#just wish i was able to save it on my own computer and not the school computer :(

[milkandraspberry]

[thealmostthursday]

“ I wish to (politely) request withered more info or art of fluff Mac virus hate ending where we fix them. Do they get back to themselves fully? Will they always have deformitys from the transformation? I'm curious “ ➡️ your request has been heard! i will make post-virus!mac fluff art soon <3

info tho i can give right now!

“ do they get back to themselves fully? “ YES! post-virus!mac has complete full autonomy! full reign over their body, can make decisions for their own person, all that good stuff. they are traumatized after what happened but its canon that they heal over time and get a happy ending with you, as a realized person <3!

“ will they always have deformities from the transformation? “ ALSO YES! the virus did permanent damage to mac’s CPU , and that personifies as post-virus!mac having long elf like ears, sharper fangs, being a little taller than in canon , nails that naturally form into points like claws and have a black quick but white tips, they also have those pincers everyone likes so so much, and the ability to unhinge their jaw to facilitate those pincers !

( only drawings i got thus far where u can see those post-virus attributes )

other info i have on them under read below since its a lot of text ^^!!!

link 2 my strawpage !!

>> HOW YOU SAVE MAC, is by taking their motherboard chip and inserting it into a whole new system! this is because the virus mac is infested with cannot actually attach to the CPU! and can only damage it over time, basically you just moved all of mac’s vital organs into a new body lmao.

this new setup is 100% in ur room. so whenever you point the dateviators at them, they’re probably going to be in in ur bed, probably shirtless too because post-virus!mac doesn’t like tight fitting clothing, or feeling heat in any capacity towards the beginning of their healing journey. with you, they’ll be able to handle, and even love, warmth again <3

>> post-virus!mac gains weight! the virus had originally starved mac, so ‘ eating ‘ or taking energy, however it works, feels fucking amazing to mac. its comforting, and that with all the sleeping and rest and pampering they’re getting, they get a lil chubby ( YAAAASSSSSS!!!!! )

>> from the info i wrote in the ‘ possible ending ‘s piece, you know mac is much more vigilant of their health, and possible triggers they might have developed. even if they don’t tell you all of them upfront out of not wanting to put limitations on how they could be useful for you. but this also gives way to them being paranoid a lot, those big long ears can pick up a lot of sound, so get ready for them whipping their head around at random corners like a guard dog and just staring at nothing!!

>> they also are prone to meltdowns and have them a lot in the beginning, which sucks especially because their system overheats during these and we already know they don’t like that!! they happen less often overtime, though i can’t tell if its more realistic that one day they’re a thing of the past, or something constantly looming around the corner. . . currently siding with a constant thing they learn to prepare for and live with.

>> MAC HAS VIVID DREAMS, and thus, vivid nightmares! a lot of nights, especially at the start, usually result in nightmares for mac. nights where they’re staring back at the virus, or they’re put right back in the backseat of their own mind while the virus controls the vehicle. they wake up with a start often, hot sweaty, not good. either you’re a player and you sleep with the dateviators on and see them jump awake. or you don’t and just get to wake up to what sounds like your in-room computer system fucking screaming.

that’s all i can think of that i got off the top of my head! questions and requests for specific info always welcome tho ^^!!!!

[wardenbloom]

Zayne: Within Grasp (Part 2)

Reader x Zayne

Self-aware; Ongoing series (here's the link to part 1)

Part 2: Maybe a god took pity on you.

As you approached the dining room, Zayne was laying down the plates on the table. The yellow lights made his complexion warmer and his face softer.

Suddenly, you felt your heart skip a beat as your cheeks felt hot.

Hngghhh... I've had my doubts earlier but seeing him like this is just... He's just too handsome!!

"Come," He noticed you staring at him from the corner. He pulled a chair for you to sit. "As a sign of thanks for today."

You sat on the chair and in front of you is a full meal -- steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, as small serving of pasta and some roasted asparagus.

His eyes looked at your expression -- seemingly looking for your approval.

"Ohhh these smell great!!" You exclaimed and took bite. "Mmmhhh!! So yummy!”

He smiled and nodded. "I'm glad that my cooking is to your liking." He replied and started eating.

The delicious food washed away your doubts as to his existence. After all, what's the harm in enjoying his company? He's right. Didn't you wish he was real?

As you were eating, you surveyed his face as if trying to figure out if he was real.

The way he chews his food, the way his hands and arms moved... It was all flawless -- he is real

He noticed you looking at him and he stared back, filling the air between the two of you with awkwardness.

"I... Uh..." You started fidgeting and feeling uncomfortable.

"... I was wondering since earlier..." He started. "If I could get a job here."

He took a deep breath.

"I am very much aware that my credentials and identification are not valid here. But, I don't want you to spend your money on keeping me alive."

"Further, I'd like to spend or buy whatever you want too." He finally said while placing his silverware together at the middle of his plate.

"Uhm... Before that, Zayne..." You uttered. "Are you sure you'd be here for a long time? Long enough to actually earn for me?"

It's been in your thoughts since earlier that he might vanish without a trace, the same way he vanished from the game. After all, he is not from this world.

"Yes. I am sure." He replied without hesitation.

I paid a great price for this... I should be able to be with you for a very long time.

He thought as he observed your expression.

"Alright. How about we search for a job with minimum requirements?" You smiled.

His existence... His motives... His entirety... There's still something to unpack here... I can't let my guard down.

You thought and finally took the last bite of your dinner.

After cleaning up you booted up your PC in the bedroom and you let him sit on your computer chair.

"You can look it up here while I do my own research as well. Hehe, it'll be more efficient if there's the two of us looking for it." You said while booting up your laptop then sat beside him.

He looked into the screen and started searching and after an hour, both of you arrived at nothing as every job listed needs government IDs, transcript of records, clearance and the like.

He sighed.

"It seems like we're on a dead end and I doubt I could legally practice medicine here." He uttered while closing the tabs.

You sat at the edge of the bed and fluffed the pillows.

"Zayne." You called him and he looked at you. "Is there anything you want to do other than being a doctor?"

"... I haven't thought about that." He placed his finger on his chin. "I wanted to save you that's why I was a doctor. But seeing you now..." He gently smiled. "I can still be your doctor but at the same time, it seems like there's no need for me to do so as there are no aethercores here."

His gaze locked with yours as he stood up and sat beside you.

Still being wary of him, you moved a bit away from him to maintain distance.

"I'll think of what I can do. You seem drowsy." He touched your face and for some reason, despite being wary, you felt comfortable with his touch.

You closed your eyes and felt his warm touch against you.

"Say... Since you like pastries so much, how about just selling them?" You uttered under your breath. "Putting up a small business doesn't require you to give out any identification but I can. Maybe we could just do that rather than applying for a job from some company."

Zayne didn't speak but he sensed your drowsiness. He gently laid you down the bed and tucked you in.

"Let's think about that tomorrow." He softly said but you were already asleep. "Goodnight."

Not wanting to violate the distance you made earlier, he saved his goodnight kiss for some other time then left the bedroom.

Zayne laid down the couch, and just like any other night, he had a hard time falling asleep.

... I did say I won't vanish just like that but... I wonder how long will this body sustain here?

He thought while staring into the ceiling.

She seems careful of me. While I can't blame her, it still pains me.

He sighed then looked at the door to your bedroom. Around him was your cozy living room -- nothing much but a coffee table with magazines beneath, a reclining chair, and a couch.

I finally found you... The real you... And I will not let go this time.

<< Part 1

>> Part 3

[luxaofhesperides]

if you give a ghost a trauma: a parody fic

read on ao3.

Danny wishes to be sent someplace he could have a better family. Unfortunately, that lands him in a Gotham where tropes are made reality to the extreme. He really just can't catch a break. (or: a dcxdp parody fic where i make danny the only one able to see how bizarre things are. this does not help him in any way.)

. . .

“We’re gonna get you!” Maddie Fenton, a Bad Parent™ cries as she shoots her gun at Danny, her half dead son.

“No!” he wails, flying around as he dodges the shots. “I wish my parents weren’t trying to capture me for Evil Science Reasons! I wish I had a better family!”

“Lol, done,” said Desiree, snapping her fingers. 

Danny only has time to say Uh-oh before he’s sucked away into a magic portal and spit out into a dark and dreary city. In just the one second he’s there, before he even hits the ground, he hears gunshots, screaming, and the wailing of police sirens. Then he hits the ground and groans, releasing his ghost form to go back to being a human. 

“Where am I?” he asks himself, getting to his feet and looking around. The alleyway he’s in is empty and full of garbage just scattered around. Wherever he may be, it clearly needed to invest more in its sanitation department. 

He spots a fire escape on the side of a building and uses it to climb onto the rooftop, a totally normal course of action. Then he stares at the city, glowing with the street lights and neon business lights and a spotlight with the shape of a bat in it glowing on the clouds. 

“This might as well just happen,” Danny says, “My life is already so weird anyway.”

He stands there for some time, at a loss of what to do next. The wind is cold and brings with it a promise of rain, and from the looks of the dark clouds above him, it’s going to rain soon. Danny needs shelter, fast.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” says someone who snuck up behind him.

Danny shrieks and jumps, nearly going over the edge of the roof.

“Woah!” the person says, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to safety. “That was close!” 

Danny blinks up at his savior, then squints. This guy’s definitely not normal, since he’s wearing a domino mask and a lightly armored black suit with a blue bird emblem stretching across his chest. 

“Way to nearly kill him, Nightwing,” says a new person, dropping down onto the roof from the sky. This new person wears red and black, a pair of bandoliers crossing over his chest. 

“Well, I saved him, didn’t I!”

“Um, hi,” Danny interjects. “Thanks for grabbing me before I fell, but who are you?”

“You don’t know who we are?” blue bird asks rather incredulously.

“Do you think I’m asking just for fun.”

Red and black steps in with a smile. “I’m Red Robin, that’s Nightwing. We’re vigilantes trying to keep Gotham safe.”

Danny makes an educated guess that the city they’re currently in is Gotham. Not a city he’s ever heard before, but what does he know?

“Okay,” he says. There’s really not much else he can say.

“You never answered my question,” Nightwing says. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine. No idea where I am or how to get home, but it can always be worse, you know?”

“Did you get lost?” Red Robin asks, pulling a holographic computer up from his wrist. Tucker would kill to get his hands on something like that. Danny wonders if he can get his own as a souvenir. 

“Something like that, yeah,” he replies. Another few gunshots ring out loudly through the streets, closer than they were before. Danny flinches, then ducks down a little, looking back towards the street apprehensively. “Um. You guys gonna do anything about that?”

The two vigilantes shrug, as if that’s an acceptable course of action. And then a hand shoots up and grabs the edge of the roof by Danny’s foot, making him jump in the air. Nightwing catches him yet again and moves him away from the ledge. 

A red helmet, leather jacket wearing guy built like a pro-wrestle hauls himself up the roof easily. There are guns tucked into holsters on his thighs and a red, block bat stuck on his chest. 

“Should I be concerned,” Danny says blankly. 

“Nah, it’s just Red Hood,” Red Robin replies, “The only person he ever tries to kill is me.”

“Cause you’re a replacement. And also, get over it, that was ages ago We’re good now. I haven’t even had a Pit Rage episode in months!”

“So the bullets you shot at me last week were just for fun?”

“Yeah, and they were rubber, so it’s not like you would have gotten hurt.”

Danny takes a few steps closer to Nightwing, hiding behind him. He’s getting bad vibes all around from that guy. 

“Tch,” a new voice says right behind Danny, making him flinch. A young boy with a sword steps out from behind him and joins the crew of vigilantes just hanging out on the roof. “As if he’s even worth that much attention.”

“Hello to you too, Demon Brat,” Red Robin says.

“How many of you are there?” Danny asks. “Don’t you need to like, protect the city?”

“Batgirl and Spoiler are working on it,” Nightwing says.

“We’re doing what?” another voice says, and a energetic blond girl dressed in purple armor hops onto the roof, tucking her grappling hook away. Following her is another person in all black, face fully covered, with stitches covering the mouth portion to make it seem as though they can’t talk. The person leaves the blond girl behind to head straight to Danny, making him take a few nervous steps back. 

“Dead,” she says, poking his chest with a finger.

Is that a threat? It feels like a threat. 

“No?” he tries. 

“What are you talking about, Batgirl?” Red Hood interrupts. “We all know the only dead person here is me.”

Everyone promptly groans, telling him to shut up about it and go one night without mentioning his death. 

Okay, that seems concerning! Is he another halfa? Is he like Vlad? Danny’s going to be so mad if he got dropped into another world directly into the hands of another Vlad. 

“You’re dead?” he asks, leaning away from Batgirl as she pokes him once more. 

“Yeah.”

“Same hat?” Danny tries, squinting at him.

“The fuck?” is the answer, which tells him that he probably doesn’t know what Danny’s on about. There’s still a 6% chance that he’s just lying to make Danny look like a fool, though. 

6% is more than 5%, which means it’s enough for him to just act on instinct and walk right up to the gun-wielding Red hood. He tries to consciously use his ghost sense, which is an odd feeling that reminders him of the moment before he hiccups. 

A light blue mist wafts out his mouth. 

Yep, the rumors are true: this man is dead.

“Once, again,” Red Hood says, “The fuck?”

“Seconded,” Nightwing adds.

“Third!” Spoiler joins in. 

Danny takes a page out of Batgirl’s book and pokes Red Hood’s chest. It’s very solid, only hard muscle, and reminds him a bit of Dan. That’s never a good sign. Something about Red Hood is making his skin crawl though, a sense of wrongness that sets alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. 

“Did you come back instantly when you died?” he asks.

The white lenses of Red Hood’s helmet turn neon green. “Why the fuck are you asking me that.”

“Just checking. The green I’m seeing right now is making me think you’re a halfa.”

“What’s a halfa?” Red Robin interjects.

“An unlucky soul like me,” Danny responds, distracted. He lays his palm flat against Red Hood’s chest. The vigilante holds still, as if frozen, letting Danny do as he please. The ectoplasm he feels in other ghosts is usually calm, made unique by the personality of the ghost it belongs to, but it doesn’t roil and try to hurt the host like the ectoplasm in Red Hood is doing. 

He pulls back and looks around at the circle of vigilantes surrounding him. “Can anyone answer how he came back? Where did he even find this must rotten ectoplasm?”

“Pit,” Batgirl helpfully answers.

“Pit,” Danny repeats. “Like a pit of death? Toxic sludge? Landfill pit gone evil? What am I working with here.”

“Lazarus Pits,” the little one with the sword says. “How do you know about them?” He then pulls out his sword and points it at Danny, ignoring the way Nightwing hisses Robin, no! 

His name is Robin? Isn’t that just Red Robin’s name? Did this Robin have a color added to his name as well? 

“I literally don’t, but if it’s green and weird, then it’s probably ecto.” He turns back to Red Hood. “I’m gonna take care of it now.” And then he shoves his hand into Red Hood’s chest, ignoring the alarmed shouts from the other vigilantes. They try to pull him away, but Danny goes intangible, making their hands fall right through him as he gets a good grip on the ecto, sending his own out in a steady stream to chase the rotten flow towards his hand, then yanks it out. 

It’s green and goopy in his hands, steaming slightly in the air. “Ew,” Danny says. “That’s nasty. You were just living with this inside you?”

Red Hood doesn’t seem to hear him. 

Red Hood takes off his helmet and stares at the rotten ectoplasm in Danny’s hand. Nightwing approaches him cautiously, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Hood? You doing okay? How are you feeling?”

“It’s gone,” Red Hood answers, shocked. “The Pit Rage. It’s gone. I haven’t felt this clear headed since before I died.”

“That must have sucked,” Danny says empathetically, then shakes the nasty ecto off his hand. It lands on the roof with a wet splat. 

Once again: ew.

“How did you do that?” Red Robin asks, crowding into Danny’s space. Batgirl slides up behind him, trapping him between them. 

“Did you not just watch me yank it out? It was easy. Anyways, y’all got jobs to do, and I got places to go. So I’ll see you never!”

He tries to fly away, but only manages to get a few feet before he’s pulled down by multiple people grabbing at him.

“What is going on here,” A low, gravelly voice demands. Yet another vigilante appears, gliding out of the shadows. This one is much bigger than everyone else, cloaked in darkness, with a helm that has two little ear things poking out on top. 

“Batman,” Robin says, “This meta cured Hood of his Pit Madness.”

“I see,” Batman replies, looking Danny over. “Are you an orphan?”

What the fuck. Who just asks that?

“No.”

“Are your parents well?”

“Sure? My mom was pretty energetic while shooting at me before I came here.”

“You do not have to be unsafe in your home again,” Batman says, grabbing something out of his tactical fanny pack. “You can live with us instead.”

He holds out fucking adoption papers.

Danny backs up as fast as he can, shaking his head. “Oh, no! No you don’t! I did not trade one fruitloop for another!”

“No new brother?” Batgirl asks sadly. 

“Definitely not,” he insists. “No thank you! I’m fine as I am and fully plan on going home.”

Batman frowns. “You said your mother was shooting at you.”

“Yeah, and? The food in our fridge comes to life every meal and we have to fight it. This is normal for us. Chill out and put those papers away.”

The entire crew of vigilantes seems very put out with Batman obligingly puts the adoption papers away. 

“Yeah, I’m done here. Go back to protecting the city. I’m just gonna… go.”

Danny doesn’t wait for them to say anything else before flies away, remembering to go intangible this time. He soars through the polluted streets of Gotham, weaving between tall buildings made with dark stone and decorated with gargoyles. It’s all very dark and dreary, which means Sam would love it.

She would not be loving the pollution, though. Danny certainly isn’t. 

“I wish I could go home,” he says loudly, looking up at the sky expectantly. 

No magic portal appears to yoink him back. 

“I wish I was at home again, and not here!”

Desire does not appear to help him out. She leaves him stranded in Gotham, pouting at the sky until he gives up and flies down to sit on a new roof and angst about his situation. Hopefully this time a gaggle of vigilantes won’t bother him.

Resting his head against his hands, he sighs. Then again, and again, loudly. “Man, this sucks,” he says to himself.

“What’s got a kitten like you so down?” someone says behind him.

“I’m so tired of random people sneaking up behind me on rooftops,” he informs them without turning around. If they wanna talk to him, they gotta got to him, not the other way around.

“Ah, ran into the Bats, did you?”

They’re called Bats? But only two were Bats. None of the other vigilantes fit the theme. That’s just lazy and inconsistent. They should rebrand to something better.

The person walks over and sits down next to him. Danny glances over and is startled to find a woman in a leather body suit, with a hood that has cat ears and googles with an orange tint. 

…Is everyone in this city just dressed strangely at all times? Is this the normal fashion of Gotham?

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. Who are you?”

The woman laughs. “Oh, so you haven’t heard of Catwoman?”

“Nope. No clue who you are.”

“Well,” she purrs, “A pleasure to meet you. I’m a thief.”

The dots connect in his mind. “Like a cat burglar!”

“Yes, like that.”

“Man, this city is wild and I come from a place that deals with ghosts on a daily basis.”

“So what are you doing in a place like this? Gotham isn’t kind to newcomers.”

Danny sighs, yet again, and tilts his head back to look up at the cloudy, starless sky. “I made a dumb mistake and got sucked into a magic portal that spit me out here. I have no clue how I’m going to get home.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

He glares at Catwoman. “I’m not open to being adopted. I’ll just eat any papers you send my way.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she reassures, “I have no interest in being a mother. But I have a spare bedroom if you need it, and I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few tricks of the trade. It’ll be fun, messing with Batman.”

Ah, so she’s doing this for Trickster Reasons. Danny can respect that. 

And he also doesn’t have any other options. Considering how much gun violence and general violence he’s hearing in this city, he’ll probably be killed an embarrassing number of times just from trying to find a place to sleep on the streets for one night. Between cold, dangerous streets with storm clouds hanging heavy over his head or a guest bedroom in the home of a thief with a theme, there’s really no choice.

“If you don’t mind me hanging around, I’d really appreciate having a place to sleep until I figure out a way home.”

“Come along, then! I was just about to turn in for the night.” Catwoman stands up, stretches, then takes hold of the whip on her waist and snaps it out. She takes a running leap off the building, then throws her whip out to wrap around a billboard to swing across the street. 

Danny watches her go, then follows her lead, flying behind her, ready to catch her just in case. But Catwoman moves with ease, clearly experienced in recklessly moving through the streets, and makes her way to a highrise apartment with no trouble at all. 

They land on a balcony just as the sky rumbles with ominous thunder. Another second later, and the clouds open up and heavy rain begins to fall. 

Catwoman throws the door open and they both scramble to get inside before they get drenched. The lights flick on, revealing a stylish modern apartment, filled with art pieces and ornamental bonsai trees. A few quiet cries come from corners of the room, and then cats appear, one after another, moving around Danny’s legs curiously before turning to Catwoman. 

“That was a close one,” Catwoman says conversationally as she takes off her hood and googles, revealing her face. Her pixie cut is messy and her eyes are bright and sharp, just like a cat’s. “I suppose since we’re going to be working together from now on, that we properly introduce ourselves.” She holds out a hand for to shake. “Selina Kyle. I look forward to the trouble we’ll cause together.”

Danny stares down at her hand, then takes hold of it. Looks like he’s going to be a thief! Well, it’ll be a fun story for later. 

He doesn’t want his name attached to his new life of crime, though. And, he figures, this is a fresh start. New life, new name. There’s one that pops into mind immediately, and he latches onto it, ready to step into the world of crime. 

“Call me Neal Caffrey,” he says, shaking her hand. “I’m ready to start when you are.”

[kpop---scenarios]

Monster (9) - FINAL

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Warning: Mentions of blood, Murder, Swearing etc

Word Count: 2.8k

Taglist: @bluebeard67 @stephanieeeyang @mouseyboo @stayatinykatsy @thicccurls @thecutiepieme @kayleefriedchicken @msauthor @purple-bell @bluesiebirdie @jisunglyricist @skzdust @hash2013 @skzooluvr @minh0scat @kkamismom12 @xxeiraxx

@jiminssluttyminx @chloe-elise-2000

@maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

@gloriajovicc

Previous Chapters

“You're… you're in love with me?” You breathe, your heart pounding, almost out of your chest. You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks as Chan stares at you, slowly walking over to you as you sit up in his bed. He crawls onto the bed, towards you. You lay down, trying to cover your face but Chan rips the blankets from your body, smiling down at you. . You want to respond. You want to tell him you feel the same about him, but you can't. In seconds his lips are latched to yours, swiftly deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You grab his head, pulling him in closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. You want it to go further, but you're interrupted.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“I'm sorry, this might be the info we're waiting for.” You whisper, reaching for your phone. Chan sits up, laughing.

“Go ahead, princess.” He chuckles.

You place your phone to your ear, Chan gets off the bed, walking to the bathroom.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Y/N.” A voice breathes. A voice you absolutely recognized and wished you didn't.

“What do you want, Seojoon?” You snap.

“If you want this to end, I need you to do something for me.” He snaps. “Meet me in the tunnels of your dad's house. Come alone.” He says.

“What makes you think I'd ever meet you or do anything for you?” You snap back. “Get your girlfriend to do your bidding for you.”

“If you care about Chan…or Felix at all, you'll fucking meet me.” He snaps. “Unless you don't care… In that case I'll just take care of Felix now. Or maybe I'll have him take care of Chan.”

You still cared about Felix, even if he was on Mia's side. You knew either yourself or Chan would be able to get through to him. You couldn't let anything happen to him.

“Fine. I'll be there soon.” You whisper, hanging up the phone.

You knew going alone was probably a very bad idea, you knew this. But you didn't want to risk Chan getting hurt because of you, and you'd take something to protect yourself. You get out of the bed, hearing the shower starting. You open Chan's bedside drawer, grabbing his gun, placing it securely in the waist of your pants before grabbing your jacket to sneak out. You knew Chan was going to be mad at you, but sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

You take a deep breath outside your father's house, you had parked in the back so none of his guards would be able to see you. You go in the back basement door, being as quiet as you can, heading for the tunnels, ones you knew all too well.

“I'm surprised you came so quickly.” Seojoon chuckles. “Shall we go for round two with the chains?” He laughs.

“What do you want from me? Where's Felix? Is he okay?” You ask.

Seojoon completely ignored your last two questions.

“Your father. He has a lot of fucking information about me on his computer, and I need it wiped. That's where you come in.” He says. “You need to get rid of it.”

“And why should I do that for you?” You ask. “What are you going to do for me?”

“I'll make sure nothing happens to those two you care for so much. Everything has gone fucking sideways and I need to save my own ass. Once you have that info I can disappear.” He says.

“What about Mia? What are you doing with her? Is she disappearing with you?” You ask.

“I'm surprised you care about what happens to her.” He chuckles.

“I don't. She's gonna get what's coming to her, but it'll be more fun to watch you fuck her over before I take care of her.” You murmur.

“If you're asking if I'm gonna throw her under the bus, then yeah I fucking am. Now. Are you in or are you out?”

“Why the fuck would I help you? There's no way you can do anything to Chan, he'll kill you the second he sees you.” You scoff, turning to walk away.

“Is that right?.” Seojoon chuckles. “See for yourself.” You turn around, looking at the phone screen he was holding up. You see Chan laying in his bed, sleeping, his back to the door. You watch as Felix creeps inside the room, holding a gun, pointing it to the back of Chan's head.

“Chan!” You scream, in hopes that he'll hear you through the screen but you knew better than that.

“You help me or I'll fucking tell him to pull the trigger. Don't fucking test me, Y/N. I'll do it.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?” You cry.

“Your father's turning on everyone. Any day now the goddamn FBI are gonna be tearing this house apart, and I can't have my shit on there. So take this flash drive, pull the information and delete it and I'll disappear from your life. Or he dies.” Seojoon yells, shoving a flash drive towards you.

“Fuck. Fine.” You cry, grabbing it out of his hands. You turn around, heading towards the space in the basement only weeks ago he had been torturing you in. You take a deep breath, walking through the space as fast as you can towards the stairs. You creep up the stairs as quietly as you can, you truly don't want to be seen by anyone, or have anyone see what you're doing. You open the door, peaking out into the living room, making sure no one is around. The house is eerily quiet, you can hear the ticking of the clock that hangs above the fireplace. The low hum of the radio left on fills the room, as you sneak through the living room, trying to avoid the known creeks of the floor. You finally make it to your father's office, quietly opening the door, making sure he wasn't in there. Thankfully he wasn't.

You close the door, locking it as you put the flash drive into your father's computer, finding the file named Seojoon. You opened it, beginning to transfer the files but not before reading some of the things he had about Seojoon, And you apparently. He had notes about your relationship with Seojoon, the things you did, things he told you and things he did not. Listed were all the things he did for your father, unfortunately for you, it was written in detail, so much so, it made you nauseous. You didn't know how someone could do these things to another person. It was no wonder he wanted this information off your father's computer, it would put him away for life.

As the files finish downloading, you start to delete them all off the computer, until you hear footsteps and your stomach drops. You try to move as fast as you can, taking the flash drive out of the computer, slipping it in your pocket before the door is kicked in, guns pointed directly at your face.

“FBI! Put your fucking hands up!” He yells, rushing towards you. Your hands go up before he pulls you out of the chair, slamming you down onto the floor, his knee digging into your back. He grabs your arms, cuffing your wrists behind your back before he helps you up, shoving you to another agent. No one says anything to you, but you see others in handcuffs, being taken out of the house. You're put into a black SUV, sitting there, watching the agents seizing your father's property. They're taking his computers, written files, and safes. Anything and everything they can take out of the house as evidence, they are.

Your anxiety takes over your body as you watch, waiting for someone to get into the car to take you away. You had nothing to do with any of this, you knew you didn't, but you didn't know what else was on those files, and if your father had your name anywhere in there you could be in so much trouble and you'd have a hell of a time trying to clear your name.

You sat for, you didn't even know how long. Watching agents go in and out of the house, carrying objects, sometimes files. Some of the things they were bringing out, you didn't even know your father was in possession of until you saw them being carried out. You knew this wasn't going to end well for anyone involved, and you knew that somehow your name was going to be in some of those things.

Finally, a while someone gets into the car. You barely notice the person, only seeing the blue FBI jacket. He begins driving away, and you were too busy looking out the window, slightly panicking about the fact that you were arrested and you were sure if they were caught, Mia or Seojoon would be throwing you under the bus for their crimes, somehow. It wasn't until the driver stopped the car and looked at you, did you realize.

“Chan?” You gasp.

“Really princess? Getting arrested by the fucking FBI? What the fuck were you doing here?” He asks.

“Seojoon…” You begin.

“Oh fuck. You were arrested helping that motherfucker? Everyone thinks he's dead.” Chan snaps.

“He was going to kill you if I didn't!” You yell. Chan pulls the car over, climbing into the backseat, uncuffing you. “Felix was in your room with a gun pointed to the back of your head.” You whisper.

“Oh baby, you don't think I knew about that?” He chuckles, caressing your cheek. “We had a plan, but now things are gonna have to change with the FBI involved.”

“Wait. What do you mean everyone thinks that Seojoon is dead?” You ask.

“They found a body this morning. Somehow he made it seem like it was himself. He faked his death, that fucker.” Chan sighs. “Why do you think he asked you to meet in the tunnel? He can't be seen.”

“So that's why he said he'd disappear from my life once I gave him this.” You gasp, pulling the flash drive from your pocket.

“What is that?” Chan asks.

“Everything on Seojoon from my father's computer.” You say.

“That'll come in handy.” Chan says, taking it from your hand. “I do have bad news though. From what I've heard from a few sources, they found your fingerprints on the gun that he used. He's trying to pin his death on you.”

“Well fuck, this day just gets better and better.” You sigh. “What do we do now?” You ask.

“You need to go into hiding. And I'm going to take care of that son of a bitch.” Chan says.

Chan gets back into the driver's seat, taking you and the car to a warehouse, where he has another car parked for the two of you. You get out of the SUV, moving to the other car.

“How did you know? Where I was? What was happening?” You ask.

“I hear and know a lot of things, Y/N. I have eyes everywhere.” He says.

“So are you mad at me?” You ask. “For going to Seojoon without telling you?”

“I mean yeah, but also I know why you did it.” He sighs. “You're trying to protect me, but princess, I don't need to be protected.”

“I know you don't. But I love you and I need you to be okay.” You murmur.

Chan smiles widely. “You love me?” He asks.

“Now's not the time for this.” You laugh. Chan pulls into the driveway of his house, and you see Felix standing out front, waiting for the two of you.

“Before you get mad at him. He knows that Mia was lying. He's only pretending to be on their side. He knows you never did anything Mia said.” Chan explains.

You get out of the car, and Felix rushes towards you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. “I'm so sorry, Y/N.” He whispers in your ear. “For everything. For not believing you about Mia, for believing all the shit she was saying about you.”

“It's okay.” You laugh, hugging him back. “I'm just glad you're back.”

“And we're gonna take all those fucker's down.” He says, releasing you, taking you and Chan back inside.

You sit on the couch in the living room, pulling your legs into your chest. Your head spinning with everything going on in your life. Chan and Felix stand, talking about whatever. You couldn't hear them properly, not that you were trying, until you heard Felix calling your name. You look up, seeing him hanging up his phone.

“You should rest.” Felix says, sitting next to you. “If we hear anything about anyone we'll let you know. Okay?” He smiles. You nod your head, shooting Felix a half smile as you stand up, making your way to Chan's room. You crawl into his bed, snuggling under the blankets, and sleep quickly takes you. It had been a long day and you were exhausted. You really hoped at some point you'd feel the bed dip, having Chan come and join you but it never did.

You woke up in a panic, what felt like only mere seconds later. You looked at the clock, 3:00am. You felt beside you, Chan's side of the bed still cold. He had never come to join you and that was unusual for him. You grab your phone from the night stand, quickly dialing his number. The phone rings. And rings. And rings, until the call ends. You were about to call him again, when your phone began to ring, Chan's name popping up on the screen.

“Hey, where are you?” You ask.

“I had some business to take care of.” Chan chuckles.

“Where are you?” You ask, even more concerned now.

“It's time we take care of Seojoon. Y/N I can't go on knowing he's still fucking out there. I'll never feel like you're safe.” Chan says.

“Chan.” You whisper into the phone, as the bedroom door slowly creaked open.

“What's happening?” Chan asks. You watch the door frame, seeing a foot step in front first before the shadow of a body standing in the doorway. You recognized it immediately.

“He's here.” You say, just as the phone call cuts out.

“I want my flashdrive, Y/N.” Seojoon laughs, gun in his hand. He comes out of the shadows, blood covering his hands, a sinister smile on his face.

“You think I'm gonna give you fucking anything after you tried to frame me for murder!?” You yell. He laughs. “Ah, you heard about that?” He asks. “Pretty smart huh?”

“Something's wrong in your head.” You say. He quickly stomps towards you, pointing the gun at your head.

“I'm so tired of you and your fucking family.” He yells.

“And I'm so fucking tired of you.” Chan snaps, rushing into the room, gun in hand. Seojoon turns around, a shocked look on his face. “Surprised to see me?” Chan laughs, pointing his gun at Seojoon's chest, pulling the trigger swiftly. Seojoon drops to his knees, gasping as he clutches his chest, while Chan points the gun at Seojoon’s head, pulling the trigger one more time, hitting him directly between the eyes.

You sit in the bed, still clutching the bed sheets while you watch the blood pool around Seojoon’s body.

“You okay, baby?” Chan asks, rushing towards you. You take a deep breath, gulping as you try to catch your breath.

“Your father and Mia have been arrested.” Felix pipes up, showing you the message he just received.

“So…it's over?” You whisper, looking at Chan.

“Yeah, princess. It's over.” Chan says, pulling you into him, holding you tightly.

**

10 months later, you and Chan were thriving. You were happy, healthy and the business had been left in the hands of Felix and Chan as the heads. The two of them were taking the organization to a new level and you were so happy to be a part of it and helping in any way that you could. Felix had met someone a few months after Mia and your father had been arrested, and he was happier than you had ever seen him before. Luckily you and her got along great. You were all like one big happy family.

“No, babe, you can't do that.” You laugh, placing your left hand, with a large engagement ring showing on Chan's shoulder.

“Come on, princess. It would be a good idea.” He smiles.

Before you can respond, you hear a knock at the front door. You get up, heading towards the door, opening it and you see a package. You pick it up, opening the note, turning around to face Chan, who was coming up behind you.

“What is it? Who's it from?” He asks.

“It's nice to see you so happy. Too bad it won't last.” you read out. “I'm coming for you.” You finish, your face white as a ghost. There was only one person you could think of to do this. You and Chan stare at each other, whispering the same name at the same time.

“Mia.”

[changingplumbob]

Me? Forget something? Surely not.

Please send any questions in via the ask box or message and I will add them to this post!

Can I make my sim and have you give them a trait from a pack I do not own?

Absolutely! Just let me know in either your sim post or the notes you send me with the download link and I can make the change for you. Please note I do not own Lovestruck or Life & Death so I cannot add those traits.

Similarly if you want them to like an activity that you don't have the pack for such as nectar making I can also add this in for you.

Does Deanna have an exact age in your game?

Yes she does, in my rotational save unlike my SBL I give my sims exact ages. Deanna is 21 and a half so would probably be comfortable flirting with anyone between 20 and 30.

Why are submissions open for so long?

Because real life exists and I would like people who have busier lives to be able to submit a sim if they wish. I will not be playing with any of them for introductions until next year so I can give a long window.

What if I submit a sim then want to withdraw them?

This is absolutely fine IF you do so before December 25th. This is so I can figure the schedule out with the numbers. If after the introductions you wish to withdraw your sim for your own or someone else's use I am happy to write them out of the competition with a flu or something.

Help! I've already sent you my sim but I want to change something about them! Can I edit them?

Again if it is before December 25th feel free to change your sim as much as you like. I will be adding the final versions to my game after December 25th so if you get the urge to change a trait, or on second thought you really don't like that dress, go for it. Just make sure I have the link to your final version by Christmas.

Can I put my sim on the gallery instead of SFS?

If your sim has no custom content and you would prefer to send them in via the gallery that is fine. Just let me know when they're up and what your gallery ID is.

How do I put my sim on SFS?

Once your sim is complete in CAS, save them to your library and take a note of the time. In your documents head to where your sims 4 folder is and go to the Tray folder. If you sort by file creation date you should be able to see several files that were all made at the time you saved your sim to your library. These are your sims tray files, if someone puts them in their own Tray folder they will show up in that person's library. Select them all and copy and paste to a separate location on your computer. There select them all and by right clicking you should get the option to compress to zip file. Once you have the zip file make a SFS account. If you do not have one me and many other simmers are able to get a code for you to use to make an account. There upload the zip file of your sim, there's a big upload file button. Once it is up there will be an option on the same line as the file to copy the link. That link is what I will need to download the folder. If you want to check, like I do sometimes, you can open a new tab or window and paste the link in there to see where it will lead. You should see a regular SFS page with the name of the file and the options to download or heart.

Can my spellcaster have xp and known spells?

Yes! So the skills that the contestants will be choosing to work on are things that may impact their performance in a challenge. That's why skills such as fitness will be set to zero. Since not everyone is an occult there won't be any occult specific challenges. Feel free to have your spellcaster know spells and/or be higher rank than apprentice.

[samuraionyourmom]

Been thinking about my Android Dazai AU lately. I've been asking myself a couple of questions about it since no one else seems to 😒 /lh (if you have any questions, please send them in, I beg. I yearn to yap). I've been mostly asking myself these questions to help me flesh out this AU better, and I thought I'd share my process.

If you haven't heard about it, you can check out my other posts about it here as well as the fic I made for it!

So, anyway, onto my ramblings. Prepare for an info dump and a half.

I'm sticking with the main question I've been asking myself for this post, and that is:

Why did Mori create Dazai? Why not just stick with Elise? What are his motivations?

This has been one of the toughest questions I've been faced with when I imagine this AU. It stumped me for a long while, so I just ignored it for the time being. But after a deep analysis of Mori's character, I've come to a conclusion.

Right off the bat, I'd like to make it clear that Mori has no creepy or pedophilic reasons for creating Dazai in this AU, so throw that thought away. I don't want to hear about it.

For starters, I'd like to lay out who Mori is as a person. Or how I view him, anyway. Deep down, Mori longs to take care of someone. We see this in Beast when he's free from his duties as Boss and is able to open up an orphanage. He states that he wishes he could have saved Dazai instead of manipulating him like he did.

But as it currently stands in the main timeline, Mori is unable to indulge in this desire. He is a slave to the organization, as he puts it, and he has a duty to go with the most logical solution as its leader. Facts over feelings and all that. Whether that means pushing Yosano to her limit despite his own hatred for using fear as a way to control people or sacrificing Oda, someone who he knows is very dear to Dazai, for the sake of obtaining the permit.

All this to say that Mori is very repressed. Personally, I say that these secret desires manifest themselves in Elise. She has some of Yosano and Dazai’s characteristics, both people Mori wish he could've cared for properly, and he spoils her openly, almost as if he's trying to make up for lost time.

Now, back to the AU. Elise's existence allows Mori to indulge in his fantasies, yes, but he wants something tangible. Elise is a manifestation of his own wants, but she's not real. So Mori decides to make an android. Maybe it's in a moment of weakness, so desperate for something, anything, to care for to make up for the pain he's caused.

Why not just adopt a child? Well, as much as he would like to, having a child in the Port Mafia isn't a wise decision, morally or logically. So he settles for an artificial one. It's different enough from Elise because it's something that can just vanish into thin air like she does. Something physical.

He works tirelessly to design, engineer, and produce an android that can give him as close to what he wants as possible. Not a baby, though. He couldn't bear that. He settles on a young teen for the design (again, not for creepy reasons, you weirdos). Something that he could care for, but isn't entirely helpless.

I imagine the first thing Mori did was create the AI for this thing before working on the body, and suddenly, this AI just starts yapping at him from his computer. The android takes on a life of their own. Starts calling themselves "Osamu Dazai." Orginally, Mori was set on creating a feminine-leaning android (his failures with Yosano are still haunting him at this point), but Dazai's like: uh, hell no. I am Osamu Dazai. I am a boy. Fix my body, u stupid doctor. (I love transzai)

Anyway, Dazai helps Mori design the body he wants. It's more androgynous than before, which Dazai enjoys. He's implemented into it shortly after it's finished, and voila, our favorite little bandage boy, is born.

Sure, Dazai isn't exactly what Mori had envisioned when he first started the project. He had imagined something more docile, easier to project his desires onto. But Dazai is what he is, and he won't be changed now. He's here now, and he's here to stay. Very human, despite how he came into this world or how much he denies it.

I may or may not have been influenced by the recent release of the Stormbringer Manga with that last bit. Anyway, Dad Mori is real. He's just not very good at it.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Simulation

Part of the "Games" series here.

B!Caelus x U!GN!Reader

Cw: omegaverse, nsfw, yandere, stalking

A/N: every time I type "o!gn!" I'm always so close to spelling "obgyn" and that makes me laugh...cause omegas would need to visit them wouldn't they huh? My mind is weird and it sure ain't because IM UP ONCE AGAIN AT 2AM BUT STILL I AM WIDE AWAKE SEXY FICTIONAL MEN SAVE ME PLEASE 🥲🙃😩

As always my rules for omegaverse apply

-------

Caelus has never thought much of his existence as a beta. Sure he can't smell others as strongly like omegas and alphas can but it's not like one can't read a room without being able to sense slight pheromone changes. So he doesn't mind living as a beta, content to live his relatively unbothered life with more freedom as he's unbound by the expectations the other dynamics carry.

But lately he finds that he loves being a beta. A dynamic with infinite possibilities, one not restrained to being the owned or the owner.

He could play any role you desire of him: The handsome alpha that comes to your rescue when others try to flirt with you. The sweet omega that pulls you close and hums in your embrace. The simple beta that soothes your worries and aids you however you wish. He'd do anything, be anything if it meant you'd look his way.

If you were an Alpha he'd let you claim him, fill him to the brim with your seed until he's been turned into a pliant omega that craves nothing more than your knot. He knows those rumors are just rumors but he wouldn't mind trying to prove them true letting you take him, knot him over and over until he is spent his folds open and gaping leaking your seed.

Maybe you'd let him suck you off filling his belly with cum if his cunt wasn't enough.

Caelus gulps worrying his lips, watching you pass down the hall to another sector of the lab to obtain another disk. He's quiet as he trails behind you just out of sight. His mind wonders again as you type away at one of the many computers muttering to yourself about inefficient coworkers.

If you were an Omega he'd be at your beck and call ready to service you how ever you wished. He'd become an Alpha just for you read to give you every bit of attention you need. His tongue, his fingers deep inside your leaking lips eating you out like a man starved. As a beta he knows he can't knot you but he'd get a knotting cock sleeve just for you so he can fulfill that ever burning need. You could use him like a toy only seeking out your release as he cums and cums until he's got nothing left to give but the tears from his eyes.

His tongue runs over his lips watching you bend over to gather your fallen pen. He ducks behind a server as you look towards his direction, his heart pounding as he clutches his chest and bites his lip. Caelus relaxes when he hears you shuffle your neatly gathered supplies and sit at a different computer, your back facing him. He peers at you through the reflection on the glass that separates you eyes losing focus.

Oh but what if you weren't like most alphas or omegas that follow their instinctual desires to fill and be filled? What if you were an oddity?

An Alpha who craves to be used, to be mounted and stuffed full. An Omega that desires to claim, to take and take and take until they've had their fill. He trembles at the thought shifting his uncomfortably tighter pants.

Or maybe...you were a Beta just like him? Capable of fulfilling any role through any means? He bites his hand to stifle a moan.

He wouldn't mind, he wouldn't mind at all gladly filling whatever role you'd wish of him if only it'd make you look his way and stay. You wouldn't need anyone else if he's more than willing to be whatever you wish.

He just had to figure out what your dynamic was is all. A simple task made difficult due to the space stations strict rules regarding staff pheromones and high collared uniforms. But if he could just get close enough to you, and become your friend maybe he could learn.

Caelus could do that, he's great at making friends intentionally or not. He could do that, he just needs to calm down a little. After all walking up to someone half hard and leaking...isn't a good first impression.

[presidentdisastraofgallifrey]

Gallifrey Relisten Lists: Series 2

The Insurgency and Imperiatrix ones will be a little light due to my scattered brain during a heat wave

Romana, Destroyer of Worlds

Learns that apparently she has been genetically predisposed to become a galactic dictator (Lies)

Is willing to risk a bloody civil war tearing Gallifrey apart just to keep power away from Darkel, before she even knows the full risk of Pandora (Imperiatrix)

Romana is Suicidal

Her voice is so full of I-don't-care recklessness when talking to Pandora, like she's almost hoping her bluff will get called (Lies)

Orders two guards to shoot her dead at the first sign that she's possessed, rather than take any less lethal precautions (Insurgency)

Tries to rush into a room with a bomb seconds before it explodes in a desperate and hopeless attempt to save the people in it (Imperiatrix)

Laughs smugly with a staser in her face because she outsmarted Darkel, regardless of the fact that she could still get shot (Imperiatrix)

Forces the entire High Council to remain in a room with a bomb about to explode and takes no evacuation or safety measures in case she can't stop it (Imperiatrix)

In stopping said bomb, hooks herself up to the Matrix knowing the risk of Pandora taking over her mind (Imperiatrix)

Casually points out, in as many words, that she as her first self committed suicide (Imperiatrix)

Is so calm, so ready, when she asks Leela if she'll still take vengeance, like she really thinks her friend might kill her and is fine about it (Imperiatrix)

Honorable mention: Leela also being suicidal when she wishes to join Andred and repeatedly plans to leave Gallifrey even if it kills her (Imperiatrix)

Leela is Smarter Than the Time Lords

She's the first to realize Pandora doesn't know as much as she wants everyone to think (Lies)

She's also the first to notice when Pandora seems to be gone (Lies)

Has taken the time to study uses for Gallifreyan herbs most people think silly (Spirit)

Her knowledge of herbs is more helpful to the broken man than advanced Time Lord medicines, and also conveniently allows their dream sharing (Spirit)

She is apparently good enough at leadership and tracking (and trustworthy enough) that Brax makes her acting Castellan over Andred, and even Narvin agrees she's a better choice (Pandora)

She is the only one who seems able to see the logic of both the politicians and the students as the two sides argue violently (Insurgency)

She manages to catch the bomber before anyone knows who he is and stops him stealing evidence (Imperiatrix)

She also manages to take down and kill the bomber while everyone else is failing to solve their bomb problem (Imperiatrix)

Time Lords Are Computers

Their telepathic abilities apparently come from all being connected via the Matrix (Pandora)

K9 connects to the Matrix with the circlet exactly the same way a living Time Lord would (Imperiatrix)

Pandora can take over and control both Time Lord brains and K9's electronic one (Imperiatrix)

Everyone is Autistic

Romana struggles to articulate clearly that she cares about Brax, fumbles awkwardly over it (Lies)

Romana is pedantic about grammar even in the midst of a crisis (Lies)

Romana once considered failing some exams on purpose so her classmates would like her (Lies)

Romana picks up some of K9's syntax, telling him that "apologies aren't necessary" (Lies)

Leela outsources her behavioral code to everyone around her, as far as how to be “good,” as long as it doesn’t conflict with her moral code (Lies)

Narvin seems not to notice that he's the only one following the rules for their own sake instead of out of loyalty to tradition or in an attempt at gaining power (Lies)

Romana struggles to express to Leela that she does care for her and why (Spirit)

Romana also seems to struggle with the line between appreciating someone as an asset and as a friend (Spirit)

Romana apologizes and shows her affection via breaking a window for fresh air (Spirit)

Romana processes the universe via memorized facts (Spirit)

Leela processes the universe via sensory input and metaphor (Spirit)

I think Leela's "heightened senses" are just heightened in the way sirens hurt my ears more than other adults' (Spirit)

Also Leela's whole experience of being treated as too peculiar and stupid on Gallifrey until she starts to believe no one would want her around is very autistic (Spirit but also always, unfortunately)

Romana sort of gets stuck (overwhelmed) and needs Brax to step into the argument for her (Pandora)

Leela understands that political machinations happen, but still takes people at their word unless there's immediate reason not to (Pandora)

The way Narvin plays politics feels so scripted, almost mimicked (Pandora)

Narvin saying, "I wouldn't cheat. I wouldn't hesitate to destroy you, but for the right reasons" is so autistic. To most Time Lords only the ends matter, but to him it doesn't count if it wasn't because of something real and important (Pandora)

Narvin switches sides with far more ease than most because his loyalty is to the rules and Gallifrey itself (Imperiatrix)

Actually, the way Darkel managed to convince him reminds me of how easily I've been manipulated because I use everyone else as a benchmark for how to behave (all of season 2)

Narvin's detailed attention to knowing everything about his operatives post-Andred is a definite overkill level. He totally has a spreadsheet (Imperiatrix)

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Days 17 "Brain Fog/Spaced Out" and 22: "You didn't use my cup, did you?"

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Woozi, Jun, ??

Caregiver(s): Seventeen

Word Count: 1,433

Notes: Coming in late on the 22nd with a double-hit Sicktember fill! There's less exposition here, which feels weird to me, but I think it's a good exercise for me to tell a story without belaboring every little detail. Let me know if you agree/disagree! Also, this scene is an elaboration of a one-off comment made in a longer Seventeen piece I have in the works.

To say that Jihoon didn’t feel good was actually a gross misrepresentation of the facts. Jihoon felt horrible. His throat was on fire, his head was pounding, his limbs were heavy and achy and he wanted to separate them from his body until they could get their act together. But deadlines couldn’t wait for his immune system to throw a bitch fit. 

“Jihoon, I think you might have strep,” Seungcheol said, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. This was the third time the leader had interrupted him in the past hour, and Jihoon was personally over it. 

“Sucks.” Jihoon continued to click around on his computer. Admittedly, he wasn’t doing anything: his head had started hurting god knows how long ago, and he hadn’t been able to write or compose anything of substance. But Seungcheol didn’t need to know that. 

“Hyung, come on.” When had Vernon arrived?! “You’re not weaseling out of this. Channie and I could hear you coughing all night.”

“Jihoon, you need to go with a manager to get tested for strep and other things cause if you do have that and stay here and infect us all, the comeback will be postponed,” Seungcheol added. Jihoon snapped his chair around to face them. Did his best not to fall over from the dizziness that resulted from such a dramatic choice. 

“Fine.” Jihoon spun back around, clicked the necessary ‘save’ buttons, and powered off his computer. The third spin back towards his members was what he would later say did him in, when in fact it was the combination of all the spins, lack of water, and the fever. 

As he stood up, Jihoon stumbled forward. Vernon caught him instantly. Could the kid teleport now? When the fuck did he get so close? 

“You good?”

“I’m just… I feel…”

Vernon smirked. “Woozy?” His lips pressed tightly together to hold back a laugh at his own joke, especially when under the scrutiny of Jihoon’s sharpest glare. 

“Be nice, Nonie,” Seunghceol chided, but his smile said otherwise. Jihoon suddenly wished he wasn’t already wearing a mask to potentially infect both of them with this demon virus and wipe those stupid smirks off of their faces. But almost as instantly as he’d had that thought, he realized just how mean it was, and nearly apologized aloud to Seungcheol and Vernon as the two of them so kindly gathered up his things and accompanied him to the company van. Maybe this really was a demon virus… 

Tests at the hospital revealed it was, in fact, strep throat. 

Seungcheol smirked at his phone when Jihoon texted him immediately upon receiving the results: “I am setting a timer and will be back in the studio exactly 24 hours after I take that first dose of medication.” 

“I would expect nothing less,” the leader texted back. He then set about quickly alerting the members to Jihoon’s condition, warning them to leave the producer alone (partially to avoid contagion, mostly to protect them from the wrath of a Jihoon barred from his work). 

*

Jihoon was not back in the studio 24 hours later. Even though he technically wasn’t contagious anymore, he still felt terrible. His fever didn’t budge for two days despite the antibiotics and the attempted ministrations of the members. He was dizzy, disoriented, and breathless from coughing so much. The sore throat was the worst, though, too painful for him to even speak the day after his diagnosis. Jihoon had spent a good part of that day in tears, unable to explain anything or ask for help, both of which he hated on a regular basis. 

But on the third day, something clicked. His body finally got its shit together, and by day four, he was up and about, ready to return to his regularly scheduled programming, albeit with eleven worried pairs of eyes constantly checking up on him. 

Said worried eyes were the reason he wasn’t dancing today. The vocal and hip hop units were gathered together in the main practice room, the performance unit called early to clarify some choreography notes in a smaller studio before joining them. Seungcheol had insisted that Jihoon not push himself too hard yet, take at least a day to simply watch, observe, and critique the new routines they’d been working on. Jihoon hadn’t complained; dancing tired him out on a good day, and he certainly didn’t want to risk the brain fog making a comeback. So here he was, sat on a chair, legs crossed as he watched his members’ tomfoolery. 

Jihoon’s vantage point from the front of the room also meant he saw the performance unit members before the rest. Which meant that he saw Junhei before Seungcheol. Which meant that Jihoon’s stomach dropped to the floor in a way that had nothing to do with his prior illness. 

It was Joshua would noticed the performance unit next, clocking the mask and tired eyes the eldest dancer was sporting. “Junnie, you good?” All eyes moved towards the doorway. 

Jun shrunk a bit from the attention, but he smiled disarmingly. Minghao’s hand rubbed soothingly at his lower back. “Yeah, just have a bit of a sore throat. Could be overuse or just a one off thing, but I know Jihoonie just had strep so… we’re wearing the mask and chilling to the side, and I’ll tell you the second it gets worse.” 

Soonyoung clapped the dancer on the back, and pointed dramatically at him, eyes locked on Jihoon. “Now that’s what you call responsible.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. With a quick look at Seungcheol and Jeonghan, Joshua stood and pressed a gentle hand to Jun’s forehead. Worry etched on his face, Joshua’s hands moved to Jun’s neck, softly probing his lymph nodes. 

“Yeah, they’re swollen, alright,” the older man commented, lips pouting sympathetically. “I’m definitely not a doctor, but I think it’s safe to assume strep.”

“You didn’t use Woozi’s cup, did you?” Jeonghan asked. “Cause… how on earth could he have even gotten you sick?” Junhei shrugged, looking slightly just as lost as the rest of them. “We’ve had Jihoonie quarantined for like, four days. I mean, except for the bathroom, I guess, but we were so diligent about cleaning…”

“Right, he hasn’t been anywhere near you this-“ Seungcheol was cut off by an apocalyptic gasp from Jihoon. “What?!”

The leader had never seen Jihoon’s eyes so wide. “That wasn’t my toothbrush.” 

“What?”

“I was super dizzy the other night.” He pinched the spot between his eyes. “It was so late, I turned on the wrong light. I just grabbed the first green toothbrush I saw. It wasn’t my fucking toothbrush. It was Junhei’s.” 

Seungcheol felt his entire body deflate as his mind ran in several conflicting circles. His confusion wasn’t helped when Mingyu burst out laughing. And then Vernon. And then Seungcheol couldn’t tell who, cause several members were falling into hysterics. 

“Guys, this isn’t funny!” the leader exclaimed. 

“Actually, hyung, this is comedy gold,” Soonyoung replied, wiping a tear from his eye. “Like… this would only happen to us.”

“Contagion by toothbrush? I mean, come on!” Seungkwan shook his head. “That’s a sitcom scene right there. How is this our real life?”

“It would only happen to us, that’s for sure,” Minghao nodded. His hand hadn’t left Junhei’s back this entire time, and he now shifted so that that arm was around the older dancer’s shoulders. “I’m sorry it’s at your expense though…”

Jun shrugged. “Honestly, I’m just happy to have provided you all some joy today.”

“Stop!” Jihoon cried from across the room. He hid his face in his hands for a moment before glaring up at Jun. “Don’t be all cute and fine with this. Be angry with me.”

Jun shook his head. “I’m not mad at you, Jihoonie-ah. It was an accident, and antibiotics and popsicles exist, so I’m not super worried about that, but…”

“You should yell at him for the fun of it, though,” Soonyoung interrupted. 

“Yeah, I’d rather not yell at all.” Jun’s fingers touched at the base of his throat. “But, I do feel it’s important to say that… umm, my toothbrush was in the wrong spot again this morning.”

“Wait… what?” Minghao blinked, along with the rest of the members. They could see Jun blushing behind his mask. 

“My toothbrush was in the wrong spot again this morning,” he repeated cautiously. 

“Well, who else has a green toothbrush?” Jihoon asked, eyes darting around the room. 

Mingyu, who’d been sitting on the floor, flung himself onto his back, hands pressed over his eyes. “OH FUCK!” 

[defectivehero]

Hi recently found your blog it’s so good! But was wondering if you could one where the hero lost there glasses in a fight maybe or just at home and the villain sees them idk take your pick possibly m x m? Ty even if not have a good day!

your wish is my command! (not really, but this is a great idea and you asked very nicely!) here you go, hope you have a great day <3

The hero has grown accustomed to working late night hours at the agency. He's grown used to being the last person in the office, to shutting the lights off and locking the door behind him once he leaves. The hero always feels guilty leaving right at his scheduled time, especially when his job can determine if a person lives as a bystander to a horrible event or dies as a victim. He begins to stay later and later into the night, and it becomes increasingly hard for him to tear himself away from the agency and his hero mask.

This overtime habit is how the hero finds himself hunched over his desk with rather painful crooked posture as he compulsively checks his computer for messages. His agency is one of the first to adopt a sophisticated messaging system that converts audio from emergency calls to text, which are sent as alerts straight to their inbox. The idea sounded morbid at first—the hero didn't want to equate life-saving to checking his email. But the system grew on him. It's convenient and easy to use, drastically improving the agency’s response time.

He squints at the screen in front of him, rubbing his eyes roughly when his vision begins to blur. He's tired.

Perhaps the hero’s exhaustion is the reason why he fails to notice a figure standing in the corner of the room, watching him. “Your eyesight is terrible.” The hero hears, stiffening in his seat and turning around to find his enemy, the villain, lurking in the shadows. It takes him a few moments to process the statement.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the hero then huffs, blinking a few times as he realizes his eyes feel incredibly dry. His close-up vision is passable, so he's still able to do his job. His distance vision, on the other hand...

The hero has worn glasses since fourth grade. He experimented with contacts but eventually went back to wearing glasses. He's spent an ungodly amount of time in his life wiping his glasses clean with a cloth or pushing his frames further up his nose.

“I’m serious,” the villain sighs. “How can you even see out of these?” At that, the villain steps forward and holds out his hand, revealing a pair of glasses. The hero immediately recognizes the telltale blue gleam that distinguishes his glasses, and reaches out to his enemy. He almost expects the villain not to hand them over, so when the glasses hit the hero's palm, he raises his eyebrows.

"Thank you," the hero feels the need to say, when the silence stretches on to a painful tension. When he puts on his glasses, the blurriness around his vision clears and he can see the words displayed on his screen in sharp, clean strokes. The hero then stares at the villain, several questions on the tip of his tongue. How did the villain remember the hero had lost his glasses? Did he go back to retrieve them? And if so... why?

"It took me a few days to realize why you hadn't shown your face since our fight," the villain answers, as if reading his mind. The hero has to wonder how he grew so predictable. "After that, it didn't take long for me to remember that blow I dealt you—rather powerful, if I do say so myself—and the ensuing clatter of your glasses falling to the ground. So... I went back to the rooftop and grabbed them."

That answers the hero's first two questions. He is still left with the most important query of all: why?

The villain seems to telepathically understand this question too. He takes a slow breath in and ambles around the office in a carefree manner that makes it seem as if he owns the space.

"A win is more enjoyable if it's a complete victory," the villain drawls, tapping his fingers along a nearby desk. The hero has to wonder if his enemy has his power activated—if charred fingerprints will be left as remnants (as tangible evidence) of their encounter. "That means no cheap advantages or hinderances."

Ah. The villain wanted a fair fight—one unimpeded by the hero's poor vision. He supposes he can understand that. The villain is honorable above all else. The hero knows this about his enemy, has grown to accept it. Perhaps he should've intuited that motivation before bothering to ask.

The villain is still lingering, as if waiting for something. The hero's patience only lasts a few minutes. “Well, was there another reason for your visit, or…?” The hero asks, looking at him with sharpened vision. His glasses now provide him with a glimpse of the nuance written in the villain's form—the minuscule pull to his lips, the faded scars tangled around his hands. The hero is suddenly thankful to have his glasses again—but for entirely different reasons than before.

“That was it,” the villain says, his gaze turning scrutinizing. "Why are you in such a rush? Got a hot date?" The latter statement is spoken with a surprising amount of venom.

The hero raises his eyebrows. "A date?" He hums casually, his heart racing in his chest. He didn't expect the conversation to take such a sharp turn into such a convoluted and confusing subject. "At this hour? Of course not."

Something settles in the villain's expression. "Right," he says, something close to relief coloring his tone. "Then, I'll be seeing you." He remarks, turning on his heel and walking out the door. The hero watches him leave, a multitude of different emotions battling in his chest.

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[libraryinthewoods]

i wish i could talk to you.

me and my husband awaw.... continuation of the fic!!!! he made of us!!!!! sniles wide :) pspspspspsps @disconnectedkid :3

Randal’s hand was cold in his own, the chill creeping along ver palm like it was trying to reach his bones.

Not that ve cared, it felt nice, if anything.

A stark contrast to the warmth of his own body and the cloying heat of this stuffy, old building. It was sort’ve like putting an ice pack on your head after being outside too long.

A relief, a welcome, blissful relief.

The wings on ver head fanned out, fluttered, trying to clear any odd thoughts manually, perhaps? He could never truly tell.

“Awesome,” Ve muttered, sounding far too awestruck. Try again. “Awesome.”

And Randal crooked his head to the side, screen flashing with his own thoughts and oh god, save ver, he should not be this cute.

[ Did you have somewhere in mind? ]

Ah, shit, right, Vanity had to put actual thought into this. Fuck.

“Well, uh, baby steps? Let’s get out of here, first. Get you used to the sun.” Ve paused, thinking. “Have you been in the sun before?”

Randal froze, which sparked a great deal of concern before, no, let him clarify, he has.

[ I think so. There are a few broken windows that let in the sunlight. I like staying near them. The warmth is nice. ]

Maybe he could do something with that. Ve had a few ideas stirring, bubbling up, in his brain already. Ve’ll let those simmer for now.

“That’s good! Any exposure is good exposure, I think. How about bright lights?”

Another head tilt. [ What about them? ]

“Just, uh, can you handle them? They won’t be too much for you?” That’s a good place to start. They could always wait for dawn if daytime proved to be too much.

[ I’m not sure. It’s not exactly the brightest in here, if you haven’t noticed. ]

A chuckle, huffed through gritted teeth.

“No, believe me, I have. We’ll be cautious then. So, uh—” Right. Still holding the computer boy’s hand. Hey, no, don’t tighten your grip—

“Ready to go?”

Randal was hesitant, his own tail, that Vanity had just now noticed, tucked in. He seemed to shrink in on himself, shying away, but not letting go of ver hand.

[ As I’ll ever be. ]

And, yeah, he’s sure that if ve was able to hear the tone associated with those words ve’d point out how unconfident Randy was, but, no, he’ll just go along with it.

Hand in hand, ver wings began to beat a tad stronger. A steady rhythm that brought them ever higher into the air.

He totally didn’t have to grab Randal from underneath his armpits.

Totally.

Hauling an entire other being as ve flew was— Shockingly a lot easier than he’d thought it be.

With all eight pairs of ver wings flapping, he really should’ve expected it to be less troublesome.

I mean, ve had eight pairs of fucking wings.

Right. Right, he was very out of shape though. Ve didn’t have much time to sit and ponder lest he wish to drop ver new friend.

Up and out of the same skylight he’d come in through, zipping around as fast as ve could manage with the extra weight tagged on. Not that Randal added much, no.

Again; he’s just out of shape.

Quick scan around once they’re out, and, oh, would you look at that.

A willow tree perched at the top of a hill, the now setting sun painting the horizon with a plethora of hibiscus-hued strokes.

Perfect.

Short flight too, barely a couple of minutes before ve’s landing. He took extra caution in setting Randy down, steadying the other on his feet before lowering verself to the ground.

Ever the gentleman. Gentle-thing?

He still hadn’t figured that out yet. Ve had plenty of time. More than he could keep track of really.

Nevermind that.

Randy seemed— Hesitant. Stiff in his movements as he stalked towards the willow tree. He didn’t seem to be fully robotic.

Was he?

“Y’know, my mom almost named me Willow.” That got the other’s attention, a head tilt of acknowledgement, but still something.

“My deadname, I mean. Vanity and William are both hand chosen by yours truly.” And, yes, ve did have to accentuate that point with a bow. If his wings spread in tandem then so be it.

[ Deadname? ]

“Oh, yeah, like, the name my parents gave me before I discovered I didn’t wanna be my assigned gender? Transitioning? You do know what being trans is, right?”

Randy began to nod his head quite aggressively at that, ve could only assume he was offended.

[ Of course I do, but I didn’t know angels were able to do that. Or that they had mom’s. Or that they even existed before today. ]

“Ah, well, you’ll learn a lot more if ya stick with me. See a lot more.”

The other’s screen displayed three dots, animated as though someone was typing. Did he do that on purpose?

[ You avoided the point. ]

“Did I? Oh, if you mean those questions-not-questions, then, hm—” Y’know what? He’s new here! Ve might as well make a grand introduction.

“I’m not exactly an angel angel, catch my drift?” Randy shook his head.

“I’m a special case, a certain kind, I am an angel by all intents and purposes, but when you get down to it? It’s more a form, than anything.” Then he laughed to verself.

“It is a form, actually. No questions about it.”

[ So, you have other “forms” then? ]

He gave another curt nod, approaching Randy, light-footed, steady. Ve knew he didn’t need to, but it felt right.

“That’s the gist of it! I’m the most recent and the one that will be— Present. As of now. There were others before me, and they’re still around, but it’s mostly me.”

Huh. That’s a new reaction.

A pixelated emoji, nodding its head, displayed on the other’s screen.

Then Randy turned back to the willow tree, palm flat on the rough bark. And he began to stroke it, looking as if he were calming a beast.

But, no, that imagery didn’t fit him all too well.

No, no, no.

He was analyzing, yes, that’s it.

He was using any sense he had to his advantage to discover more.

He was taking note of the wood grains, charting the paths carved out by bugs, gathering splinters in the very tips of his fingers for the sake of learning.

“Hey, care to look out on the horizon for me?” Randy’s attention snapped back to him, a spotlight of focus shining bright.

He did what was asked of him, coming to stand beside his new— Friend? Acquaintance? Whatever he viewed Vanity as.

And, fine, okay, whatever, ve might’ve used his wing as a canopy of sorts. For Randy.

He was being courteous.

I mean, ve was! It was the guy’s first sunset, first time being outside in oh-so long, first time with this much fresh air and— It was his first time on a lot of things.

Surely it helped to lighten the load on his processors just a tad?

As for his reaction? Randy was positively starstruck, frozen apart from the wagging of his tail, that Vanity had just noticed.

And, wow, his wings really had a mind of their own today!

Huddled in the small shelter provided by them, all white feathers and eyes, ve got to watch as the buffer on the other’s screen ebbed away.

“All present and accounted for, Rands?”

It had rolled off his tongue so naturally, almost instinctively, a joke so out in the open, so unguarded.

Ve hadn’t expected an answer of an almost similar nature.

Randy, slowly tilting his head up, slowly bringing his cameras or whatever he sees out of to meet Vanity’s eyes, screen blinking.

[ Show me more. ]

Who was he to deny such a kind request?

[mellosdrawings]

What do you use to draw with? Like what device and drawing app? I finally graduated high school and want to get back to drawing and maybe start posting it but I wanted some advice

Hi~

I'm just gonna go and give you my full setup (plus health advices coz trust me they're important).

These days I use an IPad Pro 11" and Procreate. My friend has the bigger version but I hurt my elbow using it because it made my moves too big, so I settled for the littler version. I suggest you chose based on your feelings for that. If you want a bigger screen to see more of your work, it's perfectly valid.

If you do take those two, I suggest you also take the ICloud save. (I have the 200Go save and that's only 3€ a month, but the 50Go save in free!) Should your IPad eventually break, you'll be able to retrieve ALL your art files from the Cloud, which is a huge lifesaver!

(I used to use a simple computer plus graphic tablet plus Adobe Photoshop, but it kept crashing so much that I had one too many rage quits. Plus it's super expensive since it's subscription based, and nowadays they take your art from the Adobe Cloud to feed their AI, so I can't really recommend that. Photoshop is an excellent tool but the direction Adobe is taking does NOT suit me.)

For brushes I just use the default Procreate Pencil. For the eraser I use Syrup, which is found in the default Inking Brush set.

My base canvases are 4000x4000px with a DPI of 300 (I suggest you improve the DPI if you do illustrations or really precise work. I only do little fanarts and comics with that DPI). For posting online please be careful to chose an RGB color profile (I use the default Display D3). If you ever want to print though, you should chose a CMYK color profile (I use the Generic CMYK Profile then).

Now back to the real world! I'm going to strongly suggest you make sure your paper/computer/screen is at least at an angle, at best right in front of your face. The least pressure you have to put on your neck (bending), the better it will be. If you do traditional art, I'll suggest actual art tables that you can adjust in size and angle. Here's mine.

To prevent any pain in my thumb I use one of those hold-helpers thingies kids use to hold their pens properly! It increases the size of the grip which prevents from holding the pen too tight (trust me, it's important). You can also find special tape to roll around your pen if you need an even bigger grip.

I wish I had a proper desk and chair because that will also be very important for your posture and health, but rn I'm not in my own flat so eh. What I'll encourage you to do instead are stretches and exercises BEFORE and AFTER an art session. Fingers, wrist, elbow, shoulder, back, neck. If you want to avoid medical costs (masseur, kine, osteopath) you need to take great care of your body. You can also find little self-massaging gadgets in sports shops to help with your muscles.

(Talking from experience there. I'm only 25 and I already had to undergo surgery on my writing wrist because I f*ed up. Your health is important!)

I'm aware most of those are extremely expensive to get (it took me half a year of intense working and savings just to get the IPad) but I've found that they were 100% worth it in the end. It's alright to get things little by little if you feel they are going to be important for you. I strongly suggest you invest in your health first though!

Once you have decided on your preferred setup, I guess the only thing left to do is train, experiment and have fun!

I think that's all? If you need more advices on setups or art or whatever, I'd be happy to help, my DMs are always open!

Also congrats on graduating highschool!

[reggieswriter]

"Just jot it down."

Word Count: Bitch idk but it's more than 500

A/N: I'd like to say TW warnings of suicide, and more (fyi I'm not suicidal either but this kinda popped into my head)

“Just jot it down.”

That's what my counselor told me at age eleven when I explained quietly that my thoughts were too fast, too dark, and too much for my mind to handle. I had felt like a stranger in my own mind, and I was scared. Instead of helping she sighed and took a peak at me from behind her computer screen. Her fingers paused their typing on the keyboard and the room went quiet before she repeated the phrase again like I hadn't heard her the first time or I was simply a problem to be dealt with.

“Just jot it down.”

After that she promptly wrote me a pass back to class and showed me away like I was a fly buzzing by her ear, pestering her. I had spilled my guts to her and all she did was repeat that stupid phrase all over again. She didn't care. They never seemed to care. If she had taken one moment, one second she would've noticed the pen ink splotches on my fingers and nails from where I had squeezed the pen so hard it broke. I could not just jot it down.

“Just jot it down.”

The use of the word ‘just’ makes it seem simple, easy even. It is not that easy. It is not that simple. Emotions are complicated and humans are even more complex. The word ‘just’ was not even needed for the sentence to be grammatically correct. They add ‘just’ because it's simple for them. They're simpleminded and straightforward with everything. They're logical. The word ‘just’ describes them. They just don't care. They don't own journals filled to the brim with their thoughts and emotions, but neither do I. I just don't get to be the judge, if I don't want others to be my own. I just wish they felt everything I was feeling. I just wish they could hear my thoughts and could piece them together like a puzzle. A puzzle with pieces missing. Pieces of myself missing. I just wish they understood that the way my mind works or doesn't in this case is different, is not simple and easy to be fixed like the word ‘just’. I just wish they cared enough to notice.

“Just jot it down.”

The definition of the word ‘jot’ is

“To write briefly or hurriedly”

When I explained my mind was a mess I meant it. Did they think writing a small part of it would fix it? That jotting a small piece of my mind would cleanse and rid me of the aches I feel in my chest when I sit alone in the dark of my room? My mind is moving fast, so would writing it hurriedly down free me of all my pain? Would I be able to check it off of a checklist as if I was cleaning my room, which by the way I can't even seem to be able to do that either. I am not only a mental mess, but also a physical one as well. The dishes stack, the clothes piles, and my grades drop. I bet you can guess which one they noticed. But maybe I should just jot it down? I am not a task to be checked off a to do list.

“Save her” is not next on your spring cleaning list. I am a person just like you. We are one and the same, but you don't ever notice.

Perhaps you would if I just jotted it down for you to see.

“Just jot it down.”

‘It’ is a flexible pronoun. It can be used in many different ways. For example, “Just jot it down.” It refers to my thoughts. The pieces of me that don't seem to make sense when placed together in my mind. The pieces of me I'm afraid to confront. How something so large and complicated can be compacted into a simple two lettered word is beyond me. Though, nothing seems to make sense to me anymore, and everyone else seems to understand, so I guess I'm the problem. How they used it so casually when telling me what to do must mean I'm the issue. It must really be that easy to write it down, but if that were truly the case then why do I shake and hyperventilate when I stare at the pen and paper? Is it me? Am I the problem? Such a small word. It. Is it me? This time ‘It’ refers to the issue of me not being capable of piercing myself back together. This time ‘it’ is correct. It is me, but it's not like I'm the one that destroyed me to begin with.

“Just jot it down.”

When she said the word down she looked me up and down. I could tell she didn't like something about me. Maybe my clothes or my chopped haircut. Either way, I could tell. Not by the scoff or the roll of her eyes, but by the downturn of her lips. She went back to her computer almost immediately afterwards but the word down rang through my head even when she was no longer looking at me anymore.

The word down carries a negative connotation. If you don't know what that means it means that people tend to associate the word down with negative feelings or emotions. You could say it makes them feel down. Either way, I can't help but relate to the word. It carries all of these negative feelings and even though it has the potential to be a positive word it can't help but make everyone feel negative. It's not on purpose yet everyone pushed it away to prevent any feelings that could arise. Instead of helping by changing the context of a sentence they leave. Like always.

“Just jot it down.”

Maybe I did. Maybe I already have, but it doesn't matter because no one will ever read this. No one will ever take the time to analyze and scan each word's worth. Not like I have. Not like I just did. So maybe, just maybe when I sit down to write my goodbye letters I'll be able to do it finally.

I'll be able to just jot it down.

TAGLIST: @jessherrin @abs0l3m @a-chance-of-raine @sweetest-thing-in-hell @n1xxi3

[nellie-elizabeth]

Doctor Who: Dot and Bubble (14x05)

Wow, holy shit. This season keeps getting better and better.

Cons:

I really only have one tiny complaint, and it's that I wish the walking thing had been done a little differently? I think, allegorically, the idea that they all need arrows and instruction to be able to walk around when they have their bubbles up all the time is a good idea. Like, often when I'm driving somewhere I should know how to get to on my own, I still pull up the map on my phone just as an extra sense of security, or because I never bothered to fully memorize which side street to turn down or what have you. So it makes sense on that level. But the part where Lindy is literally running into poles and desks and stuff read as a little too ridiculous. I wish it had been a little less literal? Like what if instead of running into stuff, it's that Lindy is overwhelmed by the variety of things she's looking at around her, constantly distracted and overwhelmed, and she needs to mutter instructions to herself in order to force herself to walk, and she still takes the sharp 90 degree turns everywhere because that's what she's used to. And then when faced with a monster right in front of her that's blocking her most natural path towards the exit, she freezes up and can't figure out how to make herself find an alternative route right away. That would work better than the scene where she's literally just running into a pole multiple times.

Pros:

But honestly! What a fucking stunning episode, with one of the best... I guess you could say, "twists", of any Doctor Who episode I can ever remember seeing. I'm not talking about the computers turning on the citizens of Finetime, I'm not talking about the home-world being taken over and not coming back to save everyone. I'm talking about Lindy and the others rejecting the Doctor's help at the end of the episode. That scene is an all time classic, instantly, I just know it.

But first let's back up and talk about Lindy as a character. I think this episode hinges on the way she toes the line the whole episode - you don't understand at first if Lindy is an example of her society, the same as everyone else, or if there's something special about her. Is she an exception to some rule, or just a coincidental POV character? She's terrified, but she tries her best - I was moved by the moments when she realizes how truly helpless she is without the bubble and cries out "I'm so stupid!" You feel a certain sense of connection with her utter helplessness and fear. She's so coddled, so trapped in her bubble, literally, that everything new and scary seems hostile to her.

So... she can be forgiven for not instantly trusting the Doctor and Ruby, right? Right? I mean, they're strangers who came out of nowhere, and she has no idea what's going on. She's just a girl in a socially dystopian scenario where everyone's so addicted to their phones that they've shut out the rest of the world, and she needs help!

That's layer one to what's going on here.

But underneath that layer, you start to notice other things pretty early on. We learn about Finetime, we learn that it's a place that only the most elite people send their children to work. We learn eventually that the very computer program running their lives has started to get sick of them and has decided to exterminate them due to the... inanity, the intolerable repetitiveness, of their pointless, vapid lives. This isn't a situation where everyone in the world is like these people. This is a situation where the wealthiest and most privileged have literally cut themselves off from experiencing anything outside of what they know, and it's a look at the reinforcement of certain beliefs that exist in that society, due to the extreme level of shelter these people are subjected to.

The way that privilege operates within the episode is also subtly and effectively condemnatory to the viewer, or at least to this viewer, in a way that really worked. I did note the whiteness of this world, specifically the white, blonde, stereotypically attractive, thin, able-bodied woman serving as our protagonist. She seemed to represent a type of person; she stands in for a type of ignorance and privilege that we recognize in our own world. But when that moment came at the end where Lindy and the other survivors reject the Doctor's help? You bet your ass I was scouring the background of the scene, searching for any people of color in the shot. I didn't find any. And yeah, it hadn't occurred to me that all the faces we see in Lindy's friend group, all the people we see in this whole world, were white - a white majority is burned into our brains as a default, it's what I, a white person myself, am accustomed to seeing on the screen.

I think the reason the scene at the end is going to stick in people's heads is because it's not a metaphorical bigotry the Doctor suffers in this moment. It's actual, it's in your face. These people aren't "symbolically" bigoted of the Doctor's otherness, they're literally just racists. They're fucking racists. And Lindy never was special - she only lasted as long as she did because her last name starts with a letter later on in the alphabet. She is utterly typical of the people in this world, and this world is a world of white supremacy, and that's all there is to it.

Ncuti Gatwa's performance of outrage and grief was absolutely stunning. I saw one reviewer talk about how it makes sense that the Doctor being Black hasn't been addressed on screen yet, as it would be a pretty wretched look for the show to cast this actor in the role and then have the character immediately suffer racism because of it. But at the same time, it should be addressed in some way, and here's the way in which it finally is. I was also moved by Ruby's silent grief. For the treatment of her friend, but also for the way in which something so evil and stupid and pointless is going to result in all these young people probably dying in the forest, all because they couldn't look past their ingrained prejudices to accept help from someone they deemed their inferior. Gatwa screams and laughs and it's clear that he's feeling so many things, such helplessness and bewilderment and frustration. I don't know how much the show will go into this, but it would be so interesting to have the character reflect on this moment where he realizes something completely arbitrary and out of his control actually has an impact on his ability to do his job well. The character has been a white man a bunch of times in a row, then a white woman, and now a Black man. The mind fuck of having direct evidence of how the world's prejudices work in all ways big and small... what an interesting avenue for the show to explore.

I should also bring up Ricky September, legend, gone too soon from this world, shoulda joined the Doctor and Ruby in the TARDIS and had a threesome with them, tbh. I love what this character represents. At first, he seems like the ultimate symbol of this vapid, image-obsessed, bubbled society, as he's shown mugging the camera singing twinkly little songs and being a sex object for his followers. But then we meet him, and he's a genuinely nice, thoughtful person who does his best to help Lindy. We learn that it's possible to live a life using the bubble for work and then logging off, learning more about the world through history instead of constantly partying and getting caught up in the moment. This story isn't really one about "kids these days on their phones with the TikToks and the blah blah blah." It's more about being entrenched in a loop, stuck with your head in the sand. And Ricky is someone who proves that there is a way to operate outside of that system. He's not necessarily a paragon of anti-racist virtue, but he's a dude who at least has taken some steps to push back against that automatic entrenchment, proving that such a thing can be done, even given the social pressures to sink into the reinforced bubble of prejudice. I also loved Ruby and the Doctor both having a crush on him.

And I love how his character winds up, a turning point where we're starting to realize that Lindy might not actually be redeemable as someone we need to be rooting for. Her sacrifice of her celebrity crush to the killer Dot was brutal, and it feels like such a good appetizer for the final scene of the episode, as the twist comes fully into play.

I think that without that final reveal at the end, this would still have been a good episode of Doctor Who. But with it, it's an all-time great episode. God, I already feel like I want to do a re-watch just to catch more of the build to that moment. I hope that next week we get more time with the Doctor, as we've had two Doctor-lite episodes in a row. But seriously - this season just keeps getting better and better as it goes.

10/10

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for giving up everything, including my sanity and moral compass, in a desperate bid to save my daughter?

…I loved her more than anything.

Sorry. I know you probably don’t want to hear about it, but I want to make that much very clear. I have to, for my own sake. I want everyone to know, and so I will reiterate:

My daughter was my world. I can hardly put into words how much I cared about her, at least once upon a time.

She was a happy accident— she hadn’t been planned. I was young, or at least felt young at the time when her mother showed up on my doorstep. We weren’t in a committed relationship. I was a ‘player’ of sorts. I hadn’t intended to impregnate her, but then there we were.

She held her arms and told me what happened. She asked me what I wanted to do. She said she didn’t really want to keep her, and was thinking of adopting her out, but wanted to know what I thought.

I was stunned. I wasn’t ready. I was keen to get rid of her too. But then my baby girl— my daughter reached out a hand and grabbed my finger. And it was as if my whole world shifted.

I realized she was so small. And so incredibly alone. And MINE. I realized if I didn’t protect her, then no one would. That she was my duty.

I told her mother I’d keep her. I became a single father. It was frightening, but I was sure of it. For my daughter, I’d do anything.

And life was good, for a time. We were happy. But then, everything changed. I ruined it.

You see, I was a businessman and mechanic by trade. I had a moderately successful company producing technology. And one day, I stumbled upon the blueprints for a machine that would change EVERYTHING.

It was a wish granting computer… said to be able to make any dream come true. I was ecstatic. Not only would this surely help my company, but it would help ensure my daughter had a bright future. I decided I’d build it— make her life prosperous, and make all of her wishes reality. We even worked on it together.

It was our project. Our collective dream. We poured our hearts into that machine.

But it went wrong. It had to, didn’t it? There’s no such thing as a true miracle. Partway through building the machine, I…

I lost her.

Something malfunctioned. A portal opened up. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed her to be near the computer— I don’t know, but either way, it stole her away. My daughter… the light of my life was swallowed by the portal. She screamed for help, and then…

The portal closed. She was gone.

My daughter was dead, and it was my fault.

I was inconsolable. I promised I’d hang the stars in the sky for her, only to to allow her to be murdered at only seven. In one terrible moment, my entire world came crashing down.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to go. But then it hit me, I realized.

…My wish granting machine— the same machine that had damned me— it was now my only hope.

If I completed it… if I were to make my dreams come true, then surely I could bring my daughter back to life.

Of course, it couldn’t function as was. I tried to make my wish, and it told me it was ‘impossible.’ But I didn’t give up. I just needed more resources. More time.

Did you know every planet has the power of the stars contained somewhere within it? A miraculous energy… that which my wish granting machine ran on. I harvested this power from my own planet, but it wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

I traveled to other planets, taking this power by force, if necessary. I constructed a grand spaceship, and my machine and I conquered.

But the grief in my heart hadn’t eased. I was beginning to feel delirious. I started suffering from severe health complications. I well and truly thought I was going to die. But I couldn’t allow that to happen before I saw my daughter again, and so I made another decision.

…The machine. I’d use its powers to transcend my mortal flesh. I replaced my faulty heart with a cybernetic one. My ailing limbs with machinery, and my weeping eyes with LEDs. That way, I would never die. My daughter wouldn’t recognize me upon her return, but that was okay.

It was all for her.

Slowly, I began to lose it, though. Something terrible was happening to me. I was more standoffish… edgy and angry, and even worse, my memory began to go. I began to forget things that were important to me.

…Even my daughter’s face.

I think, in some way, I was aware of it. I was aware it was that accursed machine. It was eating away at my brain every time I used it. But it didn’t matter. I still had to save her. And so I surrendered myself— gave my mind up, all in a desperate bid to MAYBE find a way to bring her home before I lost myself entirely.

I did not. I forgot my daughter— my precious child— the one who this was all for, and my priorities shifted.

Prosperity. That’s what I realized I wanted. Prosperity. For myself and the people cared about. But people were far too foolish to attain prosperity on their own. If I wanted prosperity to be treated with respect, then I would have to take it for myself. No-one else understood the correct way to live.

We invaded more planets— me and my precious machine. We did so with even more force. We stole their natural resources for ourselves, and as for the people who lived there…?

We improved them. We gave them the same upgrades I’d been given. It was the only way to live an efficient life, and so even if they didn’t want to, we mechanized them. We mechanized entire planets, spreading our agenda of prosperity all across the universe, and becoming incomprehensibly rich in the process.

It was… maybe eleven years into this when I met a peculiar person. She was young— couldn’t have been older than 18. She begged me for a job— said that she NEEDED to work for my company.

She had no credentials, but I felt… drawn to her, anyways. Her diligent demeanor and her strange sad eyes. I offered her a position as my secretary, and she agreed.

She, like everyone else, was mechanized, and she begun work at my company.

We didn’t always get along… me and this person, who I’ll call ‘S.’ I’d shout at her. I wasn’t an easy boss. I was mean-spirited and demanding. But even so, I was still kinder to her than I was to others, I think. She brought me a certain sense of peace.

…On quiet days, she’d sing me songs.

I trusted S, or at least as much as I could trust anyone. And so one day, when it came to us mechanizing a particularly important planet, I put her in charge of the operation. She’d shown she was competent, and I trusted her to do what needed to be done.

…She failed. Spectacularly. At every step of the operation, she messed it up. A rebel from that planet resisted our company’s takeover— destroying our spaceship and eventually making his way to my headquarters. S tried to stop him, but failed time and time again.

He waltzed right into my office.

She tried, one last time, to seize him… to make up for her mistakes and make me proud, but she was unable. He was too strong. He outright humiliated her.

I was… enraged. I’d trusted S with so much, and she’d let me down. I terminated her from her position right then and there— even though she begged me for mercy— even though she said she needed ‘just one more chance.’

I didn’t listen. I never listened to S.

I should have.

(I’m sorry. I’m so, SO sorry.)

I, too, was beaten by the rebel. But I had one last trick up my sleeve. I attempted to connect with the computer— my greatest accomplishment and my last hope. And S…

She stole it. That which I was using to sync with the computer, right as it was attached to my brain.

All at once, two things happened.

First of all, I lost control. I could feel the computer’s presence creeping up on me. I knew soon I’d be dead— TRULY dead as it reformatted me. S had killed me, whether she meant to or not.

But second of all…

For just a brief moment, I remembered. I remembered EVERYTHING.

And as I stared at S, dying… completely unable to move, I came to a horrible realization.

I knew her. Even looking at me with such hateful eyes. Even having changed her beyond recognition

I had met S before, a very, very long time ago. I’d forgotten it, but she was the one I did all of this for.

…She was my daughter. She’d been by my side all this time, and she’d murdered me.

The last thing I was able to process was just how angry she looked. Just how scared and small. She… well and truly despised me.

And really, I can’t blame her.

I’m in a better place now. My spirit was almost destroyed entirely by that which took everything else from me, but even a wish granting computer can’t defeat Death. Eventually, painstakingly, my soul was knit back together.

But I am not at peace. I am anything but. I can’t get her expression out of my mind… just how much she resented me.

Now, I know the full story. My daughter never died. Instead, she spent 11 horrible years trapped in a nightmare dimension. My computer could not bring her back because she was not gone… not truly. She was fighting for her life.

Eventually, she returned to me. She became the person I knew as ‘S.’ But by then, I had already forgotten her, and she was inconsolable. She vowed she’d find a way to save me… to ‘wake me up’ and have me remember.

She tried. She really, really tried. But I was beyond saving. And I guess when I tried to fire her… something snapped. Perhaps she thought maybe— just maybe if she were to get rid of the computer, she could change fate.

…She did not. I am gone now, and her efforts were all for naught.

I know, realistically, I am the bad guy in this story. I committed countless atrocities in the name of seeking salvation. I conquered planets. I mechanized strangers. I even mechanized she who was most dear to me.

But I didn’t mean to… I never meant to—

I just wanted to see her. One last time. I knew the fate it would condemn me to, but I did not care. Was that really so selfish? All we wanted was to rescue one another, and in doing so, we damned ourselves.

…AITA? For trying to save my daughter, and in doing so, perhaps condemning her to the worst fate of all?