer.

Closer, closer, Connor needed to close the gaps between them. He knew he was growing hard, especially with Gavin’s hand right there, almost there,

“Please, Gavin, I need you to touch me, Ga—”

LAUNCHING WAKE MODE…

“—vin!”

His thirium pump was racing, his internal temperature higher than it typically was (though not dangerously so).

STRESS LEVELS 62%

He was still hard. That had kept from the dream. Sumo was just waking up next to him, yawning, his morning breath stinking up in Connor’s face. That did a good job in getting Connor back to normal, softening him back to how he typically was. He’d never had much use for those functions before, and it was a strange sensation to feel so constricted against his pants.

Gavin had been going to take his pants off. He wasn’t so naive that he didn’t know what had been about to happen.

Detective Reed. His coworker. It was incredibly unprofessional of him to be having a dream like that, to be wishing it wasn’t a dream. Reed didn’t even like him. Okay, perhaps he’d gotten friendlier in the past months, but there was no world where Gavin Reed wanted what Connor had just dreamt about.

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Taking care of Sumo was helping to put Connor back in order. He let the dog out, got his breakfast ready, started on making a breakfast for Hank. He didn’t do this every morning, but he wanted every distraction he could get, plus he’d let Hank have too much coffee yesterday.

He debated sending a report to the clinic and decided against including any details. He merely wrote that he had a dream, not a nightmare, and that everything seemed to be working well.

(Secretly he wished he could have taken pictures during his dream. Certainly, he had a perfect memory, and he wouldn’t forget a single detail as long as he catalogued them. But he also wanted still images, wanted to have been able to capture the way Gavin’s face flushed, the way he’d lain on the bed, big eyes, expecting Connor to come to him. The way he’d looked wanting Connor to come to him.)

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Hank woke up just in time for Connor’s LED to return to it’s normal blue.

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He thanked Connor for the breakfast but still went directly to the coffee machine.

“Perhaps you’ll consider tea this morning, Hank,” Connor said.

Hank ignored him. “How was your dream last night?” He asked, sitting down with his warm mug and the plate of bacon (turkey bacon, 313 calories, 0g sugar) and eggs (scrambled, 91 calories, 0.8g sugar).

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His LED blinked yellow for a second and then went back to blue. He knew Hank took notice of it but he tried to brush past it. “My dreams last night were very eventful. Thank you for asking.”

Hank eyed him up and down, taking a bite from the bacon.

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“Yeah? Use that imagination of yours at all? Any more thirium milkshakes?”

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“Yes, I used my imagination quite a bit.” Connor turned away from Hank to tidy the frying pan.

“Connor, hey, if you had another nightmare you can tell me. It’s okay. I wouldn’t have minded you waking me up again. Besides, I wasn’t that grouchy yesterday.” Connor didn’t have to see his friend to know just how worried he was making Hank. He tried a deep breath and then turned around to answer.

“Thank you, Hank, but I didn’t have a nightmare.”

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“I just don’t wish to talk about my dream, if that’s alright.” Connor knew his voice was stiff sounding. Machine sounding. He hated that. Lighter he said, “In fact, I think I liked it. I’m still processing it.”

“Ah.” Hank took a long drink, draining his cup completely. He met Connor’s gaze with a twinkle in his eye. “So you had a sex dream, then?”

If Connor had been drinking anything (which he couldn’t really do; he could consume thirium orally, but that was the extent of things) he would have choked on it and spit it out, like an old sitcom.

“Eh, you don’t need to say anything, Con, they’re as natural as any other sort of dream.” And then Hank was chuckling. “Who’d have thought that’d be part of the dream programming? Don’t remember seeing reports of that. Good for you, kid.”

Connor laughed then, too, tension draining from him.

After his nightmare yesterday everyone seemed to get the idea that he’d approach them if he wanted to share his dream. Things were back to normal and he was even able to drop his stress levels to well below the 30% mark, even with the difficult case they were working on.

And then Gavin Reed came over to his desk.

Hank had stepped away to talk to Fowler about something related to their case and so Connor had turned his attention to reanalyzing the footage from the crime scene. He was shocked that Detective Reed would be there; he almost never came over to Connor and Hank’s desk. But there he stood, hands in his pockets, looking grumpy as he always did.

STRESS LEVELS 45%

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“So, uh, any more nightmares?” Reed asked.

STRESS LEVELS 47%

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“No, I, my dreams, they, it was just a regular dream,” Connor said.

“Yeah?”

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His LED blinked yellow.

“Connor! Come on, we got to go now!” Hank called, already speed walking to the parking lot.

“Thank you for asking about my dreams, Detective Reed,” Connor said. Not only was his LED blinking yellow but he knew he was probably blushing as well. “It seems the Lieutenant needs me.” He didn’t wait for Reed’s response, he just booked it out of there.

Had he looked back he probably would have noticed the light blush across Gavin’s nose and cheeks. He probably would have noticed that Gavin watched him the whole way out. He probably would have noticed that Gavin then coughed to himself, shook his head slightly, and went back to his own desk as if nothing had happened.

[shuhey-hisagi]

Could I get some headcanons on what Rangiku, Rukia, Renji, Shuhei, and Toshiro's favorite things to do are in the human world when they're not working(I hope that's not too many)?

I was way too excited writing this..

Favorite things to do in the human world

Rangiku Matsumoto:

- It’s a no brainer that she enjoys visiting shopping centers. She’ll drag along whatever poor sap was around her at the time so they can carry all her bags. How she has that much valid currency is a mystery, but she goes all out. She’s interested especially in new make-up and fashion trends.

- She’s all about doing things that make you happy and is a firm believer in the power of retail therapy. Rangiku might pick up several magazines with make up tutorials so that she can practice back at home when she’s bored. She actually becomes really good at make up and her favorite looks usually involve  brown/red eyeshadows and a bold lip. People at the mall confuse her for a social media influencer or model often.

- She’s not Rangiku if she doesn’t hit up the night clubs or bars. She’ll talk some of the girls into going with her. While at the place of business, she has an easy time talking men and women alike into buying her and her friends drinks. It’s a fun night, especially since she’s really outgoing and down to try new things.

- Since she goes to clubs often, she’s developed a taste in a particular sort of night club music genre, so she might ask Ichigo to help her find a certain song or similar songs. He’s less than pleased but tries his best anyways.

- SPA DAYS. After a long night of drinking and dancing, she most definitely will have booked a spa day. I’m talking facials, full body massages, that weird tropical music they play, a complementary jacuzzi for extra pizazz, all of it. She brings along whoever she feels might be having a bad week/needs to destress though. It’s sweet of her, because she acts like she just wants company, but is trying to use something that makes her feel a little better to help someone she loves.

Rukia Kuchiki:

- Rukia enjoys learning about modern ways of life. This involves watching a lot of cute shows on television or picture books. She appreciates animated shows a lot because it’s interesting to her how much work people put into creating such content. It takes her a while to get used to the subtle humor though.

- Definitely someone who would try to go see the tourist sights available and enjoys places like beaches or small hiking trails connected to parks.

- Would probably take Renji and/or Ichigo to an aquarium with her because that’s a whole uncovered field for her and she’s awestruck. She would find a tour guide or worker and badger them with questions the whole time that she’s there.

- She does like spending time with Orihime and her friends. It gives her a sense of belonging, and they are all really sweet and animated in their own ways. It’s a definite break from the strict atmosphere of the Soul Society. She especially enjoys going to the movies or amusement parks with them because she always experiences something new.

- I can see her trying out a yoga class with Renji and making an utter fool of herself. That’s something she’s never going to attempt again... 

- Would definitely be on the look out for anything that she believes her brother may appreciate. Though her sense of style is a little tasteless, she does like to hit up scarf shops or even craft stores that may have odd trinkets that she thinks Byakuya may find (secretly) endearing. Probably has a custom frame made for him.

- She also enjoys spending time with Ichigo. Harassing him has become one of her favorite pastimes and no matter how old he gets, she’s still able to rile him up. It never stops being funny.

Renji Abarai:

- Renji is a mess. He wants to try everything out. He’s passionate about new foods and accessory shops most.

- You can find him strolling through downtown observing a map and trying to find that new sunglasses shop Orihime mentioned. This dude totally gets talked into buying bootleg Ray-Bans or something. He doesn’t really care- brand names don’t mean anything in the Seireitei, so he can get away with sporting some cheesy glasses.

- Likes going out to try new foods with Rukia and the gang. He usually ends up ordering too much and has to get Rangiku to pick up the tag. She does with the threat that he has to pay her back, but she never owns up to it. She secretly doesn’t mind it. 

- At one point he became interested in motorcycles and Chad was trying to help him learn. That ended up as badly as you can imagine. 

- On the off chance that Byakuya is also in the world of the living, Renji tries to break his shell by bringing him to shopping centers or even suggesting a hike that has a nice view. 

- Though his experience at the Urahara shop was iffy, he does like to drop by every now and then with candy or other small gifts for Jinta and Ururu. He’ll never admit it, but he’s become extremely fond of the two and views them as his younger siblings. That being said, it doesn’t mean that the kids are any less lenient on him. He’s still the victim of relentless taunting. He’s learned to be patient with them and usually just gives them the reaction they want because he knows it makes them happy.

- Renji enjoys going to the jazz cafes that Shinji Hirako suggests. He’s grown fond of the music and when he needs some alone time, he can count on the atmosphere to mellow him out.

Shuhei Hisagi:

- There’s this one Shinigami Golden clip where when he was in the world of the living, he brought back Sajin Komamura a brush for his fur. That makes me think he’s usually on the lookout for items that are not available in the Soul Society that he thinks will benefit his comrades. He’s also always tempted to buy other things like sweets or snacks for people he thinks might enjoy them.

- Chad helps him learn how to play that guitar he found. His progress is slow considering he can’t meet up often, but he takes back books and probably has a laptop that he can watch tutorials on. (Chad got a new one so he downloaded videos on it for Shuhei).

- He likes to cook, so he enjoys going to the grocery stores and scoping out produce that he may be able to find back home as well and looks up recipes. He spends a lot of his time at used book stores. 

- Has definitely thought of getting another tattoo or piercing. Scratch that, he got an eyebrow piercing on his gigai and liked how it looks, so when he got back home he decided to get an actual one. Once it healed, he only ever wears jewelry in it occasionally. He’s thought of a nose piercing but is a little too nervous about a cartilage piercing.

- Ichigo was skating once and Shuhei thought it was cool and had Ichigo teach him how to skate. He’s actually a natural at the whole thing and enjoys evening skates through quiet streets. That is, until someone mistakes him for a rival gang member and he ends up being chased. Usually he tries to avoid conflict, but sometimes thugs just deserve getting their asses kicked.

- On that note, Orihime suggested he get rid of the face tattoos on his gigai if he wants to look a little less intimidating, but Shuhei refuses because they’re an important part of him. He does mind that people are intimidated by him, but he’s come to accept that he might not be the most conventional “human”. ( help im crying )

Toshiro Hitsugaya:

- Definitely visits all the grandmas who somehow hav managed to melt his icy demeanor. A few of them don’t get to see their relatives that often, so he makes it a point to stop by when he can. He’ll help around the house or eat the snacks the provide. They usually don’t mind if he takes a nap and often suggest he can take their spare bedroom, though he hasn’t done so yet. He’s tempted.

- Does his best to avoid any other soul reaper who may be in the world of the living. Once the mission is done, he just wants to relax. He’ll spend time at local parks, and sometimes, if Karin spots him, he’ll be talked into a game of soccer.

- Toshiro enjoys feeding stray cats and has done so so many times that even when he’s not in his gigai, the animals can sense him and follow him around. He claims it’s a nuisance but he’s truly happy about it.

- Like the others, he enjoys experiencing new foods. Shaved ice is one of his favorites, but when he found out about frozen yogurt, he was swayed. He’s definitely the type of person who stocks up on snacks from the convenience store then goes back to where he’s staying, locks himself in his room, and proceeds to devour everything and nap.

- I see Toshiro as someone who would enjoy learning new languages and learning about other cultures. He has made i his goal to learn as many languages as possible, and if he’s able to, he’d like to travel to more countries aside from Japan. He’s learning English. Sometimes Chad will teach him some conversational Spanish. He gets a smartphone so he can use apps like Duolingo when he’s in the world of the living, and definitely suggests that the Soul Society should make more technological progress so he can use said apps in a completely separate plane of existence

[rubberduckyrye]

dreamingkatfish replied to your post “dreamingkatfish replied to your video ...”

God yeah the fear about what's going happen with private and unlisted videos. I'm also very tempted to take down my entire youtube. This is all very fucked. And yeah what makes me fear for DR is the blood is pink, so what are they going to say it's for kids because of that? And yeah it really is a slippery slope. Thankfully fanfic is probably fine and ao3 has a team of lawyers and they've been fighting for fanfic for a long while now. So they'll probably be able to help protect fanfic. But other content, especially on commercial sites? It's a very real possibility that its next. And man I hate idea of us having to make everything paywall. I legally cant and a lot of people I know technically cant either since most of those websites you have to be 18+ or else for. Which is screwing over younger creators badly. But also killing creation with the force of having to paywall our stuff so it can even exist. Best case scenario is we end up with ao3 like website but for videos. But I'm not sure. Hosting videos is a lot different than hosting writing. Plus then all the creators are still probably going to be without revenue. Which again kills the industry and such.

Same--I might just. Take everything down. I definitely have some private videos of me and Celest at an aquarium and a video of my cat. Also, while Kokichi is from DR, the video I have showcasing my remixes for his execution??? That would be a disaster to figure out. Because it’s just a static image of a “cartoon/anime” character. If they’re going by “if the thumbnail is child friendly it’s kid content” shit, then--then despite the fact Kokichi is a character from a mature franchise, will it count as kid content?

That is so terrifying and bad. What if a child discovers my “kid content” video and thinks that Danganronpa is content safe for them? I would not want to promote the idea of a five year old scrolling through youtube, finding that particular video, and looking up “Kokichi Ouma” or “Danganronpa” or “Executions”. Pink blood or not, executions from DR are fucking brutal and terrifying. I don’t think minors younger than 16 should even have access to DR.

And don’t get me started on Miu. Miu alone should be rated M or higher. Can you imagine a child repeating any of her dialogue?

This is 100% more dangerous to kids than some stupid ads that make kids want more toys.

This does royally screw over minors in the creative field, because you can’t create or access “adult content” which might not even be all that adult.

If it wasn’t for how vague everything about COPPA was, I wouldn’t be so panicked over it. I’d post my content for free on youtube--I don’t need ad revenue. I never got it before. But with my Danganronpa content, I can’t make that content available to children, even if it’s just a character from the franchise holding a kitten. No matter how sweet or innocent the art, it will put a child more at risk to seeing something not made for them if they go ahead and get curious about it. That means any potential theory videos is 100% out of the question.

Fuck, I don’t even know if having a paywall is enough. How young is too young? If all minors count as “children,” then do I have to flag my patreon as “adult content”?

Fucking hell.

At least Ao3 would be safe, probably. Ao3 is strict about having no advertisements--even content creators can’t advertise things like commissions. That should, at least, keep fanfics there safe. Idk about anywhere else.

[yeenybeanies]

g/t prompt list 

1. discovery 

giant mer & human!reader ( 2nd person pov ).

2422 words

there’s a bit of cussing in this because of who i am as a person 

please keep comments to the tags!! thank you!! 

The water is peaceful. The sky is peaceful. The day is peaceful. There’s a light breeze in the air, pushing little waves that gently lap against the fiberglass side of your boat. You sit in one of the comfy chairs aboard your modestly-sized vessel, a fishing pole settled in its holster to your left, and a beer in the cupholder to your right. There’s not much left in it, but the few swallows that do remain are warm and unappealing. You think it’s probably best to lean over and dump the contents overboard ( not the can, of course; you’re not a monster ) and grab a new one, ice cold. That sounds like a good plan. And it is. It’s an excellent plan. The freshly-emptied can finds itself crushed in your hand and set into an impromptu garbage bag, leaving you free to head to the cooler for more refreshments. Maybe you could do with a snack, too, you think. You’ve been out here for a few hours now, resting in the shade, not bored, per se, but definitely unstimulated. There hasn’t been so much as a nibble on your line. 

U g h. Your cooler’s on the other side of the boat. You kick yourself internally for not pulling it closer, for putting yourself in a situation where you have to get up. You’re also kicking yourself for being so goddamn lazy. It’s not that far. You’re hungry and thirsty. It’s not that far. With a sigh, you push yourself up from your seat and give your fishing line a quick tug, testing it ( no surprise to find that there is still nothing biting ), then you leave your comfortable shade and cross over to the cooler. Its blue coloring nearly matches the ocean, you notice. Hunh. That’s interesting. It makes you smile. Your fingers brush some of the salty water off of the lid, then you lift it to rummage through the chilled contents. Beer and sandwich. That’s what you want. Where the fuck is your sandw––oh. There it is. 

Lunch in one hand and cold beer in the other, you pivot on your heel and head back towards your seat back in the shade. You get two steps forward when––wham––a sharp jolt lurches both you and your boat to the side. You stumble, dropping your beverage in your attempt to remain semi-upright. Sonova––curses bubble under your breath as you cling onto a ledge until the boat stops rocking. Once it’s calmed down, you stand and grab the half-emptied can, frowning deep. So much for that half of the plan. At least you have your sandwich. Frustrated, you take a bite, but it seems that’s all you have time for. A sharp, rapid buzzing reaches your ears––your line! Something must be on your line! And something big, too, if it’s taking off that quickly! You rush to your pole, sandwich held between your teeth, and give it a yank, hoping to hook whatever seems to be running away with your bait. 

You expect there to be a fight, like those you hear about from veteran fishermen ( and their dubious reliability ). You expect to stand here for an hour, maybe two, wrestling with this thing, until one of you eventually tires and gives in. What you intend to do with the presumed-leviathan, you’re not quite sure, but you’ll figure that out when you get there. That’s what you think. That’s what you expect. 

What you do not expect is for the line to go limp. Aww! That was barely a minute! Where’s your glory? Your battle? Where’s–––

Oh holy mother of goddamn shit. . . 

A massive fin slips up from the water only a few yards from your boat as the leviathan slowly rises from the dark, murky depths of whatever hell exists beneath this particular stretch of ocean. It has to be at least as tall as you––taller, even. You can’t quite see what it’s attached to yet, but you know you were right on one thing: this fucker is big! And you imagine it’s probably pissed off. ( Can fish get pissed off? Is this even a fish? It’s as big as a goddamn whale! ) 

There’s another yank on the line, pulling the very pole from your hands. You barely notice, though; you’re frozen, preoccupied with the sight before you. There’s your pole, dangling from what appears to be a massive fucking hand that’s sticking out of the water. That is definitely bigger than you, big enough to snatch you right from your boat. It’s horrifying as is to see one, but the second one scares you more when it slams against the ledge, those big, clawed and webbed fingers bending the metal and fiberglass under them. The boat lurches again, jolting you towards the ledge, close enough to where you could touch that giant hand if you wanted. But you sure as hell don’t want to! Sandwich still gripped in your mouth, you try to push away, try to scramble back, despite the incline behind you getting steeper by the second. It’s not really working in your favor. You hear things slide and shift around, hear the boat groan under the weight. You think this thing’s going to flip your boat! Until it very gently seems to ease off the pressure and lower the vessel back down. You lie flat on your back, stiff, staring up at the clear sky. What the hell? 

It only makes sense that if there’s two giant hands, there’s probably a giant head to match, but that doesn’t make the sight any less fucking terrifying when it greets you. It certainly doesn’t help, either, when that head looms over you, over your boat, like a child peering down into a hamster cage. Unfortunately, you’re not used to being the hamster. You can’t even scream out, though; your forgotten and soggy sandwich still blocks your mouth. At this point, you don’t even know if you have it in you to scream, certainly not when those big eyes lock with yours. You can’t look away from this . . . being. You can’t blink. It’s so goddamn huge––bigger than anything you’ve ever seen. 

Okay, maybe you can look away. The creature raises its giant fist, and you instinctively curl in on yourself, shielding your head with your arms ( as if that would do you any good ). Your expectations, though, seem to be very off today. Where you expect to feel the briefest moment of pain and death, crushed under that hand, you feel nothing but the light breeze and sunshine. There is a thud to your left, though, dull and soft. You peek from under your arms to see your fishing pole dropped onto the deck, fishing line keeping it suspended just a little. Following that line, you see that the hook at the end is––oh god, it’s lodged into the leviathan’s face! Just beneath its lower lip, towards the right corner of its mouth, is where that hook finds its home. You can see the metal glinting among the dark, curly hairs at the edge of the being’s beard. And the being is looking at you. . . expectantly. 

No. Fuck no. No fucking way. You are not going near that thing–––

Then you hear it––him?––g r o w l. Were you not five seconds from shitting yourself, you might notice that it doesn’t sound like an aggressive noise, rather more like an encouraging one, but you couldn’t possibly know such a thing. Again you cower, finally spitting out your ruined lunch so you can shout out a panicked okay! okay. You’ll. . .––well, it’s your fault that there’s a hook in the creature’s face. The least you can do is get it out and hope that he doesn’t decide to eat you. 

Shakily, you push yourself to your knees, then to your feet. But your feet aren’t wanting to move any further. You’re rooted in place, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, staring at the leviathan. He produces another growl, softer this time, but it still makes you flinch and close your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck! You can’t do this! Why can’t he just pull the hook out himself! It’d be like removing a burr, wouldn’t it? 

The boat tilts once more, slowly, sending you stumbling towards the giant. You thrust your hands forward, meeting the being’s cheek as you brace yourself. His skin is. . . far rougher than you expected, like fine-toothed sandpaper. It reminds you of times as a kid when you got to touch those little sharks in aquariums. Hot air blows against your side, startling you. Breath, you realize. The being is breathing. Shit, he is so fucking big. . . His head is taller than you. His mouth. . .––you don’t want to think about his mouth. You don’t want to know what kind of teeth lie behind those lips. But it’s hard not to think about it; you’re right fucking here. Still softer, the being rumbles. The hum travels through his skin, into your flesh, your bones. Okay. Alright. Okay, big guy. the sooner you can do this, the sooner the both of you can hopefully get on with your lives. You’re never going near the ocean again. 

Your voice is shaking just as badly as the rest of you, but you try to talk, more to yourself than the being, saying that you can get the hook out and everything will be okay. There’s also some nervous please don’t eat me after, mister sea giants in there. Much to your dismay, the hook is buried pretty well into the tough skin. It doesn’t seem to hurt the being when you tug, but it’s not something you really want to test. Luckily, your hands seem to ease their shaking a little as you force yourself to focus––enough so to where you can actually make some progress. A few more minutes, a few more little tugs, and the hook slips free of the sandpaper skin. 

Thank fucking god. 

You hold the hook up triumphantly so the leviathan can see, feeling more relief than you’ve ever felt in your life. That relief is short-lived, however. The fear is quick to return as the beast flexes his jaw and rubs a finger over the space where the hook was. You catch a glimpse of those sharp teeth, that big tongue, just beyond his lips. You step back as much as you can, but he notices your movement, and he’s quick to counter it. You scream out as his hand surrounds you. Yet. . . you feel no pressure. You only feel the slight warmth radiating from the giant palm and fingers around you. Tentatively, you look out, meeting the being’s eyes. They’re shockingly human, you realize. There’s emotion in those deep, brown pools. Another yelp leaves your throat as you’re nudged closer, pulled into his looming shadow. He’s gonna eat you! You’re about to be seafood! Your shaking starts up again––not that it ever really stopped. You watch in horror as the being leans in. This is it! This is the end–––

But this isn’t it. Impossibly gentle, its his forehead that meets yours, the scratchy skin resting against you. He must know, though, that you’re scared shitless; he backs off quickly, releasing you to scurry away as you please. What the hell was that? Was that a. . .––a show of gratitude? You blink, now backed up to the other side of the boat, as far away from the being as you can get. You swear you can see a little smile on his lips as he retreats from the side of your vessel, his hands disappearing back beneath the surface. His head remains above, though. Once he’s several feet away, you carefully, hesitantly move to the ledge he’d occupied. he’s. . . leaving. He’s leaving you alone! You watch as he gives you a parting nod, then he twists and dives into the water, his massive body sending waves out in all directions. It’s hard to see, but you swear you could spot several jagged, parallel scars along his back and side lap the surface, like something you’d see on a shark or a dolphin that was hit by a boat. Then comes his tail fluke, truly gargantuan, but missing at least half of the top lobe! It’s just occurred to you now that this being––what you’ve just seen––is a fucking mermaid. Merman? Mer. Despite your awe and your lingering fear, you feel a pang of guilt in your chest as you watch that mutilated tail vanish into the darkness. That creature. . . he’d already been hurt by human things in the sea. . . No wonder he wanted you to fix him. Your hook, you doubt, truly hurt him ( more of a discomfort, if anything, you imagine ), but you still feel bad. You hurt a mer. 

You watch the waves for a few moments longer, then you bow your head and breathe out heavily. It feels like you’d been holding your breath through that whole encounter. Damn. Well, that’s enough fishing for one lifetime. That’s enough ocean for one lifetime. You don’t think you ever want to encounter something like that again. You’re still a little shaky, but you gather up everything that’s fallen out of place and secure it down in preparation for your departure. You’re ready to be off this boat and back onto dry land. Once up at the wheel, you twist the key in the ignition, but the engine. . . sputters. Oh no. You try again, a bit more vigorously, and the resulting sputter is even weaker. You’re out of gas. What the fuck! Can’t you catch a break? All you wanted was a nice, relaxing day on the water! You didn’t ask for giant-ass mermen or shitty boat problems! You yell out in frustration and pound at the dashboard, head hung limply. How the hell are you going to get out of this one? Should you call the coast guard? 

Then you hear it again: that fucking growl. It’s more of a feeling, this time, sent up through the boat, up into your body, but it’s definitely a growl––the same growl. You look up, eyes wide, body shaking again, to see that giant fin heading back towards your vessel. 

AN: okay! so some info on the mer: his  " human ”  half is about 30′ long, head to hips, & his tail is about another 70′, bringing him up to a massive 100′ in total length. think whale shark-shaped, since his inspiration does come from whale sharks––particularly those that have been injured by boats  ( esp that last link there ).