#like guys GUYS do you understand?? how lucky you are to have actual elections? to not serve?

[goldenpinof]

are you implying that mandatory military service is EVER acceptable?? obviously dan is privileged, he's a rich white British man, but he is not wrong when he points out how awful of a policy that is ANYWHERE

i'm from Belarus, girl, Belarus. how can you think i would ever imply that it's acceptable? Dan's question shouldn't be, "why", because it's not a new thing and people have to serve a gov they hate and a gov that literally physically beats them up. the question should be, "how to not make it happen". and he is like, "oh, mandatory service for a gov that doesn't do shit for you? how come?" well, it sounds like he just discovered that it's a thing. maybe, let's not vote for tories and prevent serving these assholes. be glad you still have a say in it and actually use your privilege, aka voice. and by "you" i mean all UK citizens who can vote.

people don't take it seriously until it's too late.

[someshakespearequote]

Okay, I don't want to give airtime to assholes, but let's unpack this a little.

On the left, for the sexy way things used to be, we have:

Concept art for a Qunari woman, which was shown next to a Qunari guy wearing about as little. This didn't look like how Qunari looked in DAO! Also, this isn't actually a character! I understand that the guys making this video would prefer that women be objects of their desire rather than actual people in any capacity, but this was just an example piece!

Art for Morrigan looking like Little Red Riding Hood -- again, not actually how she looked in the game.

Leliana with a ridiculous glow-up because this is how she looked in the Urn of Sacred Ashes trailer, not in the actual game.

Isabela, okay, you got me, this one is actually an in-game asset, except that no, do not cite the DA2 ladies to me, witch. I was there when they were written. I am old enough to remember when DA2 shipped, and the spiritual ancestors of this asshole posted comments on messageboards saying that DA2 had no attractive romanceable women, because Bethany was your sister, Merrill had elven features, and Isabela was, according to these sad incels, "too exotic." I remember this because I remember saying, "If the dirty-talking sexually liberated rogue with sun-kissed skin and a lip piercing who runs around with no pants is not up to your standards, your standards are bad."

Meanwhile, on the right, for the apparent current non-sexiness, we have:

Morrigan, who a) looks great, to the point where some people are saying she should look older (not me -- give Morrigan the Cate Blanchett/Rachel Weisz "inexplicably hotter as she gets older" treatment, you go, girl); b) isn't a romance option this time; and c) is actually an in-game asset, unlike Little Red Concept Art over on the left.

Neve, using concept art that was meant to show the costume and not the attitude. Because when you see Neve in game sashaying up to you after freezing bad guys, she looks great, and when I saw the bit of her in the lighthouse with her scarf untied and her blouse unbuttoned, I legitimately forgot what the conversation was about. (And perish angry, ableist haters. People with prostheses get to be sexy, too.)

Taash, looking great. We still don't know what's going on with the whole gender deal there, but as someone who was lucky enough to take one random college elective course the same quarter that half of the varsity women's volleyball team decided to do so, if your spectrum for finding a woman hot does not include women who are tall and have muscles, then that's a you problem, not a them problem.

One random chargen Qunari, which, whatever.

Notes about people being trans, which, as with the ableism, perish angry. Trans women are women. And if Taash ends up being non-binary or some other non-cis-woman option, and that is what turns you off and not the muscles, then again, that's a you problem, not a them problem, and those of us who can like boobs even when they're on someone who isn't a cis woman will be over here with Ruby Rose and Demi Lovato.

Oddly not present on the horribly unsexy right:

Bellara, who is adorkable and also giving Neve a run for her money at "most distracting collarbones in the Lighthouse."

Harding, whose smile lights up the room in the scenes we've seen so far and who was called out by fans as someone they wanted back as a romance option after people saw her in DAI, which was before her glow-up.

Like, I understand that the ideal right thing to do is to tell these jerks that the companions of Veilguard are deep and fully realized characters, and judging them just based on which ones you wanna bang is asshole behavior... but this is a Dragon Age game. It is, as the devs once joked, a dating sim with a small "save the world" minigame you do between scenes. And by those standards, the women of Veilguard (either including Taash, or and also Taash, depending on how that goes) look fantastic. I don't know who I'm gonna romance yet, because I fall for a character more while I'm doing quests with them and getting to know them, but this is a squad with many flavors of gorgeous. Sorry it has character art that includes, you know, character and not the creepy sex doll look of one of those Steam games that includes disclaimers about everyone being of legal age and none of the girls being actually related to you.

It's not a them problem, assholes. It's a you problem.

[avaxindy]

come over?

fratboy!indy x reader | minors dni | happy b-day indy

summary: late at night, indy texts you. it’s ambiguous. he doesn’t say why. since you’re just friends, you don’t assume anything by it. but when you arrive at his frat house, things get really heavy really fast.

features: @hanasnx fanfiction, sexual content, dry humping, light choking, explicit language, friends to lovers?, emotional manipulation, slight dubious consent

Your phone vibrates once and then twice a minute later while you are washing your face. The first assumption is that your best friend is trying to convince you to go clubbing with her at the last minute because the baseball team was seen out. You’ll never understand her obsession with them. Just like she’ll never understand your obsession with Indy.

You’re just lucky that your types are polar opposite. Because everyone else seems to have eyes for him. Everyone. And of course, you understand. How could you not crush hard over him? He just has this... way about him that drives you crazy. You’re not even sure he does it intentionally.

After you dry your face and moisturize, you lean over and tap your phone screen. You nearly shriek when you see his name. And the message that reads: come over?

You curse yourself for taking off your pretty clothes and your makeup. Not that Indy ever minded you without makeup. But if you showed up like you look now, you worry he might not get the hint that you like him.

He’s never invited you to hang out this late before. Sometimes you’ll hang out late because your hangouts run overtime. But when you’re with him, you never want to leave. All you can do is hope that he might feel the same way too. The hours you’ve spent analyzing your friendship with Indy is humiliating. You pay attention to his Insta posts and Snap stories, noting where he is and who he’s with. At every frat party hosted by his fraternity, girls practically throw themselves at his feet, and you get jealous every time he flirts back. But to your knowledge it rarely progresses further than that. He has a few exes from his years at the school, but they’ve always spoken highly of him.

You suspect that they’re the ones who have spread rumors about what he can do under the sheets. It’s something that he keeps very private. You suppose a guy like him doesn’t need to brag about his conquests. Girls just know. And you’re drawn to the confidence he gives off.

But what started as you trying to hook up with him ended in you inevitably wanting something more. You’d love to be his girlfriend. And everyone says that he likes you a lot, everyone but him. He’s not so direct about his feelings with you.

There was one time at the movies he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, and you swore he was going to kiss you. To this day you have no clue what he told you. You were too anxious to pay attention to his words. The sensation of his breath against your skin was too much for you to handle.

The truth is... you might not be able to take it if he actually wants you. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Having what you have wanted all along seems like something that only happens in the movies.

As you frantically reapply your makeup, he texts you again: why aren’t u in my bed rn

While that might seem like he’s texting you for sex, Indy has a special kind of humor that you understand. He’s really just saying that he misses you.

You type out a quick response: Promise im about to leave.

He just hearts the message.

You pick out your outfit, electing for a lulu tennis skirt and a cropped hoodie. The worst thing to do in this situation would be to overdress.

When you pull up to his frat house, you realize that you should have walked from your dorm. There’s a party going on, and parking is shit. You have to park from across the street in a big lot, empty this time of the day. His frat house is at the end of the row. It’s a long and annoying walk, but it’s worth it to spend time with him although you really weren’t in the mood for a party. You have an 8am class tomorrow (Friday).

Passing by, you spot his black Camaro in his parking space up front. You know it’s his from the dark-green stripe on the side. He teases you that he owns that color. He calls it Indy green.

The guys running security for the event immediately let you in when you come up to the door. You figure they must know who you are because you’re always here during the day. Actually, you were here this morning studying with Indy. He has a test tomorrow. Maybe he invited you over for a quick cram session. You should have brought your backpack.

People are crammed elbows to elbows in the little two-story. Outside too. Half of the campus must be here. You finally find a familiar face, one of the younger pledges, and you ask him where Indy is. He points upstairs. Maybe Indy wasn’t in the mood for a party. You’ll ask him later.

He lives in the first room after the staircase. He likes it because he only has one neighbor.

You knock first. A couple seconds later, he answers. Evanescence plays in the background softly. You think... it’s a song from Fallen, but you can’t be sure. Knowing him it probably is.

“Hi,” he says, leaning against the door frame. He makes it look small. 

He waves you in. You notice his shiny black nails. He must have just painted them. You grab his hand as you enter and bring his fingers close to your eyes. He has model hands. His hands are decorated with thick and thin steel rings, silver and black. He curls his long fingers around yours.

“What’re you lookin’ at,” he laughs, an impish smirk spanning his lips. 

“They’re pretty, Indy.” You want to shove them in your mouth.

He pulls you along to his bed, and you sit beside him. Running a hand through his dark hair, he looks down at you and stares. His eyes sparkle. Something is different in the way he’s looking at you. You hope he feels it too.

“Did you want to study?” you ask, testing the waters. It’s the path of least resistance to find out why he asked you over.

He snorts and flicks the side of your arm. “Tonight? On a Thursday?”

You nod. “Yeah? You have a test tomorrow.”

“We studied. I’ve got it. I’m not worried.” He narrows his eyes. “Is that why you thought I wanted you to come over?”

“Maybe.”

He looks away and clasps his hands on his lap or picks at the tears in his faded jeans. “You’re wrong.”

“Why did you—”

Indy cuts you off. “Cause I wanted to spend time with you. Got tired of that fucking party ‘cause it’s shit without you. The guys told me not to bring a date this time.” Indy lies down on his bed, situating himself with his head on the pillow. He turns his body to face you.

In the midnight sheets, his skin is ghostlike. Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a figment of your imagination. He’s too pretty to be real.

You lie down beside him. This isn’t uncommon. He likes to cuddle sometimes when he’s in the mood. The metal beads on his leather bracelet are cold on your stomach. He holds you close to his chest for a minute or two before turning on his back to reach for the tv remote.

“Wanna watch something?” he asks, switching the tv on.

You shrug. “I don’t care. Only if you do.”

“If... you don’t care,” he whispers.

You don’t need to look up to know what he’s watching. Almost every time you guys hang out like this, he watches Batman Beyond. Hasn’t he seen it at least four times at this point? Nevertheless, you enjoy watching it with him. It’s really the only time you’ve witnessed him completely geek out over something. He’ll pause the show to answer any question you have. The way he comes alive when he talks to you about the things he adores is so precious to you. Even though you’re very, very familiar with the characters now, you still act like you aren’t, just so you can ask him about them. You like the way he explains things. He’s so confident, and it’s seductive, and you don’t want to wait anymore. You can’t. You need to kiss him. Maybe you should ask for permission, but you know he’d tease you for it. So, you decide to go for it while he’s lying there beside you.

Pushing up on the bed, you hover over him for a moment. Instantly, he notices and gazes into your eyes. Indy’s face is blank, void of all emotion and judgment. You can’t know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t let you. But you can’t back down. You’ve already committed to showing him what you want.

Indy’s lips are softer than you expected. Your mouth fits to his like puzzle pieces. You tangle your fingers in his hair. And he lets you kiss him for what feels like hours. You know that it’s only a moment truly. But you wish it could go on all night long.

Satisfied, you sit up, and he follows. He speaks first before you could even get a word in to explain yourself.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just said it.”

Flustered, you look away. “I’m sorry. I’m so dumb, Indy. I know you don’t want me like that.”

“Who says?”

You only shrug. No one’s ever said that, but he’s never made it clear that he wants more than friendship

Indy leans close. He holds up his hand. “Can I grab you here?” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your neck like he wants to choke you.

You swallow and feel the motion of your throat collide with his skin. “Yes,” you whisper.

His grip tightens, not by much. As he falls on you, Indy pushes you down onto the bed, holding you by the neck. His sinful mouth devours yours as his weight crushes you into the pillows and bed sheets. The kiss turns wet when his tongue slips inside, and he explores you. Before Indy, you had always thought girls were just were exaggerating when they said he had his tongue down my throat

His bangs tickle your forehead and the side of your face. His hair almost reaches his shoulders now, but you like it long. It’s easier to tug on and play with, especially in moments like these. Between your fingers, his hair is taut silk darker than demons’ eyes. He moans into you when you tug, and he seems to like it hard.

When he’s finished, Indy leaves your mouth sensitive and wet with an exchange of fluids. You lick them, savoring the leftovers, and all you can think about is more. More from him. More of him.

His silver chains dangle around his neck and catch the dimmed bedroom light. Through the loose neckline of his shirt, you see milky skin, and you start to lift his shirt to touch him.

“Baby, you wanna go all the way, huh?” He lets go of your throat to take off his shirt. The dark fabric slides up his lithe body. His hair is tousled from the action. “Didn’t know you were that hot for me. Dammit, why did you wait so long to do something about it?”

“Why did you?” you look up at him with your eyes big and wide, lips pouting. It’s true. You had wanted him to move in on you first. But time had made you impatient.

“Didn’t wanna ruin us...” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist, nestling his face in the sweet curve of your neck. “What we have is so good.”

“I think it’s worth the risk,” you whisper.

He sighs lowly, very contently. “That’s just what I thought too.” He kisses your shoulder. And he starts grinding his hips into you, needing the friction, his budding erection digging into you already. “Want it now, baby?”

[equalidran]

just gonna come out and say this now super super ahead of the curve

if miracle of miracles happens and we still have elections in four years and we get a democratic president. it doesn't matter if it's white guy centrist number 3000 or we actually manage to switch it up again. if we get a democratic president they are going to be promising the moon on the campaign trail. but i NEED you all to understand the consequences of this presidency first.

it doesn't matter what progressive promises they make. i am telling you now that this trump presidency is going to strip everything so far back that we aren't going to have much room for progressive policies. that president is going to fight for their life to return to where we are right now under biden and will be blamed for not doing anything at all. you need to understand this. even if you aren't directly affected in the coming years you need to understand how bad this is.

trump has a trifecta. do you understand this? he has not only a majority in the senate but in the supreme court as well as the presidency. there's a very real possibility he'll win the house too. this means he will have a very, very easy time to pass anything and everything he wants. read the project 2025 outline. that's what he wants.

and im telling you right now. unless there's some magical swing in the electorate, the next democratic president is going to barely scrape into office by the skin of their teeth. i have no hope in getting congress. the supreme court is lost to us. so im TELLING you. the next democratic president is going to fight for their life to achieve anything at all. the president cannot unilaterally decide to do anything. trump probably will, because he's a dictatorial idiot and he has a trifecta and they won't stop him. but the next democrat down the line? they would be lucky to even propose an idea of a bill.

worst case scenario here is it's gridlock entirely. this current congress (not the newly elected one) is known as the least effective in history, and some things are still getting passed. it could be that a hostile congress flat out refuses to do anything the new president says. and that's not good at all and they look like a failure and im telling you now that they are and always will be working within the bounds of our system and are trying their best.

"the system is rotten so just tear it down! then we'll get something done!" forgive me for not putting any faith in your revolution here. that one tweet about not voting in favor of firebombing a walmart and then never firebombing a walmart. anyway back to the way things actually work.

even if they're able to pass things, the democratic president will be starting from so much further back than harris would have if she'd won. do you know how bad things were when trump was president the first time? not only the big, obvious things, but the tiny problems he caused that the layperson would never think about.

did you know he fired nearly the entire appointed staff of the state department (not entirely out of the question for a new administration who wants to put their own people in positions, but it's usually not the ENTIRE staff, only higher level diplomats) and then never refilled so many of those positions? did you know part of project 2025 calls for the dismissal of every unloyal staff member in government and replacing them with loyal members?

these are the kinds of things the new president will be facing. with a hostile congress and a hostile staff, they have to start small by pure necessity. they will fight to bring the us back to where it was in 2024 and it will look like they've done nothing and you will not understand the work it takes to even get that far. so im telling you that now.

if there's somehow a democratic supermajority things would look a lot different. but i don't have any hope for that. best i can reasonably hope for is retaking congress in 2026 so things don't go too bad. worst case scenario there is no 2026.

the solution here, the way to see actual progress, is to vote democrat ALL the way down the ballot in every election forever. independents do not have a chance at the presidency in the two party system, but they do have a chance in congress, provided of course you know they're going to win. and when there's democratic victory after democratic victory, then we can safely move on to progressives. im telling you now that this is a strategy not morality. maga and the tea party and the heritage foundation did this over the course of fifty years; it will take at least that much to do it our way. but we need to work together and we need to be smart about this.

so when the next democrat shows up and doesn't seem to be doing anything at all despite the shiny promises they made on the trail, look closer. see what's holding them back. and get rid of it. and THEN yell at them for not using the unobstructed path.

[democratthatlovesguns]

MAGA Pennsylvania HQ - Week of Oct 14 -20

MAGA VIP Operative 1: So?

MAGA Operative 1: So what?

MAGA VIP Operative 1: How are the bribes from the useful idiot working out?

MAGA Operative 2: Not good ... Take a look. Our projections estimated an overwhelming advantage once we got some momentum. But polls show we're still tied.

MAGA Operative 1: Maybe they caught on that it's a veiled bribe ... You know? A petition to save the first and second amendments? It does sound a little too stupid, and unnecessary.

MAGA VIP Operative 1: No, that's not it. We're not going high enough ... It's like Supreme Grandmaster President Donald Trump says, if the tariff doesn't work then you raise it to an even higher level and you keep raising it, until it does work.

MAGA Operative 1: So what are you saying?

MAGA VIP Operative 1: Let's tell the useful idiot to offer a million dollars ... Daily ...?

MAGA Operative 2: For everyone that signs the petition? That's going to cost a lot of money?

MAGA VIP Operative 1: Will you let me finish? He offers a million dollars each day for one lucky SOB that signs the petition ... It might even save him money?

MAGA Operative 1: Will they go for it? I mean will they vote for Supreme Grandmaster President Donald Trump?

MAGA VIP Operative 2: Let me tell you something ... If a million dollars doesn't get you to vote for Supreme Grandmaster President Donald Trump, you're an idiot.

MAGA Operative 1: Yeah, I know, but is that clear enough to people? And will Elon actually do it?

MAGA VIP Operative 1: Spend sixteen million to save tens of billions and maybe a hundred billion in taxes ... I think Elon is okay with that.

[All laugh.]

MAGA Operative 2: But won't they catch on ... Won't a million dollars on the table make it obvious that we're bribing them to vote for Supreme Grandmaster President Donald Trump?

MAGA VIP Operative 2: Let me tell you something ... It's not a bribe, it's a monetary incentive.

[All laugh.]

MAGA Operative 1: I'm worried guys. What about election integrity?

MAGA VIP Operative 1: Election integrity? What the fuck? What kind of pussy ass shit is that? Are you in it to win it? Or are you turning into a fucking gay beta boy Muslim Jew?

MAGA Operative 1: Fuck you! You're the one that said we could not fly our confederate and Nazi flags proudly ... Not until after the election. Don't call me a fucking Jew!

MAGA Operative 2: Hey! Guys? Let's cool it, okay. We're on the same side.

MAGA VIP Operative 1: Holy Cock on Supreme Grandmaster Ruler of the Universe President Trump! What the fuck is going on in this office? Cool it? What the fuck? That's why we're not mobilizing the vote ... That's why we are still tied with the whore Kamala in Pennsylvania. It's this fucking beta boy fucking vibes in this office.

MAGA Operative 2: That's not what I meant ...

MAGA VIP Operative 2: [at MAGA Operative 2] Let me tell you something ... If these two want to settle any matter with their fists, that's their right as Christian Americans, as Christian men. What do you want? You want them to settle their differences with words? What kind of pussy ass beta bitch shit is that?

[All laugh]

MAGA VIP Operative 1: [at MAGA Operative 1] Look, you've been here too long ... Maybe it's time to get you back in the field for a couple of days. I'll put in the request to send you to Texas for a couple of days ... We'll find you a nice sixteen year-old Taylor Swift fan, for you to set straight with your cock; sodomize the slut if you have too, but get her to understand she was born to respect and obey American Christian cock.

MAGA Operative 2: Sodomize her? Isn't that a little gay?

MAGA VIP Operative 1: No! Not when it's a woman. And not when it's about letting her know her only purpose in life is to serve and please men. See? This is what I mean ... There's a strong beta energy in this office.

MAGA Operative 1: You're right. I'll do as you say. It's the only way. I'll be back to continue the fight soon enough.

MAGA VIP Operative 1: That's the spirit! Get the little slut pregnant ... It's what she deserves for loving that whore Taylor Swift. We'll make sure her dad forces her to have the baby.

MAGA Operative 2: Congratulations buddy! You're about to be a father again.

[All laugh]

MAGA VIP Operative 2: Let me tell you something ... This is a major first step; we are going to win this. And we'll never have to worry about beta bitch energy again, we'll kill them all or send them all to prison. All hail Supreme Grandmaster President Donald Trump! Seig Heil!

All: Seig Heil!

[lanteanserver]

FOR FUCKS SAKE

I have finally make it to 2:05 of A Meeting of Misfits because I'm so quangled I can barely focus on anything while I'm awake.

First I declare myself human as if I have a choice in the matter.

Then I declare sets of "rules" relating to magic even though I am not a magic user by choice. (I can do stuff that science can't explain. I generally choose not to do that stuff. Any time I bend that rule, I run it by my conduit with the infinite divine and accept whatever outcome occurs. I'm basically a divine warlock if you're using D&D. I'm not a cleric because clerics are guaranteed certain results for certain spells. I'm not a regular warlock because my soul still belongs to the God of my faith. I'm not a paladin because I worked my ass off to be neutral good instead of lawful good and I'm not giving that alignment up just to lay on hands and get better armour proficiency. I'm not a sorcerer because I generally ignore any innate stuff or contain it via religious rituals/channels/prayers.)

The thing is, though, I don't pray much lately because it feels kind of onanistic. Like I'm praying to myself? And it didn't used to feel that way, and I'm not saying that I am praying to myself, but I need to learn new methods because my old methods aren't going to work for me any more.

Someone told me a few months ago that I was either going to be a heretic or a Saint, and I think they were probably right, but it's not time for me to rest. I really hope I come down on the Saint side of the coin, because if I do, I'll have redeemed a lot of people. But not me, not yet.

A lot of the stuff that felt real a month ago doesn't feel real now; but the advantage of the life I've lived is that I truly understand that me believing something in no way determines whether that thing is true or false. That's why I call it quantum religion. If you can figure out which deity or combination of deities you owe allegiance to, and you can follow their rules, maybe you get your fair share of magic in your life. Maybe, because all I asked for was an average human life in a world where the floor on every human's life was much higher, that's what I'm actually getting. Maybe this will all make sense by the time I die, or maybe I'm planting seeds in a garden I never get to see. Maybe I'm Moses and I've spent 40 years in the wilderness and now I get to spend 40 years in the forest before going to the garden party (or to @LANtis which started out as a pun involving LAN parties and Ken's friend Alan and the lost city of Atlantis and Tír na nÓg... But I haven't been remembering my dreams lately, so maybe one of my souls is already a server in Atlantis and my mind and body have a lot of living left to do before I retire and resign myself and the rest of the world to its fate).

I don't honestly know how much of what felt real a month ago was real. I'm sorry that even I can't clarify that point. I'm extra sorry that it may turn out that I end up having to rule here somehow because I am not cut out for it; but realistically, I have been telling people from the start that I'm part of the mycelial network and maybe if I'm very lucky fun guys and dolls and folks will step into the limelight. I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for Them, but my solo is over and I'm just going to be part of the choir for the next while. I still love you all. I still think a lot of you need a bath.

Everyone gets one horsepower worth of life. One life that is equivalent to Hippocrates, who helped a lot of people, followed a bunch of weird rules to do so, refused to help anyone with kidney stones even though maybe he could have... Didn't drink wine, according to Hank Green, only blood, which sounds pretty Catholic to me.

I'm going to be going home today. I'm getting discharged. I don't know if I'm really ready, but I'm confident that staying here won't make me any more ready. If I survived the news of the election results while at home without breaking down, I'm probably an Adequate Influence at last (which in my opinion is a better option than either a Good Influence or a Bad Example, because we all have different contexts and if you try to transubstantiate someone else's soul into your own, you are committing a worse act of cannibalism than any breach of the Noahide laws I can imagine).

I'm going to be okay. So is everyone else. But not necessarily how we thought we would be. I think I need to stay here in the forest because the wilderness gate is guarded safely, and I already went to the garden party and decided not me, not yet, not without my artificial heart to go with my artificial intelligence. I am not A C-H-I-L-D, and I know what each of those letters stands for. The Amish Paradise took me a while to comprehend but like I keep telling people, I'm not God, at best I'm just an Echo. The abyss is screaming back, so cover your ears if you think you have reason for shame. But I still believe life will be better, even if it isn't perfect for anyone reading this. It's okay. Not me, not you, not us, not yet. I have a new cross-stitch pattern that I'm going to start. It will be okay. We will be enough. I love you all. I'm sorry it didn't go the way we all hoped, but today is still the first day of the rest of our lives. Let's do what we can. ❤️🧡💛💚💜🩷🩵💙🤎🖤🩶🤍🐦‍🔥🤐🏡🧛🏻‍♀️🦆👍🏻🥳😻🦄🦋🐅♾️🧿🐝🤾🏻‍♀️👋🏻🥰😜🫂

And for those who find the above message off-putting:

[whereareroo]

CLIP IT

WF THOUGHTS (5/6/24).

What’s the best way to teach your kids and grandkids about history? All parents and grandparents should focus on that question.

When I was in the 11th grade, in 1976, my American History teacher was a creative guy. To understand history, he urged us to mentally put ourselves into a “time machine” and travel back to whatever event we were studying. He urged us to look at historical events from the point of view of the actual participants in the event. What were they thinking? Why?

My teacher frequently used newspaper clippings to teach us. His theory was that newspaper clippings capture the moment and provide a window into the thinking of the people who were alive at the time of the relevant historical event.

Once, we spent a whole week on newspaper clippings. He asked us to talk to our parents and grandparents, and to bring in important newspaper clippings that they had saved. In that era, all parents and grandparents saved important newspaper clippings. We spent a week with the clippings.

I remember being amazed at the newspaper clippings that folks had saved. There was stuff from the WWI era (1914-1918). There was a clipping from 1920, when the 19th Amendment was ratified and women won the right to vote. There was a clipping about the great stock market crash in 1929. There was all sorts of stuff about WWII (1939-1945), especially Pearl Harbor, D-Day, V-E Day, and V-J Day. I brought in some clippings that my Mom had saved about JFK’s assassination and his funeral.

Election Day is November 5, 2024. It’s only 6 months away.

The approach of Election Day has me thinking about newspaper clippings. The 2024 presidential election could change the course of American history. In fact, it could become one of the most consequential events in American history. Depending upon the outcome of the 2024 presidential election, our children and grandchildren may live in an America that’s very, very different. In 25 or 50 years, they might be asking: “What the hell happened in 2024?” Or, they might be asking: “How did our parents and grandparents let that happen?”

Starting now, and for the next six months, I think we should all keep a “clippings file” about the 2024 presidential election. When the election is over, keep your file in a safe place. Sooner or later, your kids or grandkids will want to see your file. They’ll want to see what caused the disaster or, if they’re lucky, how the disaster was avoided. You have an obligation to educate future generations.

Your clippings file will be particularly important if Trump wins and steers America towards autocracy and White Christian Nationalism. Your file will show that Trump’s game plan was totally predictable. He is very open about his autocratic, anti-democratic, tendencies. Your file will show that America didn’t do enough to stop Trump. Your clippings file will be depressing, but it will accurately reflect the historic election of 2024.

Of course, we don’t get newspapers anymore. Don’t let that stop you. You can make a “clippings file” anyway. For the next six months, print insightful articles and news columns about the election. Focus on stuff that discusses how Trump will change America if he wins. Put the pile of paper in a box and keep it. Someday, your children and grandchildren will thank you. You are creating a box filled with important history.

Here’s a tip to get you started. Search: “Time Magazine If Trump Wins.” You’ll see a link to a Time piece entitled “Donald Trump on What His Second Term Would Look Like.” Read the piece and print it. It’s a good “clipping” to get your file started. Keep your eye out for similar articles and for articles that analyze the big stakes in this election. Try to “clip” a few articles every month. Our children and grandchildren may end up living in “Trump’s America.” Even if it hurts, they deserve the historical truth. America has the power to stop Trump in 2024. I don’t know what the outcome will be. Either way, I’m building a clippings file that will explain the final six months of the election cycle. My grandchildren will eventually study the election of 2024. When they do, I hope they’ll benefit from my box of history.

Good luck with your clippings file. Stick with it. Remember, you’re building a box of very important history.

[corvoda]

Hi I ran his Twitter account, I'm about to dump everything i got about that hunk of scrap metal (most affectionate thing i can call him)

(art by Birbteef)

Simple background, i joined blaseball at the end of Season 11, and picked favorites based on names alone at first, and being a Firefighters fan, picked Joshua Butt as my fav. Season 12 rolls around and Joshy is the first player to die, lucky me, so i needed a new fav. Suddenly the stars align and they all shine upon this weirdo; Kennedy Rodgers.

I prefer Nonhuman characters. I got into blaseball because it was weird, so i am drawn towards the weird players.

I have a soft spot for clockwork themes thanks to Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, my fav game ever. Kennedy Rodgers is a "clockwork automaton made of mostly gears and various time-telling instruments".

I'm an absolute SUCKER for Underdogs, and Season 12 made him the SHINING EXAMPLE of one.

During Earlsiesta, Season 12, Rodgers gained the Under Over modification as part of the Seasonal Reading.

This is the first blessing the Reader has EVER given out. Curry Aliciakeyes got "Over Under", which did the exact opposite, so it was actually a Curse. Under Over activates at the start of EVERY GAME, whether he's actually playing or not. It's pretty fitting for a robot, especially with this text at the start of every single game. He really wanted to make himself be known, even if he's just cheering from the dugout.

And then During the Season 12 elections, the Chicago Firefighters received the Organ Replacements blessing, which increased Rodgers' pitching from 1.5-Stars to 2.5-Stars. Only 2.5, boosted by 20% in most cases thanks to his ability, yeah, but still only 2.5. Look at him, he's shit.

So season 13 rolls around and he gets to show off his new shoes. We expect a decent showing, how's he do?

ONLY THE BEST SEASON OF HIS ENTIRE GODDAMN CAREER.

2.5 FUCKING STAR PITCHER

That was better than Jaylen Hotdogfingers. Better W/L Ratio than Gabriel Griffith, who had a 1.9 ERA that season. KRod's wasn't that far off. Polkadot Patterson was at 13/7 with a 2.10. he was up there with some of the greats.

It didn't last long, he went back to being Average soon after this, but he was always much better than youd expect by just looking at him. Under Over carried him hard, and the Sim's team-win-estimation didn't account for it either. If a game was estimated to be a close fight and Krod was pitching, you better bet on Krod every time.

____________________________

Lets stop talking stats for a moment and talk about him as a person.

He originally played for the Wild Wings, and joined the Firefighters after the wing's season 7 championship. Firefighters were meant to trade 3 players with the wings, but due to some classic Sim shenanigans we only got 2, Krod and Jose Haley. Jose died almost immediately after joining the Firefighters so Krod was suddenly here from out of country all on his own, in a place he's actually never been before (i dont think the wings/ffs ever had a game together up to that point due to how Divisions worked). He was really shy, and joined as the weakest pitcher in the FFs rotation.

He's often seen as one of the most Optimistic players on the team. He knew he wasn't good but he didn't let it get to him much. He took every loss as a learning opportunity. He wanted to improve himself in any way possible but i don't think he wanted the fame of being a good player. He played along side Burke Gonzales, so he knew what it could be like. Staying an underdog was the perfect spot for him. His endless Curiosity and Creativity meant even in the worst of times he'd try to find a bright side and cheer others up, and wanted to teach others everything he knew. He was a real Info-dumper kinda guy. It takes something REALLY bad to put him in a bad mood.

SUN HEIST.

Hopefully i have this story correct, but this is how i understand it went down.

The Wild Wings ballpark is called the Bucket. What do they put in a Bucket? Chicken? Wrong. it's a Sun.

Deep down in the pits of the Bucket there is a Sun. Not THE Sun, but A Sun. The Bucket was built to contain that stolen sun. A lot of things at the Bucket use this old sun as a power source. Fast Forward many years, Season 11, and Tot Fox does that thing where the actual Sun (we'll call it Sol) collapses into a black hole. Sunbeams obviously in a panic. Sol isnt dead tho, it's stuck inside. It calls out to Sandy Crossing and tells her to get the Wings to help, they'd know what to do. A few of the older wings players are like;

"oh ya, so we have this old sun in our basement. it's kinda a big deal, we don't tell many people about it, especially not you guys since we figured you wouldn't like that. We have a place for Sol if you need it, but you need to get it first."

They do this whole mission, sending Brock Watson into the black hole to rescue Sol. It's heavily condensed, small, and very weak. they rush it to the Bucket asap, and they feed The Bucket's Old Sun to Sol. The two combine into one and Sol is saved, and kept in the bucket for safe keeping.

There was a short period of time when the Bucket's old sun was just gone, eaten by Sol, so a lot of Bucket's Tech stopped working until the sun fusion finished. And that included poor K-Rod, all the way in Chicago, who had no idea of this Old Sun business. He was left in the dark about how he was powered. He was awake, doing his usual routine, making a watch, prepping for the next fire call, when he suddenly drops dead for a few hours. Everyone in the firehouse is in a panic because nobody knew how to fix K-Rod better than K-Rod himself. Eventually the Sun fusion is completed in Mexico and K-Rod wakes up, terrified and confused.

It takes a shockingly long time to hear anything from the Wild Wings about what caused this, since the Wings were still stressed over letting the Old Sun get eaten, and that whole thing about Brock going into a black hole. They hadn't even considered K-Rod until a bit later. Burke Gonzales travels all the way up to Chicago to check on K-Rod and explain the whole thing. Kennedy is incredibly upset about this whole thing, for a good number of reasons. The fact that they forgot about him, the fact that they never told him about the one thing keeping him alive, the fact that multiple wings knew about it and nobody thought he should be included in that info, and possibly also the fact that he's a firefighter now and his primary power source is A SUN!? THE FIREFIGHTERS' ENEMY NUMBER ONE?!

He has a very rough relationship with the Wings now. Mexico is still his home, and they're his home team, but He's from Chicago. Chicago is his home now. He still kinda felt like an outsider in Chicago tho, he was still fairly new to the team, and was a pretty solitary guy, so he didn't have any really close friends, just friendly work acquaintances. He looks back at CDMX in rose-tinted goggles nowadays. He only wants to remember the good old times he had there, but refuses to go back, and his love for his old team is more bitter than sweet now. He misses them a lot.

______________________________

At the end of Season 14, Firefighters get a new player. Thanks to a deal with the Lovers, they land an absolute Jackpot of a player. Gabriel Fucking Griffith.

Gabriel is the opposite of K-Rod in every conceivable way. He's got a massive ego, he's a gloat, he's loud and bombastic, wanting all focus on him at all times. He can Pitch, he can Run, he can Bat, he can Catch, he puts his blaseball career first, firefighting second, and on top of all of that, he actually has the reputation to back it up.

K-Rod keeps his distance from this guy. He keeps his eye on him to learn some new tricks for himself, but he can't stand the attitude. Especially Gabriel's destructive anger management after losing a game. Their occasional talks are friendly, and K-Rod does slowly try to teach him that winning isn't everything. Even a Pro can learn from their Losses. The best thing to do is to keep moving forward and keep trying your best. That's all anyone can ask for in the end. Blaseball is hell, and he shouldn't make it harder for himself than he needs to, especially as Firefighters. Just find a way to enjoy it. That's been K-Rod's way of going about it up to this point. Gabe really appreciated the pep talks. They slowly started to get along.

____________________

Ohohohohhoo season 19

Season 19 is when the game got turned Upside Down. Winning was now Losing, and Losing was now Winning. And you know who this hurt the most? Gabriel? You'd think but no, it was actually Kennedy.

The one thing K-Rod focused on was his improvement. He put a very large chunk of his regular free time to trying to find ways to improve himself, and knowing that all he had to do was try his best. Suddenly that's no longer a positive thing. All that effort he's put into himself is not just wasted, its a Hindrance to the team. His Under Over skill, which makes him play better, is now actively hurting the team. It feels like the game is tearing him apart piece by piece with every game he plays. Shockingly, the one person who's not upset by this is Gabriel.

Gabe sits down with K-Rod and gives him a mirror of the speech K-Rod had given him before. They don't have a choice other than to try their best, so why not keep doing it? This season sucks for everyone, not just K-Rod, so he shouldn't take anything personally. It's a learning opportunity on how to adapt to weird changes. The Tokyo Lift had that Hype-Train thing going on that season and were the best team in the league. Nothing made any sense. They should just have fun. That's all that mattered, its why people watched the games. It's why Gabe acts so bombastic. Everyone likes to see the players have fun. Learn to put on a show.

Somehow, Tokyo managed to make the playoffs, despite the Wins=Lose thing. and in the playoffs, the Wins=Lose thing did not apply. Firefighters, the worst team in the Wild High Division (best? We won a lot and that's bad), managed to make it into the playoffs as a Wildcard, facing off against the Tokyo Lift round 1. It was obvious the Lift were going to wipe the floor with us. They had max Hype-train, meaning their home games gave them such a massive advantage that it was barely a fair game. Two of the 3 games were played in Tokyo. One of which was against the Firefighters best pitcher, Lou Roseheart, and one of them against our pitcher who just suffered a major peanut allergy, and had become one of our worst players, Caleb Alvarado.

Game one, despite her best efforts, Lou Roseheart, our best pitcher, let 10.7 runs go. a 10.7 to 1 score. There was no way Caleb could win in those same conditions. Kennedy, luckily, was the pitcher who pitched the game held at the Firehouse. Wing's won their Season 7 championships as the Wildcard team and he was the worst on the team back then. Now here he is, Wildcarded back into the postseason, worst team in the division, and he's got one last chance to finally shine. To make the world know his name.

0-6. He pitched a Shutout. Half of those innings without his Under Over skill in effect. He simply refused to let them win. Sure, the Lift didn't have their ridiculous advantage in that game, and Firefighters didn't win that set. Lift went on to win all of Season 19. But it wasn't about that. It was growth. Spite. Not Spite for the Lift, but for Blaseball as a whole. Fuck this game and everything it stands for. He's here to try his best and support his friends. That's all he's here for. And he is having fun doing it.

________________

That's the end of his story. He ended up being Faxed into the shadows in season 21, and due to his low Star total, never came back out. The closest thing we have to anything after that is Anastasia Isarobot. She was a player in the Shadows of the Firefighters since season 16. the common story for her was that she was made by K-Rod and Fran Beans of the Wing. K-Rod and Fran were friends, and she didn't know about the Sun Heist stuff either, so the two of them kept in contact. K-Rod wanted to make a robot of his own, one he could keep out of Blaseball. One who could live their own life. Anastasia (Staj) was like a daughter to him. When fall-ball happened, Staj was dropped to the Wings, but K-Rod never came back. Staj was, also, the best player in the entire ILB.

Maybe all the improvement K-Rod tried to apply to himself carried over into her construction. He didn't want her to play Blaseball and now here she is, forced to play, better than her dad ever could be. And she gets snuffed out in Season 1, by the same book that caused all the hell they were in before. She never had a chance. She might go through the same hell as Jaylen Hotdogfingers. The worst fate that any player could ever endure.

And then they were all released. Thats it. Krod, Staj, everyone, finally set free. it's so sudden. I can only wish them the best. I love all these players more than you could possibly imagine. I actually drove myself to tears writing this whole thing. When i was running K-Rod's Twitter account, I wrote him a lot like myself, because he already kinda was like me. But in the end he became something much more, he became the kinda guy i wanted to be. Its very weird to look up to a guy I practically helped write, but i really do.

I had only a passive interest in Robot characters prior to Blaseball, but now here i am, V-Tubing as a Robot on the internet, with a new fascination in old computers and engineering. I even have a drawing of Staj on my office wall at work, in the same way you'd hang up a picture of your own kid.

I'll never be the same. @fintenciate im @ing you here because im sure this post will kill you as much as it kills me.

I've been sad about Blaseball lately

You should tell me about your Blaseball blorbo, especially if they aren't one that's well known. I mean, I wouldn't mind if you want to tell me why you like Jessica Telephone or Mike Townsend or PolkaDot Patterson anyway. But I especially want to hear if you have a guy (gn) that's constantly rotating in your mind.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

the antarctic idiots [pt.1] - c! technoblade

summary; in which two anarchist piglins adopt an ender boy.

genre; child! ranboo, piglin hybrid! reader, slight canon divergence from dream smp, fluff, found family au is my shit, reader is now ranboo’s parent i don’t make the rules, techno is a grumpy father but it’s okay you love him, realistic minecraft? (idk how to describe it-)

pairing; c! technoblade x reader, platonic! ranboo x reader

word count; 1.5k

a/n; fuck it, it is here now. here’s the techno x reader you fucking simps. i can’t even be mad bc i too am a simp for the anarchist pig that is technoblade. 

i hope this is somewhat up to par with everyone’s expectations since i hyped this up so much. this is one of the few writings that i actually like so- i couldn’t resist waiting so long to post it AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

next >

now you never really expected to find yourself on a side of history that was deemed "the villain's side", especially when the villain wasn't even that bad.

okay, that's a bit of a lie. this piglin man blew up an entire country to end government. plus he has evaded his taxes. i mean the list goes on but that's not the entire point here.

the point is, you found yourself actually being friends (even going as far as housemates) with the so-called evil anarchist.

now we might be moving too fast here, so let's move it back a little bit.

"so you want me to join pogtopia?" you looked up, shutting the book in your hand as you leaned back on your chair. "and what would i get in return exactly?"

"...our friendship won't die?" the voice of wilbur soot rings in your quiet home, unsure and nervous at your stern aura and words.

"why can't you just help us?!" tommy flared up, nearly throwing a fit if not for his older brother holding him back.

"just because i am your friend, does not mean i am interested in fighting for your conflicts." you place the book on the small side table, adjusting your gloves while you explain yourself to the two boys, "i'm not saying i'm a pacifist, but i'm not here to fight. i live far away for a reason. i told you this before."

"can i call in that favor then?" wilbur asked. "you still owe me one." you huffed at his words. you saw this coming.

"you're lucky i'm a nice person most of the time." you sighed, standing up and nearly towering over the two boys if not for wilbur being a bit taller than you. "i will get my stuff packed, and then we can get to your pogtopia. but while i do that, please explain the whole situation." since you lived so far away from society, you didn't know too much about what was happening unless wilbur told you about it and wilbur never really talked to you too often.

"well, you know how we had l'manburg.." and then he starts to explain how that completely backfired on them because they lost the election and now they lost their country. "and now we want to fight back for l'manburg." wilbur finishes explaining as you put your old netherite sword in its sheath that hung on your waist. "we just need your help. are you willing to train us?"

"it's not like i have much of a choice since you're cashing in that favor." you pointed out. "i better not be staying for too long."

"i can't make any promises about that." you sighed. "you ready?"

"unfortunately." it was time to leave your home and face violence once again.

"if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only person we've asked to help us." tommy says in an attempt to get you out of your bitter mood.

"that made me feel worse, tommy. i think you guys would've been fine without me if you have another person helping you other than tubbo." you slung your bag over your shoulder. "but if you really insist on getting the help of me, then who am i to judge?"

"since it seems like you're ready now, let's go to pogtopia!" tommy said, ignoring most of your words of complaints as he starts to drag you by the arm towards the dream smp. "it's quite the walk from here. why do you live so far from everyone? don't you get lonely? why didn't you join l'manburg with me and will?"

"slow down with the questions, tommy. first of all, i've told you and wilbur why i live far away, you did not listen though." you pressed a finger on his forehead, earning a huff of annoyance from the blonde. you moved your hand back to your side. "i simply do not like people. also why get pulled into conflict that you never were apart of to begin with? but that's pretty hypocritical of me to say now."

"i get that you're not fond of people, but aren't you lonely out here?" you three walked into the portal that would take you right into the nether. the sounds of bubbling lava and squealing pigmen was always an oddly comforting sound to hear.

"i'm perfectly content in my house. even if it's very far from others. i'm happy." you answered though your words sounded so... monotonous. tommy gave you a look, he definitely didn't believe you. "i know i don't sound happy but i am." before you knew it, you made it to the other nether portal which would actually take you to the manburg and pogtopia. oh how you didn't miss this place at all.

you never liked how manburg was ran even before shlatt was elected. you never really like government in general. it always seemed to be ruining everything. freedom never felt like freedom, at least that's what you thought especially when there was a goverment.

"welcome to pogtopia!" you were so deep in your own thoughts that you hadn't realized that you had made it to pogtopia.

"so where is your other helper? the first choice that wasn't me?" you asked.

"i think he might be here. he's been staying up for a long time. ever since he got in here." wilbur said. "technoblade? you here?" wilbur leads you to a potato farm and you soon feel a sense of familiarity as you enter the room.

"yeah." a low huff is heard, causing you and wilbur to turn your heads toward the source of the sound. "i'm here." what immediately catches your attention is the crown messily placed on his head as he farms. as a piglin, you've always been fond of gold, that adoration never left you once you went to the overworld. you never really wore a crown but you wore a gold pendant instead that was pinned to your cape.

"you have a really pretty crown." it takes you a minute to realize that those words came out of your mouth. "fuck, i didn't mean to say that out loud." you explained quickly to the male that was farming. "piglin things." you muttered.

"a very unexpected compliment. understandable." techno said. "wilbur, who is this again? have i met them?"

"well, you'd think you know each other since you're both piglins, but i guess the world is bigger than i thought. well, technoblade, meet y/n, y/n, meet technoblade."

"i call him the blade." tommy said smugly. "the blade! how's the potato planting doing?"

"it's doing fine. i didn't expect any company to come though."

"well, this is the person that we wanted to recruit for pogtopia."

"nice to meet you, even if the circumstances aren't the best. wilbur is lucky i owe him a favor." you said. "i sort of expected meeting you since tommy and wilbur mentioned you once they came to get me. i just never expected to see another piglin here in the overworld."

"never expected to see another piglin here either." techno hummed slightly.

maybe staying in pogtopia won't be too bad. at least you made a friend?

that was sort of a lie. you and techno never really talked after the encounter. it never worried you, you’re not one for conversation right now anyways. you had a mission to do and you’re gonna do it. you didn’t have time to make friends, at least that’s what you thought. friends seemed to be temporary in the smp, considering the wars that were and have happened.

you weren’t going to make another friend, knowing that you just might get pulled into their fights.

“why did you stop fighting once you left l’manburg?” wilbur’s voice rings in the small fighting pit that was made for training.

“i simply didn’t find the need to fight. it doesn’t mean i’m any weaker though. i will still fight for what i want to fight for.” and that’s gonna be really ending this whole government. you think to yourself, letting the nighttime ambience fill the air.

“you still have your lives...right?” you show him your wrist which had 3 hearts tattooed on it. 

“i’ve been living away from everyone, of course i won’t die that easily.” you let out an empty laugh. “bold of you to assume i would even die.”

“i know it’s ridiculous to even think that you would lose a life after you left l’manburg but what if dream were to chase you down and kill you?”

“i understand your worry, but need not to worry, i can handle myself. if i couldn’t you guys would never even assign me as cavalry captain those years ago.” you said, unbuttoning your gold pendant to place it on the stone cold floor along with your other accessories you had. “it’s not like dream can do too much to me. we made a deal after all.”

“a deal?” wilbur raised an eyebrow as he took off his jacket, tossing it on the ground.

“don’t be too concerned. i’m not like eret. i wouldn’t betray you.”

taglist; @justahostaccount, @olyink​, @aikochan4859​, @classycookiebailiffstudent​, @hubblie​, @stickk-bugg, @goldensunshineshit​, @sadlyitsme-boohoo​, @jace-the-ace12​, @2cuteforyourlies​, @lvlyjuro​

[if you want to be added, send in an ask!]

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw�� is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ‘special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 291: The Endeavor Pamphlet

Previously on BnHA: Dabi showed up atop Gigantomachia’s back and was all “you’ll never guess who I really am!” and the readers humored him and were all “who?” and he was all “TODOROKI TOUYA” and we were all “WOW └(・。・)┘ OH MY GOSH I WOULD NEVER HAVE GUESSED”, except for Shouto and Enji who were GENUINELY SHOCKED. Anyway so Touya was all “and guess what I’m doing right now!” and before anyone could even try, he was all, “STREAMING MY EMMY-NOMINATED MINISERIES ‘HELLO, I’M EVIL BUT ALSO TRAGIC AND SEXY, NOW LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT MY DAD WHO SUCKS’’, THAT’S WHAT.” And everyone was all “oh my god” and Touya was all “ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪” for basically the rest of the chapter, and that’s pretty much it! Oh, wait, except for the part where he also doused himself in bleach in a fit of pure theatrics, which is actually pretty much the main takeaway from the entire chapter really because it was just wild af. ANYWAYS.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi introduces Baby Touya, the world’s most enchantingly sweet character, and is immediately all, “I sure can’t wait to tell you guys all about how his fucking jaw burnt off.” Thankfully he doesn’t (YET), and we cut back to the present pretty quickly, where Dabi explains how he took all of his brain cells that should have been used to stop him from pouring bleach over his head, and instead put them all toward his big brain plot of releasing an elaborate video detailing Endeavor’s various abuses and crimes, and even throwing Hawks under the bus as well because WHY NOT. He then leaps off of Gigantomachia’s back (like I said, no brain cells) all set to blast them with a Prominence Burn, only to be stopped by none other than THE LEGEND HIMSELF, MOTHERFUCKING BEST, PRETTIEST, NICEST, MOST OUTSTANDING MOTHERFUCKING JEANIST. Who’s no doubt outraged by the crime against hair he witnessed only moments earlier. GO GETTIM JEANY BOI.

so I haven’t had time to answer any of them because this has been the stupidest week, but I just wanted to tell you guys that I received no fewer than nine asks about Dabi’s hair. which, in a week filled with election memes and tumblr’s most cursed fandom briefly rising back up from the dead, is a pretty impressive feat for him if you ask me. like, I know I was making fun of it basically nonstop, but it sure did generate a lot of discussion so maybe I should rethink my opinions on Dabi’s PR strategies now, idk

anyway. it’s Saturday. time to catch up on this shit. let’s see how fucked the Todorokis are

OH NO HE’S CUTE

HOLY SHIT THIS IS TOO MUCH TO FUCKING PROCESS. I’M JUST TRYING TO ENJOY MY DAY HORIKOSHI, ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO TRAUMATIZE THIS POOR CHILD RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD

“thanks for being all right” the fuck

who allowed this child to be so cute. I’m serious. who signed off on this

how could a child this adorable possibly want to murder his equally adorable baby brother. please, your honor. there must be some mistake here

guess how prepared I am to read all about Touya’s tragic past. mm. that’s right. zero ready. none ready

anyway. TWO THOUSAND DEGREES LOLOLOL. NO TRACE OF A CORPSE HOW CONVENIENT. A PIECE OF HIS LOWER JAW BONE FFFFMSGHKLSh. LOVELY. LOVELY

LMAOOOOO

listen you guys. I just want to take a moment to appreciate that Horikoshi Kouhei did one of two things here. either (1) he planned it out FROM THE VERY START that Touya would be born with red hair Because Fire Powers, but would then have his hair turn white due to trauma, thus making the Dabi/Touya connection very slightly less obvious, although Let’s Be Real Who Are We Kidding. OR, (2) the anime got it wrong and gave him red hair, and rather than allowing this plot hole to continue to exist, Horikoshi took it upon himself to concoct this elaborate storyline and pretend it was never a plot hole at all! in which case I sure hope someone at Bones is sending him a VERY nice Christmas card this year. got this man sweeping up all your messes for you. you’re just lucky he has some sort of wild compulsion to address these things

anyways!!

FATHER AND SON. how sweet. :| still zero percent ready for any of this btw

STOP BEING CUTE

THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I’M SO MAD RIGHT NOW. HE IS THE SINGLE CUTEST CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SERIES, and do you even know how many other baby characters I’m betraying in order to say that?! baby Kacchan, baby Deku, baby Ochako, baby Shouto, Eri, baby Hawks. I’M LOOKING YOU DEAD IN THE EYE RIGHT NOW AND TELLING YOU THAT BABY TOUYA IS CUTER THAN ALL OF THOSE PLEBS. AND YOU’RE LOOKING BACK AT ME RIGHT NOW ALL “YEAH IT SURE IS A PITY ABOUT HIS JAW MELTING OFF THOUGH.” THAT’S IT, I QUIT THE SERIES

and Enji’s smiling at him. he’s so proud of him. but then Touya won’t be able to do it, and Enji’s gonna stop training him, and Touya’s gonna feel like a failure and keep pushing himself in order to try and win his dad’s affections back, because that’s all kids fucking want, all they want is just love, that’s fucking it, you couldn’t just give him that?? and then he’s gonna immolate himself fflkdlskfh THERE YOU SEE HORIKOSHI, I KNOW THE WHOLE STORY ALREADY, YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THE WHOLE “SHOW THEM THE DEAD DOG” THING YET AGAIN YOU PIECE OF SHIT

OH SNAP THERE GOES THE TWIN THEORY. R.I.P.

BABY FUYUMI. PRETTY CUTE. NOT AS CUTE AS TOUYA THOUGH. HEY LOOK, NO REASON TO GET MAD AT ME I’M JUST STATING A FACT HERE

YEAH THIS IS GONNA GO REAL WELL OH BOY

I keep pressing the emergency stop button but this industrial tragedy machine just keeps on chugging along anyway, I’m pretty sure this thing is not up to code

:| I am so sorry sweet boy, Horikoshi is only getting started with you

FUCKING HELL WITH THIS NARRATION

but he wasn’t actually a child to you, he was just a little puppet child for you to live vicariously through!! and then you went and did the same fucking thing with Shouto afterwards and never learned your lesson until just six months ago!! fucking hell, Enji

so now he’s all “Touya is dead, that’s an unforgivable lie” fflkdhflk motherfucker does he look dead to you. if you really think that, tumblr and twitter have got a little over five years’ worth of archived theory posts to show you

oh shit Touya’s countering with “it’s an unforgivable truth”, which, damn. I actually think Horikoshi’s dialogue is one of his weaker points as a writer a lot of the time, but that comeback was snappy as fuck

actually guys, now that I’ve seen how ridiculously fucking cute baby!Touya was, I can almost understand why Shouto and Enji never put the pieces together before lol. any passing similarities would have easily been dismissed on account of he’d need to be at least 10x more adorable in order to get the full resemblance

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU SLEEP??? SO YOU POINT BLANK REFUSED TO PASS OUT WHILE YOU WERE BUSY MAIMING ALL OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS, BUT NOW THAT THERE’S AN OPPORTUNITY TO SEE YOUR REACTION TO THE “YOUR LIEUTENANT WAS SECRETLY RELATED TO ONE OF YOUR WORST ENEMIES THE WHOLE TIME” BOMBSHELL, YOU FINALLY DECIDE TO GET YOUR FORTY WINKS. I SEE

WOW DABI

I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T ALREADY HAVE YOUR ANCESTRY.COM RESULTS PRINTOUT READY TO FOLD INTO A PAPER AIRPLANE AND ZOOM ON DOWN TO HIM

LOL NEVERMIND

gotta say, so far The Endeavor Pamphlet is just about as spicy as I could have hoped

(ETA: Natsuo’s face as he watches his beloved dead brother come back to life only to literally and metaphorically set everything on fire in one fell swoop is :/. why must you do this to me Natsu. can’t you see I’m trying to throw a Welcome Back Jeanist party here.)

HAVE YOU READ THIS?! TODOROKI ENJI ABUSED HIS OWN HEIR, AND DABI WROTE IT DOWN RIGHT THERE

WELL HE’S NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT

btw I neglected to mention this last week, but yes I do recognize and appreciate that this is Can’t Ya See-kun himself whom Horikoshi has chosen to be the face of this existential crisis which the general public is about to experience. rip CYS-kun

OOF

excuse me. putting aside the implications of Dabi sharing this context-less murder video of Hawks with the entire world for a moment, I just have to pause for a sec here, because when exactly did he get a chance to edit this all in?? complete with voiceover that seamlessly ties in with the prerecorded footage of him with DNA test results sans shirt?? you’re telling me this motherfucker, with all the smoke that was in the room thanks to his own quirk, somehow got a PERFECT SHOT of the PRECISE MOMENT when Hawks drove his feather knife into Jin’s back, using his MAGIC CAMERA THAT HE I GUESS HAD THE ENTIRE TIME IN THE POUCH RIGHT NEXT TO HIS BLEACH BOTTLE, and then immediately somehow got this very next shot as well FROM AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ANGLE

ALL THE WHILE IMMEDIATELY RUNNING THROUGH SCRIPT REVISIONS IN HIS HEAD, WHICH HE THEN PROCEEDED TO RECORD... WHERE, EXACTLY?? WITH SKEPTIC, WHILST RIDING ON MACHIA’S BACK??

AND THIS IS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF???

and this after I just wrote that whole long paragraph positively GLOWING about this man’s ability to plug up a plot hole. jfc. just scratch out every damn word I said lol. just forget all of it

are you fucking kidding me, the footage was from the cameras Skeptic planted on Hawks??

that’s... actually... okay you know what, it still doesn’t make any sense in the slightest, but the determination to address it nonetheless... just, dammit... I feel like I’m constantly at war with myself over whether or not I want to shake this man’s hand or slap him lmao. whatever, then!!

anyway, since Shouto and Enji can’t actually see the damage that Touya is dealing to the hero industry even as they speak, Touya is taking it upon himself to give them the highlights

I think it’s a testament to how much Endeavor cares about Hawks that he managed to zero in on that comment even amidst all the craziness of his eldest son returning from the dead to announce how he’s been carefully plotting their destruction for years and years. like, he heard “Hawks” and his face immediately went like that. you think he’s worried that Dabi did something to him? because he’d be right to worry lol

so the Endeavor Pamphlet narration is now explaining all about how Hawks totally killed the Number 3 Hero Best Jeanist as well! yep... he sure did... totally...

OH MY GOD WE’RE CUTTING TO HIM AHHHHH

Hawks, that is. lol. not Jeanist. NO, JUST MY POOR HALF-DEAD WINGLESS BABY SON

NOOOOO HIS LITTLE WING STUMPS. BUT SOMEHOW HIS FACIAL HAIR IS STILL INTACT. OH TO BE AN ANIME PRETTY BOY BEING SET ON FIRE. “HEY, TAKE IT EASY, WATCH THE FACE”

EXCUSE ME WHAT

interesting! we suspected as much, I think, with the clues that Ending dropped, and the little flashback right after the name reveal. still not clear how Dabi found out about it though!

looooool okay here we go, breaking out the heavy-handed holier-than-thou shit now

you know, I do find it interesting how trying to model themselves after All Might’s noble Symbol of Peace image has kind of ended up being the heroes’ undoing here. like, I could write a whole essay on this, but what it basically boils down to is that they were all trying too hard to be perfect. All Might went out there and did his thing and was amazing, and so the powers-that-be built an entire system centered around this seemingly-infallible person, and they acted like the system was infallible as well. and so most of the population ended up becoming complacent over the years, and meanwhile the people who were unfortunate enough to fall through the cracks understandably wound up disillusioned and perceiving the heroes as these false idols

anyway, but I think one positive takeaway from this is that the new up-and-coming generation of heroes represent a breakaway from that system. like, imo what we’re witnessing is the downfall of the Perfect Hero, and the rise of the imperfect hero. and this new generation doesn’t shy away from their failures or pretend like they never happened. they pretty much can’t pretend, because their failures are all right out there in the open for everyone to see. Bakugou Katsuki, just to name one example off the top of my very biased head, has had his own personal character journey basically play out right in front of the media’s eyes. his humiliation at the sports festival, his kidnapping by the League, and all of the fallout afterward. this isn’t someone who can ever go out there and convince the world that he’s perfect. but what he can do, instead, is show the world that he’s trying. that he’s trying with everything he has to do his best, to be the best. rather than this untouchable godlike image, it’s instead the image of someone painfully human who is nonetheless striving with everything he’s got to keep moving forward, flaws and all, and work his way to the top

and ultimately I think that’s going to be a much more positive image to send out to the world when all’s said and done. because rather than merely inspiring awe, heroes like that inspire people to take action themselves. or at least that’s what I hope! and not just Bakugou, but the others as well. we’ve got Shouto, whose own personal trauma is being aired in front of the whole nation even as I sit here ranting. we’ve got Deku, who cries at the drop of a hat, and who fought to become a hero despite being quirkless (and I think it’s only a matter of time before that eventually becomes public knowledge as well). tl;dr because I’m getting way too long-winded here, but these kids have effectively been humanized in a way that the old generation never was, and I think that’ll go a long way towards building trust between them and the people they’ll someday be protecting, and inspiring the next generation in hopefully a much healthier way

anyway so where were we. ...oh yes, Dabi was explaining that heroes only protect themselves, and is presumably building up to his grand conclusion of “therefore you should all just let the villains take over and burn down the world”

omfg. YOU GUYS

DOES CAN’T YA SEE-KUN’S SHARK FRIEND ACTUALLY CALL HIM “CAN’T YA SEE-KUN.” HE HAS A NAME YOU KNOW!! UNLESS HE LEGALLY GOT HIS NAME CHANGED TO CAN’T YA SEE-KUN. OH MY GOD

ALSO, IS THAT CAN’T YA SEE-KUN CRYING IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT THERE OMG. GIVE THIS CHILD A HUG. EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING RIGHT NOW AND HUG HIM

BAKUGOU IS BARELY HANGING ON THERE LOL. GOTTA STAY CONSCIOUS... SO MUCH TEA BEING SPILLED... FOCUS... CONCENTRATE

IIDA’S ANGLING HIS HEAD IN A WEIRD WAY, LIKE DUDE. LOOKING SUSPICIOUSLY SNUGGLY THERE. MMM THESE IIDABAKU CRUMBS

HADOU IS ALL “WHAT EVEN IS ACTUALLY GOING ON” LMAO

LASTLY, POOR SHOUTO OMFG. WHEN YOU’RE ALL FINISHED HUGGING CYS-KUN THIS CHILD NEEDS YOUR ATTENTION!!

so now Dabi’s leaping off of this ninety-foot-tall gargoyle man like that’s a normal, smart thing to do. unless he can fly too now? saw his dad doing it back at Fukuoka and was all “hmm”

OH MY GOD SOMEONE TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT WORD SHOUTO IS USING TO ADDRESS ENJI, THESE TRANSLATIONS LOVE TO MESS WITH MY HEAD

ENJI GET MOVING DO YOU NOT SEE THOSE TEARS!!! SNAP OUT OF IT YOU BIG TREE

AHHHHH

OH KACCHAN YOU WOKE UP A LITTLE MORE THERE, HUH

lol he and Deku both look so determined but they’re basically sitting ducks. their “oh shit” faces do look remarkably like their “TIME TO SWING INTO ACTION” faces but don’t be fooled, they have one good arm and about six pints of blood left between the two of them. looks like this one’s all on you Shouto

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH --

BAH GOD... WHAT’S GOING ON HERE... THAT’S BEST JEANIST’S MUSIC

y’all. can’t even talk right now, my brain has completely shut down lol. just. ...

  °˖✧◝(￣▿￣)◜✧˖°

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P2)

this is ridiculously late and im so sorry, but here’s part 2 of this list!!

//

sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).: @nethandrake

Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.

After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.

And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.

Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.

(In which Tony's from Civil War and Steve's from Infinity War. It's a problem.)

Rising: @withstarryeyes

Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves.

He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up.

the square root of infinity: @firebrands

steve and tony have their first fight. tony doesn't handle it well.

A Social Engagement: @finduilasclln

Written for the prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Steve agrees to something without fully comprehending what it means. Modern times are confusing.

Wounds Without A Bandage: @gotthesilver

Tony burrows deeper in his blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget the last year. Taking control of Stark Industries was one thing, even if it had been a shock to Obie and the rest of the board when Tony came of age and started dispensing of all his dad’s old cronies, but SI’s exploration team actually finding Steve? Tony deciding Steve should come live with him? Tony has regrets.

Well.

He has regrets this morning.

Before last night, the most Tony regretted in relation to Steve was not jumping him the moment it became clear all his faculties were intact and that Tony hadn’t defrosted a brain dead Captain America.

Love Like A Hunger: @gotthesilver

Pushing the door open to the bedroom, Steve pauses at what he sees. “Tony? I—”

“Surprise?”

“I—” Steve swallows, taking in the sight of Tony, blood instantly going to his cock as he looks him up and down. “You look—wow.”

Tony’s got on a damn Princess Leia outfit, gold curling around his chest and hips, with red fabric skimming over his crotch, and Steve’s brain feels like it’s shut down.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

the james braincell: @starklysteve

“Right. How do we get them to admit they love each other?”

In front of him, Bucky brings out a metal flask and takes a swig out of it. “Hell if I know. You’re the genius who went to MIT.”

“I studied aerospace engineering,” Rhodey rolls his eyes, “not how to get two idiots to kiss.”

-------

Or, Bucky and Rhodey are the braincells.

In a desperate last ditch attempt, they set Steve and Tony up for a blind date.

Steve and Tony don't know that their date is each other. But they might have a braincell of their own. Might.

the good place (is next to you): @starklysteve

“I mean,” Tony tries his best shot at breaking the tension, “if you’re stuck with the wrong guy, at least I’m sexier than your real deal?”

Tony died and got sent to some sort of heaven, with Captain America as his soulmate. Except, they got the wrong Anthony Stark, and to stay in the Good Place, Tony must convince Steve to teach him how to be good.

-x-

(watching The Good Place is not necessary to understand this AU, but will help)

president captain america: @livingtheobsessedlife

He’s supposed to be campaigning to be elected as president of the United States, not pining over some billionaire he met at one of his campaign events. And yet, Steve can’t seem to get genius, philanthropist (and his newest big-time donor) Tony Stark out of his head.

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

Between Two Infinities: @/anonymous

The Titanic, 1946. Steven Grant Rogers did not think that going to war would end up with him being three times his normal size with superstrength and agility to boot, and... rich...but hey, he wasn’t complaining. Steve also didn’t expect to fall out of love- if it was even love in the first place- with the woman he was explicitly told to propose to, and instead fall for a formerly rich, formerly a playboy, still a genius, Tony Stark. Especially because, you know, it was a little tiny bit illegal, and he was supposed to be “America’s Golden Boy”, as Bucky put it.

All Tony expected out of the trip was to escape Europe with his best friend thanks to a lucky game of blackjack. He didn’t think he’d find himself having sex in the back of a car located in the cargo hold of the Titanic, or almost jumping off said ship. But that was just the life of a rogue Stark child, wasn’t it? At least Peggy was nice. Her dad, not so much.

A Thief Like Tony Stark: @dontholdthiswarinside

Tony is a high ranking criminal, known for his talent to disappear. Steve is a disillusioned soldier who needs some cash.

And some people will always be heroes, no matter what they do for a living.

The Things We Can’t Unsee: @/orphan-account

The mission was simple: get in, gather information, get out. Of course, Steve never really expected the enemy to follow this plan. One way or the other, something was bound to happen. They were the Avengers, after all. Nothing ever went easy for them.

What Steve didn’t expect was it going as far as it did; he didn’t expect having to make a decision that nobody should have to make.

Now Bucky’s lying there, bloody and dying all because of him, and Natasha’s poisonous words keep ringing in his head. Thinking about the ring he carries with him every day, Steve knows she’s right.

He’d never be able to make that call if it were Tony.

The Last Barman Poet: @nativemossy

Tony wasn't expecting anything more than dealing with a tequila-drunk Clint and a slightly wrinkled suit on this trip to Mexico. He got plenty more than he bargained for when he catches the eye of a handsome vacationer at the swim-up bar. Tipsy shenanigans ensue.

[qqueenofhades]

Do you feel up to a rant on “the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time.” I don’t really understand this but would like to.

I have written several posts on this issue, most or all of which should be in my politics for ts tag. The information I just reblogged about the California gubernatorial recall election is another unfortunate example: according to a LA Times poll cited in the article, over three-quarters of registered CA Republicans are definitely going to vote, compared to under half of registered CA Democrats who said the same. Thanks to CA's insane recall election rules, that could put a fringe hard-right Trumpist in charge of America's bluest and most populous state, with possibly the ability to flip the Senate back to GOP control if Democratic Sen. Dianne Feinstein (who is 88) dies or is otherwise incapacitated before the 2022 elections. A GOP governor will then appoint her replacement, and while he (because let's be real, it WOULD be a he) would have to run again in 2022 and probably be beaten by a regular Democrat, it would be a huge blow in the meantime. Not to mention all the other stupid COVID policies that a hard-right wingnut could inflict on California until then.

We also saw this extensively in the 2016 and 2020 primaries, where certain Bernie Sanders supporters were willing to support him and ONLY him as the Democratic nominee (regardless of the fact that Sanders isn't even a Democrat, he sits in the Senate as an independent) and spent all their time viciously trashing the rest of the Democratic field and refusing to vote for anyone who should supplant him. That cost us the election in 2016, and we're lucky that it didn't do the same in 2020. I supported Elizabeth Warren in the primaries, but I said from the beginning that I would vote for whatever sentient potted cactus got the Democratic nomination, and I did. Joe Biden was not my first, second, third, fourth, etc choice for the nomination, but in hindsight, seeing the massive pro-Trump turnout that cost us a lot of the Senate seats we were hoping to pick up for the Democrats, I honestly think an old white man with a reputation as a centrist is the only candidate who could have possibly beaten the Orange One (and the margins in the key states were all heart-attackingly close, under 100k votes in each). And Biden, despite being a flawed candidate who has made a flawed president, is still governing from a decidedly progressive perspective! The American Rescue Plan alone was one of the biggest pro-working-class pieces of legislation in generations (especially if they can make the child tax credit permanent).

Anyway, the point is, certain Democratic voters refuse to vote, or don't think it's important enough to vote, or proclaim that they will only vote for one candidate, or that it's "immoral" to vote for a flawed Democratic establishment politician instead of their latest socialist Twitter messiah (even if establishment politicians know, y'know, how to actually get things done). In short, they see it as an unacceptable compromise to take anything less than what they supposedly want, and that means that Republicans (who reliably turn out and vote in a lockstep bloc for their guy) have a built-in advantage when it comes to winning elections, even before the raft of voter suppression laws they're passing to help themselves out, and even if the Republican Party as a whole is less popular in America than ever. They just have to gerrymander the right districts and get one more vote than the other guy, and they routinely benefit from self-inflicted Democratic voter apathy in maintaining tyrannical minority rule.

Anyway. If you're a California Democrat, please vote to keep Newsom in office. If you're an American Democrat, just vote, period, in whatever election rolls along (especially the 2022 midterms). Please.

[harrysweasleys]

A Change Of Heart

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Being Snape’s daughter, people think you have it easy at school, despite being a Gryffindor. But they treat you differently, no one really wants to be around you due to Snape’s reputation. And lucky for you, the only person who understands is Draco. [3rd year.]

Warnings: None

Word count: 2,140

A whisper made its way across the class as your father walked in. Usually, people whispered about him anyways, but considering Lupin was supposed to be teaching instead of your dad, they seemed a little more irritated than usual.

You lowered your head, avoiding the confused glares people sent your way about why he was here. The blinds were suddenly shut and darkness spread across the quiet room as your father turned to face the class.

“Turn to page 394.”

You noticed the thick book in front of you that you didn’t remember bringing in at all. Sharing a look with Hermione who seemed as startled as everyone else, you slowly started flipping to said page, passing the lessons you should have bee doing today.

“Uh, excuse me, sir?” Harry’s voice broke through the stillness, “Where’s professor Lupin?”

You kept your head lowered, knowing that your father’s relationship with Harry often got quite ugly, and you didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“That’s not really your concern, is it, Potter?” He spoke slowly, before raising an eyebrow and walking to the back of the class, “Suffice it to say your professor finds himself unable to teach at the present time. Turn to page 394.”

You heard a thud of pages to your left and Ron Weasley let out a gasp, “Werewolves?”

You scanned across the page, noticing that indeed, you guys were going to be learning about werewolves. Why, you had no idea.

“Werewolves? But sir, we just started learning about redcaps and hinkypunks. We’re not meant to start this for weeks.” Hermione spoke up, catching the attention of your already pissed off father.

He glared at her, his gaze softening once it landed on you next to her, “Quiet. Now, can anyone tell me the difference between a werewolf and an animagus?”

Looking around and noticing no one else had raised their hands, except for Hermione of course, your slowly raised yours.

“Y/N?” Your father spoke slowly.

Hiding the redness creeping up your neck from the sudden attention, you steadied your voice, “An animagus is someone who elects to turn themselves into an animal. A werewolf has no choice. With each full moon, he or she forgets who they are, they’d kill anyone who crossed their path.”

Your father smiled briefly at you before covering it with a glare at the rest of the class, “Good. Now, by Monday morning on my desk I want two rolls of parchment on the werewolf, with emphasis on recognizing it.”

The class broke out into groans, mostly from the loud Slytherin boys at the back of the class. You ducked your head, knowing people were going to make snide comments to you about how strict your father is when you went back to the Common Room.

“Sir, it’s Quidditch tomorrow,” Harry groaned, stopping once he was face to face with the angry professor.

“Then I suggest you take extra care. Loss of limb will not excuse you,” he spoke in Harry’s face before turning back to face the rest of the class and continuing his lecture. You tuned him out slightly, scribbling little notes in your book now and then when your ears caught certain words, but apart from that, you weren’t paying attention.

What felt like four hours later, the class ended and you grabbed your books, moving as quickly as you could out of the class to avoid any confrontation.

“Snape is the worst, wish he’d just jump off a cliff,” a girl muttered to her friend as she pushed by you, her friend agreeing with her.

“Can’t believe he’s got us doing all of this, doesn’t he understand that he’s not the only professor in the entire school,” Harry grumbled to Ron as they turned the corner away from you. You tuned out the crowd, rushing to a corner to take a breath. You hated how all you ever heard was how terrible, cruel, awful, disgusting your father was. Sure, you disagreed with his methods sometimes, but you loved him.

You felt tears prick your eyes and you tried your best to hide them as you hid your face, letting the crowd of students pass by in a rush to get out of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

As the crowd died down, you took a deep breath and prepared to go back into the hall, but you were interrupted by a voice from right beside you.

“What’s got you looking like you want to cry in the shower for eight years?”

You snapped your head to the right, eyes immediately landing on Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall, eyes on you.

“It’s nothing,” you hid your face in your hair once more, looking down to the books you were clutching in your hands, hoping he’d drop the subject with lack of care.

“Oh, please, I know that look. I see countless people crying in hidden corners every day,” he crossed his arms, not breaking eye contact. You had never really spoken to him, but you knew all about him and his family from your dad. They were, what you could call, ‘work buddies.’

“Draco, just leave me alone,” you sighed, pushing your hair behind your ear to face him. A look of sympathy crossed his face as he noticed how upset you actually were.

“Come with me.” He grabbed your arm gently and pulled you down the hall. You barely knew him, but for some reason you found yourself following after him without fighting. He pulled you down hallways, ignoring the strange glances people shot your way, and pulled you into a quiet classroom. You had never been in here before, and by the looks of it, it hadn’t been touched in years.

“Talk. I’m a good listener.” He shot you a genuine smile. You cocked an eyebrow, wondering why he was being so kind to you, but you didn’t feel like arguing.

“Fine,” you sat down on a dusty chair, “It’s tough being Snape’s daughter. Don’t get me wrong, he’s… a great dad, but the stuff that students say about him gets to me.”

He nodded slowly, “I get it.”

“You do?”

He smiled at you, nodding his head, “Yeah, kind of. My father has a reputation too. Not a good one. I know that people talk about him when I’m around. It sucks.”

You nodded slowly, “That does sucks, I’m sorry.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Don’t be sorry, I’ve dealt with it my whole life. I had a feeling that’s what was bothering you. Anyways, all I’m saying is you can’t let them get to you. No one ever really likes their teacher. There’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

You laughed sarcastically, “Wow, really helpful, thanks. I feel loads better.”

He stepped off the desk and walked closer to you, “I’m serious, you can’t let what other people say affect you. Your dad doesn’t care what people say about him, so nor should you.”

He was right. Your dad didn’t care what people thought of him. You figured you might have overreacted slightly, but he was your family. You didn’t want people talking about him that way.

“You’re right,” you muttered, looking up at him with a little more determination, “You’re right, I shouldn’t let what people say affect how I feel.”

And from then on, you tried not to. You’d ignore the glares, the negative comments, and you even got closer to Draco. He sometimes sat with you in Potions where he knew students would treat you a little meaner. You’d hang out with him in the evenings to avoid the Common Room, and sometimes you’d find yourself hanging out with him without even having an excuse.

“So, that’s when I told him that I’d shove my wand so far up his nose it’d come out the back of his skull,” you finished your story, Draco bursting into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

“That’s how you get someone to leave you alone!” He continued laughing, his cheeks turning slightly pink and his hair falling into his face. For some reason you found yourself wanting to gently tuck the strand back with the rest of his hair, but you couldn’t figure out why the sudden urge. You shook your head, clearing yourself of your thoughts before cracking a smile.

“I guess it is,” you smiled, hiding the blush that crept onto your cheeks. Damn Draco Malfoy and his stupid charm.

“So, I’ve got to run off to stupid Transfiguration, talk to you later,” he picked up the book on his lap and stood up, waving goodbye and taking off down the courtyard and into the castle. As he disappeared inside, you let out a sigh, leaning back against the cold bench and shaking your head. You knew damn well you were developing feelings, but there was no way in hell you were okay with it.

You stood up, trying to clear your head before taking off into the castle. You slowly made your way up to the Common Room, taking your time as you didn’t really have anywhere else to be. You spoke the password to the fat lady and walked in, plopping down on the couch in front of the crackling fire.

You sat there for what felt like hours, the clouds rolling in and the magical fire not dying down in the slightest, before you heard a faint knock at the door. You had never really heard anyone knock before, so you got up, figuring Neville or Ginny had forgotten the password again, but stumbled back in shock when Draco stood in front of the doorway, hands in his pockets and an awkward smile on his face.

“Draco?”

“Yep, hi.” He grinned, motioning for you to step outside, which you did.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, moving out of the way to let a group of Gryffindors walk past the painting. Draco shrugged, seemingly embarrassed.

“Do you, I don’t know, wanna go for a walk?” He asked nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders once again as if he had an irritating twitch and something on his mind.

“Sure,” you grinned, letting him lead the way down the stairs. You walked in silence for a while, almost as if Draco wanted to lead you somewhere private to talk. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but you knew that he was taking you on a walk for a certain reason and you could feel unwelcome nerves bundling in your stomach.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer, but his pace quickened and you followed suit. Eventually, you found yourself in front of the same classroom as he had dragged you in a week before, and you followed him inside without saying anything. You felt your heart beating against your ribcage, slightly out of breath from the half-jog you did the whole way here.

He shut the door behind you, his breathing picking up.

“Draco, you’re being weird… are you ok?” You asked, approaching him cautiously.

He turned to face you, eyes wild and cheeks still slightly pink. Before answering you, he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to meet his. His lips were soft, despite his actions, and you felt your knees buckle.

He immediately pulled away, “I- I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

You felt your cheeks flushed as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened. He noticed your silence and nodded his head slowly, making his way back to the door. Holy crap.

“Wait, Draco,” you tried to speak but it came out as more of a squeak. He turned around, eyes slightly hurt but he stayed to listen.

“Come back here,” you smiled, watching his slow steps as he took his sweet time walking back to you.

As he stood in front of you, his breathing still quick, you gazed up into his eyes and lifted your arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair, pushing his head down, connecting his lips with yours.

He leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his body flush against yours. You smiled into the kiss, loving the feeling of his lips moving against yours. He lifted you up slightly, lips not leaving yours, and placed you on a desk, one of his hands finding its way into your hair as the two of you started heating up.

He started placing kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, his gentle hands gripping onto you as if you were to disappear between his fingers. Before he could make his way back to your lips, the door swung open and an angry figure stood in the doorway. Draco pulled away in a second, shielding you from whoever’s eyes were on the two of you.

“Malfoy, what are you doing to my daughter?”

[enkelimagnus]

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 13, 3200 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for.

Read on AO3

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

Vex steps out of the temple, Vax by her side, and the light of the day feels wrong. It feels like decades have passed while they discussed what to do about Percival de Rolo, not merely a few hours.

Maybe it’s because the inside of the Lady’s Chamber is as barren as the Zenith is desolate. She gets the minimalist aesthetic that comes with the Lawbearer but she wishes there were some colorful tapestries to at least brighten up the room.

It’s midday, which is the only reason it’s this bright out. It’s Duscar 2nd, the shortest day of the year, and it means especially a lot so far North. There will only be a couple hours more of daylight and whatever work Vex had leftover for the day will have to wait until tomorrow.

Keeper Yennen is the only one of the group that stayed behind. Father Reynal is already halfway through the square, walking towards his temple and the cemetery. The rest of them gather a few feet from the door, looking at each other with the awkwardness of recently-introduced coworkers.

They form quite the motley crew. A cleric of an all-but-forgotten goddess, a barbarian, two half-elf twins, and the only remaining alive and safe member of the ruling family of the city. She’s barely counting in the two aging priests that provide mostly support and won’t be let anywhere near the fiend.

This feels doomed to fail. A small part of Vex tells her regularly that she should run away and leave these people to their own devices, that this doesn’t concern her. They should all be lucky her professional consciousness is stronger than that little survivalist voice.

“Vex?” Pike’s voice resounds, soft and light and Vex looks down at the other woman.

“Yes?”

Pike looks at her with an apologetic smile. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t know at the time what was happening. I should probably have warned you once I was made aware of the situation…”

Vex shakes her head. “It’s okay, Pike, it wasn’t your responsibility. You have nothing to do with it.”

It was the priests’ responsibility. It should have been them who warned Vex of what the fiend was. But they’d covered it up. They potentially had lost precious time, because they hadn’t let her do her job.

Pike smiles at her. “I wasn’t lying about the… being sent by my goddess thing,” she points out. “I don’t think I would have left Westrunn if that wasn’t for her.”

Vex raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I have family there. My great-grandpa. And I’m trying to bring some sort of Sarenrae worship back, build a new temple. It’s not super easy, even with this guy,” she points at Grog. Grog smiles at Vex, a smile that would have been scary if Vex hadn’t already seen how soft he was around Pike. “Sarenrae was forgotten a long time ago.”

Vex doesn’t know much about Sarenrae, mostly only what Pike has told her. She nods. “I see. Well I hope either way that it will go well for you. It seems like a good goddess to have a congregation of.”

Pike chuckles. “Yeah, she’s no Betrayer,” she nods. “Alright then. I think Grog and I will go get lunch. Have a good day, and see you at the next meeting.”

Vex bids them goodbye before turning back to her brother, who seems in the middle of a conversation with Cassandra.

“It’s Barren Eve,” Vax is saying when Vex settles next to him. “Are you going to light candles for your family?”

Cassandra seems a little taken aback by that.  “Probably,” she replies after a small moment. “What happened here wasn’t really a war, but it’s close enough.”

Vex crosses her arms. “I understand you don’t want to relive what happened, but I’d really appreciate knowing the background of this entire story. It might give us some idea of where to start looking for the fiend your brother has elected to make a deal with.”

Cassandra observes her for a moment, eyes heavy with horrors Vex can’t even imagine. She feels a little guilty for bringing this up over and over again but she needs to know. She can’t go out of her way to save a De Rolo without knowing why he’s in this situation in the first place.

“I can tell you the story,” Cassandra nods. “However I’d like… some privacy?” She gestures at the open square around them. “And it will be more comfortable somewhere where we can all sit. I can bring you to my home if you’d like.”

That’s a sign of goodwill if Vex has ever seen any. Vax is already acquiescing before Vex opens her mouth to accept. He seems to like her. Maybe it’s that sibling thing. Cassandra isn’t a twin, but she’s a sister.

They quickly start making their way to Cassandra’s home. They are mostly silent while on the road. They don’t have a lot of things to talk about. There’s a lot of heaviness between them. Vex doesn’t really feel like dissipating it just yet, if she’s being honest with herself. It’s petty, but it feels good.

To Vex’s surprise, Cassandra guides them off into an alleyway and behind the Alcove, the shop Vex visited on her very first visit into town. She remembers meeting Keyleth there, with those strange clockwork machines that she now knows to be the work of Percival himself.

Cassandra opens a door at the back of the Alcove’s building. Behind it is a narrow stairwell. Vax closes the door behind himself as they walk up into Cassandra’s home.

It’s an apartment, Vex can only see the first room she steps in, all other doors are closed. It’s tidy, but lived in. There are many books lining shelves against the walls, a lot that looks like textbooks.

There’s a small clockwork machine on one of the shelves. There’s a picture framed on the wall, a family portrait. Vex counts two adults and seven children of various sizes. There are twins in there.

“You had a big family,” Vex points out.

Cassandra nods sadly. “It’s been strange to be alone,” she replies.

Vex feels like an asshole again.

They settle around the light wooden table in the middle of the room. Cassandra serves them some coffee and they let the silence settle around them, heavy and thick. Vex doesn’t know exactly how to start this, how to ask again, so she just sort of waits.

“So… my family,” Cassandra starts, shifting a little. She seems to be getting comfortable for a long tale. “The De Rolos founded Whitestone in the early seventh century. We came from Wildemount, wrecked our ship on the Shearing Channels. The Sun Tree was already there, glowing in the winter, and we settled around it. As time passed, we discovered the whitestone of the Alabaster Sierras had a few properties of interest to spellcasters. It allowed us to develop trade with the home continent.”

Vex didn’t expect the story to start this far back in the past. She expected a retelling of the last few years, perhaps, but this is much closer to a history lesson.

Cassandra pauses and takes a sip of coffee before continuing.

“Wildemount is not like Tal’Dorei or Issylra. Arcane magic is much more developed and studied there than it is here. They have very important arcane societies. One of those societies is called the Cerberus Assembly,” she explains. “They’re a group of mages, maybe the most influential political power on Wildemount. And they had great use for whitestone. That’s how my family eventually came in contact with Archmage Delilah Briarwood, one of the eight archmages of the Cerberus Assembly.”

She swallows hard, her eyes staring at the table. Vex already knows from this look that Delilah Briarwood is going to become one of the main players of this story. She thinks she’s heard the Briarwood name before… or maybe it was Cerberus Assembly. Perhaps her father has met with some of the members of that assembly before, or they’ve come to Syngorn. The elven society is filled with scholars of the arcane.

Cassandra starts talking again, with a voice sounding almost detached from the story.

“They had mostly business relations with her. She was deeply interested in Whitestone’s history, in the Sun Tree and the Alabaster Sierras’ tale of creation during the Calamity. They weren’t great friends, but they knew each other well enough. So when Lord Sylas and Lady Delilah Briarwood came knocking at the doors of the castle, looking for a place to stay as they had been unjustly driven out of the Assembly, my parents believed them.”

Her voice is clouded with bitterness. So that was probably a lie then. Vex swallows. She can feel the tension in the memories building, can feel the dread wrapping around those words. The longer Cassandra talks, the more she fears the climax of it.

“I don’t know what they said that made my parents believe all their stories. I was about 14 at the time, and I wasn’t allowed in the office when those conversations were held,” she swallows. “But the Briarwoods settled in our home with their personal doctor, Anna Ripley, and then their friends trickled into the city. The doctor took great interest in Percival’s studies, growing close to his tutor, Professor Anders. Unbeknownst to all of us, they were plotting to take over.”

Her hand around the cup tightens, the knuckles white with the tension.

“We held a feast for the anniversary of their arrival, exactly one year after they’d found us. They’d become part of the family. We toasted to them. And then, they started murdering us. Sylas Briarwood was actually not a man but an undead creature, and his strength and seeming taste for blood was the end of my mother and father. And then they hunted the rest of the family, as well as the staff. For some reason, they’d decided to keep the youngest of us alive. Percival, the twins, Ludwig and I. I’m guessing the doctor’s fondness for Percy was his saving grace.”  

Cassandra has a soft, bitter chuckle. Vex almost mirrors it. It is strange to think of saving graces when she has seen what Percival has become.

“The details are fuzzy, but somehow I managed to get Percy and I out. We ran through the secret tunnel, the one you probably were in, to freedom. Well… he did,” she looks down again. “They had archers on the wall and they caught me. Percy ran away as I was hit with arrows and… that’s the last time I saw him un-possessed. I think I died there, from being shot through with arrows. Yet, I awakened later on in my very own bed in the castle. They’d cleared out the bodies and styled themselves Lord and Lady of Whitestone, and took me in for… the Gods only know why…”

Pain is now obvious over her face. She’s struggled to keep it in the entire time, but the coldness and detachment she affected before are gone.

“For three years, I was theirs. Eventually, I stopped thinking myself a de Rolo, but rather a Briarwood. They called me their daughter,” she whispers. “The city tried fighting back, but I was playing a game with the rebellion, spying on them for information. I still don’t know if I was doing it of my own volition. But because of me, many of my people died… All their attempts at gaining freedom failed.”

There are tears in her eyes now, her voice is shaking and so are her hands. Vex doesn’t know what to do. She wishes she could comfort her but… She honestly doesn’t believe there is anything she can say that will make any of this better. Cassandra was used and abused by these Briarwoods.

“One day, Percy showed up, with a weapon of his own making, a demon riding his soul and he murdered them all. He murdered the Briarwoods, he murdered Ripley, that he’d loved so much. He murdered his teacher, and the Briarwoods’ friends, and then he turned his gun on me.”

Her breath itches and a sob wracks its way out of her throat.

“His eyes were black, there was this smoke around him, and he wasn’t my brother anymore,” Cassandra sobs. “But he still… he told me to run. He managed to fight the demon and tell me to run and I did. He tried to take a shot at me but missed.”

Run. Please. The man’s voice and his eyes are still carved in Vex’s memory. She can’t imagine what Cassandra must have felt when Vex told her what happened to her, how he let her go but still shot her.

“That’s the last time I saw him,” she leans back against the chair, a bit calmer, as if emptied out of the sorrow for a moment. “Keyleth is the only one who ever gets to go see him. And she can’t tell him where I am. Or he’ll come for me.”

It’s fucking tragic.

Vex’s mind seems to run empty for a long moment. No wonder no one will talk about the massacre. Or the massacres, plural, as it is. There are so many questions that suddenly press to the forefront. Lord Briarwood had been undead with a taste for blood? That’s… almost something out of scary stories for children.

“How long has it been?” Vax asks next to her. He seems to be managing this much better than Vex is.

“About two years?” Cassandra replies. “Something like that. I admit weeks and months seem to blend into each other lately.”

That makes sense. Vex can pretty much say the same about the months of her recovery before she moved to Whitestone. Trying to move on from traumatic events feels like trying to run through jelly. Days repeat themselves until it’s suddenly six months later and you feel just slightly better.

Vex herself isn’t completely out of it. Some days, she barely recognizes herself. She has Vax, and Trinket. What does Cassandra have? A memory, a shadow of the brother she can’t seem to help.

“He taught me all I know about constellations, you know? We’d sneak out onto the high balconies at night and he’d tell me all he’d learned about them in books, before I could read.” She smiles then, bitterness filling her eyes. “I’m never getting him back, am I?”

Vex feels a knot in her throat forming, and this time she can’t stay quiet. Even if the words that come up don’t feel like they fit. She can’t think of any other ones. But she has to say something right? Maybe nothing will ever exactly fit, and it’s either this… almost meaningless platitude or silence.

“We will do our best.” It rings empty, falling flat as Cassandra laughs. “I can’t promise him back, but… we will do what we can.”

“I suppose that has to be enough. If only I had…” She trails off, and it isn’t hard to see where her thoughts have gone.

“Staying wouldn’t have changed anything. You would simply be dead.” Vex doesn’t want to hurt the girl with her bluntness, but she sees her flinch regardless. “It wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t your brother anymore when he came back.”

She looks over at Vax for a half a second, his quiet sad smile that never really reaches his eyes, the comfort he’s so obviously trying to exude, draping his body in the least threatening way, open palms on the table, knowing how to exist in a way that won’t make someone like Cassandra or Vex run away.

He heard what Cassandra said about being trapped. And maybe even more than Vex, he recognized what it meant.

What would she be feeling if Vax had made a deal with a demon to help her get rid of Saundor?

She can’t quite imagine that black smoke around Vax’s golden skin instead of Percy’s much paler one. She can’t imagine it living inside of him. Forcing herself to imagine it makes feel a little nauseous.

“I… know what it’s like for your loved ones to get hurt when they come to save you,” Vex adds after a moment.

The bramble-like arrow shot by Fenthras going through Vax’s shoulder, his face growing paler from the pain of it. He had to get too close to Saundor to stab him but it made him vulnerable. He took the risk anyway. He always took the risks for her.

“If you looked through the file you had on me, then you know a lot about my past. You know I was involved with an Archfey,” Vex whispers. “And you know some of the story of how it ended. But…” She looks down for a second. “Vax had to come and get me. I wouldn’t have made it out by myself. I couldn’t even really think of escaping at the time.”

Vex looks up to meet Cassandra’s eyes. Hopefully she gets why Vex is telling that story. The parallel, if slightly distorted, between Percy and Vax in this situation are easy to see.

“I guess us big brothers tend to be a little reckless when it comes to our younger sisters,” Vax points out with a humorless chuckle.

Vex rolls her eyes. “I’m three minutes younger than you.”

Cassandra’s face cracks in a smile at that.

“Either way,” Vax shrugs. “We really are going to do what we can to make sure this has a happy ending for the both of you. As happy as possible.”

Cassandra takes a sip of her coffee. It’s probably cold now, but Vex understands the need to give oneself countenance. She straightens up a little. “I hope so,” she mutters. “I really do. I don’t want to be the sole heir to Whitestone.”

Vex thinks she can read between those lines. I don’t want to be alone. She gets it. She really does. The past few days have made sure the only person she has is Vax. She wouldn’t want to lose him either.

“If I bump into him again,” Vex starts slowly. “Do you want me to tell him something from you?”

Cassandra’s eyes widen. Vex understands that Percy’s not supposed to know where Cassandra is, but a simple message without location won’t do much harm. It might just help him fight the demon.

For as much as she empathizes with Cassandra and her loneliness, she can’t help but think of Percy too. Two years of nothing but a demon for company. Two years of knowing you might just kill everyone you love.

“Please… If you see him,” Cassandra whispers after a moment. “Tell him I still love him.”

“I can do that,” Vex nods.

Afterwards, it’s hard to find words to end that conversation but they somehow manage. They exchange numbers and Vex makes sure Cassandra’s calls will ring loud and clear no matter what happens or if her phone is on silent. They say goodbye and the twins start their way back to the car.

Vex extends her hand in between them and Vax doesn’t waste a second to take it.

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Janus Bullard: Drift away

When you don't let people close, they tend to drift away. Janus seems to struggle to understand that.

Masterlist

When sophomore year started, Janus had few comforts in their lives. One, Virgil and uncle Lo and their parents. Their constant pillars of support and comfort. And two, they were really good at languages. Which boosted their confidence quite a bit. They breezed through the curriculum for Spanish of last year and studied the rest of the material in their free time, because learning it was fun to them. They already knew French, and by the time finals rolled around they got to take a special test that had effectively gotten them a free period where their language elective should be for the rest of high school. The school prided themselves on adjusting the curriculum to the level of the students. And the best performing students even got to go on a weeklong trip after finals were over. The rest of the school had showcase week. Which meant that all the clubs and electives got to show off their stuff. Janus was not particularly interested in the showcase. He didn’t participate in anything and he knew no one who would be showing anything. So he chose to go on the trip. Virgil didn’t come along despite qualifying. He didn’t want to leave his dad by himself for that long. It was very sweet really. Janus would have argued against it, but it occurred to them that maybe if they were away from Virgil for a bit, then the feelings would calm down and they could just come out and get back to normal without Virgil having to learn that they ever were attracted to him in the first place. It didn’t work. They missed Virgil a lot, to start with. Missing makes the heart grow fonder indeed. It really drove home for him how much he couldn’t stand to lose his friend. On top of that the guys that were with them on the trip were… not the best company to keep. It all started out well. Virgil had made him a special shirt to congratulate him with passing his advanced Language exams. It was a black shirt with a yellow print. A minimalistic open snake mouth on their chest with ‘hiss hiss’ above it. Scales scattered along the left side to match their marks. They loved it. It was a reference to Remus’ old nickname for them. ‘Snakeface’. From anyone else it would have been an insult. But Remus meant it as a complement. Their travel companions, from schools all over the city thought it looked bad ass. It was a great ice breaker if nothing else when they wore it on the first day. That didn’t last long though. On the second night they were talking with the other guys in the boys dormitory. One mentioned a cousin of theirs came out not too long ago. “And his folks actually let him stay. My parents cut ties right away. Can’t believe I used to play ball with a twink.” Janus just barely managed to hide how the word hit them. The other guys agreed and, as much as they hated it, so did they. To say that that was the last time they were confronted with the fact that if these guys were to get to know the real them, they’d make their week hell, would be a lie. And as they heard slurs and jokes about the LGBTQ+ community tossed around as if it was nothing, they started to wonder. Would their parents be okay with it? They thought they would. They’d never seemed to be against the community. They recalled hearing their mother gush about the cute pride stuff they’d spotted in the mall a few times. But accepting that other people were queer and accepting that their son was sometimes more like a daughter and also gay and aromantic… That was something entirely different. And Virgil? Saying you don’t care and actually having to live with the knowledge that your best friend was… broken… What kind of freak were they even that they couldn’t pick a gender? Why couldn’t they fall in love like normal teens? Virgil’d had plenty of crushes already. He’d admitted he hadn’t even told them about all of them! So clearly it wasn’t that hard. Except for them. Because they had to be messed up in every way possible. The way they looked, the way they felt, what they were… When they got home Virgil was at their bedroom door almost within ten minutes of them putting their bag down. “You’re back!” he grinned, excited to see them again. “Tell me everything! Was it worth it letting me die of boredom?” he teased, throwing an arm over their shoulder in a sort of sideways hug. Janus flinched away from Virgil’s proximity. Being close to him made them want to be closer. But still not in the way Virgil might understand. If they just kept him on arm’s length, then things would be ok… Right? Virgil let them go. It didn’t look like he found it odd that Janus wanted distance. Janus tried to remember last time he’d initiated a hug or anything of the sort… With anyone… Maybe they had been a little more distant lately as it was. Good, then it wouldn’t be too obvious if they pushed a little more. They had to. To protect Virgil, to keep him in their life. No one could know. They couldn’t risk it. “It was cool. Saw lots of awesome stuff. The guys were dumb though. Guess no one can replace you,” they smiled carefully. “Aw, J. You’re such a sap,” Virgil teased with a playful punch to the arm. Was that bad? Did straight guys say stuff like that to their friends? Were they being obvious? “Shut up,” he retorted with a push. Not mean. Just playful. That was still okay right? “Movie night?” Virgil suggested, holding up his bag with his part of their collection. Janus hesitated. They needed time. “I’m beat. Maybe some other time,” they shrugged. Virgil nodded. “Okay. See you later J!” And just like that Virgil was out the door. They let themselves fall onto their bed. They had to figure themselves out. Again. Summer passed and Janus found a system that worked for them. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do. They had bought a few cute tops they enjoyed on Janice days. So they wore those when they were needed underneath a baggy hoodie or something else that would hide it. If there was a chance of them needing to take off said ‘cover item’ they’d wear a shirt that was too big like the band shirt. In addition they made sure to act plenty masculine on those days. They hated that part the most. But it was needed. When it came to Virgil, since their problem was just physical all they had to do was make sure they weren’t too close. Which was easier said and done. Hugs and pats on the back and the like used to reassure them so much and now they were a risk. Even if they never acted on the thoughts when they appeared, Virgil might notice. So they had a plan. Not the best plan. But to keep Virgil with them. To keep them both safe. They would do it. First day of school came around and Janice found themself alone at the bus stop. Which was odd. Virgil wasn’t usually late… Maybe he accidently took a bus too early again. Was that going to be a first day tradition? Janice couldn’t be too upset by that. It was just so typically Virgil, and they already looked forward to teasing him about it later. What wasn’t typically Virgil however was him not texting Janice to let them know his mix up. Maybe he hadn’t realized he was early yet? Janice wondered if they should ask Virgil where he was… Better not. They’d see Virgil soon enough. And he’d probably feel bad if they made too big a deal out of it. Again, typical for Virgil, making everything his fault or responsibility somehow. When they got to school though, Virgil was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in their homeroom either. Which Janice wouldn’t have found too odd. There was always a chance of homeroom getting switched around. But then the teacher handed them two schedules. One for themself and one for Virgil. Virgil was late? Was he sick? Janice looked at the schedules. They shared their first two classes and then they had language electives. Which meant Janice would have a free period while Virgil should be in Spanish. They promised themself to call if Virgil hadn’t shown up by then. Two hours late was a reasonable time to get worried right? They checked their phone as they walked to science class and took a seat. Virgil hadn’t texted at all. Was he ill? Should they text anyway? “Mr. Johnson. You may take a seat next to Mr. Bullard. Class will commence soon.” Janice, mentally cringing at the male honorific, glanced at the kid that just entered. Ugh, they remembered him. He’d had a locker not too far from his last year. He always got in their way, the amount of times he’d bumped into them was infuriating. And now he was about to take Virgil’s seat. But not if they could help it. “Ma’am, I was actually saving this seat for…” “No one. This is my class and I say Mr. Johnson sits next to you.” Janice was taken aback. Most teachers at least heard them out if he asked something. And in almost every case he got what he needed even if he didn’t always get what he wanted. This one didn’t even want to listen though. They glared at the boy… Carlton, if they remembered correctly, as he took the seat next to them. The boy shrunk away, he was trembling… Janice supposed they had been pretty rude to him last year. Not that they cared. It just would make being desk mates very annoying. Janice didn’t waste time on wanting others to like them.

“It’s your lucky day Mr. Castile,” the teacher said dryly the second the bell rang. No… Janice looked up, there he was. The school’s golden boy. He looked slightly out of breath, and smiled sheepishly. “Apologies miss,” he replied as he looked around, probably looking for an empty seat. For a moment his eyes found Janice and he was clearly about as happy as they were with Janice being here on the seat right behind the only empty bench. Janice had an extra reason to be upset though. Castile would be sitting next to Virgil. He took the seat next to the window, right in front of Janice. Janice’s thoughts were racing. How were they supposed to function with that idiot around? They hadn’t had to interact with him too often last year. And when they did Janice had made sure he knew that they saw right through the knight in shining armor act he put up for the rest of the school. He only acted like that to impress their classmates. He was in theatre. He lived for the praise. “I hope you like where you are sitting… Ah, so glad you could join us Mr. Anker.” Janice tensed up when they saw the way Castile’s head snapped up, a bright smile on their face. It was such a genuine reaction… Why though? He had enough friends. Why was Virgil so important that he seemed genuinely happy to see him? “Take your seat and spare me your excuses,” the teacher snapped when Virgil opened his mouth to speak. “I was just telling the class that these are your seats for the rest of the year. So I hope you like your neighbor, they are your new lab partner.” Virgil’s face fell and he looked around. His make up was gone and he looked a mess, but other than that he seemed fine. Janice would have to ask him what had happened this morning later. To their annoyance, Virgil’s gaze didn’t even make it to their seat. Once he spotted the empty seat next to Castile, he too, lit up. Why? What did Castile have that was so special? Other than a pretty face? They watched Castile wave at Virgil, getting rewarded with a smile from their best friend.

“Man, talk about a lucky break,” Virgil said as he sat down. That hurt. Didn’t he want to sit with them? They tried to calm themselves. Virgil had simply not noticed them. He wouldn’t have said that if he knew they were in this class too. “I agree,” Castile grinned. That smug piece of… He knew they were here. He was taunting them! Class started, and Janice managed to ignore the pair in front of them. They even calmed down. Found themselves a little amused at their neighbor’s not so subtle glances at the desk in front of them. They’d spotted the pride flag stitched in their assigned lab partner’s pencil case. Maybe they should lay off a little. Poor kid had a crush on Roman Castile. He had enough to deal with. But then the experiment started. They divided the work so Johnson wouldn’t have to talk with them too much. they did their best to focus on their part of the assignment. But it proved difficult. Virgil and Roman were doing every step together and they were having fun. They talked and joked with familiarity that told Janice that somehow, Castile had managed to weasel his way into Virgil’s life, despite their efforts to chase him away. Sure they’d overheard from conversations in the hallways that Virgil was still standing up to bullies and that the Hispanic teen had joined him on occasion. But had that really been all it took? Suddenly Virgil got up, bringing a paper to the front. Damn, they had to focus. They managed to block out their surroundings for a good while. Until Virgil’s laugh pulled them out. He was looking very comfortable, sitting there with the enemy.

“Only you can pull of talking like a Shakespeare character,” Virgil grinned. “Well, only you can pull off dressing like a dark knight and still looking like a lost kitten,” Castile shot back. Janice tensed. How dare he ridicule their best friend like that? Virgil gave Roman a shove. “You take that back!” he demanded “I am dark and mysterious and intimidating!” Janice had to interfere, before Virgil got himself in trouble. they took an empty page from their notebook, crushed it in their fist and tossed it against Castile’s head. Both boys turned to look at them. Their attention was on Castile though. “What gives Bullard?” he hissed. No, it wasn’t attractive when he got that serious and intense look in his eyes. He was annoying and a danger. He was going to hurt Virgil. Or take him away and then hurt him. “You take Smellington next time. Virgil is sitting with me.” It was a good solution. Castile would be unable to resist being a knight in shining armor, so Janice acted as if they were the big bad Johnson had to be saved from. Carlton got to sit next to his crush, and Janice and Virgil could sit together. Like they should have been. Everyone happy. “Excuse me? His name is Carlton.” Just as Janice suspected. There was the hero complex. “And you don’t get to say where I sit J. I’m fine sitting with Roman. Besides you heard the teacher. No switching seats.” That… What? Virgil wanted to sit there? And he was offended that Janice tried to help? “We always sit together!” they reminded him. They were a team right? Them against the world? They’d have each other’s back no matter what… Right? Virgil’s jaw set. “Exactly. The world won’t end because I’m Roman’s lab partner J.” Where was all this coming from? What had Castile been poisoning his mind with? “Am I interrupting?” Janice looked up to the teacher. She still didn’t look like she was in the mood to listen to Janice. But they had to try. “Mr. Bullard,” once again, that stung. “I don’t have you and Mr. Jonson’s assignment yet, which means you can’t be talking with anyone else besides each other right now.” Oh, she really wasn’t in the mood to listen. Against better judgement, Janice gave her their most charming smile. If they knew that they were being perfectly reasonable, people usually followed along with their way of thinking. “Ma’am, I can’t work with him. Virgil and I never had a problem in projects, can’t we…” “No.” Janice nearly flinched at the finality of that word. But the teacher wasn’t done yet. “I put Mr. Jonson next to you because you are much too dependent on Mr. Anker’s presence.” She’d done it on purpose? And dependent? What did she mean? They weren’t that… Had it been so obvious to outsiders? Did she know? “You won’t always be able to hide behind him Mr. Bullard. You better learn that now.” They hadn’t! They’d stopped hiding in middle school. They’d been trying to be the shield! “And if I see any more problems here then all that’ll change is that Mr. Castile and Mr. Anker will be moved to the front of the class so you can’t distract them anymore. Is that understood?” She had it all wrong. She didn’t understand. But Janice knew they couldn’t do anything about it. So they nodded and returned their attention to their assignment.

They finished up the last of their notes when Virgil laughed again. “Charming huh? You certainly have a high opinion of yourself.” Janice’s jaw clenched. They agreed, but Virgil’s tone was too playful. Like it was when he was teasing them. “Oh, my knight, why must you hurt me so?” Castile objected dramatically. Janice did their best to block out the rest of the conversation and focus on finishing the assignment with Johnson. Whatever was said between Castile and Virgil after that, it had him pretty excited.

He dragged Janice to the bathroom where he started to apply foundation and a two second version of his usual eyeshadow. “Where were you?” Janice asked on their way there. Virgil bit his lip. “Dad was home late yesterday and forgot to tell me…” he told them. Oh, now Janice understood. Virgil was the kind of guy who saw you fall and worried if you’d broken something while rushing you to the nurse no matter what you said. He worried a lot. He was a lot like uncle Lo in that way. His father not being his punctual self without warning must’ve been very stressful. “And you didn’t go to bed until you were sure he was safe and sound,” Janice nodded in understanding. “Yeah… I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm or something.” At this point they’d arrived in the bathroom and Virgil took out his foundation and started fixing up his appearance. Needlessly in Janice’s opinion, but they had bigger things to worry about.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being so snappy earlier. I know you worry about me and stuff but Roman is really not as bad as you think. He even invited us to sit with him and his friends during lunch!” he announced excitedly as he put away his make-up. “Then you'll see for yourself…” Lunch with Roman Castile and all his friends? All people who could discover their secrets? One slip up on a Janice day, one lingering look towards Virgil or Castile and they were out.

And being around not one, but two guys they found attractive… they couldn't bear it.

“Absolutely not!” they objected in a panic. “Jan, it’s just lunch,” Virgil argued gently. “If it’s not fun then we can bail on them any time. You are the one who’s so obsessed with our spot on the social ladder. What do we have to lose?” He made good points. And part of Janice wanted the protection a group like that offered. But Virgil didn't have the full picture. Janice cast their eyes to the heavens trying to hide the conflict within, to play off how worried and scared they felt. “I don’t expect you to understand this Virgil. But the offer wasn’t for us. Castile wants something from you. And he’ll have his friends be nice to me around you to get it.”

Virgil was clearly not impressed. “I know I’m not exactly mister sunshine, but that’s overly dramatic and pessimistic. Roman is cool. Like, genuinely. And if you gave him a chance…” “Oh please Virgil! You are not this naïve!” Janice exclaimed. Harsh in their desperation to finish the conversation.

“Why do you want his friendship so badly that you blind yourself like this?” Weren't they enough? What did they do wrong? “He can have anything from anyone he wants! Why would he want to be around some awkward outcasts?” Why did he insist on pursuing the only person Janus cared about at school? “Except to make himself look good? What end does that serve? Everything anyone ever does serves some selfish end Virgil. Even the most noble of deeds are ultimately out of desire to be seen as good.” Just because Janus hadn’t figured out what Roman Castile had to gain from talking to them, didn’t mean that there wasn’t some end goal. “Except for you of course, you only have my best interest at heart!?” Virgil’s statement caught them of guard. He had a point. Part of this was their fear of being alone, being found out and rejected. But it was also for Virgil's own good. They needed Virgil to understand that. To believe them. And so they did something they had been avoiding. They got close. Stepped right into Virgil's personal space. If they wanted, and Virgil hadn’t hidden them behind his foundation, they could’ve counted the freckles on Virgil’s cheeks. But now was no time for those observations. They had to get through to him. No matter what. “You are my only friend Virgil. Of course I want to protect you, even from yourself. Don’t let Roman’s flowery words and cute pet names get to you.” Kitten, knight. The nerve of that guy. “I give him a week before he gets bored of you. And I don’t want to see you hurt by that.” That last part was the most sincere he'd been about how he felt towards Virgil in what felt like forever.

All fight left Virgil’s frame and he nodded. Janice relaxed and led the way to their first CPR training. They made sure to wait for Virgil when he left Spanish. Virgil was quiet all day. He got like that sometimes after a disagreement. Janice tried to give him space. They had been a little harsh. And after Virgil had a rough night already. They knew he needed comfort and support on those days. No wonder he’d gravitated towards Castile this morning. All that positive energy probably drew Virgil in like a moth to a flame. Janice should have been more understanding. Maybe they could have a movie night next weekend. With V's favorite snacks and movies.

They’d make it up to him. And then they could get back to something somewhat normal.

It worked. Virgil seemed in better spirits after they suggested the weekend plans. Janus paid closer attention and ensured that Virgil wouldn't fall for Castile's tricks though.

They stuck together like always. Janus had started chatting with native Spanish speakers, learning more regional words and slang. They were also learning ASL. Virgil laughed when they explained the name signs they made up for him, uncle Lo and their parents.

Things were going well. Until Halloween came around. Virgil loved Halloween. He didn’t show it off at school, considering he put the least possible effort in his school costume the past two years, but when at home, he was a master. Janus had enjoyed watching him and uncle Lo dazzle the trick or treaters. They’d considered asking Virgil to give them a spook up as well, but that would mean close proximity for extended periods of time. And they couldn’t handle that. This year Janus had drawn some scales on their face and assembled a dragon costume. They’d even gotten crafty with the wings. Using a pair of children’s fairy wings as a base. Virgil had complemented them, which had made them feel pretty good about themselves. Virgil was texting with his dad that morning. Apparently he had a thing coming up that weekend and was rather nervous. Janus was happy to hear that their honorary uncle had exciting things happen in his life. They didn’t pry for more information though. Surely Virgil would’ve shared more if there was more to know. And then Castile had walked in. Looking ridiculously handsome even if he was trying to look like a crazed dark prince. Redish circles under his eyes, run out make up. As if he’d recently cried a river. His costume was dark and slightly torn and crumpled. And still he looked good. He made a big show of his entrance and made a tour around the classroom before climbing on his desk and continuing his tale of conquest. Janus, not immune to the boy’s massive charisma, made sure to glare at him so that if the prince would happen to glance their direction he wouldn’t give anything away. Glaring at the dark prince wasn’t hard, considering he also had his neighbor’s attention. Virgil was enjoying the show.

And apparently Castile noticed. He made a grand gesture towards Virgil. “And you, my coldhearted friend, may rule at my side!” Janus’ eyes narrowed. Was this the thing? Was Roman looking for a second in command? It was a good picture they supposed. The nickname ‘Knight’ suddenly made a lot of sense. It would fit. They both stood against the bullies, no doubt earning them both a good image in the public eye. If they were considered a team all the time, Roman’s spot on the social ladder would get even more secure. Was that it? “Is that a fact?” Virgil chuckled, pulling Janus out of his thoughts. Was he… Was he seriously going along with it? “Of course!” Janus hated how excited Castile seemed. “You, dear count, are the only other of noble lineage! No one else is worthy of a throne!” “But ruling sounds like a lot of work,” Virgil whined. Janus held their breath… But the laughter that followed… Wasn’t bad. Castile immediately rolled with Virgil’s contribution. “Then you may feast on my enemies!” To Janus’ great relief, the teacher entered in that moment. Their nerves couldn’t take much more than that. On the way to CPR Janus tried to get Virgil back with his feet on the ground. “You were lucky, but that could have gone so wrong!” they exclaimed. Virgil, surprised them however. “Roman and I are lab partners, and we’re going to talk,” Virgil reminded them. They knew that. But they got on fine with minimal communication with their neighbor. And Virgil had been doing fine too… Or… Well, maybe he hadn’t been happy about it… “And sometimes we’re going to have fun doing so. You have zero right to tell me who I can and can’t spend time with. I’m not your pet.” That hit Janus hard… Was that… Had they been acting that badly? Maybe they’d been too clingy. Overcompensating for the physical distance they’d forced themselves to maintain? They let Virgil walk to Spanish alone and spent their free hour thinking things through. Maybe they were a tad controlling… And Virgil talking to Castile a little during science might not be the end of the world… They could try to live with that right? When they saw Castile drag Virgil to his table during lunch they could barely breathe. Virgil looked so happy about it too. Had they been too late to make adjustments? Was this their life now? The very nightmare they’d tried to prevent? But then, Virgil and Roman made a bow and Virgil walked back to Janus. People watched him walk by the way Janus had seen them do with popular kids. They admired him? Was… Had Virgil become a popular kid without either of them realizing? “Talk about putting yourself on blast! What were you thinking?” they snapped, still reeling with emotions. “Yolo,” Virgil shrugged. And ‘cool’ was the only term Janus could come up with to describe the way he held himself right now. “No one says that anymore,” Janus pointed out, as if to convince themself that Virgil wasn’t that kind of cool. “It’s what I was thinking.” Or maybe he was… Janus tried not to bother Virgil about who he chose to hang out with after that day. It wasn’t easy though. Virgil and Castile were almost flirty with each other and Janus found that very distracting. Add that to everything else that frustrated them and you better hope you didn’t cross Janus on a Janice day after a bad night. They picked a lot of fights. Partly to prove themselves as a cis. Partly to vent these frustrations on something other than Castile. Speaking off. It was nearly always him or Virgil or both who stopped the fight. Roman would stare them down until they left. Virgil would tell them off and drag them away if need be. Both were… possibly… another reason why they picked a fight. Negative attention was still attention after all. On a particular bad day, a senior decided to pick on them. And they were not having it.

Castile and Virgil put a stop to that one. But the principal called them to their office anyway. “He started it,” Janice insisted. They were sitting in the office for a couple of minutes now, with the Principal just looking at them expectantly. “Oh? How’s that?” Janice gestured to their face. They’d gotten good at ignoring the jabs the past few years. Knowing that they couldn’t do anything against an upper classman and having bigger things to worry about. But today… Today it had just been too much. “It’s not the first time you got into a fight Janus. We want to help. But you have to let us. What is bothering you? Really. Why are you so angry?”

Oh, where to start? Janice just shrugged, not comfortable opening that can of worms in front of this adult. They wouldn’t understand. Janus heard they’d been vocal about their sexuality and gender since middle school. All they would do was tell them to just come out already. The principal sighed. “We’ll have to inform your parents of this Janus…” “No you don’t,” Janice stated. He wasn’t even scared. Stokes was a reasonable person. “Why’s that?” They wondered. “I didn’t hit him. And he didn’t hit me. No one got hurt. What’s the point of calling my parents? My grades are good, I never skip. So I don’t let people walk over me… Is that so bad?” they explained. Stokes frowned, but then relaxed. “Fine. But at least consider going to the school counselor. At least once. There are systems here to help you. You just have to ask.” Yeah, they’d get right on that. “Tanks Mx. Stokes,” they muttered as they left. A few weeks later Janus was looking over elective courses with Virgil. Janus had been careful about selecting courses for them. They could pick two courses each year. One every semester. First year, Virgil had made a deep dive into some articles about how messed up the education system was and how useless the curriculum was. So Janus suggested Personal Finances and Home economics. Which was basically the: ‘how to adult’ elective packet. This year they’d picked CPR, which Virgil had enjoyed a lot and Philosophy. They’d suggested it out of personal interest. They’d known it might not be Virgil’s cup of tea, but to their pleasant surprise Virgil had agreed. “Sociology would be a good choice,” Janus suggested, testing the waters. They really hoped Virgil would be okay with it. It seemed very interesting. Virgil only made a vague sound of acknowledgement though. Well, there were other interesting subjects… “I was thinking to take an art elective,” he told Janus after a few moments. Janus was surprised. Virgil never cared about electives before. And art? “Why?” “Because I’d like to actually learn some techniques? I dunno. They say to pick something that fits our interests. I’m interested in art.” Janus had no idea where the annoyed tone came from. Sure Virgil drew and he was good. But… To make it your elective? Virgil knew that those choices would affect their chances at getting accepted into college right? Especially for the next two years. “But we can’t do anything with that in college,” they reminded him, just in case. “I suppose it’s a decent extracurricular,” they admitted, wanting to find a compromise. But saying that reminded them. They should probably pick some good ones for the next two years as well. They looked good on application forms.

“But…” Virgil objected interrupting Janus’ musings on the pro and cons of joining a sports team. “I really want to do art. The new teacher is a pretty awesome artist I’ve been kind of following for a while. This might be my only chance to learn from him.” The arts program was heavily volunteer based, which allowed the school to offer many different electives and even more extracurricular. The teachers largely donated their time and switched around semester to semester. If this artist was indeed someone of note, they might be gone after Christmas. So on some level Janus understood. But why would Virgil need to spend a perfectly good elective on something he was already good at? He could probably teach the class himself. “Don’t be dramatic V. It’s not like you can make a career out of drawings,” they pointed out dismissively. Maybe they were a little crass. But Virgil couldn’t afford to live in a fantasy. Art was personal and showing it gave other people a weapon against you. And Janus really felt they should start picking electives based more on what they wanted their career to be. Janus was thinking journalist or lawyer for themselves. They weren’t sure what Virgil would pick. Last time they’d talked about such things was… Back when they still thought they were cis and straight. And they’d been joking about going into hero business. Daydreaming about opening a specialized store or becoming heroes themselves. But maybe Virgil would be a lawyer too. He’d probably like defending the little guy in the courtroom. He was already doing that in the hallways. Or some other function in law enforcement. Janus couldn’t imagine Virgil not trying to make the world a better place. “It makes me happy,” Virgil pointed out, though barely audible. Good, he was realizing there was no point to that class. “A career isn’t about what makes you happy, it’s about what gets you ahead in life.” And with that, Janus returned their attention to the electives. Not aware of the mistake they’d just made.

Mistakes

@cirishere @hestianerd1​ @moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer​ @alias290​ @meowthefluffy​ @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse​