#idk if this is written communicatively

[spectroscopic-gayety]

There this undertale MV fic that literally makes me happy stim and I have thoughts. More importantly a very crazy idea on where this is headed.

If you haven’t read the fic, you really should, it is some of the best Undertale Multiverse writing I’ve ever read! Here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43143874/chapters/108428305

——SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT——

Ok so one of the things I really like about Buddy’s fics is that Buddy very clearly has read the original error!sans ask blog. They describe Error knitting in ftfo and recognize Error as an alternate timeline of after!tale.

Why is this important? Well, these references don’t just exist in ftfo, they are also in Spilled Ink, but in a very interesting way.

For those who didn’t follow the original error blog, it didn’t really end with a finale. CQ, the author, graciously left us readers a summary of what she planned for the story. Specifically, I’m talking about Blueberror.

Blueberror, is an underswap sans specifically named Blueberry (this will be important later) who gets kidnapped by Error, left alone in the anti void until he goes insane and starts hearing voices. Notably, the voices of the askers (since it’s an ask blog).

Now, who do we know in Spilled Ink who hears voices and has anti void trauma? Yeah Ink!

Spilled Ink shows Ink heading the voices of the Creators, who like the askers in ask error!sans, live in our world and control his life. Unlike Error who is insane, Ink struggles through the existential horror of being played with for entertainment.

So, what I think Buddy is doing is linking the creation of destroyers to protectors.

They are both made in the anti void.

They both hear the voices of the creators.

This makes some very interesting parallels between Error and Ink.

It also makes some very very interesting parallels between Ink and Blueberror. Ink in Spilled Ink is implied to be a version of an Underswap sans, Rus compares Ink to his own brother in his pov chapters. Several other characters remark the ink is “short for a sans”.

In Crayon Queen’s, summary of how ask error would have ended, she describes Blueberror not becoming a destroyer but moving into the omega timeline. He eventually works to protect the multiverse by convincing Error to help fight a larger threat. Hmm, a protector, where have I heard that before?

So, conspiracy theory time.

What if the determining factor that makes a sans stuck in the anti void a protector or a destroyer is whether or not they’re a swap variant?

So, wouldn’t it be Wild if there was a theoretical swap sans that we don’t know the location of? And wouldn’t it be just insane if a future plot point of the askerror blog was that Blueberror let another swap sans take his place in his au?

THIS IS WHERE THE REAL THEORY BEGINS

What if, the Blueberry in Spilled Ink was turned into Blueberror? How? Great question, idk. Maybe Ink’s friends get too close to figuring out who took him and the creators want a red herring? But like remember in chapter 5 when they were at the omega council meeting and the whole council was convinced the new out code was evil? I wonder what would happen if blueberror showed up right after Ink gets kidnapped. He’s covered in errors, that must mean he’s a new destroyer to counter Sketch right?

Extra angst: the only person who can recognize him is currently be tortured by Nightmare, and no one believes him when he says he used to be a member of the star sanses. His whole world is gone, and everyone he loves hates him and he doesn’t know why.

Does this make sense thematically? Kinda, it’s one really angsty way Ink can get his dearly lost friend back, but at a sharp cost. It would also allow Buddy to use dramatic irony again like how Sketch is hiding his moderator status. Except in a sad twist, Blueberror is trying to show his protector status but no one believes him.

I love this fic so much, and I can’t wait to see where the author takes the story next!

[makedamnsvre]

[I D: A semi-realistic digital drawing of Hollyleaf, a black cat with green eyes, from the shoulders up. She has a distressed expression as she looks up to a red glowing shattered star floating in front of her face, casting her in red light. There is green bounce lighting illuminating her from behind. The background is a black and green gradient. end I D]

a messy drawing i made that i then added to much detail to !!

[asphalt-eater]

i like to think goth is a gender in of itself

[g3othermal3scapism]

hot take i dont think trobed has to be canon in the movie, i dont think it rlly matters and i think acting like them not being canon romantically takes away from their writing and relationship is odd

[griem]

ijbol idk man releasing screenshots of very polarizing things said in a private discord server between friends in a public "callout" post is #the most #tumblrific thing ive ever seen LOL.

#opinion 😱 in tags

[stonefemblues]

i feel like sometimes i’ve seen posts complaining abt other posts that are fetishizing butches or fetishizing femmes and how that’s a Big Problem and yes sometimes it is and that’s not great. but also sometimes i see the post they’re complaining about and it’s like. a post written by a butch or femme for a particular fetish on a kink blog. it’s playing out a particular dynamic for sexual reasons that both parties get off on. it has a target audience which is other ppl into that kink, not Everyone. yeah it is fetishizing, that was the point. it doesn’t necessarily mean that they don’t see butches or femmes as full complex human beings lol. maybe a singular text post (or even an entire kink blog) doesn’t encapsulate all their thoughts and feelings, or reflect how they treat butches or femmes when they are not doing a kink scene with them.

[tenderjock]

outstanding leadership, extraordinary initiative, & steadfast devotion to duty

Daniel&Jack&Peggy, and medals earned in wartime.

"You ever notice that Thompson doesn't talk about the Navy Cross?"

Peggy froze in the middle of adding milk to her tea. After a moment, she put the bottle down and stirred carefully, thoughts racing. Without turning to Daniel or letting her surprise inflect her voice, she said, "What do you mean?"

Daniel shrugged, a little jerkily. "I don't know. Everything's always bigger and better with him, you know? He'll tell you how much he earns or how long his - ah, you know, he'll brag. But he changes the topic every time it comes up."

She tapped the spoon against the side of her cup. "Perhaps he -" She broke off, struggling for the words that would turn Daniel's attention away from the issue. "Perhaps he simply doesn't like to talk about things that happened over there. We've all been there; it's never anything like the medals or newsreels seem to say it was."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel said. "It just doesn't seem like Thompson to not tell everyone he knows about it."

"You don't talk about your Purple Heart," Peggy pointed out, not ungently. Daniel stiffened.

"That's different."

"It is," Peggy agreed. "It's different for all of us."

A pair of familiar footsteps joined them at the office commissary before Daniel could respond. Peggy glanced back down into her cup and added a generous spoonful of sugar.

"I see my top agents are spending their workday productively," Jack remarked, his smirk a sharp line in his face.

Peggy shot him a rather arch look. "I see Chief Thompson is having an equally productive day," she said. "Have you admitted defeat yet?"

Jack made a face. He'd been fighting, along with Agent Faut and some rather obnoxious pencil-pushers, to balance the New York SSR's budget for the better part of the week. Most of his morning had been spent in a meeting with the senator's aide.

"I got 'em on the ropes," he said. Daniel clears his throat, rather judgementally.

Peggy isn't quite sure who he's been more upset with recently: Jack, for taking the promotion, or her, for not being bothered by it.

His attitude was a bit annoying, to be honest. Frankly, she was never going to receive a Medal of Honor or the position as New York Chief, no matter who advocated for her or what evidence was presented to the U.S. government. Daniel had to know that, too; the man wasn't stupid. And he had to realize that having Jack in charge, where they could keep an eye on him, was better than any alternative.

"We were discussing wartime medals," Peggy said instead of all that. Jack stiffened; Daniel noticed; Peggy rolled her eyes. "I once knew a man who earned an Order of the Bath for strategic actions in battle." She considered the memory. "He had terrible teeth."

"Order of the Bath?" Jack said, disbelieving.

"For conspicuous heroism taking place in a sauna," Daniel said. Both men laughed. Peggy sniffed. They had no respect, these Americans.

"What about Carter?" Jack asked, still laughing.

Peggy blinked at him. "What about me?" she said.

"What kind of awards did Agent Peggy Carter deign to accept?"

"I didn't earn any," Peggy said stiffly. "Women aren't combatants."

That's a bit of an oversimplification, she will admit in the privacy of her own mind. There were a few medals she could have theoretically earned, from the Americans and her own government, had circumstances regarding her service not been so, well, unique.

Some Englishwomen had received medals, but their service had been different than hers - usually as pilots or somesuch, not the covert missions she had in occupied France and Nazi Germany.

She may have qualified from the U.S. Women's Army Corps Service Medal, although it perhaps would have required Colonel Phillips to pull a few strings. Peggy had occupied a strange place in the war: a woman, first of all, and therefore not allowed in combat or eligible to receive medals for heroism under fire. But she had also been a spy, someone who technically didn't exist; and a British operative working for the Americans. Both sides had simply sort of - cut her loose, after victory was obtained and she was no longer useful.

It was only due to Colonel Phillips' recommendation that she had this job in the first place. Peggy pursed her lips, then shook herself out of her thoughts.

Only to find the two men staring at her like they had just been dunked in ice water. It was a bit unsettling. She took a sip of tea.

"Anyway," she said. "I actually do have work to do. Daniel, try to keep in mind what I was saying."

Jack was frowning at her. Daniel was frowning, too, but his gaze flicked to Jack once when she spoke, before he nodded.

"Sure thing," he said, and shifted on his crutch out of her way to let her back to her desk.

: :

Peggy frequently found herself the last person in the office, nowadays, with the possible exceptions being Daniel and Jack. Right now, Daniel's dark head of curls was bent over his desk and Jack's light was still on in his office, although the blinds were drawn.

They've all been working in a companionable silence for the last two hours. Daniel was eating something that smelled hot and spiced at his desk; little noises kept coming from the Chief's office, the sound of a file cabinet being opened or the desk chair being pushed back.

For Peggy's part, she's been combing through reports of gun sales to women matching Dottie's description in the tri-state area. She has found three that warrant a closer look, and was just about to get herself another cup of tea and really settle in when Jack's door opened and he slouched out.

He stopped in front of her desk. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He stared at her for a second, looking troubled.

"Yes?" she ventured, when it became clear he wasn't going to say anything to her.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, rather abruptly.

Daniel was looking at them now. Peggy drummed her fingernails on her desk, then nodded and followed Jack into his office, where he shut the door behind them.

He then proceeded to stand at his desk, hands braced against the wood, staring blankly. Peggy was honestly starting to get worried, not that she thought letting Jack know that was a good idea.

"Chief Thompson?" she said. She didn't touch his arm, but it was a close thing.

Jack opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box. It looked like a large jewelry box and was made of navy blue leather, with gold detailing. Peggy didn't need to ask what was inside it - even if it hadn't had the name of the medal printed on it in little gold letters, she would have known.

"You should have it," Jack said. His face was grim and set.

"Jack!" Peggy said, shocked.

"You should have it," he insisted. "I don't - it shouldn't be me, anyway. And you deserve it, Peggy. We both know that." Jack glanced at her, then glanced away. "I was going to put it out on my desk but - I couldn't. I can't. You should have it."

Peggy stared at him, feeling like her heart was in her throat. Jack Thompson was a liar, and a fraud, and a self-serving, arrogant pain-in-the-arse to work with, but sometimes he still surprised her.

And, anyway, it would do no one any favors to make this into a bigger deal than it already was. She nodded, and carefully took the box and tucked it under one arm.

"I'll keep it safe," she said quietly. Then, more briskly, "Do you want me to brief you on the progress I've made in the Underwood case?"

"Christ," Jack said, rubbing his eyes. He laughed, a little wetly. "Yeah, that'd be great. Tell me you got something."

They talked for a few minutes. Jack agreed with her that there was meat in the rumor of a bank robbery being planned, although neither of them could fathom why a notorious Communist would want to rob a bank. When Peggy left his office with the Navy Cross in hand, Jack was pouring himself a Scotch, looking exhausted and like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Daniel looked up as Peggy fastened the clasps of her purse and got her coat. "You leaving?" he asked, and then considered her more closely. "Are you okay, Peggy?"

"Yes," she said. "Just, you know." She looked at Jack's office door and clutched the rectangular shape in her purse tighter. "I need to get home."

"I'll walk you out," Daniel said, still watching her. "I'm just about done here anyway."

Peggy waited while he grabbed his coat, hat, and briefcase. She had to watch her pace a bit when she's walking with Daniel, but the company was usually worth it. Tonight, she was tired and a little shaken and a bit too reflective, and she appreciated the distraction of having to make small talk with Daniel as they walked to the subway station together.

As they were waiting for her train - hers was due in four minutes; Daniel's, in six - Daniel said, apropos of nothing, "I guess I just never expect Thompson to care enough about anything to feel, I don't know." He looked across the platform blankly. "Shame or guilt or, or loss. Or anything."

Peggy looked at him. "I know what you mean," she said.

"You know why he doesn't talk about the Navy Cross." It wasn't a question. Daniel wasn't looking at her.

Peggy tucked her heavy purse tighter to her torso and breathed out slowly. "Yes," she said. Just yes, and nothing else.

Daniel nodded, still staring across the empty platform. "Is it something I should know about?"

She gave that some thought. "It's not something I'm going to tell you," she said finally. "Not without Jack's permission, which I don't think he'd give. But it doesn't change who he is, not really. It might explain some of what he's done, recently." Then, because she wanted to be honest with Daniel: "Although you may not like the explanation."

He dipped his chin to his chest. "Alright," he said, then again, quieter, "Alright."

Her train arrived, and Peggy boarded, wishing Daniel a good night. Peggy observed him through the car's dirty, cracked window, a dark figure braced on his crutch, looking down at the concrete beneath his shoes. Peggy put one hand into her purse, pressing her palm against Jack's medal as she watched him.

As the train pulled away from the platform, Daniel seemed to shake himself and turned toward the opposite tracks, where his train going the other direction was arriving.

[fantastic-nonsense]

also while I'm on the topic of Frozen II "Show Yourself" should have been the massive hit song with a thousand critical accolades from that soundtrack instead of "Into the Unknown" and I will die on that hill

[encrucijada]

amazing news regarding my modern sort of retelling of theseus and the minotaur 🐮

i'm in an anthology book now

[conanssummerchild]

writing more rick and morty fanfic abt rick wanting to off himself, also Summer's here !! :D

tw discussions of suicide and suicidal thoughts and such

Morty fidgeted with his hands where he was leaned against Rick's work bench, but Rick paid him no mind, all his intense focus on whatever invention he was currently tweaking.

It had been nearly three months already since Rick had finally found and killed Rick Prime, and Morty had started to breathe a little easier. For the first few weeks after the event his worry for Rick had been so great that it felt like a huge weight was crushing his lungs, not letting him relax for even a second, but Rick seemed to be doing a little better now. His drinking was back down to normal levels for him—it still wasnt healthy, but when had rick ever cared about his own health? He started joining the family for meals again, and actually ate. Mostly.

But there was still moments when Morty would catch him zoning out, with an expression of such pure sadness that it was a little terrifying.

Morty worried so much, it was exhausting. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Rick, letting loose, going with the flow, but then again, things didn't seem to be going too great for him either.

"H-hey–" Morty tried, but his voice came out too squeaky so he cleared his throat. "Hey, Rick?"

"Mhm." Rick mumbled, only half paying attention and Morty frowned.

"Rick." He repeated more firmly, shoving his shoulder lightly to get his attention. "I w-wanna talk about something."

Rick pulled his goggles off harshly, turning to face Morty with a scowl. "Morty I'm in the– in the middle of something. C-can't this wait until after I get the battery on this stupid thing to work?"

Morty pouted. "It's important."

Rick gave a long suffering sigh, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "For fucks sake, Morty. You– you always wanna talk when I'm doing important science shit. What do you want?" He tossed his googles down onto the work bench, not bothering to look where they landed and reached inside his labcoat, grabbing his flask and taking a swig of a foul-smelling, likely alien liquor that Morty could smell even from where he stood on the other end of the work bench. He wrinkled his nose but continued.

"I-I-I've been real worried about you, Rick–"

"Oh, god." Rick interrupted with a large, rather dramatic groan. "Can I just kill myself in advance, or– or is attendance to this talk mandatory?" He rolled his eyes, taking another slightly larger sip from his flask.

Morty startled a little. "Rick! don't– don't say that." He said. His voice trembled a little, the resolve he'd been trying to build up crumbling.

Rick looked like he had another sarcastic comeback ready to go, but paused at Morty's watery eyes, his unibrow rising up into his hairline in surprise.

"Woah, woah, Morty, I was just– just kidding. I was just joking." His tone softened a little, clearly trying to be comforting but missing the mark, his discomfort palpable.

And Morty couldn't help it, he burst into tears.

"Shit, uh, don't cry, Morty. I, uh, it's okay... dawg."

Morty would've laughed a little at Rick's emotional constipation if it didn't feel like there wasn't any air getting into his lungs.

"Please don't kill yourself." was all he could get out between sobs. "P-please, grandpa Rick. I don't want you to die."

"I'm not killing m-my-myself." Rick cringed at the stutter. God, he was really out of his depth. He gulped down the rest of the contents of his flask like it was water and he had just spent all day in the boiling sun.

What was he suposed to do? What were his options right now? Call for Beth? No, not with Morty's cries for Rick not to kill himself, she would freak, and Jerry was useless, so he was left with only one option.

"Summer!"

He shook his hands out anxiously, trying to shake the stress out of them.

Summer pushed open the door. "What?" She drawled, and then caught a glimpse of Morty's sobbing form. "Oh, shit, what happened?"

"I don't know." Rick was practically vibrating with nervous energy, trying to keep his hands tightly at his sides now that Summer was watching. "I-I-I-I don't know w-w-what to do."

"Jeez, grandpa, breathe. Since when do you care about Morty being upset?"

Rick shrugged, fuck she was right, this wasn't how he acted normally, he needed to calm down, why was he so frazzled? A little voice in his head reminded him that he knew exactly why. He ignored it.

"Fuck you! Just– Just help me, Summer!"

"Calm down." She said, and then turned to Morty, who was crying quieter now, hands covering his face. "Morty, what's wrong?"

Rick held his breath.

"S-S-Summer..." Morty hiccuped.

"Yeah I'm here."

"I think grandpa Rick wants to kill himself."

Summer's eyebrows raised a little and her eyes widened, she tried to school her expression back into something neutral but she had clearly not been expecting that answer.

"I don't!" Rick immediately cut in but Morty began to cry harder again at that.

Summer shot him a look and Rick winced, retreating into a corner of the garage. He reached for a bright green bottle labled 'Water' in a different language. He'd gotten it from a small humid planet in the Ribble-Bob system, where what they considered water had a higher alcohol content than anything he could get his hands on on earth, and to Rick's delight, it was a hell of a lot cheaper. He had a stash of Ribble-Bobbian alcohol too, but it was so strong that it could knock out humans with even the highest tolerance with only a few shots. So he kept that for special occasions.

He watched silently as Summer calmed Morty down, throughts racing and neon green bottle emptying. It was pretty clear that Morty was very upset, even Rick in all his emotional ineptitude could see that, but he was struggling to descifer Summer's feelings. She seemed... annoyed at him? No, not quite. Rick frowned. The buzz that he'd began to feel wasn't helping any, he shook his head frustratedly. She was tense for sure, the whole room was thick with tension though.

Eventually Morty's quiet sobs stopped altogether and he wiped his eyes, quick to fix them on Rick as soon as tears weren't blurring his vison anymore.

Rick shifted awkwardly from his position on the floor, laying his legs flat in front of him in lieu of folded to his chest and slowly waving at Morty without making eye contact, unsure of what the fuck else to do.

"Can w-we backtrack a little?" Morty said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rick nodded, unusually quiet. His words felt stuck in his throat and he couldn't get them out.

Morty sighed a little, accepting he wasn't going to get anything out of Rick right now, and going on with what he had wanted to say. "Okay. I've been worried about you because w-when Evil Morty came here, when you had already left to get, um, that guy."

"Prime." Rick croaked, voice forced.

"Right, Prime. A-A-After you left to fight Rick Prime, Evil Morty asked me what I thought was gonna happen if you actually killed him, and he kind of suggested that you might... kill yourself."

"Evil Morty's full of shit." Rick rasped. "He doesn't even know me, we've met like w-what, three times?"

"I'm not done! Let me finish." Morty pouted. "Him saying that worried me be-because it made me think about all your reckless behaviour and how little you seem to care about your own life sometimes, you know."

Rick scoffed but Summer raised an eyebrow at him, so he just scowled and looked back down at his feet, letting Morty continue.

"I-I guess I'd never considered it before, I mean not seriously. Sure, I... wondered sometimes, b-but when Evil Morty said it like that, well, the more I thought about it the less... unrealistic it seemed, and you've just seemed so empty these past months, i was re-really worried." Morty's voice broke a little, but he pushed on. "Also he's seen your downloaded brain, so, y-y'know he would know, right? He wouldn't just be saying it for no reason."

"He was saying it to-to-to psych you out, Morty!" Rick stammered, gesturing wildly. "And it's working! Look how psyched out you are, M-Morty! This is what he wanted!"

"Why would Evil Morty want this?"

"Uh, because he's evil, Morty. Duh-doy."

"Okay!" Summer interrupted loudly. "This isn't getting anywhere."

"It would get somewhere if Morty would just-"

"Grandpa Rick! Stop. Can you both just listen to me? Or I'm putting you in a cage again until you actually prove you're not a danger to yourself."

Rick crossed his arms, glaring at her, but she glared right back, unwavering.

"Fuck, whatever." He grumbled, slumping back against the wall.

"Good." Summer said, turning serious again. "Now, how can you reassure Morty that you aren't going to hurt yourself?"

"He should just take my word for it!"

"You lie to me all the time!" Morty exclaimed.

"He has a point." Summer cut in again. "Why should he trust you? Especially if you're planning on killing yourself."

"Im not killing myself!"

"I don't believe you." Morty said, sounding miserable and hurt. Rick's shoulders slumped. He didn't have a good response to that.

The silence streched on uncomfortably, the atmosphere tense and serious. This was a real issue, which Morty knew Rick didn't like to deal with. His style was more like shoving his serious problems under the metaphorical carpet until he couldn't walk on it without feeling sharp pain wherever he stepped, until no one could walk on it at all.

"Well I don't believe you either." Summer said quietly. But I do have one idea." She pointed to her left and Rick and Morty's eyes followed her gaze to the lie detector Rick had stolen on his and Morty's adventure to Venzenulon-10.

Morty shuddered remembering it, he'd nearly fallen into lava that day and Rick had barely flinched. Would Rick even be doing this for him? He couldn't imagine him crying for Morty the way Morty had been crying for him just a few minutes ago.

"I'm not– A polygraph, Summer? Seriously? That's dumb, I'm not doing that shit, this isn't fucking Community."

"What? What the fuck is that?" Summer frowned.

"Community? What– you've never watched Community? Fuck, we-we've gotta watch it. Not Earth's one though, Glorbion-56C's version is way gayer, we gotta watch that one."

"Okay, sure, whatever. But first we have to finish this." Summer put her hands on her hips, not willing to budge.

"I agree with Summer." Morty pitched in, more meek, but still firm.

"Fine, fuck, whatever. You know polygraph tests are dumb, right? They might w-work on simple minded neurotypicals like Jerry, but I'm the fucking smartest man in the–"

"Grandpa, sit the fuck down."

Rick scowled, but sat down in the chair Summer pointed at, not without an eye roll. He knew that there was no stalling his way out of this one, Summer and Morty were both stubborn and he could see the poorly-concealed anxiety in their faces and demeanour, he knew they weren't going to let this go. He just hoped he really was smart enough to outsmart the lie detector.

"Okay, bring it on." He sighed, feigning boredom and disinterest.

Summer stumbled a little bringing the polygraph over to Rick's work bench, the machinery was heavier than it looked. The Venzenulons had a lot of really advanced technology but the planet Rick had gotten this specific machine on used bismuth in a lot of creations, making then heavier than they should be, but it was worth it, really, Venzenulon-10's technology and craftsmanship was miles ahead of Venzenulon-4's, or god forbid Venzenulon-22's. Rick almost chuckled to himself just thinking about it.

Summer finally set the polygraph machine down on the work bench with a thump and a groan from her and Rick let her fasten the little black strip aroud his finger.

"Take your labcoat off." Summer murmured absentmindedly, fiddling around with the slightly tangled wires.

"My labcoat stays on."

Summer gave him a look.

"Jeez, Rick, just take it off." Morty whined.

"No, fuck both of you. I-I-I'm already doing your dumb ass test and my labcoat being on literally has no effect on that stupid thing working, so both of you can lick my balls." He fumed.

"Jesus, grandpa. Cranky much?" Summer said sassily, putting a hand on her hip. "You can keep your dumb labcoat you're so in love with then."

She slid the cuff up Rick's arm, fastening it around his bicep.

"That's where it goes, right?" She asked. "How do i make the screen turn on?"

"Theres a-a switch on the back." Morty told her. "Just press that and it should work."

Summer felt along the back of the large screen before pressing down on the switch, making it light up with three wiggly graph-like things.

"Uhhh, grandpa how the hell do I read these?" Summer frowned.

"Don't– don't worry. This is like a lie detector for dummies, if you know how to read the lines, great, but it also just displays whether the answer is true or a lie when a question is asked. Ask me something you know the answer to."

"Uh, are your... eyes brown?"

"Yes."

The word "TRUE" flashed across the screen in bold green.

"Oh, tight, okay. We can get started, then. Morty, you ask whatever questions you have, I'll man the machine."

"Okay." Morty said, nerves making his voice wobbly. Rick took a deep breath.

"Do you want to kill yourself?" Morty asked and the garage went completely silent for a moment, air feeling so thick you could choke on it.

"No." Rick answered evenly.

Summer swallowed. "He's– he's telling the truth." She said shakily.

Morty breathed a sigh of relief. "Jeez, well that's– Phew, that's good. That's a relief."

Another beat passed and then Morty spoke again. "Have you ever wanted to kill yourself?"

"No."

"That's a lie."

Rick glared at Summer but she just shrugged, face unreadable to him.

"Aw jeez..."

"Oh come on, my-my whole family died right in front of my eyes, I've been tortured by- by countless aliens, been held prisoner, a guy can't even wonder?"

"Well, I mean, that is, that's– that's a good point you make there, Rick. But- but you wouldn't...? You've never actually tried to, like, actually kill yourself, right, Rick?"

"Obviously not. If– if I wanted to kill myself I would've, and I wouldn't fail, I'm a genius."

"R-right. So you haven't tried to kill yourself?"

"No, Morty."

Summer stared down at the monitor, lips pressed together in a tight line. "That's the truth." She said. her voice sounded a little weird but Morty was too relieved to really think about it.

"Thank god, Rick, wow. That's a really big relief to me, you know. Sorry I-I didn't believe you before, I was real just worried."

"Hey, it's all good, dawg. Don't even- don't even trip about it. You wanna go watch some Ball Fondlers, buddy?"

"Yeah!" Morty grinned, demeanor a lot more relaxed than it had been before. "Yeah, let's watch Ball Fondlers."

"What do ya say, Sum-Sum? Ball Fondlers?"

Summer flipped the switch on the machine, powering it back down. "I'm busy." She said, whipping out her phone "Have fun though."

Rick shrugged, detatching himself from the polygraph and tossing the cuff and finger strip onto the table. "Okay. Well I'm getting me some Nuptian weed, babyyy!"

"Aw jeez, Rick. You're getting high?"

"It's– it's better that way, Morty, trust me. Nuptian weed lets you see in 4D. In 4D, Morty! Really enhances the experience. Plus don't– don't you think I deserve to have a little buzz, it's been quite a day."

"I don't know, Rick. Didn't you drink like that whole bottle of liquor just now?" Morty asked, pointing to the discarded green bottle laying in the corner of the room.

"What? Morty, that's water, that's– it's practically water. It says water on the front of the bottle." Rick murmured, digging through one of his drawers before triumphantly pulling out a small transparent box filled with a bunch of purple-ish pink blunts and a lighter with a naked woman on it. "Ah, fuck yeah, Morty. I knew I still had some. Okay, come on, lets go."

Summer followed them out of the garage and then walked up the stairs, hearing their conversation get quieter as they got further away. She didn't let the first tear fall until she was in her room with the door shut.

"Shit." She breathed. "What the fuck."

She sat down with a small thud and hugged her knees to her chest.

She hoped the memory on the lie detector didn't back up, or that Morty didn't get curious and look through it one day, just to be sure.

Because if he did, he would just see the same word displayed four times in bold red.

"LIE"

the end hfjejsjw

this sucks arseee and its way too long and i dirnt really go over the second half but idc its 2am so sorry for any spelling errors and general shitty writing 😗 peace out, hope u enjoy

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

im sorry im breaking my anti fast for this bc its literally the most idiotic thing i have ever seen.

"some people hate sjm for the racism in her books"

yeah NO SHIT.

that has always been the point.

thats literally the entire point of being anti sjm posts. thats literally all we talk about in the anti tags. but shortsightedness and an unhealthy relationship with these characters has always blinded y'all to that fact.

you see this is why i could not stomach conversations because you guys constantly make a mockery of the problems in sjm's work and only acknowledge the problems for a 'gotcha' moment. EVERY SINGLE TIME we have talked about how the racism in sjm's work affects the writing of her characters you guys have made it into an anti feysand problem, and by doing that you have willingly separated yourself from the problems in the story. the reality is that the racism affects the way these characters are written -- including your favs. do not dare twist the main message of antis to fit some twisted little point you want to make toward specific blogs. i have been on my last account for over two years and EVERY TIME i -- or any anti -- has talked about the way sjm's racism bleeds onto the text we have been undermine, ran off our blogs, sent hate mail. so yeah it pisses me off to no end to be sent the dumbest post in the anti tags to ever exist. yall do not care about her racism, her misogynoir. if you did, you wouldn't be calling people brain dead for daring to dislike your favorite ship for valid reason -- i.e. the racism. we talked about the complexities of how racist the portrayal of the illyrians were -- and we were dismissed as anti feysand and therefore 'braindead.' we talked about the way women of color and the allusions of FGM (female genital mutilation)-- and we were called anti feysands and then dismissed. stay out of the anti tags -- especially if you are the ones perpetuating these dynamics. i was ran off my blog for discussing these issues for two years. y'all sent hate mail, called me tamlin stan -- called others tamlin stans -- for even daring to discuss the racism in sjm works. that's not even touching the nehemia situation, or crescent city. fuck off the tags. you literally have a blog dedicated to this woman and her racist ass characters, you shoot down any criticism of them because of it, and then yall have the nerve to come into the tags for the some hehe hahah tamlin stan bs??? double fuck off. the anti sjm tag has always been a place for that criticism. always.

addition: and these problems are not just valid when discussing characters you don't like. the illyrians are written to brutes, with the bat boys operating as the 'model minority'. the story justifies the lack of infrastructure, and the misogyny (misogynoir depending on how you classify illyrian women), the lack of progress.

'its a culture problem'

'rhysand has tried, but they wont listen'

like do you know how crazy it is to write a group of people as permanently mentally stunted? to classify their women as nameless entities that our main character can shift in and out of to satisfy her supposed 'man of color' sexually? feyre cosplays as a woman of color for SEX, meanwhile in FIVE BOOKS we've met one named illyrian woman and shes described 'interesting,' but not as pretty as opposed to nesta and gwyn, mor, and feyre who are the prettiest people to walk the earth. that don't sound CRAZY to yall??? these people of color are left without leadership, without infrastructure, no access to a golden city, no access to their high lord, are forced to breed out warriors who live and die without ever getting to enjoy the city of velaris, the house of wind for survivors. all of that so that the maincharacters can live out that power fantasy. its racist. thats what it is. please think consider reading comprehension b4 yall make these gotcha posts because it really stinks of weirdness.

the illyrians are treated like rabid animals by their leaders, by everyone and then the responsibility is on them to somehow progress when everyone is unwilling to give them nothing more than scraps. like there's a real life counterpart to this, and yall arguments are very real and very damaging.

they are written by the author to be a permanent second class deserving of their position because they're minds somehow cannot comprehend any 'progression.' all of these characters including rhysand, feyre, mor, az, cassian, tamlin, nesta say racist things toward them because THE NARRATIVE thinks they're justified in saying them. like the moralizing is wild in this case bc all of them are allowed to get away with it. its not just tamlin or nesta, not just the valkyries (which is an ENTIRELY different scenario btw). like the idea that all of the bad can be ascribed to the 'bad' characters and the 'good' characters somehow don't feed into those racist tropes is WILD. rhysand literally told us -- the reader -- the in the war against slaves and their oppressors somehow it was an equal battle. like?????? somehow 'both sides were at fault' ignoring that one side WAS LITERALLY SLAVES. like can u imagine if someone looked at the Haitian revolution and was like....yeah the side of the oppressors was somehow on equal footing when the other side WAS ENSLAVED? how can u acknowledge this author is racist and then pretend that the racism only bleeds over to the characters you *shockingly* don't like?? yes -- there is a problem with feyre wearing illyrian wings BECAUSE SHES THE HIGH LADY. she made herself that title. of course that carries a different weight. the racism is ingrained in the text, not just some little trinket to flash when you want to moralize bullying a small group of people with strawman arguments.

[redysetdare]

every time i see a post that is like "ughh why cant we have aspec characters who aren't aroace for once" I have to do a double take like "is the aroace rep in the room with us right now?" because genuinely....where is all this aroace rep y'all are complaining about? Why cant i find it yet it's apparently the only aspec rep we get?? You admit that TV never says the word aromantic so where is the aroace rep. So far I've pretty much only seen canonically asexual characters and not much else buddy.

[domoz]

An a/b/o mada/hika/tobi (in that order) something or other.

(Which I need you to understand, is not something I thought I'd ever be writing. But here we are.)

In this au high status alpha/omega pairs often take a beta or two into their household to act as an assistant/handmaid/servant/etc etc. which is what Hikaku is doing here.

The moment Tobirama enters the room, Madara goes stiff. At a glance nothing seems wrong, and Tobirama pauses, seemingly as surprised at the reaction as Hikaku is.

A closer look shows Madara's pupils have blown wide, which means this is probably one of those instinctual things -- what's caused it though, Hikaku isn't sure. A deep breath of his own mostly gets him a nose full of Madara's overpowering campfire scent; if Tobirama's is doing anything different he doesn't know the man well enough to tell.

It's… A little saltier, maybe? Nothing so extreme that he couldn't chalk it up to a shift in emotion --

"You're in pre-heat." Madara blurts.

Oh. Well then.

The exclamation seems to have shocked all three of them. Tobirama's lips part for a moment before his expression tightens.

"Apologies." He says, "It's earlier than usual. I did not realize."

They probably should have expected this, all things considered. Tobirama may not be a typical omega, but spending so much time in the house with the alpha he had recently married and consummated with would wreak havoc on anyone's biology. Or so Hikaku has heard.

"Well, what do you -- I mean --" Madara sputters, color rising to his cheeks, "How do you want to handle it?"

There's a brief flash of surprise across Tobirama's face, one so small it would likely be missed by someone who's not an Uchiha, but it's there. Almost like he hadn't been expected to be asked.

"…I understand that I'm expected to bear your heirs." Tobirama says at length, "But if it is an option, I would like to wait to do so until after peace is more stable."

Until he knows they won't be born right back into another war. Madara nods, lets out a slow breath of his own.

(Breaths in through his mouth, Hikaku notices, but Tobirama's scent still seems so mild, to him).

"In that case, I think it's best if Hikaku takes care of you." Madara grunts.

Hikaku feels his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and wonders if Tobirama is looking at his clan head with a matching look of incredulity. What Madara's asking for isn't unheard of, but for a newly mated couple's first heat…

"I'm not ordering you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." Madara clarifies, voice rising in pitch. His face has gone a lovely puce, but he doesn't take it back. "Either of you. Use your best judgement! But if we're trying to avoid… That, it shouldn't be me."

"…Right." Hikaku says, suddenly feeling dizzy. He's not actually ever experienced an unrelated omega's heat firsthand. He's heard plenty of stories, but all they're serving to do in this moment is leave him feeling woefully under-prepared.

But. He thinks with sudden clarity. Tobirama is hardly the kind of omega you hear about in stories. In cases like these it's best to just…

"Well then. Tobirama-san." He clears his throat and tries to fight off his own rising blush, "How do you want me to help?"

There's the twitch of an eyebrow again, the barely there surprise.

"Boil some water for tea and bring it to my rooms." Tobirama says after a moment. He hesitates where he stands in the doorway, and the silence stretches so long that it must mean that he wants to say something more, but some pride or embarrassment is stopping him.

Hikaku has already given in that he's not going to get out of this situation (this entire arrangement, really) with his pride unscathed, so he forces a smile and asks, "Would it be helpful for me to bring something that smells…" He nods at Madara, who is all but hiding behind his hair at this point. Like an alpha, he means, like Madara, like your mate.

Tobirama tilts his head in consideration, no trace of whatever had been stopping him, which meant this likely wasn't what he had been considering at all.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt." He says.

Madara gapes open mouthed for a moment before ducking his head.

"Okay. I can just…" Madara pulls off his haori, looks at it pensively for a moment before rubbing the fabric on his face and neck. Hikaku politely pretends not to notice the way Tobirama is watching with rapt attention.

Seeing as how Tobirama is across the room and how Madara appears to be entirely resistant to getting any closer, he hands the garment to Hikaku, who fights to keep himself from making a face as he folds it over his arm.

It would be a wildly inappropriate time to laugh. Still, the urge is there.

Tobirama clears his throat.

"That should be fine." He says, "You may also wish to bring a book."

He turns and flees back to his room before Hikaku can ask for clarification.

With the omega gone, Hikaku lets himself sigh. Quiet enough that it doesn't draw Madara's attention away from where Tobirama just left. He looks like he's about to vibrate out of his skin.

"…Madara-sama." He says tentatively, and those dark eyes snap to him, "Do you think you could handle a patrol, right now?"

It's one of the best ways he knows to help Madara get his instincts under control, letting him guard his territory and deem it safe. At the suggestion, his clan head all but shoots to his feet.

"Yes." Madara says, and now that the mortification has passed his voice is so low it's almost a growl. "I'm going to -- yes."

Hikaku looks down. He has plenty of reason to be blushing right now so if he is, it hardly matters. He swallows hard and reminds himself that this isn't about him.

Madara takes a step towards the front door, then another before pausing.

"…Good luck."

Madara, too, disappears out the door before Hikaku can formulate a response. With him gone, too, Hikaku groans and thumps his head against the table.

This is what you signed up for. He reminds himself, you knew this could happen.

The possibility had been there yes, but reality has him feeling so nervous that his hands are shaking when he forces himself up to boil the water for tea.

Hikaku scowls at them. Trained shinobi, and here he is getting shaky over the possibility of helping an omega through their heat. Tobirama is the omega in question, so he supposes some slack could be allowed, but still.

He only has until the water is boiling to dither around, then with another deep breath (and the room still smells mostly like Madara even now) he walks to where Tobirama is waiting for him, tea tray balanced on one hand, Madara's haori and book of poetry under the other arm-- which he's still got no clue about, but Tobirama suggested it and he's just --

He's just… Here to help, that's all.

Hands full as they are, it's awkward to rap on the door, but Hikaku manages, and also to maneuver it open when after a moment Tobirama calls, "Come in."

The pale omega is sitting cross legged on the floor, a series of tins open in front of him, the contents of which he appears to have meticulously measured and mixed together.

"You can set the tray here." Tobirama gestures to the floor in front of him, "And-- hm. You may as well put on the haori."

Hikaku does not allow himself to make a sound of surprise at that, but he knows his face must be burning scarlet.

He really, really hopes that Tobirama isn't going to ask him to pretend to be Madara. Still, he pulls the over-large garment over his shoulders and shakily falls to his knees to sit across from Tobirama.

This is not how he'd imagined he might end up with Madara's clothes on.

The herbal smell of whatever mixture Tobirama has put together is strong; it too almost overpowers the sea-salt scent of what must be the omega's pre-heat smell, and it only grows stronger when he opens the teapot and dumps it in to steep.

"I would offer you some, but I can reliably inform you that it tastes abysmal." Tobirama says without inflection. Hikaku blinks.

"I take it that it's medicinal?"

Tobirama nods.

"It helps shorten heats and lessens their symptoms, among other things."

Oh, well that's…

Hikaku feels some of the weight leave his shoulders. However this goes, he can at least take some relief in knowing it won't be as bad as it could have been.

They sit in silence as the tea steeps, and then as Tobirama pours a cup without giving Hikaku the chance to do it for him. That taken from him, all Hikaku can do is observe and try not to fidget.

Now that he's noticed it, that ocean-breeze smell is really starting to fill the room. It's not a bad scent, he decides. Objectively speaking.

When Tobirama finishes, he sets down his cup without making a sound. Hikaku forces himself to breath, to not allow himself to grow tense again, because surely that will make everything that comes next more difficult.

"My heats are usually quite mild." Tobirama says at last, "With this, I'm often able to ignore them entirely, except for how they cause others to behave. Though the fact that its come early may hint that something has changed, I don’t anticipate anything too extreme."

"…Okay." Says Hikaku, throat dry, "How do you want me to help?"

Tobirama blinks, and now that he's looking, Hikaku can see the way all of Tobirama's movement has gone just a little sluggish.

"Just…Hm. Sit on the futon, for now."

Mechanically, Hikaku nods and moves to sit at the head of the futon. It's got a few extra blankets on it, he notes, but not the huge amount he's heard to expect from a nest. Maybe this is all a utilitarian man like Tobirama needs?

Tobirama sits next to him after a moment, purses his lips.

"… Stay like that." He says.

So Hikaku does -- stays frozen in place as Tobirama all but drapes himself over Hikaku's lap, loops one arm loosely around his waist, buries his face near his side where the fabric of the haori is bunched together. The omega shifts. Gets comfortable. Sighs.

"Is it true that you can smell me in heat and not feel the instinct to do anything?"

"…Yes." Says Hikaku. He thinks so, at least, because he's still not entirely certain what people mean when they talk about having instincts like that, "When I smell you I just… Think it smells nice. That's all."

"…That seems useful." Comes Tobirama's voice after what feels like an age, muffled by fabric "To not be ruled by your urges."

"…It has it's drawbacks." Hikaku admits, "I can't tell what a stranger is feeling through scent alone, and some social cues pass me by entirely."

There's a reason betas don't often enter the world of politics, after all. Entire conversations can be had just through scent.

"Hm." Is all Tobirama has to say in response to that, and then, "If you wish to pet my hair, feel free. Otherwise, I am going to nap."

"Oh." Says Hikaku blankly. "Alright."

For the moment, at least, there is no grinding or biting or leaking like Hikaku has heard often accompanies heats. Maybe if he doesn't draw attention to it, there wont be.

This, he supposes, is why Tobirama recommended him to bring a book. Which does come in handy, because Tobirama is apparently content to lay like that for hours.

After the first, Hikaku works up the courage to run his hand through Tobirama's hair, just once. It's soft, and the man doesn't respond at all because he is well and truly asleep.

After the second, Hikaku's legs start to cramp, but he remains still. This is well within the realm discomforts he's to handle as a shinobi, after all, and less than he thought he'd be feeling today.

After the third, Tobirama rolls off of his legs and blinks up blearily at him.

"If you're invested in helping, you could consider telling Madara to stop stalking back and forth outside."

Madara was --?

Well, he had been doing it unobtrusively to anyone but one of the best sensors in the world. To have done a patrol of Uchiha lands in three hours, though… Hikaku hadn't thought him so eager to return.

He takes a moment to stretch out his legs before making for the door. When he slides it open, he's immediately hit by the smell -- not just a campfire but spicy, now too.

Hikaku hadn't recognized the change in Tobirama's smell, but he's known Madara long enough to know what he smells like going into a rut.

They should have predicted this, too. After all, his new mate had gone into heat right in front of him. Personal feelings for each other aside, it would have been more surprising if this didn't happen.

Madara freezes from where he's clearly been pacing the corridor, eyes zeroing first on Hikaku, and then on the room behind him.

This, at least, Hikaku has an idea of how to deal with.

"Hold on a moment." He says. Closes the door.

"Tobirama.-san" He turns to the omega, who has been watching the proceedings with half lidded eyes, "May I borrow one of the blankets you've been lying on?"

"Mm?" Tobirama hums, "Ah. I see."

When he pulls the blanket out from under himself, Tobirama, too, nuzzles his face into it for a moment, before holding it out to Hikaku. He's decidedly less ashamed about the whole ordeal, though whether that's because he's currently in heat, or just because he's a shameless man, Hikaku can't say.

"Thank you." He says, and doesn't bother folding the blanket, because the moment he opens the door again and holds it out to Madara, the man snatches it from him, eyes blown wide.

"Do you need anything else, Madara-sama?" He asks.

Madara doesn't even seem capable of mustering words right now. He shakes his head, and retreats down the hallway without ever turning his back to Hikaku. When he finally ducks into his own room, all Hikaku can do is shake his head and fight back a fond smile.

It's a bit like introducing two cats to each other, he thinks dryly. But it can be done.

[agirlinthegalaxy]

It's been rolling around in my brain the last few days for some reason, but I still hate the family backstory reveals for Sophie and Eliot. I've seen some of the meta for it, but quite frankly, it still makes no sense. If it had been something actually thought of and intentional in the original, I think it could have been so fascinating. I mean, Sophie's willing abandonment of Astrid to contrast with Nate's loss of Sam or Eliot's adoption in contrast with Hardison's and Parker's? Could have been excellent! But they came out of nowhere in Redemption and don't work with these characters.

Sophie was still actively using the fucking alias that she met Astrid under! She met with someone from her past on the show! Like. Quite frankly, that one is unequivocally bullshit that they made up and threw in and pretended could fit with the established canon. (And I'm sorry, but the idea of Sophie abandoning Astrid and never telling Nate about her just... So much of Nate's trauma was rooted in the loss of Sam, and I think that introducing this element after he's gone and unable to respond to it taints Sophie and Nate's relationship in a way bc I'm not exactly sure how Nate would've responded to learning about this but I think that it's something he'd have needed to know. I don't know how to fully express my thoughts on that but yeah.)

As for Eliot, I don't like the adoption aspect literally at all. The way that he would interact with his family and the memory of his family would be different, and I think that it's flat out ridiculous to think that he'd have never mentioned it to the team in the original show, especially when dealing with the kid cases. (I also dislike the biracial adoption as its own element because if Eliot was actually raised by Black parents in the... idk what 80s/90s? That just. doesn't feel congruent with how they write Eliot interacting with PoC, not necessarily in a bad way, but babe, he's written like a white southern man raised in a specific kind of culture that does not jell with that. It also makes Eliot look... really bad that he was apparently raised with the knowledge of how fucked up the military was and his parents' history and made the choices that he did.) Like the show may not have explicitly stated it but the implication of that relationship was vastly fucking different throughout the original show.

Just. These were not backstories that were congruent with their depiction and characters in the original show, and they're also just moves that I don't particularly like or find interesting directions for those characters. There's also something to be said about how it was apparently unacceptable for a woman to not have kids or someone not reconciling with their biological family when that was something that the original show handled a lot better. Out of all the directions to take Sophie and Eliot's stories, that's just not really one that I think was a good idea.

[geekthefreakout]

The GaaNaru Letters (part 1 of ?)

AN: this might not be anything, but its been floating in my head. It's a tumblr post instead of going on Ao3 because it's lower commitment rn.

Dear Gaara,

Heh, it's weird calling you dear when we only kinda know each other. But Iruka-sensei said that's how letters are supposed to start. This is my first time writing to someone else- all my friends are in my village! Anyway, I just wanted to see how you are after that asswhooping I gave you! That's not me bragging, by the way. It's just. You seemed lonely. Like I told you back then, I know what that pain is like. I guess I want to help you with it. And I think you and me have something else in common, too. Do you know what I mean? Anyway, everyone knows that the Sand village only attacked the Leaf because Orochimaru-bastard was manipulating you, so I don't think we have to be enemies anymore. That snakey bastard killed the Third Hokage, but I heard he killed your Hokage too? I hope you get this and write back, maybe?

Love From, Uzumaki Naruto

Uzumaki Naruto,

I have been informed that honorifics are not required at the beginning of letters if one does not wish to include them. Unless this is one of the cultural differences between the Leaf and the Sand, you should not feel obliged to use "dear" for me. This is also my first time writing a letter to someone. I am not sure what to say, but I will answer your questions.

I think I do know what you mean, if you are referring to that red chakra that you summoned. Do you have a monster within you as well? It is difficult to imagine.

Orochimaru did indeed kill our kage, though the Sand Village has a Kazekage, rather than Hokage. Rather than in a great battle such as befell your leader, the Kazekage seems to have been murdered on the sly. That man was my father. I am told that most children mourn their fathers. I have not mourned anyone since Yas I was small, and I see no need to change that. Perhaps if my father did not try to assassinate me so often, I would feel differently. At any rate, my siblings are too afraid of me to press the issue.

You, however, are not afraid of me. Despite the damage I wrought on your friends and your village, you are still reaching out. I find myself wondering why? Perhaps we are not actively enemies, but we are not allies either. What use am I to you? Why should it matter to you that I am lonely?

Why did you weep for me, Uzumaki Naruto?

From,

Gaara of the Desert

Dear Gaara,

I already said- I know what your kind of loneliness is like, and I want to help! It's not some big complicated thing. You don't have to have a use to me, you know? Except maybe to talk about stuff.

Like the monster thing. This is kind of a secret so I probably shouldn't confirm or deny that I have a giant demon fox sealed inside me, but I want to tell you. I've never met anyone like me before, you know? Even if yours is different, with the sand and the crazy laughing and all. Mine doesn't laugh, he's just mean and grumpy and scary. When did you first know about yours? Have you always been able to use its power?

I'm sorry about your dad. Not that he's dead, but that he was an asshole! And I guess that he's dead too. I can see how that would be complicated. Did he try to kill you because of your demon? It's not how I would do things. I don't know who my parents are, or were, but I hope they wouldn't do that to me. I think parents are supposed to support their kids no matter what!

I guess it makes sense for your siblings to be scared of you when you do scary things, but I heard you apologize to them back then. So if you're trying to do better by them, they should give you a chance!

I'm going on a journey with Pervy Sage soon to look for our next Hokage-- whoever it is better meet my approval, because I'll be the next Hokage after that, believe it! And I want to get the job from someone awesome. Anyway, if I'm not in the village I'm not sure how to get mail so if I don't reply for a while it's cuz I'm out there being awesome!

Also- didn't forget what you did. You tried to hurt my friends, and that's not okay. But I kicked your ass about it already, so as far as I'm concerned it's all settled. So don't keep thinking there's something bad between us!

Sincerely (This is a new sign off I learned. It's nicer than From!), Uzumaki Naruto

PS: Iruka-sensei said you're right about the "dear" thing, but your name looked kinda naked if I didn't write it, so I'm gonna keep using it, OK?

Uzumaki Naruto,

Your answers leave me with more questions, but I will continue asking them as long as you are amenable.

My demon is the One-tail, Shukaku. He does laugh a lot, though it is not a pleasant sound. I have always known about him, for his voice has always been in the back of my mind. Furthermore, I was told outright when I had a strong enough grasp of language. Your question implies that you have not always known about yours. You called it a demon fox- could it be the Nine-tails? Is he truly so quiet that you could be unaware of him? As for tapping into Shukaku's abitilities, that has not always been conscious on my part. He is often eager to emerge and inflict is insanity upon others, so if I fall asleep he will take over on his own.

Needless to say, I am seldom allowed to sleep.

Shukaku is one reason my father tried to kill me. The other is that I killed my mother the day I was born. My existence has always been fueled by blood. I am not sure if I can change that. Can my siblings be blamed for resenting me?

Are genin often involved in the selection of political figures in the Leaf? Perhaps that is more efficient. In the Sand, it seems that the council just sits and talks in circles. My team's sensei, Baki, has taken a leadership position there, but has not assumed the title of Kazekage. I assume it is because the council wants him free to keep an eye on me. They are not sure what I will do. I am not sure either. For now, I have tried to appease them with silence. I do not wander at night, and I have not hurt anybody since our return from the Leaf. I have kept to myself. I can't say if it is doing any good. Temari and Kankuro speak gently to me, but I see the fear in their eyes if I move unexpectedly.

You keep saying that you "kicked my ass." No one has ever done that before. Yet I seem to recall you being unable to move at the end as well. Did I "kick your ass" too?

It is interesting that you view our fight as an instrument of peace between us two. Perhaps if I let Kankuro hit me, he will stop jumping whenever I speak.

I like your new sign off, so I will use it.

Sincerely,

Gaara of the Desert

TBC, possibly

PART 2

[atinyladybug-art]

Abirt Kravitz (Dr Bright Rewrite)

Up-close fullbody:

My Dr Bright rewrite! I'm so happy to finally get it done! His name is Abirt Kravitz and he's currently the second oldest out of all 5 Kravitz Siblings. He's also O5-7.

Not much have changed since my former Bright designs other than a change from the amulet and I made him look older and fixed his colours a bit more.

There's still other stuff that I haven't decided on- like their anomalies and backstory. And the 963 Design is not permanent. It's what I'm going with right now until I get some better ideas.

Anyways, some fun facts about Abirt:

Xe uses any pronouns!

Has multiple doctorates and masters because he's old and has a lot of free time but he's most well-known for his specialty in history making him a historian!

He has 3 kids but they went missing years ago (a lore of its own).

Dating Simon Glass! They are your local elderly queer couple!

If the name Abirt is familiar then you're right! It's actually the name for Bright in the Bellerverse canon after they all became gods to the new world!

And the O5-7 part came from the newer series where Jack has been written as part of the council. I really like that idea. Being O5-7 specifically came from SCP-5493 and The Foundation is Broke.

Also! The character description is written in the O5 Command Dossier method

Image Text under the cut:

Abirt Kravitz

O5-7 | The Eternal

Genderfluid. Jewish origin. Unknown age though rumoured to have been above 2 centuries. Varying appearance with a favour of accessories and jewelry. Said to have gained immortality from a cursed bloodline.

O5-7 plays the role of personnel director. He is in-charge of overseeing all personnel designation within the Foundation. Is also said to personally run at least 3 different Foundation sites in-person.

Known for their lack of formalities and charisma. Within Foundation staff, however, he is known for his irritability and extreme high expectations.

One of the most active O5s with connections everywhere.