#if i were to depict his “plan” more honestly it would also have a lot of ???? steps before step 1 here

[kwillow]

Does Theo even have a game plan to stave off poverty? Or is he just going to eventually end up dead and destitute in a gutter somewhere? 😩

Sure, he has a plan. It is, um… elegant in its simplicity, shall we say.

Listen, Theo is an intelligent guy if we measure by fact recall and ability to learn new skills, but he’s not much of a planner, more of a single-minded, self-destructive, do-or-die-er.

Thankfully for him, he’s not so poor he’s about to starve. Before his mother died, they were getting by. They were poor for the circles they traveled in - political players and dignitaries, where poverty is defined by the inability to maintain a large household staff instead of not knowing where your next meal is going to come from.

Theo has enough money stashed away to maintain his current hermit’s lifestyle, wherein his only real splurge is eating something other than canned food once every few months. So you don’t need to worry about him (for a while, anyway).

In theory, he could shore up his finances by doing what he is supposed to as Northcrest’s resident mage instead of going crazy alone in his house. Collecting fees or tax proceeds in exchange for using magic to help the public is how his family historically earned their keep, but he hasn’t exactly been holding up his end of the bargain. Many townspeople think he died at some point, so they’ve stopped bothering to set aside funds for work he’s not doing for reasons of apparent laziness, madness or decomposition. That's a little bit of money he could get his hands on, but he's too busy chasing his pipe-dream/nightmare instead.

Even if he did end up running out of money completely, he wouldn’t end up a corpse in a gutter anyway. He’d sooner die than let anyone take his manor from him. So he’s end up a corpse in a decaying old mansion instead! Much more dignified.

[reasonsforhope]

Kamala Harris just announced that her vice president will be Minnesota governor Tim Walz. Based on the coverage so far I'm really reassured by this decision.

The Washington Post did an obviously great job of making a prepared article for each option, considering how long an article they had up 7 minutes after the announcement.

((Okay technically it's not an official announcement yet it's "according to three people familiar with the pick, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a decision that is not yet public." But listen. I am 99% sure this is a weather balloon. (Meaning: a deliberate leak to gauge reaction.) Because the sheer weakness or incompetence on the part of the Harris campaign that it would take for three people to all confirm that within a few hours hours of each other and the planned announcement it is massive.))

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

Honestly this decision, from everything I've read and can tell, looks like it's brilliant politics.

Important Context: The vice president(ial candidates)'s job in an election is not to be similar to the president. The vice president's job on the ballot is very, very much specifically to be different from the president. Why? So they can cover each others' weaknesses. Especially regionally.

(Sidenote: I feel a bit ridiculous saying this. But genuinely if you want to get a stronger understanding of how US elections really work. Go watch seasons 6 and 7 of The West Wing. Genuinely, a lot of politicians have said - especially back in its day - that that was the most accurate depiction of an election they'd ever seen. Also specifically features an entire arc about a contested Democratic primary convention, so also very good if you're interested in understanding weird nominating convention shenanigans.)

From the article:

"Harris’s choice for a running mate was among the most closely watched decisions of her fledgling campaign, as she sought to bolster the ticket’s prospects for victory in November and rapidly find someone who could be a governing partner. In picking Walz, she has selected a seasoned politician with executive governing experience and signaled the importance of Midwestern battleground states such as Wisconsin and Michigan.

Walz’s foray into politics came later in life: He spent more than two decades as a public school teacher and football coach, and as a member of the Army National Guard, before running for Congress in his 40s. In 2006, he defeated a Republican to win Minnesota’s 1st Congressional District--a rural, conservative area--and won reelection five times before leaving Congress to run for governor.

Walz was first elected governor in 2018 and handily won reelection in 2022. Though little-known outside his state, Walz emerged publicly as one of the earliest names mentioned as a possible running mate for Harris, and in the ensuing days he made the rounds on television as an outspoken surrogate for the vice president...

“These are weird people on the other side. They want to take books away, they want to be in your exam room. … They are bad on foreign policy, they are bad on the environment, they certainly have no health care plan, and they keep talking about the middle-class,” Walz told MSNBC in July. “As I said, a robber baron real estate guy and a venture capitalist trying to tell us they understand who we are? They don’t know who we are.”

Walz also has faced criticism from Republicans that his policies as governor were too liberal, including legalizing recreational marijuana for adults, protecting abortion rights, expanding LGBTQ protections, implementing tuition-free college for low-income Minnesotans and providing free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren in the state.

But many of those initiatives are broadly popular. Walz also signed an executive order removing the college-degree requirement for 75 percent of Minnesota’s state jobs, a move that garnered bipartisan support and that several other states have also adopted.

“What a monster. Kids are eating and having full bellies, so they can go learn, and women are making their own health-care decisions,” Walz said sarcastically in a July 28 interview with CNN when questioned whether such policies would be fodder for conservative attacks, later adding: “If that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the [liberal] label.”

Walz also spoke at a kickoff event in St. Paul for a Democratic canvassing effort, casting Trump as a “bully.”

“Don’t lift these guys up like they’re some kind of heroes. Everybody in this room knows--I know it as a teacher--a bully has no self-confidence. A bully has no strength. They have nothing,” Walz said at the event, sporting a camouflage hunting hat and T-shirt.

Walz has explained that he felt some Democrats’ practice of calling Trump an existential threat to democracy was giving him too much credit, which prompted his decision to denounce the GOP nominee instead as being “weird.”

“I do believe all those things are a real possibility, but it gives him way too much power," Walz said on CNN’s “State of the Union” regarding the Democrats’ rhetoric. “Listen to the guy. He’s talking about Hannibal Lecter, shocking sharks, and just whatever crazy thing pops into his mind.”

If Walz is elected vice president, under state law, Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan (D) would assume the governorship for the rest of his term. Minnesota Senate president Bobby Joe Champion, a Democrat, would become lieutenant governor."

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

--

This guy. Sounds like. fucking Moderate swing-state/rural/Midwestern/southern/"heartland"/working class white voter catnip. He sounds like he's also a very smart politician and strong campaigner. And he's apparently genuinely a good guy with a good record, too.

He sounds like he's going to do a really good job of appealing to voters in several of the big deal swing states without being from any of them specifically. Which means it doesn't feel like pandering to one of the states involved (and thereby spurning the others), which is also great.

(Also he was the one who started "weird" @ conservatives and I think we should take that seriously as a very good political instinct/move. Judging in large part by how it has so clearly hit an actual nerve with conservatives like so little else. Also hugely relevant: that post going around about how part of why conservatives are so upset about "weird" is because in the Midwest, "weird" specifically also implies anti-social or harmful behavior.)

Officially feeling more optimistic about Trump not winning in November

[yenqa]

ADVANTAGES

in which…

on jay’s live, fans point out a stuffed animal on his bed, one that seems to be the other piece to your notorious missing pair. as imaginary pieces start to connect for fans, the viewers beg for some kind of interaction. and though you and jay have never met before, why not use this situation to your advantage?

warnings : crying, panic attacks, depression is depicted but isnt really said, lots of bad self talk, food/eating, having no appetite, just lots of bad mental health talk and depictions, hurt/comfort, god this chapter is PACKED

wc: 1829

i’m sorry that i couldnt be your teenage dream.

not proofread!

☆

It had been a week and a half since you had seen anyone.

Well other than the cashiers at the local grocery store but that made you look even more pathetic. 

You haven’t been well, at all.

It was a horrible sight, honestly you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror without cringy. You had no productivity and had planned to do nothing for as long as possible. 

You were surprised your body hasn't exploded yet, since all you had ate was instant ramen or the three meals you could cook total. 

Today was one of the worse-r days. Three hours into the new day but your mind couldn’t seem to sleep one bit.

You had zero appetite, your room was a mess, it was worse that you couldn’t even sleep away the days even though you were so tired. Your eyes were glued shut at night but your body couldn’t stop fighting the feeling of sleep. 

So here you were, eye bags almost able to give the color purple a run for its money, and so puffy it felt like a balloon was stuck in there. But your eyes hadn’t shed any tears, instead you felt like nothing. Like you were just floating around with no purpose or any feeling at all.

The empty feeling in your head made you unable to do anything but scroll on your phone, letting hours after hours pass by rewatching your favorite show at least a billion times. It seemed like the world had gone gray, like the world was ending and you were the only one feeling it.

A part of you screamed at yourself to get a grip, to stop being so dramatic and realize there are still good things in life. 

You tried to get better, you really did. You had researched on how to get over this drought but you never could. So every night you would lay in your bed, trying to figure out what was wrong with you.

Mornings have always been your least favorite part of the day. But it seemed to get worse with every second that passed. 

Realizing you still had a whole day ahead of you seemed utterly impossible to finish, but still you would reach your hand out to the finish line, only to miss every time.

You had six hours until it was the appropriate time to wake up. You couldn’t call anyone for help, you couldn’t text anyone in the middle of the night. It was your burden, so you had to keep it to yourself and hope and pray it washes away over time.

Your phone has been your only sense of livelihood during your dull days. If you had been wasting hours after hours at least you had been doing something. 

Before you could think of the consequences, you had thought of searching yourself on the internet, just for fun. You clicked on the first source, hoping that someone would see your side of the story.

No it was not fun–you wish you could warn yourself because the title of the article read; “All you need to know about Y/niora and why she’s trending”

We’ve all seen the names “Y/n” or “Y/niora” trending on X, who is she? Some might wonder. In this article I’ll be going over everything she’s done wrong, and why fans hate her for it.

Y/n is a popular streamer on twitch, known for her funny commentary and her boyfriend Jay, but recently she’s shown a darker side to her.

Her boyfriend, Jay, is also a twitch streamer, a much more popular one at that. He’s known for his good looks and his random reactions that have us crying with laughter, but why would he date a nobody like her? 

If you’ve seen Y/niora’s X account, you can see that she posts provocative photos of herself, things that only lead to temptations of male fans. Fans speculate this is the reason they met, saying that she seduced him and used him for money, fame, and views.

If you know anything about streaming, you know BlueJay and his friends. Who stole the internet's hearts with their looks and cute personalities. But things start picking up between Jay and Y/n when she posts their matching stuffed animals, officially presenting their relationship to the world.

This seems to be a bad move on Y/n’s part, as her facade starts slipping through and we get to see her for the calloused person she is. 

She continuously shows her disinterest in anything he’s saying. Making him repeat everything he’s said to her. This strikes up the question, does she really care about him or her fans?

Arguments of this exact topic have been trending among fans, some saying

You closed your phone before you could read anything else. Flipping your body over you could feel tears start to form in your eyes, your vision goes blurry and your breath starts hiccuping. 

Wiping your wet cheeks, you start to panic when you feel like your throat is closing up, placing your hand on your chest to try to calm yourself down. 

That clearly doesn’t work. As you swear you can feel the walls closing in beside you. In a last effort to stop your ugly sobs, you open your phone once more, your breath quickens when you open the phone app, calling the person that you need the most right now.

The ringing on your phone shakes you more, “Please answer, please answer, please answer.” You croak out desperately, glancing at your window to realize it’s the middle of the night, and he’s probably getting the nice sleep he deserves. 

Unlike you who only makes things worse, and can’t even get a wink of sleep at night.

You sob harder after the fifth ring, realizing that he’s not going to answer. And you have to do this on your own–

“Y/n? Are you okay?” His voice brings relief to your ears, that’s until you realize the state you’re in. 

“Jay I’m so–so so sorry for calling you this late.” You rasp out, “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t stop shaking and crying, I just–fuck” Bringing your hand up, you grab a fist of your hair, not knowing what to do or say.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You choke through, words barely coherent.

“I’m coming. Stay there, okay?”

“Okay.” 

His tone is so soft it scares you. How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing the mess you made? How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing that you are burdening him at such a late hour?

Your throat tries its best to keep your hammering heart inside your chest, but it closes up, your breath is so uneven you're not even sure you’re breathing at all. 

That is until you let out a soft apology into your phone, but it’s covered by your staggered breathing, and the sound of you stuffing up your snot back into your nose.

The silence coming from him is apparently meant to drive you insane. Because the nausea of it all starts to get to you, your condition is crippling so you can’t even move from your curled up position on your bed.

You can hear your door slam open, eliciting a strong flinch from you. 

Your heart seems to be racing too fast for your liking, almost like it’s fighting to get out of your chest. “Jay?” You mutter, as you can see his dark silhouette standing through the doorway. 

Before you can actually decipher if the man is actually Jay or just some random burglar who found your spare key, you feel his arms wrap around your body, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. 

You conclude that it’s Jay’s warmth you’re feeling right now.

For a second you feel safe, for a second you feel like he’s just hugging you, not because you are literally having a panic attack. 

That snaps you back into reality. God were you really having a panic attack over an article? That you chose to read? 

Feeling your chest tighten and your eyes water up, you tuck your head impossibly deeper, letting your tears and snot get all over his shirt. 

It’s grossing you out how you can physically feel his shirt dampen with your tears, but you’re too focused on figuring out how to breathe rather than the mess you made on his shirt.

“You can let it out, or you can just cry, I don’t mind.”

You sob even harder than you were before.

He’s so warm. He’s so warm. And you have no idea why it’s the perfect descriptor for him. 

“Jay,” You mutter, being muffled by his shoulder, “I’ve ruined everything.”

His arm rubs your back gently, “You haven’t ruined anything, pretty.” He whispers, talking like if he speaks any louder you’ll crack into hundreds of pieces (you actually might but that’s not the point).

“I have! You can’t even deny it without lying,” You hiccup, “I mean—I’m trying so hard, but I can’t do anything right.” You pull your head back to look up at him.

He stays silent, letting his hand cup your face, wiping away any tears that fall down.

“And I’m so tired. I’m so tired of doing everything I can but still being hated for not doing enough. I mean who wouldn’t? I can’t even cook a proper meal, it just goes to show how hopeless I am.”

“Y/n you can’t possibly think about yourself.”

“I can because it’s the truth.”

He tucks your head back into his shoulder, “Y/n, not being able to cook a proper meal is okay. Some people never learn how to cook an egg.”

Your breathing calms down slightly, you let out a small chuckle, trying to stay forever in his warmth.

“I’m sorry for calling you here so late, I know you’re tired from streaming or something.”

“I could never stay away from you for too long, even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

Letting out a breathy smile, you look back at his face, a small smile spreads through his face looking at you.

Your eyes were tired, for the first time in a week your body was tired. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you, Jay, seriously.”

He gets up from your position, you feel the absence of his warmth even though he just got up, he’s about to walk out the door when you build up the courage to ask, “Can you stay? Just for tonight?”

Looking back, there's a smile on his face as he replies “Always.”

Walking back to you, he lays himself under your blanket, tucking you in before wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest.

And for the first time in what felt like forever. You fall asleep, in Jay’s arms.

☆

back masterlist next

yenqa > um title is reference to teenage dream by olivia rodrigo! umm hope u enjoyed while i ripped my heart out and put it in my writing… thanks!

taglist (CLOSED): @yeokii @hanniluvi @euncsace @jongsiemain @mrchweeee @fakeuwus @ashy1um @rikisly @filmofhybe @nwjws @yizhoutv @soov @tocupid @tzke1ta @yannew @manooffline @mars101 @haechansbbg @enhaz1 @teddywonss @en-happiness @kim2005bomi @be0mlvr @luvswonyoung @flwoie @lilriswife4life @nicholasluvbot @ikeusol @lylovw @alwayswook @astrae4 @choi-beomgyulvr @aishigrey @infpistj @jiawji @planethyuka @mari-oclock @222brainrot @jakevascaino @rory-cant-sleep @hyehae @vixensss @hearts4hanni @kgneptun @tongtongie @www-jungwon @lovejunz @fluerz @jiyeons-closet @nyuzip @leehanist @heerinnie @eneiyri

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

[necropathys]

I'm honestly curious why Swan doesn't just. stop running from his brother. Maybe I missed a few chapters or whatever but I just don't understand why he's so afraid? I don't think Swad has incredibly terrible things planned anyway...

This is quite a topic, so forgive the essay, but I have to begin by focusing on SwapDream (Swad) himself and his relationship with Dreamtale Nightmare before delving into his relationship with SwapNightmare (Swan).

To put it lightly, Swad is not a good person. In fact, he’s an incredibly flawed and morally twisted character. I think it’s important to emphasize just how much his personality diverges from what one might expect from a typical Dream variant. To illustrate this, I’d like to share an excerpt from Song-A about his characterization:

‘My SwapDream is quite messed up… He seems like just a bastard sometimes… Anyway, he's a crazy guy with a personality and character ruined to Nightmare level, incredibly independent and arrogant. He only sees himself and treats everyone else like ants. The poor SwapNightmare, it's exhausting having a brother like this…’

This description sets the tone for everything about Swad. He’s selfish, twisted, and driven almost entirely by his own desires, treating others as little more than tools or obstacles.

To fully appreciate this, it’s worth contextualizing his relationship with Nightmare as well. Song-A describes their dynamic in terms of divine love turned into a disturbing, obsessive mess:

'When Nightmare gives up and falls into SwapDream, the moment SwapDream gets tired of Nightmare, it drives Nightmare crazy. It's an incredibly twisted structure of divine love between SwapDream and Nightmare, packaged and served to fans of obsession and fetishism.'

This paints a picture of SwapDream as not only manipulative but also emotionally destructive. His relationship with Nightmare is defined by imbalance—Swad has the power to exhaust and destabilize Nightmare, driving him to madness, while Swad himself remains unshaken and in control.

Swad’s behavior and outlook seem to be shaped by a god-complex, where his perceived superiority makes him not just difficult to deal with but outright destructive. His actions and choices aren’t guided by morality or compassion but by his own desires and self-interest.

His arrogance, independence, and complete disregard for others paint a picture of someone who is entirely self-absorbed, viewing others as beneath him—insignificant, like ants.

Now, when applying this understanding to SwapDream’s relationship with Swan, it’s clear that this power imbalance and emotional manipulation would likely carry over. Swad’s arrogance and self-centered nature would make him relentlessly pursue Swan for his own purposes, whether out of obsession, amusement, or the need to assert dominance.

Recently, a lot of canon information about SwapDreamtale has come to light, offering a clearer picture of the characters and their dynamics. However, for a long time, Swad and Swan’s relationship had to be interpreted and fleshed out by fanon. With so little lore available initially, much of their dynamic was built through creative exploration and extrapolation.

As a result, many depictions of their relationship within the fandom still reflect those earlier interpretations, which were shaped by limited information. These fanon portrayals may now contrast with the canon dynamics, creating a fascinating blend of creativity and evolving understanding as new canon details emerge.

One widely accepted interpretation is that Dream chases Nightmare in Dreamtale to stop him, so in SwapDreamtale, it makes sense for this dynamic to reverse, aligning with the reversal of their roles and personalities. Swad pursuing Swan for the final apple feels like a natural inversion of this relationship.

However, this reversal takes on a much darker and more predatory tone. Swad’s obsession and relentless pursuit of Swan not only reflect his role as Dream’s opposite but also hint at deeper, possibly subconscious motivations. His fixation may stem from a need to dominate or control Swan, twisting what could have been a pursuit driven by altruism or a desire to restore their former relationship into something far more selfish and unsettling.

It’s stated that Swan tends to avoid unnecessary fights, which raises the question of whether he’d even engage in direct combat with SwapDream Swad in the first place. Given Swan’s pragmatic nature and his lack of significant power early on, it seems far more likely that he would choose to flee rather than confront Swad head-on.

There’s also the compelling idea that Swad likes Nightmare so much because he subconsciously reminds him of Swan, beyond being compelled by the morbid fascination and twisted interest he feels. Beyond the resistance to his aura and the attitude that intrigues Swad, Swan’s existence might strike a chord that Swad can’t quite ignore. Of course, this doesn’t mean Swan escapes Swad’s possessive, overbearing, and outright insane tendencies. If anything, those same antics would likely also be directed at Swan, amplified by their shared history and Swad’s fixation.

Swad’s violent tendencies are canonically highlighted by his weapon of choice: literal chains used to bind and torture. He’s an unapologetically twisted character—a walking red flag and a half. There’s no sugarcoating it: Swad is an psychotic, terrible man. To him, morality means nothing. After all, what does morality matter when you’re a god?

It’s been stated by Song-A that Swan isn’t particularly powerful, especially in the earlier stages of his story. If SwapDream (Swad) were to approach him during that time, Swan would likely find himself completely at Swad’s mercy.

This imbalance of power adds an even darker, more unsettling dynamic to their relationship. Swad’s god-like confidence and penchant for control would leave Swan in a vulnerable position, especially if he’s still grappling with his own apathy and reluctance to engage with the multiverse. Swad, being the manipulative and overbearing force he is, would undoubtedly exploit this vulnerability to his advantage, whether through coercion, manipulation, or outright violence.

On the other hand, Swan’s character development offers a fascinating counterpoint. Initially, Swan wants nothing to do with the multiverse’s salvation. Why should he save it? His brother doesn’t remember him, no one wants him around, and his world is crumbling—why should he care if it all rots away?

But there’s a lingering insinuation that Swad played a pivotal role in pushing Swan into action. Whether it was through directly hunting him to claim the last apple and ascend to godhood or through darker means—perhaps even torturing Swan to force a response—Swad’s influence seems unavoidable.

Whatever happened, it ignites something in Swan, compelling him to act despite his reluctance. (the image below depicting his journey)

There’s an interesting implication—or even direct statement—that 'if SwapNightmare continues to use his power like Dream, he will gradually become more like Nightmare.' This raises a compelling question: would Swad’s fixation on Swan deepen as Swan evolves?

It’s hard to say for certain whether this would make Swad enamored or obsessive in a new way, but it feels plausible. If Swan’s growing power begins to mirror Nightmare’s, it could easily amplify Swad’s interest.

A lot of this is just my interpretation, but overall, I firmly believe Swan should never allow himself to be captured or drawn into Swad’s antics. Swad is undeniably dangerous—manipulative, psychotic, overbearing, and far too powerful for Swan to handle on equal footing. Engaging with Swad isn’t just risky; it’s a situation where Swan’s autonomy and safety would be constantly at stake.

For someone like Swan, who already grapples with his own struggles and vulnerabilities, succumbing to Swad’s influence would be catastrophic. Swad’s relentless nature and complete disregard for boundaries make him a threat Swan should avoid at all costs.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Taichi Yagami's clothing style - a meta analysis

@firedragon1321 I didn't plan to write as much of a meta post for Taichi's fashion evolution through the years, since I don't have the time to collect all the evidence like I did with Koushirou - but I still believe that there is an underlying theme for him too, so I want to briefly summarize it.

Notable themes and reoccurring elements:

Comfort AND function - layered and sporty: There is no exaggeration when I say that Taichi Yagami is a sports nut/nerd. While it was never outright confirmed, I am pretty sure that OG!Taichi is wearing a football jersey, since it HEAVILY reminds me of an Arsenal FC jersey that I used to wear myself. Of course, there are also the headband and the wrist band, which are usually associated with sporty activities. And it makes sense, because he loves football, right? Overall, his style throughout Adventure and 02 in particular can be summarized as depicted above; similarly to Koushirou, he wears wide, comfy clothes that provide him with a lot of space for (adventurous) movement. Our boy also likes to wear layers (two shirts, a shirt and a button-down, a tracksuit and a coat, you name it), which is rather practical when you ARE physically active and have to get rid of a layer. And again, his need for maximum comfort is also displayed in the way he wears his 02 school uniform in a very loose way - shirt tugged out, no tie, blazer open. Then of course there is the fact that he NEVER wears anything other than sneakers through the course of the entire series.

The colour "dark blue": I still believe that Tri is the only part of the entire series that broke the pattern, but seriously - can you imagine Taichi Yagami NOT wearing the colour dark blue? Because I can't. There is no doubt that blue is - in complementing contrast to his signature colour orange - his favourite colour and it reflects in +90% of his outfits in Adventure, 02 and Kizuna.

Goggles & stars: The goggles are a given at this point and, unfortunately, Tri onwards didn't really put that much emphasis on it, but from age 7 to 15, you would NOT see the boy wear anything that doesn't include at least ONE star in his ensemble. (Fun fact: Mimi picked that habit up in 02 and Tri too.) He likes arrows too, but those are not as common.

Interesting changes/things to point out:

I don't think anybody would dare calling Taichi fashion-savvy in the usual sense and, honestly speaking, I found the paw/claw print on his 02 coat rather silly when I was a kid... But speaking as an adult from the year 2024, I can now confidently say that this coat was one of the most amazing pieces he has ever worn and I actually miss that kind of extravagant attitude in him in Tri onwards. (Plus, it implies that, just like Hikari, Taichi is a cat enthusiast and I will always support that.)

Speaking of Tri; his general style has not changed, he still likes to wear his layers (which can be seen in his winter uniform in particular, because he is the only male character who wears the blazer AND the vest), but he has at least added a (loosely worn) tie for a glimpse of seriousness. He has added a few more colours to his ensemble (which can be witnessed more in his concept and promotional art, but EVERYBODY is more experimental AND more interesting in promo art!!!). Some notable outfits in Tri include yellow and actual orange, but again, I highly recommend checking out all the promo art, because it's really great.

Then we get to Kizuna - and while I would say that the majority of character designs for Kizuna were rather safe, Taichi is probably one of the biggest offenders there, because - all the sporty swag that was mentioned above has somehow blended into very... Ordinary clothes. And I feel like this was an intentional choice: Yes, I am glad our boy is still wearing layers and that blue is still his favourite colour - and I am pretty sure the blandness of his everyday outfits is meant to reflect his inner turmoil of feeling like he HAS to play a role as a "performative adult" who struggles with uni, hates his part time job (where he also has to wear something that isn't REALLY him), has a tiny flat with only beer in the fridge and bland heteronormative p*rn hidden underneath his bed. I must also say that the short-sleeved hoodie in the final part of the movie made him look much younger than he is - which may actually also be a nod to him having to juggle his adult self with his younger self and find an appropriate balance (and if you want to go all out on pretentious symbolism, you'll say that the blue-white-black striped shirt he wore was a metaphor of him trying not to turn to the dark side aka, succumbing to Neverland. I mean, the left side is black, thus basically symbolizing his heart being covered by darkness; while the right side is blue - his favourite colour - and white, the light side so to speak...). So by the end, when he seems to be getting more into politics, I feel like he is already getting back on track (and I only cling to that idea because he is seen wearing his shirt rather casually without a tie - but hey, baby steps are small steps too!)

Last but not least, there is The Beginning: And one thing I immediately want to point out is that I LOVE the colours he chose - because that gives you a hint of him getting back on track. That blue suit is a STRIKING contrast to Koushirou's rather modest grey suit - and I still maintain that the yellow tie was a nod to Agumon as well. @firedragon1321 I also read one of your rambles the other day and part of me really hopes that he actually wore some sneakers there as well - because that would have been very much on brand for (the old) him. So we can only hope that, the next time we see him, he will have found his personal balance some more, merging his own style with a profession style. And I know you don't like the fact that he shortens his hair, but I still feel like he maintains the general spirit even as an adult; it may be more neatly trimmed, but I still see HIM in there - and I am almost sure we will see a more modern version of that in the PV next year.

[ageravena]

After deciding to change the angels' (fairies) designs for what I hope is the last time (I've redesigned them like 6 times now HELP), allow me to introduce you:

Biblically accurate (Missionaries of Eden AU) Peri

So yeah! He got a new look (though his human form still stays the same)

Since I somehow managed to make my Peri look even less like his original counterpart, allow me to explain some of my design choices:

Probably the most notable thing about all my depictions of angel Peri and gang is that they're often quite unclothed. This is due to their belief that God (yes, they exist in the AU) had given their bodies as a gift, and thus it would be disrespectful to cover it. At the same time though, since they've concentrated their aid towards humans, they understand that they can't be completely naked

The head is their soul*, which resembles a flame (flames are sometimes used symbolically to represent souls)

The large feathers on the back ("tail") are meant to resemble a peacock's tail when closed (I had originally planned the angels to have more features that resemble real life birds)

The six wings and eyes on them indicate that he's a cherubim (seraphims have eight wings and thrones don't have eyes on theirs)

I will most likely make a separate post where I go more into detail about everything I've come up with for these little critters (trust me, there's a LOT of stuff)

Instead of wands, angels have their stars floating on top of them. Peri's star is inside a bubble similar to what he has in the show

The feet are a bit of a mystery to me still. I kind of like the look of them just having those stumps (there is no deeper meaning to it)

*in this context the soul of an angel/demon is the part where they're connected physically to God in the higher dimension (it might be a bit hard to understand, so I probably need to explain it in further detail later)

I was originally supposed to show Cosmo and Wanda's redesigns aswell, but since I'm currently a bit busy with irl stuff, I wasn't able to finish the sketches for this post (they're coming later, I promise). The demons (anti-fairies) were also redesigned!

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May I quickly say how happy I honestly am of you. Since almost all my mutuals are elsewhere, I didn't really expect many people to come look at whatever I've posted, but it seems that I've managed to find my people anyway! So thank you all for all the likes, comments, reblogs and follows <33 I get so excited every time I get a new notification, teehee! (I read everything you have to say. Even if it's in another language)

I promise higher quality art will be coming in the future INCLUDING SHIP ART! Oh my goodness I have not drawn Peridale art in such a long time, I miss them SO MUCH!!!! GAHH I won't be able to call myself the number one Peridale blog soon bruh

Follow for more lifestock tips

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

How do you feel about the idea that Azula would've been a good Firelord before her mental breakdown? I won't name anyone, but there has been a few fics that depicted Azula as a legalist who would enforce bureaucracy and government structure, including busting corruption and reforming the FN's legal system.

Honestly though, I personally interprete Azula as highly emotional (even though she is very intelligent and calculating, she also has a lot of anger and pride) and uncaring of her people, so she likely wouldn't have bothered. As Firelord, she would've been the highest authority anyway and who cares about fair legal systems when she gets to execute idiots she doesn't like while wrecking shit in the Earth Kingdom? Azula loves power, but I think she wouldn't love ruling. Pre-breakdown Azula's ideal place was by her father's right hand

Pre-redemption Azula would be as good of a ruler as any imperialist can be, aka not that good.

But let me start off by saying: Azula doesn't execute people for shits and giggles and she surpresses the fuck out of her emotions because she desperately wants to pretend she doesn't have any. That is not to say she's a kind, compassionate soul that would NEVER take advantage of the fact that she's so much more powerful than anyone else, but still, these are her consistent character traits.

We have very few scenes of her showing any emotion openly (most being during her breakdown, aka when she was too mentally exhausted to fight them), she canonically only ever killed ONE person (who came back to life), and we literally see her stopping a torture session. Even when she was completely out of control, she banished instead of executing people that she believed were conspiring to kill her, and only attacked Zuko and Katara, who were enemies not only of her but of her entire nation and explicitly said they were about to steal her crown.

She's cruel, but not that cruel, anything else is out of character fanon. The most she'd do is threaten people with the fact that she has the power to get away with doing ANYTHING them, because she genuinely believes that fear is the only way to ensure loyalty.

Azula is all about order (girl gets mad that she was firebending with one hair out of place) and, much like Zuko, she's a patriot - but her definition of patriotism is very different from his. She had little interest in the human element of it all or in the notion that duty it'd be her duty to take care of anyone. She's all about the glory, the legacy, the conquest, the battles won, and the Fire Nation being seen as inherently superior.

For exemple, if she had been in the war meeting that led to Zuko's banishment, she might have also had an issue with that general's plan of using Fire Nation soldiers as bait because they're "fresh meat." Not because she'd see it as a betrayal of their trust and a horrible crime against innocents, but because it's a waste of resources. It's stupid to knowingly let competent, loyal soldiers die just to avoid coming up with a different strategies that maximizes enemie losses while keeping yours as low as possible. And obviously she wouldn't have brought up that concern out of turn and in anyway that could be seen as challenging Ozai.

Basically, if there was a famine, a plague, a tsunami or anything that means only losses for the country, you can bet Azula will try to remedy the situation. She needs people in her army, as her servants, growing the crops, etc. Human life is not THAT disposable to her. But if a fishing village is dying because, to make all their weapons, the Fire Nation is creating a problem of polution? Well, too bad for them, they can they there and die or try their luck and move elsewhere, weapons for the army are more important than one village filled with nobodies.

And if some soldier dies, you can expect she'll okay with the family and fellow men honoring him because glory of battle and all, but don't expect her to actually care. She won't send them to a doomed battle, but she's perfectly at peace with the fact that not all of the soldiers going into battle will ever return. And she will NOT be happy if someone pulls an Iroh and "falls apart" after a person loss.

And obviously, only the people of HER nation sometimes get her "pragmatic compassion" so to speak. The colonies? Forget it. They're inferior beings that barely count as people. Again, Azula wouldn't be ordering her army to commit attrocities for her amusement, but don't expect her to give a shit if they imprison or kill people who are resisting too much, or to see literal genocide as bad - she canonically doesn't care.

There'd also be no valluing of nature and/or the spirits, which is a very, very, VERY bad idea in the long-run. Angry pandas kidnaping people, folks getting sick, all that unpleasant stuff - and that's still the best case scenario because I believe Azula wouldn't pull a Zhao and try to kill the fucking moon and anger the ocean when she lives in an archipelago.

Azula's reign would be ruthless, but functional... for some time. Sooner or later the disregard for human life, both in the Fire Nation and especially the colonies, would mean revolt and a colapsing system. Maybe it'd happen during her lifetime, maybe it'd happen decades or centuries after her death, but still, her actions would heavily tied to it regardless of if she was around to face the consequences.

As to whether she even wanted power at all, the show made it quite clear that she did - but there was ONE thing that she wanted even more than she wanted the crown, and that was love and genuine human connection, hence her being super devoted to her dad and basically giving Zuko the crown twice (by bringing him home in Crossroads of Destiny and by looking out for him in The Headband instead of letting Ozai find out about his visits to Iroh). The fact either the dad that strongly favored her or the brother that she felt she could easily manipulate being the ones in power also meant power for her was a nice bonus.

That's why in my headcanons for what a redeemed Azula would be like, she usually ends up as Zuko's advisor and wife. She'd deal with all the bureaucracy Zuko has no patience for and he'd remind her that a ruler can only be truly good if they're compassion. Plus, hey, if he didn't have to give up his ambition for the crown even after redemption, why can't Azula be redeemed AND achieve her goal of being the Fire Lord's second in command/favorite person due to how loyal she is, only this time for a Fire Lord that would actually care about her?

[wc-confessions]

Since it's disability pride month I am dedicating this confession to lesser known/underrated disabled WC characters!

Everyone knows and loves cats like Briarlight and Brightheart, but there's quite a few others that aren't talked about as much

First off, One-Eye and Halftail, the two first arc elders. They don't show up much due to being in the Elder's Den, but when they do, they're a delight to see. I love One-Eye's bickering with Smallear and how she helps Brightheart a bit in A Dangerous Path! They're also the parents of Mousefur and Runningwind! One of whom dies fighting Tigerclaw in the same book Halftail dies of smoke inhalation after the fire. I like to think Runningwind rushed into battle against Tigerclaw impulsively since his father had died not long ago. Mousefur, on the other hand, takes after her mom in the new prophecy and onwards as a grumpy old lady lol. Very great characters, I love them a lot!

Speaking of the 1st arc, Brokenstar. He's honestly a really entertaining and threatening villain, and people don't talk about him much or his disability. Him and other cats with damaged tails like Berrynose and Finleap aren't really talked about in conversations about disabled characters. I find Brokenstar very interesting, not because of his motivation (or lack there of lol) which is pretty generic, but because of his lasting effects on the clans. His reign directly or indirectly led to several key events in the first arc or beyond. Tigerclaw becoming the deputy of ThunderClan was caused by Brokenstar killing Lionheart (canonically, we don't know who killed Lion, but I think it was Brokenstar), him being still alive led to Nightstar not getting nine lives and dying in Rising Storm. Which led directly to Tigerstar taking power. He directly killed several cats, but his orders and actions led to many more that wouldn't have happened had he not been leader, which I will not list out because this confession would be way too long. Another thing I like about him is that he is a fantastic villain in OOTS. People often depict the main leader of the Dark Forest being Tigerstar or Mapleshade, but in reality, it's actually Brokenstar. Tigerstar is more of a secondary leader to him. Brokenstar was the first Dark Forest cat to cross into the living world, and he later seemingly detects StarClan cats at the border to the Dark Forest somehow and confronts them, so Jayfeather and Spottedleaf have to sneak in, and he leads Flametail into the Dark Forest so Ivypool can ghost kill him (but this plan was foiled by Tigerheart), and in The Darkest Hour, Ivypool refers to the plans as "What Brokenstar is plotting". So yeah, he's the leader of the DF, not Tigerstar, and Tiger wouldn't have gotten very far without him lol. Crazy how we got multiple disabled leaders and deputies in the first arc and then not ever again, unless you count Berrynose lol

Next is Volewhisper! Who has quite a few parallels with Cinderpelt! One of their back legs were both injured by a villain's scheming (Tigerclaw's trap for Bluestar and Brokenstar making kits fight rats), they were both then inspired by a senior clanmate (Yellowfang and Nightpelt), and Cinderpelt chooses to become a medicine cat while Volewhisper chooses to be a warrior instead. I find him very fun and he's one of my favourite characters in Exile From ShadowClan!

The next cat I wanna talk about is a bit controversial due to some pretty bad writing choices by the team. Finleap. I really really loved him in Darkest Night and River of Fire. He and Twigbranch had a really sweet relationship, and I love how he follows her to ThunderClan. I also hate Sandynose, but that's besides the point. They were really cute and I liked them a lot... but then The Raging Storm happened. Where instead of focusing on the actually interesting plot of Twigbranch struggling to be a mentor, they decide to make her nice, sweet, and sort of goofy boyfriend... a jerk. He's rude he gives her the cold shoulder, it's awful, and so out of character. At least he actually does apologize for it and improve his behaviour, which I admit was a sweet moment in an otherwise pretty bad plotline. Then, after that, he's sort of a background cat. He briefly stands up to The Impostor after Twiggy is punished. In Sky he has a sort of friendship with Nightheart. He and Lionblaze laugh at Nightheart after he gets bit by a Squirrel, but later in the book Nightheart thinks of him in a positive light and he's one of the first cats that Night thinks of telling about Sunbeam. Overall fun guy, nice character despite one really bad book (which is basically every warriors character lol)

Some other underrated disabled cats who I don't really have as much to say about:

Fallowfern (deaf)

Shrewtooth (PTSD)

.

[runningupthatvecna]

the law of seat partners | part 3

masterlist

a/n: ok this chapter is honestly a wild ride from start to finish, really had to look into google maps to get the geographics right here, sorry if it's a bit inaccurate, the dimensions in the us are a bit difficult to grasp for my european brain lol. same goes for the bus interior and the structure of road houses. also this is gonna be super self-indulgent since i keep picturing eddie as someone with this wholesome, kind and super soft stray dog side of personality that you only get to see once you break through his shell and i'm basically just romanticising the shit out of him in this entire story. also i apologize if the whole part is a bit random, it's just that i didn't plan for this thing to even have more than one part lol. anyway, thanks for reading and please leave me comments and reblogs if you're enjoying this little series! there will be a part 4.

summary: you're still on that damn bus with eddie. he plays you some of his favourite songs and they turn out to sound really familiar. when you do finally arrive at the camp, you find yourself spending even more time with your favourite metalhead and he makes it just a bit more clear that he might really like you back. and yeah, everyone around you already seems to know.

cw/tw: first off i want to clarify that eddie and reader both are at least twenty! slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers overall, (brief) allusions to +18 adult content (minors go away!), sexual tension, lots of physical touch, reader being self-conscious, angst, not feeling good enough briefly, a bit of self-sabotage if you squint, a few more pet names, bestfriend!Steve being reader's rock once again, reassurance, eddie not committing a crime, no mention of y/n, no mentions of reader's physical attributes except hair.

-----

Lunch break acted as a reminder that the rest of your friends were also still there.

That's how lost you were getting with Eddie Munson and your legs in his lap.

The gang was once again standing in a kind of circle shaped form outside on the parking lot next to the bus. You had passed Chicago already a while ago and the blue sky hadn't exactly followed you to Wisconsin, but thankfully it wasn't raining either.

Without even thinking about it you had taken the position between Eddie and Steve.

Jonathan and Nancy were standing opposite of you, the former holding his beloved pentax in his hands, it dangling from his shoulder on a strap being the guy's default. Always ready to press the shutter, just so now.

Steve groaned a little, complaining about how his hair just wasn't looking good enough to be in a photo right now, but no one cared. As someone who loved taking photos – probably even more than the Byers boy – it was in fact one of your pet peeves whenever someone complained about having their photo taken. In your book, photos depicted memories. Why wouldn't you want to be in them?

"You gonna fill that film up today, Jon?", you asked with a grin, and the photographer just nodded.

"Alright, now that we caught Steve's mesmerizing beauty on film, anyone wanna go grab a bite?", Robin asked into the round while shifting her weight continuously from her toes to her heels and back, trying her best not to sound too desperate to get something between her teeth.

"Oh shit yeah, I'm dying", Steve replied after a quick yawn and stretch and the three freshmen boys agreed with heavy nods and exclamations of the words yes and finally.

Their boyish eagerness made Nancy chuckle just a little, and she continued by taking the hand of the older Byers boy and pulling him along with her, leading the way to the building for the rest of you.

Jonathan kept turning around every few meters to just take candids of everyone, trying to fill up the roll of film just so he could reload once you guys would arrive at the camp.

Everyone in the gang seemed to be willing to at least check out the offers from the shop, and like, get a slushie or something.

"M'lady?"

Eddie had squinted one of his eyes shut looking at you while holding his arm out for you to hold onto it, just so you both could follow the group.

"Oh, thank you good sir."

He was just a little taller than you, which made walking with your arm hooked into his quite comfortable.

You threw the knowing smile of his towards you right back at him.

And while you were following the rest of your friends, he leaned in to talk to you. Even more.

"Quite rude of Ms Kelley to interrupt our sacred listening session like that. I guess she just doesn't seem to value a good tune, huh?"

"We didn't even start the tape, Eddie."

"But we already had headphones on so we were about to, that still counts."

He poked a finger into your side while walking, trying to stop you from bringing another absolutely valid and logical argument to his silly remark, making you squeak and jump to the side a little instead, letting go of his arm.

You only could see Steve's head turn towards you, having heard your exclamation of surprise. More of his reaction was kept hidden from you though, since Eddie had decided to continue poking, so you were left with no choice but to run, giggling like a toddler.

"Eddieeee, stoooop", you yelled in a higher pitch than your normal voice, trying and failing miserably at the attempt to hide between Robin, Will and Lucas.

You could hear your friends laugh, the sight must have been hilarious.

There was no escaping Eddie the freak Munson.

You had almost reached the motion sensor of the front door when he grabbed you by the waist, pulled your back flush against his front and apparently felt no hesitation encasing you in his arms entirely. He let out a short, low hum at the feeling and it sent a shiver straight through you.

You were slowly getting warm at the frequency you were having physical contact with him, but having so much of his body touching yours in this way did not leave you unaffected in the slightest.

His embrace made your heartbeat speed up, but it also transported this really comforting, almost soothing wave of feeling protected.

And it had you yearning for him. And it was essentially confusing you.

"Say that I'm right", you heard his deep voice mumble, the side of his head pressed lightly against yours.

You could feel the warmth radiating from his body. The way he smelled. The way he held you tight.

Yeah, bye.

"Huh?"

You wanted your voice to sound equally low to his, but it didn't come out quite as such.

"Ms Kelley disrespects the law."

He couldn't be serious.

"Eddieeeeee!", you laughed at his silliness and the great amount of dramatics he put into his persistence with referring to his law of seat partners rule joke thing.

The long haired boy let go of you since the others had caught up. You just saw him grin at you, before Steve swung an arm around his shoulders, pulling his best friend through the sliding doors, while you felt Max grab your hand.

The road house your teachers had decided to stop at consisted of a restaurant, bathrooms of course and a small convenience store, the latter being the destination of Max and you, while the others ventured out into the restaurant, trying to find something warm and edible to stuff themselves with before they would join the both of you.

"Are you having a good time? With him, I mean", Max dropped at you, slowly strolling through the aisles of products that ranged from sweets over car supplies to toothpaste.

The widest grin was plastered over her face as she eyed you curiously.

The question surprised you a little. And maybe you hadn't really been aware of your surroundings for the last few hours, for obvious reasons.

"Hm? Oh yeah, he's being so sweet", you replied to your friend, "not sure what's gotten into him today though, he's never been like this."

Max gave you a questioning look, clearly asking you to elaborate.

"I don't know, I mean he's always throwing arms around me and stuff, but this, I don't know, this feels different", you continued, not being able to meet her eye, "I mean, he's always nice to me when we're around each other, but he seems so much m–"

"He likes you."

Max interrupted your sentence.

"What?"

"It's so fucking obvious. Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

I mean, yeah sure you had taken notice of the way he had been gazing at you with his baby cow eyes all day today. Actually, ever since he met you all those months ago, now that you're thinking about it. But why would you read anything into that?

You felt warmth spreading over your cheeks.

Did Eddie Munson really like you? Like that?

"He's just being nice, Max."

Only now you shot her a look, trying to tell her what you were too self-conscious, even anxious about to say out loud.

Guys never really seemed to see you as someone they could like. You were so used to the vast majority of them treating you as one of their bros, if they even treated you like anything at all, so when there was someone showing interest in you in other ways, it freaked the living hell out of you. To the point of denying yourself something potentially nice. Or more like, someone nice.

"Just nice? He is never that nice to me! I think you're just way too much in your head about this. You know you like him. And he likes you back, it's crystal clear to me, in fact, to all of us."

Wait. All of them? Had he talked to anyone about you?

Now you were the one giving her the questioning look, and before you could say anything, Robin popped up next to the both of you with a pair of wide eyes along with raised eyebrows.

"Okay, what are we buying, hm? I need more cookies, Steve and Jonathan ate all of them already", she informed you, walking off to find her restock of baked sweets, just as quickly as she had appeared.

You giggled lightly at the similarity of her and your snack situation.

Max only gave you a grin and a wink through her sky blue eyes before following Robin to the cookie section. The boys and Nancy returned from their feast not long after and you had tried your best to bring your focus to the task at hand: finding something snackable that wasn't too much of an overload, but also essential for the remaining time on the road.

Steve grabbed and pulled you away from the others on the way outside, back to the bus. The thirty minutes were almost over and no one wanted to risk being left in the middle of nowhere aka Bumfuck, Wisconsin, nor having a search party consisting of Ms Kelley and Mr Clarke out roaming the area.

"Hey there", Steve looked at you while walking by your side and throwing an arm around you.

He truly was your best friend and so you just happened to know everything about each other's lives. He had always been your rock throughout high school and mainly responsible for having you be part of the gang. He knew about your issues and always tried to give you advice.

You let your arm sneak around Steve's back, around the height of his waist.

"Everything alright with you, honey?"

You glanced up at him just nodding and he shot you a knowing look, before turning his head around to wink at someone.

The grin on his face widened before turning his attention back to you.

"Uh yeah, I'm having a good time, thanks for checking on me", you replied to him while holding onto the box of chocolates you had ended up buying.

"Munson treating you right I hope, yeah?", Steve inquired further.

You could feel your heart jump a little at the mention of Eddie's name. What you also could feel was the eyes of the long wavy haired boy on your back. He had run after Dustin who had pinched his ass on the way out and you just assumed they were a bit further behind you and Steve.

"A bit more than usual, yeah. I don't really understand why, though. Max said he likes me? But–"

A little frown now covered Steve's lightly freckled face.

You stopped. He stopped. And kept his arm around you. And then you sighed, when his big brown eyes found yours and the way he looked at you changed into a worried brow furrow.

"I think I'm terrified, Steve. I don't know how to behave around him seriously and I don't know how to handle all the affection. That's all so new and I don't want to disappoint him because he deserves someone who's able to give him everything he wants and he's already making himself vulnerable by letting someone in close like that and what if he's gonna realise that I'm just really weird for not being used to–"

"Hey, hey sweetheart, slow down", Steve put a stop to your little ramble, a soft tone to his voice, "you're overthinking. You like him, isn't that right?"

You just looked up at him, almost a bit teary eyed since you were realising a lot of things at the moment, and dealing with your own insecurities and issues was just not easy. Especially in a situation where you couldn't retreat or flee.

And then you nodded.

Steves frown shifted into a grin.

"Then there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Eddie right there is probably genuinely surprised that you're not shying or running away from him, like everyone else. Just look."

Steve pointed in Eddie's direction which made you turn your head. Next thing you saw was the metalhead chasing after Dustin again, both of them running through the group trying not to bump into anyone, all the way over the expanse of the parking lot like two headless chickens, his dark mane flowing in the wind which carried the laughter and giggles of the whole group over to you.

The sight made you laugh a little.

"I mean, not that he really ever tried to get close to someone, like, he doesn't have to try for people to be sort of intimidated and even scared off by him, but that's besides the point. Anyway, I just know for a fact that you could never disappoint him. I'm very sure he's gonna be fine adapting himself to your pace", Steve explained and then paused to take a deep breath.

"It's up to you of course, but I'd just hate to see you get in your own way just because you're too much in your own pretty, little head."

You had snapped your head around again, and Steve lovingly ruffled your hair a little, the way he always did when he tried to tell you that he'd always be there for you and the situation you'd found yourself in would turn out just fine.

You would be just fine.

Deep down you knew Steve was right.

"Yeah, yeah I know. You know how I can get sometimes", you replied to him, reciprocating the same look Steve was now giving you. The depth in his brown eyes was radiating warmth and it helped you calm down your racing thoughts. Steve had known Eddie for a bit longer and was closer with him in general, which was one of your reasons to believe the words of your best friend. In this moment at least.

-----

It was time for the tape.

You took off your shoes again and pulled your legs up to rest your feet on the barrier, this time right in front of you, facing more towards the window.

The boy next to you was still trying to catch his breath from shaking off some energy, pulling a squished paper bag with greasy spots out of the back pocket of his jeans and placing it on his lap, before he lost the vest and leather jacket. He then proceeded to sit down, take both of your headphones and held yours out to you.

"Alright, unlike Ms Kelley, let's obey the law again, huh?"

He let out a deep chuckle when you nodded with a smile.

"Oh hey, and I got you some extra fries, just in case you get hungry."

He handed the small paper bag to you.

Did he just carry fries in his ass pocket?

The thought made you snort.

Oh Munson.

"Did you pay for them?"

"Yeah of course I did. Is that all you think of me, sweetheart?"

There they were again. His dark brown doe eyes blinking at you all sweet, the purest form of Eddie he was willing to show you in this moment.

He was clearly letting you in. Showing himself to you. Letting you read his eyes, hoping you would take the hint which he secretly was yet too insecure to speak out.

He was the town's freak after all and getting his hopes up had never really turned out too positive for him. It had painfully taught him to better keep everyone at a distance.

It took every little ounce of willpower that you could find in yourself to not melt into a puddle, right there in that seat.

And if that wasn't enough already – him being thoughtful enough to think of you while devouring his own lunch – he pressed play on your walkman, before you could give him any sort of response to the fries situation.

The fact that the opening chords of Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears now filled your ears, your absolute favourite song, was sending you into another dimension.

How did he know your favourite fucking song? Did he ask Steve? He must have asked Steve.

He had asked Steve specifically about your music taste.

So many thoughts were flooding your brain at the same time, you were having trouble catching up.

The boy next to you just grinned at your visibly delighted reaction. And then he leaned in a little and you felt the heat once again rise to your cheeks.

"Is that good, that's a real good song, yeah?", you heard him ask, a very light sultry tone to his voice, after you quickly pushed one of your headphones behind your ear.

"Yes Eddie, immaculate choice right there", you praised him in a similar tone, before giving him a genuine giggle, unable to hide the way he was undeniably making you all flustered and earning another warm chuckle from him in return.

The way his cheeks turned into a beautiful shade of rose almost made your heart combust in your ribcage. At this point he was practically beaming with pride, reveling in the fact that he had elicited praise out of you. And it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

You lightly nudged your shoulder into his, which made him lift his arm, a gesture for you to lean into his figure.

"Come here, you."

That head of yours landed on his shoulder and you let him drape his arm over your torso like a seatbelt. A (still very) warm hand was placed between your waist and hip and you were pretty convinced it was going to burn a big hole right through the fabric of your shirt.

He just had to touch you, right?

His boldness however gave you enough of a confidence boost to return the gesture. At this point you needed to tell him, too. Make him feel the burn on his own skin. So you just hugged his arm, pulling it close and nuzzling the side of your face into the soft fabric of his hellfire shirt covering the skin between bicep and shoulder.

With every song you went on listening to, it became more clear than ever that Eddie Munson must really have gone all the way to Steve Harrington's house to ask him for a list of your favourite songs. Which he could then put on a mixtape. For you.

That's what you do for friends, right?

Yeah, right.

For a few songs you both just sat there in utter peace as you watched the landscape outside the window pass by. The wide plains of Wisconsin, fields of crops, forests, small gatherings of houses, farms, barns and horses and cows and sheep. The sky was slowly losing its light grey cover, which had you anticipating an actually nice sunset later.

He had leaned his head against yours, which made his warm breath trickle down the side of your neck down to your collarbone. And you had felt the goosebumps spread all over your arms underneath your longsleeve.

You were feeding off of the warmth radiating from Eddie's body once again, and the ringed hand on your waist had started rubbing up and down softly and slowly.

When Eddie felt you leaning more of your weight into his side, you could hear him let out a satisfied little sigh.

Every second of this part of your little road trip, whenever he tried to search for some form of physical closeness, felt like a fever dream.

And you didn't want to wake up just yet. How about never?

-----

Golden hour announced itself by coating the trees of the forest, the earthy paths for walking, the accumulation of dark wooden cabins and the water on the vast lake in gradients of yellow and orange.

Said lake would look more like the sea to you, it made little waves that were lightly crashing onto the shore of a small beach of a bay around which the camp was located, and it was so vast in fact that you were unable to see the opposing shore on the horizon.

You had just woken up from another nap which you had slipped into after one, two, you actually don't know how many hours of watching the endless fields and forests pass by through half-closed eyelids. Listening to The Romantics, New Order, Fleetwood Mac, The Cure, Genesis and of course Metallica, on Eddie's account.

Still surrounded by the warmth of his body, still tucked in between torso and arm. His hand however had sneakily breached an invisible barrier, now resting comfortably beneath the hem of your shirt on the skin of your waist. You didn't dare to check, but the hole in your shirt was certainly there now, burned through.

Even Ms Kelley's announcement of your arrival didn't bother any of you to move or shift positions. Or god forbid, separate your bodies.

You only slightly turned your head to watch Mr Clarke leave the bus in the corner of your eye, probably to head into the administration office of the camp with the intention to make your arrival known to the staff and to pick up keys for about 40 students.

From what they had told you pre-trip, you were gonna be sharing a cabin with Nancy, Robin and Max, since the plan foresaw keeping the middle schoolers separate from the older kids. And of course there couldn't be any cabins accommodating groups of mixed genders.

Which is precisely why Eddie was going to share his cabin with Jonathan, Steve and Dustin, while Lucas and Will had the honours to be joined in theirs by Gareth and Jeff.

Before letting you go to take the headphones off and gather all your things, Eddie's grip on your waist tightened a bit as he pulled you minimally closer for just two seconds, the vibration of his chest against your back telling you that he was humming softly.

You already missed him, and you hadn't even left the bus yet.

The structure of the camp was simple. There were ten cabins, each of them intended to accommodate up to four people comfortably. A row of them was spread out along the shore of the lake directly by the water. Another row spread out further towards the forest. Both separated by the same earthy pathway stretching and winding itself through the entire place, connecting the cabins to the rest of the camp. There were little houses with sanitary facilities not too far from the cabins, a little square with lots of seating opportunities intended for bonfires, barbecue and other gatherings, the office house, the beach further down the path past the cabins, and a pergola kinda situation with benches for mealtime and a corner with outdoor couches and further more cozy seating.

The cabin you were designated to spend your next 6 nights in was one of those directly by the water. Excitement spread through you at the thought of falling asleep to the peaceful sound of the lake water lightly hitting the shore at night and cicadas singing their songs after sunset. Frogs croaking and birds chirping away. The ambient background noise of a forest by the lake.

You had always been a dreamer.

"Top one's mine!", Robin exclaimed as she was the first one of you to enter, throwing her bag onto one of the top beds that were part of two bunks standing opposite of each other in each corner, a window with light beige and pastel floral curtains separating them.

You were loving the rustic atmosphere. The log aesthetic gave off the biggest summer cottage vibes, so taking in the interior of your small home for the next few days made you smile.

There were two closets with multiple drawers, enough space for accommodating clothing of four people.

The bag hanging from your shoulder landed on the bed below Robin's, while the other two silently agreed on Max above, Nancy on the same level as you.

The beds themselves were about the standard bunk bed size, nothing too fancy, but of course all wooden, fresh bedsheets folded into a neat pile along with a towel decorating the mattress.

While you were getting to making your bed (you knew that you'd thank yourself later), your mind started wondering if you could fit maybe even two people in there. For science, of course.

All of you had agreed to meet at the fireplace once everyone had dropped off their stuff, and when you and the girls arrived there, six pairs of eyes were already awaiting you.

The boys had probably just messily thrown their belongings onto their respective beds, not giving a flying fuck about pulling the covers over the duvets or maybe even taking power naps after the journey.

So yeah, night number one ended with all of you sitting by the fire that Mr Clarke and some guy from the staff team had set up. Conversations about everyone's most anticipated activities that were planned and scheduled for this week were held, your friends' former earth and science teacher telling stories about his first time field tripping back in the day.

Once again you were sat between Steve and Eddie, the metalhead's leather jacket around your shoulders, because he had insisted you'd take it. A sly grin on his face directed at you at the gesture, before turning his attention to the mutual best friend on your other side.

The younger kids had been tucked in by Ms Kelley already, since their curfew had been set to 9pm. Yours was at eleven.

You admired the multiple strings of fairy lights that had been hung into the lower maze of branches long ago, illuminating the earthy pathways throughout the whole camp to keep the kids from stumbling off into some bush or having to pull out flashlights.

At least until midnight, cause that's when the lights were going to be turned off.

-----

Your first full day at camp. The teachers had taken the whole group to a hike through the forest and up the hill at the end of the bay, overviewing the stunning scenery and you had taken a few moments away from everyone to take in the enormousness of the vision opening up in front of you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to wrap your head around the moment, taking a few deep breaths, feeling the freshness of the air surrounding you.

Slow down.

The sun made the deep blue of the sky reflect on the lake, a shimmer on the surface in the distance, sparse trees and bushes covering the top of the hill you were standing on, a bit separately from most kids.

The light brush of a hand against yours caused you to shoot open your eyes, jumping lightly at the sudden delicate yet profound touch.

"Uh, sorry I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I can also leave again if you want another moment to yourself?", you heard him say, an apologetic tone to his voice.

The rough facade now showed cracks.

Traces of softness, a great amount of empathy and hints of sensitivity were shining through them. He had always been a little more gentle with you than with everyone else in the group, but this telltale sign of trust he was instilling in you over the last hours? That was new.

So new. And so new to you.

Your head turned towards him, eyes squinting a bit because yeah, it was quite bright up there with almost no trees to throw shade, and of course clumsy you had forgotten your sunglasses on the little nightstand next to your bed.

"Eddie no, it's okay" was the only thing you managed to get out, brushing the back of his hand with the back of your index finger, in silent search for more contact, trying to support the words that had just come out of you.

It was just Eddie. You tried to remember Steve's words from lunch break yesterday. He's gonna be okay with adapting.

He turned his back on the sun, more towards you, and the light formed a halo around his head.

Given his reputation back in Hawkins, it looked hilariously absurd.

"Did you have a good first night?", you asked him then, in such a tone indicating your expectation of a sincere answer, while his shadow was covering half your face so you wouldn't have to stare into the late afternoon sun.

"More or less. You know how Steve snores", Eddie said before continuing his dramatic act, "plus, it was really lonely. I think there should be an additional paragraph in the law about an extension from bus seats to beds, you know? I think that would make a real difference and save me from eternal doom and misery."

He returned your previous gesture with his own index finger, his eyes finding yours, giving you a sheepish grin as your cheeks started imitating the colour of very ripe tomatoes.

Your entire body bloomed with electricity from just one light touch. If you didn't know any better, you'd say it was ridiculous.

Yes, there had already been touches that were way more direct than this, but there was something in the way and in the lightness of his touch now, that had your head spinning.

The lightness basically fuelled whatever this thing between the two of you was.

Ms Kelley's voice announcing the beginning of your descend ripped the both of you out of whatever moment you were having right there, and it sucked.

You could have stood there with him for the rest of eternity, if it meant being looked at by his warm, reassuring eyes, making you feel as if you were the center of the universe. It felt like his gaze was reaching the deepest corner of your soul.

And your brain started going 200 kilometers an hour, thinking about the allusion Eddie had just made. He was starting to consume your every thought at this point.

As a collective you managed to return to the deep green veils of the forest around an hour before sunset.

Slowly the day was coming to an end and since it had been a rather warm experience for everyone, the teachers had kindly granted you an evening dip in the lake.

High schoolers only though. Thank fuck.

Honestly, you probably would have gone for it anyway.

The beach included a small wooden pier leading into deeper water, which the boys delightedly acknowledged before using it to gracefully yeet themselves into the cold wet.

They also didn't deem it necessary to strip themselves of their clothes beforehand.

Too much enthusiasm and even more longing for relief from the day's heat and physical efforts. Who knew Michigan could be this warm already in May?

The girls and you had preferred to change into actual swimwear before joining the boys on the beach. A wise decision.

Because now you found yourself standing on the pier together with Nancy and Max, watching Robin follow Steve and dive in head first.

You were silently hoping the water was deep enough for her to not hit her head.

Next thing you saw approaching you on that pier was Eddie, dripping wet everything and soaked to the bone, some worn out jean shorts and dark blue Metallica shirt as well as his dark curls sticking to his skin like glue.

He left a trail of wet footsteps and sprinkles and splashes of water on the dry wood, grinning at you almost eerily and you threw him a similar glance back, because you knew he just wasn't anticipating your abilities to foresee the future when you jumped out of the way the second he started running towards you, trying to pull you into the water with him.

He landed face first, while everyone who had just witnessed that scene bursted into laughter, including you.

"You wish, Munson", you shouted at him and his poorly executed attempt once he had resurfaced, his appearance now reminding you of a wet poodle with his wet dark curls that were sticking to his reddened face, a piece of some green sweetwater plant decorating the top of his head.

You weren't ready to hit the water just yet, which is why Nancy and you decided to just plop down on the pier for a moment with crossed legs, while Max joined Robin and the boys.

Observing the scene happening in front of you, there were Dustin, Lucas and Jonathan, all of them fusioning their powers to swim after a screeching Will who was trying his best to escape being cruelly dunked by his brother and friends, Robin trying to stand on Steve's probably slippery shoulders while Eddie and Max were aiming for the same acrobatic performance.

Nancy next to you let out a chuckle at the sight before turning her head in your direction, "today was so nice, don't you think?"

With a nod you replied to her and leaned back on your arms behind you.

"Yeah it was beautiful! You just don't get those views in Hawkins."

"Yeah, absolutely not. The closest thing you're getting there is Lover's lake with a bunch of drunks fishing in their tiny boats, and that's about it", she paused, "are you in with us for the flower crowns tomorrow?"

Midsummer was still a few weeks away, but that didn't stop you from plucking and braiding.

You and the girls had been having this fantasy of spending this excessive amount of time in nature with flower crowns on your heads, inspired by Scandinavian summer solstice traditions. For weeks you all had been painting this picture in your conversations, anticipation bubbling up every time the topic came up. The picture of the four of you with the flowers of summer in your hair, in the deep green shades and distinct scent of the forest surrounding your every breath these days, had rented a big part of your mind, long before you had stepped on the bus, bringing you here.

"Hm? Oh yeah, definitely."

Losing yourself a little in the thought again, you hadn't yet taken notice of how two figures from the group of people in the water in front of you were missing.

You would learn soon, though.

Because before you knew it, a pair of strong, wet hands hooked themselves in the space of your armpits, lifting you up to stand, while another set of arms wasn't too shy to grab both your legs off the ground, wrapping themselves around your knees.

"Let's get you nice and wet, shall we?", you heard Steve's voice come out behind you in an absurdly husky tone, while–

"Time for your bath, princess!"

Eddie.

You were so taken by surprise, you couldn't even get anything in form of a verbal protest out.

The only thing you saw before your vision went black due to your reflexes was Eddie's mischievous grin between strands of his dark and wet curly mane, Steve's pearly whites being flashed at you equally prominent. Their laughter got muffled by the water invading your ear canals, and the sudden shock of the cold liquid surrounding every inch of your sun warmed skin was forcing a gasp out of your lungs.

When you returned to the surface, both of the boys held onto their bellies, high-fiving one another and still laughing on that pier like two fucking dipshits at you as well as at Nancy who apparently got to suffer the same fate as you, being dropped into the ocean mere seconds later.

With the back of your fingers you wiped the water out of your eyes along with strands of your hair that were clinging onto your cheeks for dear life, while you gathered back clear vision.

Unknowing to the two boys, Jonathan, Lucas and Dustin were currently in the process of sneaking up behind them. With big splashes both Eddie and Steve were forced to ungracefully breach the waves next to you, letting out equally surprised gasps for air before they had to instinctively hold their breaths.

You burst out into another laughing fit when the metalhead slowly appeared next to you just as soaked as half an hour ago, his hair now covering his entire face.

You took one stroke towards him while Jonathan and Dustin landed in the water not too far from you, shortly after being followed by Lucas and Max cannonballing their way in to join everyone.

The laughter and giggles filled the warm air, and you took both your hands to wipe Eddie's mane out of his face, just to reveal his brown chocolate orbs and a dorky smile, gazing at you from underneath.

The ground of the lake where you were finding yourself was close enough for you both to stand on, which made not sinking a lot easier.

"Thanks, sweetheart" was the only thing he brought out before putting a hand on your waist, pulling you closer before wrapping both his arms around your middle, while you responded by wrapping yours around his shoulders.

You thought he was going to bury his face in the crook of your neck with how close he was leaning in just now, connecting his lips to your skin, but all he really did was briefly running his nose over the side of your neck in an upwards motion. Giving you a little nudge while letting out another one of his hums.

It was almost like he wanted to do more than that, it was almost like you could feel him holding himself back. It was almost like you wanted him not to.

His warm breath hit the wet skin on your collarbone and it sent a slight shiver right through your system at the sheer thought of what exactly he was holding back.

And just when you felt him let go of you a bit more, you saw your chance at taking at least a little bit of revenge on him. For conspiring against you with Steve Harrington.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, found purchase on the ground, and your own weight forced him to go head below surface once again.

"Oh darling, that was an unwise decision", was all you heard before he returned the favour, his entire weight on yours as he drowned you beneath him, just before bringing one of his unnecessarily muscular arms around you to pull you back up again swiftly.

Soon after a few more dunks that you practised on Steve and Dustin, your swimming session came to an end when the sun had disappeared behind the trees and the sunset-ish colours of the horizon had faded into several shades of purple and blue.

After fresh showers that helped with rinsing off the lake water and smuck and sweat of the day, the older boys had decided to drop you off at the flower cabin, a nickname for your particular accommodation facility Lucas had come up with during the first bonfire.

To say goodnight or something.

Eddie held you in his grasp, pressed you into his chest for a second, letting you know that you meant something to him, shooting you one last glance, a hint of wistfulness in it, before disappearing surprisingly quickly into the dusk of the forest, towards the cabin he shared with the others.

You hugged Steve and Jonathan goodnight as well, the latter wearing a smirk on his face and you instantly wondered about the reason.

When you looked at your own pillow, you stopped wondering. A polaroid photo had been placed there for decoration, and you let yourself plop down on the mattress to inspect it more closely.

Jonathan had only recently started shooting polaroid in the first place, and the sun had delivered enough light for him to avoid using flash for this one, which had the colours of everything come out more natural.

The photo showed Eddie in his bus seat. You in yours, resting with his arm wrapped around you, his head on yours, both with your headphones on, both passed out. Steve, Dustin, Will and Robin behind you with widened eyes, tongues out and peace signs up.

Unable to hide the smile that spread on your face, you placed the photo on the little nightstand accompanying the bed.

Everyone knew. You knew. Eddie probably knew. But who would say it first?

-----

taglist: @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @spellbounddd, @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint, @mystars123, @gothmingguk, @kennafild, @chloe-6123, @michaelfuckinglangdon and @bakugouswh0r3

[melis-writes]

Blood Money (Tony Montana x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut) Chapter 1 – By Chance and Fate.

Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"You know how to protect yourself." / “I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face."

In the wrong place at the wrong time, you can hardly call your visit to Havana as a vacation but to secure your families legacy in empty promises and a forgotten home. From the moment you first laid eyes on Tony, you knew you'd never forget his face or his name. Tomorrow, Tony and Manny would be as good as American, leaving Cuba for good but with their minds set on your hometown in Miami. Having saved your life in the blink of an eye, you're set to repay the favor by finding out just who Tony Montana is, and why he's looking and waiting for you.

[WARNINGS]: Explicit depictions & themes of violence / Minor character death / Explicit mention of injury & blood / Guns.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: It's finally here, just as promised!! 🥴🥰 The first chapter of my newest multi-chapter fic and it's all about Tony and the reader! You can expect a lot of sexy, kinky, dirty smut upcoming in this one. 🥵🥵 I honestly wasn't planning on doing a multi-chapter fic for Tony but then the ideas hit and I couldn't help myself lmao. Our Reader is Celeste Navarro who was also in my Tony Montana x Reader smut oneshot! ❤️ This fic is gonna be following the entire plot of the film side by side with Tony and Manny with two different endings for you guys to decide which one you prefer too. 😏 Say hello to Chapter 1!

With a taste for success and dollar bills, Tony Montana’s drug empire grew in vast wealth, power and influence by your side as the kingpin’s lover. From sharing an intimate history in Cuba, you and Manny Ribera were the only ones to believe and support Tony from rags to riches. Embroiled in the same lifestyle and sharing enemies, you and Tony come to build your empire and world together with the threat of it collapsing from the inside. As partnership turns to betrayal and thrill to danger, you find yourself in-between ultimatums and sacrifices for the man you love.

[ Havana, Cuba, 1983 ] 

‘This was supposed to be paradise. For me. For mama, and for Gina. Home was enough.’

Abandoned homes once filled with growing families, shattered windows only revealing the emptiness inside and barred doors to ward off curiosity and anyone leading from the path of nostalgia surrounds the streets in which Tony and Manny grew up.

‘I never knew my father well. I forgot him. I don’t care. He left us, I left him too.’

Spending their childhood playing ball with the other children for hours on end after school with a tight-knit community, neighbors who knew one another and looked out for each other now only to see it as nothing but an abandoned slum puts nothing but resent and disappointment in Tony and Manny’s hearts.

‘Then Mama and Gina left too, to paradise. Didn’t wait for me but I’m coming. I know then, I know now. My time was coming.’

Abandoned by most residents due to poverty and safety concerns, all Tony and Manny’s childhood neighborhood can do is serve as nostalgia and a final goodbye—nothing more.

‘I’m gonna go too. Make my own paradise. Trust nobody but me. I be the millionaire that thank nobody. That’s what I wanna be.’

Dressed in a pair of slacks and a white beater top stained with sweat from the heat and humidity of the day, this is nothing but a trip down memory lane for the last time since Tony and Manny might as well live it down.

“This no fucking family street no more, man,” Tony mumbles, looking up at the rotting wooden planks barring up doors and smashed windows; loose, twisted nails sticking out of crumbling walls with chunks of chipping paint peeled off. “This a fucking dump.”

“They ruined this place, man,” Manny frowns at his surroundings, realizing how noticeably dingy and disgusting the block appears with shadows cast over it from the setting sun. “We was right here, playing together in the streets.”

“Mama used to watch us up from there, remember?” Tony points up at his childhood home, no different from the rest remaining to be eyesores down the block. “When we play ball with the kids from the other neighborhood. Now look at all that.”

Whether some of the surrounding buildings may still be occupied as hideouts or drug houses are another story altogether, but it’s a bitter visit for the two prepared to never return back to Havana again.

“Knew it like the back of my hand,” Tony’s eyes dart over his neighbor’s worn down, abandoned home. “Mama always say gotta get through these kinda places to get what you want.”

“Mama didn’t see no communists coming, man,” Manny kicks a pebble in front of him glumly.

Poverty wasn’t completely unknown in these streets, but the bond and sense of community overpowered everything else.

When Tony and Manny were just children growing up, they witnessed firsthand for themselves families helping other families, neighbors taking turns to watch the kids out in the streets, keeping the neighborhood clean, and supporting every resident that one could.

But with Castro, the communists, and rebellions pouring through incessantly over the last many years, the next time poverty struck Tony and Manny’s hometown, it struck hard and was here to outlast every last resident.

Folks gathered all they had and wept through their goodbyes to all they knew was once their home but had to move on for their own safety. The last thing anyone wanted was trouble or to see murderers and petty thieves littering the streets.

Nobody looked back, no matter how much they wanted to, and the same was also said for Tony and Manny’s families too.

Manny’s family moved to an entirely different city altogether, but Tony’s mother and sister were easily and quickly approved to immigrate to the United States.

Tony saw the streets as an escape and knew his country like the back of his hand, but his absence from home and disobedience towards his mother was the exact reason why Tony found out the hard way that he was staying behind; everyone had already left and only looked out for themselves.

Tony had a deadbeat, absent father who already officially abandoned the family years back, but with his mother and sister leaving for the United States, Tony would have to be stupid to stick around in Havana any longer.

Memories or not, this neighborhood can’t mean anything to Tony and Manny now. Since the two left, they stayed in a house together and never looked back—waiting for their chance to immigrate to the United States too.

After months of bickering, confusion, and paperwork, Tony and Manny refused to relent and give up; they were determined on the process from beginning to end.

Tonight officially marks Tony and Manny’s last night in Havana, let alone Cuba. The two are set to board a ship bound for the United States, leaving everything behind for good as they sought.

Tomorrow, Tony and Manny may just consider themselves as good as Americans. Tomorrow, they’d start a new life and forget Havana—forget home—and gladly leave everything behind.

That’s what’s supposed to happen. That’s what’s waiting for Tony and Manny and all they were waiting for was an opportunity to get out and go into a paradise of their own in Miami, Florida.

Tony was never supposed to meet you. You were never supposed to see each other or cross each other’s paths. Tony wasn’t supposed to wait for you more than he wanted to wait for anything in his life.

It should have never reached a point where Tony couldn’t live in his paradise and call the empire he built up for himself home without having you in it too.

You think you’re simply in the wrong place at the wrong time but you’re exactly where Tony could ever want you to be right now. All Tony wishes he can do is change the circumstances.

~

“It wasn’t exactly home to us, but it was home to your grandfather. He loved Havana. For him it was a bit of paradise, so he decided to invest in it.”

Coming to a stop in your tracks, you pull out the crumpled note from your purse that your father gave to you shortly before you planned your trip to Havana for one reason alone—to visit the address scribbled upon it.

“It’s a villa, mostly used as a vacation residence but it's at the heart of the neighborhood. Your grandfather spoke very fondly of it up until his death, but I’ve never even seen so much as a photograph or deed of the estate before.”

You can practically imagine your father’s shock and disappointment if he was here with you right now. Standing at the very address the villa is supposed to be located is nothing but ruins and vandalism—a neighborhood intentionally left to rot.

“Is it home to you? To us?”

After all, you have no other reason to visit Havana other than to make sense of your family’s legacy and put the pieces together and despite having low hopes for what you’d find, you never expected to come face to face with nothingness—with destruction.

“It can’t be, can it? We have no connections to Havana. We don’t know anyone. It can’t be home to us of all people now.”

Nothingness has never been worth saving and you never felt it becoming your truth with every step you took down this lifeless neighborhood just to get here.

Greeted by chunks of glass sticking through dried mud, torn cloth, remnants of smashed belongings, broken nails, and garbage by your feet, there’s nothing that can possibly feel like home here to you now.

‘The least I can do is let father know.’ You frown at the address upon the note, only imagining the plot of land here can be sold eventually if this place ever gets cleaned up, but still unable to push past and ignore the swelling disappointment in your heart knowing you’ll forever be barred from appreciating what your grandfather loved so much in the past.

Only the calming evening breeze brushing up against you and taking away torn newspapers on the street can be heard with the distant sound of a dog barking from down the block now.

You’re neither familiar nor used to Havana; not the feeling of home that may have been here, not the environment, not the people, and not what seems to be the sounds of an empty street upon an abandoned neighborhood that deceives you so.

Eyes linger over you from the rubble of a half-burned-down home, well concealed and knowing where to remain to watch your every movement from the shadows promised by the evening hours set in.

There’s nothing you can do to appear inconspicuous—like you’re a nobody. Trained eyes from an experienced thief knows a tourist when he sees one, especially a wealthy American tourist.

Having someone like you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time only lets those with ill intentions benefit with ease, and this town’s thief isn’t hesitating to make you his next victim.

Sighing quietly to yourself, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as you slip the note back into your pocket.

Upon opening your eyes again, you stare back down at the rubble of drywall and shrapnel from damaged and destructed homes in front of you—mixed and clumped up amidst one another.

‘This could be from anybody’s home. This could mean nothing.’ Barely having an idea of what to do or look at you, you lean down and pick up a chunk of drywall that appears to be deliberately smashed out of a home.

‘But this could have been my home.’ Still, your heart ultimately feels indifference rather than any kind of relief or sadness.

Without having any connections or memories bound to this place, you simply can’t mourn what isn’t there.

You can’t help but wonder what happened to such a grand estate so highly spoken of after all of this time, but it’ll make more sense to your father than anyone else.

‘This is all that’s left of here now.’ You run your hand over the cracked drywall, giving your head a shake. ‘It’s too late to tell what happened here, but everything’s gone. Everyone’s gone.’ 

“Tony, c’mon man,” Manny gives Tony’s shoulder a nudge, “let’s head back. Ain’t nothin’ left here.”

“I know there’s nothing, man,” Tony grumbles, gesturing towards the streets. “That’s why we here, you know that. Look at this. I wanna see this place, just one last time.”

“Making memories?” Manny chuckles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“Fuck kinda memories anyone can make here,” Tony scoffs, “they say where we going is paradise. Miami. Mama moved us to Havana, says this is paradise. No fuckin’ paradise look like this, man.”

“No, man,” Manny agrees, shaking his head. “This a dead man’s street now.”

Manny’s eyes fall upon the tightly boarded-up front doors, barring everything in and refusing to let anything out on each and every crumbling home down the block.

“No paradise left here for us, and you know I ain’t ever gonna come back. No way, man.” Tony lets out a huff of frustration.

“Oh yeah?” Manny grins back, “not for visit either?”

“Visit what, man?” Tony furrows his brows, “when I make it, I don’t wanna come back and see this again but I always remember where I come from, you know,” Tony points at his chest, “I never forget. I can think about it. I don’t gotta come back and see it.”

“Me too man, me too,” Manny shrugs—the smile beginning to fade off his face. “I don’t wanna feel like no fish out of water.”

Meanwhile, as you’re surrounded by a mountain of rubble and shrapnel in a blocked-off street, the only option for you to get back to your hotel would be to turn around and make your way down the same street Tony and Manny are on.

With no other exits or places to turn to, you’re hardly aware of the lurking thief well hidden from your sight but directly in Tony’s perspective just from where he stands alone.

Before you can even spin around or move out of the way as a reflex for hearing footsteps suddenly grow so loud behind you, you hear the voice of your stalker before you feel or see him.

“Put it down, princess.” A smoker speaking through a husky low tone threatens you.

You feel the thief’s chest pressing into your shoulder blade, prompting you to remain as still as possible.

Had you flinched just now, the very tip of the thief’s blade he teasingly presses against your face may have just sliced your cheek clean.

You swallow hard, immediately feeling your heart thundering in your chest from being caught unaware in complete shock—anxious and terrified as your mind attempts to process what’s happening to you.

“Don’t move now,” the thief chuckles quietly over your shoulder.

The tips of your ears and the nape of your neck prickle hot in response, attempting to think through just how you’d be able to bash this man’s face in with the chunk of rubble in your hand without getting stabbed directly in the face.

“This isn’t a tourism center, sweetheart. What you doin’ in the rough neighborhoods?” The thief begins to slowly move his hand towards your cross-body purse by your hip.

“You’ll see. For now, we say goodbye to these streets—” Tony points out, all the more confident of his future solely outside of Havana.

“What, man?” Manny blinks, noticing Tony immediately coming to a halt down the middle of the street.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Tony’s muscles stiffen as a threatening scowl sours over his expression—looking towards you just a short distance down and around the corner.

Petty criminals loitering down in old neighbors are all the same to Tony and many others, but Tony and Manny both recognize the face of this one slowly inching his way toward you.

“You know her, man?” Manny asks quietly, whispering.

Both Manny and Tony remain completely still but poised to jump in and sprint down at any moment.

“No,” The glare over Tony’s expression has turned into a death stare as he analyzes the slow, creeping movements of the thief using the noise of the city streets around him to his advantage. “See this fuckin’ guy again back down here—fuckin’ asshole want another tourist as a victim.”

“Don’t wanna say anything?” Observant just as much as he’s sly, the thief begins to press the tip of the blade further into your cheek as he notices you gripping the rubble chunk tighter in your hand. “C’mon, talk to me.”

Your stare towards the mountain of rubble before you is vacant and unfocused, simply waiting for the right moment to strike and lunge out of the way when the thief least expects it.

“I can make this quick,” the thief places his grim-covered hand over your leather purse. “Tourists ain’t short of any money and you won’t find nothin’ down here. Empty your pockets. Maybe I won’t hurt you too much—”

“HEY! Fuck you, man!” Tony calls out from behind, sprinting down the street with Manny as he grips his pistol tucked behind him in the waistband of his slacks.

With the thief recognizing Tony’s voice and being momentarily stunned by the sight of two men rushing directly towards him, every precious second in-between has bought you all the more time to defend yourself.

Without hesitation, you swing your arm back and smash the chunk of rubble in your hand over the thief’s forehead twice with as much force as you can muster.

Before Tony and Manny can approach the two of you, the thief cries out in pain before slumping to the floor disoriented and beginning to heavily bleed from his forehead.

You back off from the man as much as you can, just a moment before Tony and you both make split-second eye contact then see the thief trying to reach for his knife over the pavement.

“Don’t fuckin’ think so!” Tony aims his gun at the thief’s legs, firing two shots into both kneecaps with impeccable accuracy. “Lady put you down for a fuckin’ reason!”

Your eyes bulge in horror as you watch the thief howl in pain—blood spurting from his shattered kneecaps and instantly immobilizing him and all of his movements.

Still clutching onto the chunk of rock in your hand, you stare back at the two strangers in front of you with caution but it’s more than clear to you that they aim to help you rather than rob or hurt you too.

“Damn,” Manny huffs, scowling down at the thief. “You again, huh? Fuck is your name? George something? Fuck you doing down here again?”

“NO! NO, STOP!” The thief shrieks the moment Tony takes another step toward him.

“You fuckin’ piece of shit,” Tony kicks up gravel towards him, cocking his pistol back and aiming it directly at the thief’s head this time. “Got tired of digging through old rocks, now you chasing women, huh? What I tell you, huh?! This is my neighborhood, so if you fuck with it, you fuck with me!”

“I-I don’t—I was going—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Tony shouts over him, wrapping his finger around the trigger.

“Dead end, man,” Manny shakes his head at the thief; his eyes trailing upward to meet yours for the first time.

“I teach you what happens when you fuck with my neighborhood,” Tony grits his teeth, pulling the trigger.

‘Holy fuck!’ You flinch from the impact of blood and brain matter splattering around the three of you, painting over the layers of dust upon the rubble mountain just behind you.

Tony’s expression and disposition almost immediately cool as he glances down at his gun with a hint of amusement in his eyes—tucking it behind him once again before turning to face you with Manny as if nothing just happened.

You breathe heavily, attempting to make sense of everything that occurred in front of you within just a few seconds—now standing just a few feet away from a corpse and two armed men curious to see you more than anything else.

Both men before you are complete strangers but from appearances alone, you’re already mistaking them for brothers.

Your eyes fall upon Tony and Tony only, taking into account his sweaty and frustrated demeanor and fierce attitude—drenched in grease and grime from the Havana heat and filth of the city.

The fading scar slashed over Tony’s left eye immediately attracts your attention but your newfound attraction to this man begins to grow all the more apparent to you now with each passing moment.

“Nice weapon,” Manny chuckles, gesturing to the chunk of rubble in your hand. “But no match for Tony’s gun.”

You clear your throat quietly, dropping the piece of rubble as your eyes dart over to Manny’s.

Manny’s hair is a disheveled mix of gel and sweat combed back and he carries a mischievous grin over his lips.

Taller than Tony but sharing the same lean, slim build, you notice a genuinely friendly and playful look in Manny’s expression and hear genuine care in his voice whereas with barely any conversation in or knowing who these two men are, its already become clear to you that Tony may as well be the “tough guy” between the two, but with no need to pretend.

“Hey,” Tony gives Manny a nudge, rolling his eyes. “Gotta give her credit. How was that, huh?” Tony smirks at you, impressed. “That was a good move. You know how to protect yourself.”

“I have to,” you reply back, still standing your ground and unaware of it.

“Good, I like that,” Tony grins back. “Lot of guys like that in other neighborhoods, but not lot of guys like me. We gotta look out for another, you know? I here, Manny here—” Tony gestures to Manny, revealing his name to you. “This is our place. We gotta do the lookout. You okay?” Tony begins to approach you.

“Yeah,” you remain still, steadying your breathing. “Just… Startled, that’s all.”

Tony’s eyes dart up and down your body from head to toe, looking for injury but also taking in the sight of what he likes at the same time. “Okay, good. Little cockroach didn’t hurt our new friend either.”

“You a tourist?” Manny asks.

“Barely,” you answer back, dusting off your hands. “I came here to see if the estate my father inherited existed.”

“Ah, yeah,” Tony purses his lips, “lot of tourists come down from time to time for that but see—” Tony gestures towards the pile of rubble to your side. “Nothing left. They always leave empty-handed. All gone.”

“This a junkyard now, man,” Manny agrees, nodding. “Nothing here no more.”

“Fuck’s sake,” you sigh to yourself in relief, touching your cheek where the petty criminal was about to dig his blade into. “There’s nothing, there’s just nothing. All of this for nothing.”

“Heh, no danger, no reward, huh?” Tony chuckles to himself, “but no problem for you. You an American. One made of money.”

“And what’s it to you?” You raise a brow, beginning to grow somewhat offended by the way Tony’s so openly and casually speaking to you.

“Nothing,” Tony holds back a laugh as Manny looks down at the ground with a wide smile on his lips. “Just saying, we won’t be so different later. We not gonna be down here no more, like you. No, Castro fucked this place good. We calling America home, starting tomorrow.”

“Miami, right?” It’s not the first you’ve heard of it, and certainly not the first from Havana.

“Oh, you know?” Manny blinks, looking up at you.

“You two would neither be the first nor the last, I’m assuming,” you reply back. “Yeah, I know something about it. I live in Miami myself. There’s a camp down in Florida already.”

“So you know where we going?” Tony seems all the more amused. “American tourist one step ahead of us. What you know about the place?”

“I know that you can be in that camp for longer than you ever thought you could be anywhere,” you tell him, “for months on end, waiting to get approved and get into the process for a green card. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it? You can barely do a thing without it there anyway.”

“Well, yeah,” Manny shrugs his shoulders, “we gonna live in the country.”

“You know a lot, not just little,” Tony’s gaze over you turns curious, “maybe you help us, huh? Like you Americans say, I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

“I can’t say,” you stare back at Tony and Manny. “At least not here, and not now. The least you two could tell me are your names.”

“Tony,” Tony points to his chest with a devilish grin. “Antonio Montana.”

“Manny Ribera,” Manny says with a beaming smile.

“And you?” Tony’s eyes momentarily dart up from your chest to your eyes. “What you call yourself?”

“Celeste Navarro,” you introduce yourself—noticing Tony’s curious, wandering eyes already.

“Celeste Navarro…” Tony repeats to himself, “my first American friend and she wanna help me. All Americans like you must be so nice.”

“Only if you know who to talk to,” you crack a smile, nodding. “But you think I owe you two a favor now.”

“A favor? No, sweetheart,” a smirk forms over Tony’s lips, “not me, not Manny. Nothing.” Tony nudges the corpse of the thief aside with his foot, rolling the body over. “And you know, no worry about that. Bodies here disappear overnight. You know how it is. It dangerous here, so we can’t say it a favor. Just what you have to do. That’s why I carry one on me,” Tony pats his gun tucked in the back waistband of his slacks. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Tony,” Manny mutters, nudging his back. “Don’t say it like that, man.”

“I never said I was ungrateful,” you’re unphased by the comment. “I’m certainly not.”

“I know,” Tony rakes a hand through his choppy hair. “I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face. We not so far from each other, right? Not gonna be.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” you roll your eyes, up to your limit from enough tough guy talk. “But good luck anyway,” clutching your purse, you turn around to face the street and begin heading off.

“Don’t take no scenic route!” Tony shouts back after you.

Ignoring him, you roll your eyes and pick up your pace—only focused on getting the hell out of here and putting this day to rest knowing you could have gotten yourself killed over a pile of rocks and nothing more.

“Wow, man,” Manny cringes, putting his hands behind his back. “That could be better.”

“That was the best, man,” Tony boasts proudly. “You don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what, man?” Manny scoffs, chuckling.

“I thank her, she thank me,” Tony points out, “that’s all. Now if I American like her and I live in Miami—nuh uh, no way, man. No way,” Tony shakes his head, “I no coming down to see pile of rocks here even if someone tell me there’s a big house. No.”

“I don’t know, man,” Manny lets out a deep sigh of relief, “these Americans live different, you know?”

“She gonna see me again,” Tony decides, nodding.

“Tony, seriously—” Manny can no longer hold back his laughter, “it a small world here, huh?”

“Celeste, Celeste…” Tony murmurs, repeating your name. “I say this ‘cause you know how it’s gonna go.” Tony bends down, picking up a blood-stained chunk of rubble. “The police or whatever guys they got in the camps over there not gonna keep us safe. They just gonna ask the questions…”

Tony turns around, staring at the bloody, lifeless corpse of the thief before his feet. “Give you the green card, yes or no, but they gonna ask—” Tony’s eyes meet with Manny’s. “They gonna ask if you know an American, I gonna say yes. I say yes, I know Celeste Navarro. So she gonna see me again, Chico, not because she owe me for killing this cockroach. She gonna see me again because I wanna see her.”

[bibibbon]

Since it's a known fact that Hori wants to make a horror manga and... with what BNHA showed us, I highly doubt it's going to be any of good quality.

That and the fact that the Horror genre seems too out of his league in terms of writing skills.

Horror can sometimes be a bit tricky to pull off, as it requires a LOT of care and thought to be put into. And the thing is it's more than just gore and seeing people die in horrific ways, as it can even show us the mind of the mentally messed up and the horrors of reality.

Something I don't think Hori is equipped of tackling. Since he refused to kill off any characters, rectify consequences to where it was completely pointless of adding. And the... sexualization. In all honestly, it's probably gonna be that one meme of on today's episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish.

Hi @theloganator101 👋

So I have heard that horikoshi intends on making a horror manga and I have no plans on properly following or reading it.

Iam going to be honest Iam not much of a horror reader so I really don't know much about the horror genre when it comes to manga or how the manga industry treats the horror genre.

Realistically, I do very much think that horikoshi is an amazing artist and that if he were to draw a horror manga it would be incredibly detailed ( we've already seen this from some manga panels or pages of MHA just how well horikoshi can draw)

But when it comes to the actual substance of the story I don't have much hope considering what happend to MHA. Relying on simply art and body horror isn't a great way to have a plot of a horror manga center around. There are many different types of things they horikoshi can depict in a horror manga, take for example twice and what happend to him (his clones all killing eachother and going wild) and how such an event can cause someone to go down the path of insanity because the fear that he isn't him and that there's no way to differentiate himself always festers on. You can also show the psychological trauma that a character has to a particular event or depict things like intrusive thoughts and such in a horrific way.

I agree horikoshi does have a sexualisation problem when it comes to his female characters and its honestly disgusting like there was no need to draw toruu in a manga cover like that or to show miriko all bloodied up and across the floor in the manner that he did. It's disgusting and I haven't even mentioned the other things he did so I do hope that he doesn't do that when it comes to the horror manga.

So yeah there's potential when it comes to the horror manga but I am not sure how his manga would go if the writing quality doesn't change

[cosmicjoke]

Is it OK to ask you questions about your fics? Your portrayal of different mental illnesses is SO SO good. You incorporate these little details that I’ve never seen other writers include like the way Levi’s sexual abuse makes him feel literally deformed and how it goes beyond him seeing himself as unattractive and how Levi’s OCD is as much about the intrusive thoughts as it is about the compulsions and how Levi takes the thoughts as proof he’s bad. I don’t have an ED but my twin sister had anorexia and the way Levi acts is -eerily similar- to how she would act in the middle of her illness down to the little rituals and how she would describe the feeling of fat on her body and how she would take any mention of her needing to put on weight as other people trying to make her “fatter”. And my sister would also actually throw the food others would try to get her to eat. I wanted to know what inspired you to tackle these subjects and if you were willing to share, how you know so much about this material. Seriously I’ve never seen a better portrayal of these things. The amount of research is -incredible-. Also as a linguistics fan, your focus on how Levi’s environment influenced his language is ON POINT.

First of all, of course, you can ask me anything you want! And second, wow, I'm honestly blown away by your kind words. I can't tell you how much they mean to me, to know how much you appreciate and enjoy my story, and the research that's gone into it.

To answer your question, I wish I could take all the credit for the accuracy of my depictions of Levi's various issues in my story, but I actually have a friend, @scarletskiesinthepaths, who's been really helping me out there. Honestly, without her input and sharing her own experiences, I never could have gotten anywhere close to as accurate a portrayal as I have in "This Life, After". I'm hugely indebted to her for allowing me to really do a lot of these topics justice and avoid any sort of offensive or insensitive moments, at least hopefully, haha. So yeah, any sort of realism, particularly with regards to Levi's medical issues, really comes down to her helping me. But I'm so glad the story has managed to reach you and you see some of your own experiences with your sister reflected in it. I always think that's the greatest compliment a writer can receive, is to know that the issues they tackle in their work particularly touch those affected by those issues in real life.

In terms of what inspired me, I just like tackling dark subject matter in general, so I always kind of gravitate toward issues like the ones I have Levi dealing with in my story, whether that's child abuse or serious medical conditions, etc... I also think Levi's life post-canon is ripe for exploration, and I initially set out with this story just to write something exploring what Levi's life post-canon would be like, particularly with him having gone from being "Humanity's Strongest Soldier" to being disabled and needing a wheelchair. I find that particular aspect of Levi's character very interesting to think about. And it just sort of grew from there, and I ended up giving Levi a lot more issues than I originally planned, lol. It just sort of took on a life of its own.

Also, thank you so much for your kind words regarding Levi's dialect in my story, haha. I really enjoy writing the sections from Levi's POV in particular, for that reason. I'm glad it feels genuine and not forced or affected in some way to you. It just makes sense to me that Levi would speak with a fairly heavy dialect, given the type of upbringing he had, etc...

Anyway, thank you so much! I really appreciate it, again, and if you have any more questions, feel free to ask!

[kbthebearcat]

Hey everyone!! So I’m still recovering from residual covid stuff and not feeling 100%, but I’ve acquired some energy at the moment to post some things I’ve managed to work on while I was sick. This first thing I’ve got to share here is a ref for Reese!!  (⬅️Link to more into on him there!)

(⚠️warning, there’s a lot of rambling here below the cut⚠️)

  Okay, so this ref was intended to be done around the same time as Donald's, but I ended up going on a bit of a journey when it came to Reese's hair. I had been wanting to change it for a while because there were some details about it that didn't make much sense that bothered me, like when drawing it at different angles. I also noticed that when I got art commissioned of him, the artists seemed to be rather confused on how his hair worked, and I got two different depictions of his hair. And this was not by resquest mind you, I think they ended up drawing his hair the way they did because they were simply trying to figure out how it worked. 😅 And I don’t blame them, because even I was confused about how his hair actually worked.

I honestly didn’t even know what kind of hairstyle I was going for with him before. I just wanted some kind of spiky-ness going on because I was going for a kind of punk rock vibe. And for the most part I did like how it looked, but it just wasn’t very functional. 

So when redesigning his hair, I wanted to make it more comprehensive while also making sure it still fit Reese’s character and vibe. And when I say it was a journey trying to pick on that worked and felt good, it was a JOURNEY. 

Art first I was going for a slicked/combed back look because that’s the kind of style I saw the artists I commissioned doing, and it looked like the best bet to try and go for a style like that if I wanted to try and preserve his older style. I messed around with a lot of different options but nothing really worked for me. It all ended up looking kinda weird and I just wasn’t fully satisfied with it. 

I even tried other long-haired styles that were more functional but would still add some spikiness to his hair in some way, but I didn’t really like how those looked on him either. At some point, I started to realize that I liked the look of him just having long hair in general, and that it didn’t really have to be spiky. Soooo… that’s when I started drawing his hair without any spiky-ness, and eventually into what I’ve got here now. This turned out to be the style that I felt the most comfortable with him having. I think it looks good on him! Plus I still got to have him keep that lighter color of hair, but this time it’s applied in what I feel like is a more natural-looking way.

Ummm I don’t really know what else I want to say at the moment so I think I’m done rambling for now! I plan on posting an extra thing showing some alternate hairstyles that he does. One thing I really like about his updated hair design is that it feels more versatile and that a lot of stuff can be done with it, so I’ll be having fun with that! 

[dollanganger-in-the-attic]

On the subject of the ghost writer... normally I'm the sort of person who likes to think that anyone should be allowed to write anything, as long as they put some care into what they're depicting if it's not their lived experience... but is it wrong that it creeps me out that this guy has spent almost 40 years writing stories about the abuse and suffering of girls and women while hiding behind the name of a dead woman?

Surely more people would get this ick from this if he was doing it under his own name and not pretending that all of this was planned by VCA in advance? (Also I get that she managed to write a lot in a short time, but I honestly don't believe that half of what he's written in her name was actually what she planned or wanted.) I don't know, I hate fact that most people don't know a lot of the VCA books are ghost written. My first introduction to VCA as a teen was the Orphan mini-series and I didn't find out that they were ghost written until the last book came out. And, compared to the prose in FitA the Orphan series is such trash. Sorry, I think I went on a wild tangent... I just get annoyed about the ghost writer...

Hey i love talking about this! So thanks for sending this ask, you and i are totally on the same page 🌸

I think to begin with, a man pretending to be disable woman in order to sell books at all is inappropriate. I mean didnt an author get in trouble for that recently? Like he purposefully chose a feminine/ambiguous penname and let people believe he was a woman in order to market his books better to women? Was is riley sager?

Oh look theres a whole article about this phenomena Why Men Pretend to be Woman to Sell Thrillers

But as you’ve said, YEAH it creeps me out the way he writes these books because unlike vca he seems to delight in the torment of these young female characters. His violence against them seems gratuitous and for shock value. There’s no empathy in it! And these are the MAIN characters whom the reader is meant to project onto. Like why do his books feel… dirty? Vca’s books felt melancholy and somber, you could tell she was writing from a place of understanding, fear and grief. Because her writing was REAL. The ghostwriter writes like he has a checklist he fills out called the “VC Andrews formula” lol

And i say this a lot but i feel the need to reiterate that i have no interest in attack this man’s character beyond his work, i dont know him or who he is outside of a writer. His family seems to love him and hes been with his wife a long time… though i will say in an interviewed they revealed he was a high school teacher and she was student at his school when they started dating 🥴 that gave me a bit or a surprise lol but it was a different time i guess

But on the topic of VCA’s unfinished books: that was all a lie. She never had any unfinished manuscripts lying around in which the ghostwriter finished. Even Garden of Shadows was entirely written by the GW. The publisher only pushed out that lie to make it easier to sell the knockoff books. And i DO like some of them, like the Landry and Cutler series. But VCA didnt have a hand in them at all. Most people still don’t know this because the publisher would prefer people just keep believing she had a closet full of 500 books they just keep pulling from lol

It bugs me too, i wish the publisher would be more honest, like at least stop putting “from the author of flowers in the attic” on ghostwritten books. Its deceptive and scummy. Thats why i try to spread the word, though i know i sound like a broken record. I just think this incredible woman, vca, deserved better.

[paingoes]

Hi! I just started reading your destroyer story and I really liked it. Was the academy a training ground or an experimental place or both? The way that it was talked about as weeding out the good kids made me wonder what it would be like to actually live there

oh what an exciting ask. both is correct! i want to describe it as a kind of evil X-Mansion situation. it was legally filed as a boarding school for tax reasons but the main purpose is for psychic training and experimentation.

they do technically hold classes. the vibe of the school environment is like if there was standardized testing at school every single day (you need to focus, the stakes have never been higher, be quiet, focus on the test). however as you can imagine being exposed to this every day causes a lot of the kids to get desensitized to the high security environment and still find ways to act like kids in spite of it. its their only opportunity to really socialize with other children and some of them are able to take advantage of it in subtle ways.

any time not spent in "class" is spent with research/training of psychic abilities. this takes up the majority of the day. these can be 1-on-1 or in groups depending on how specific or dangerous the test is. this is where a lot of the MK Ultra type shit happens its where the kids learn to blow stuff up with their mind and the researchers get to see how they react in different combat situations.

the facility also has a LOT of doctors and scientists on staff to experiment w different drug cocktails and procedures to see what works and what doesn't. they're able to really juice some of the kids abilities in this way and eventually permanently modify them to get more consistently high results. (this is what happened to delta. he'd never be able to produce the levels he does if he wasnt altered.)

one of the weird things w the institute and one of the reasons it doesnt really "work" in-universe (the whole project is generally considered a failure by Empire) is because there are kids there of a lot of different age ranges and ability and many of them were ENROLLED at different ages. there's a huge disparity between the kids who were basically born into the program the way delta was and the kids who showed up when they were like ten or eleven and already had personalities.

i actually think one way to describe it if there was more levity to their circumstances, the institute would be a really good generic evil setting for some kind of tween fantasy series. imagine some older kids getting enrolled into the program and learning to rebel and form alliances with each other to plan a daring escape!!! and they are teenage psychics and best friends!!! i think this is what maximum ride is about i guess it has potential to be a kind of maximum ride situation... i never read that book though so i dont know.

anyway as it is i havent really written about the Institute simply because im kind of adverse to in-depth depictions of severe child abuse! because it was a very very abusive environment for the students, bonding was discouraged, all of them were repeatedly told they were only as valuable as their powers were strong and it was designed to groom them for a lifetime of accepting abuse and dehumanization.

so i dont really want to get heavily into whump w/ child characters because its not to my taste but tbh i might make a backstory chapter at some point because it is fairly important! its just depressing honestly id have to psych myself up to write it.

thanks for the ask! <3