#linked in ANOTHER UNRELATED ASSIGNMENT. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohthewh0rror · 1 year ago

Text

WHEN I’M WITH YOU

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — Professor Slughorn assigns Tom a potions partner— the only problem is that it’s a girl he’s never met before. Will Tom ignore his growing feelings for his new partner or will he give in and accept how he truly feels.

Full Request: HERE

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: I introduce to you — Tom “she’s not like the other girls” Riddle. Also I’m sorry girl, I forgot to make her sort of weary of Tom and skipped straight to her just being nice. 😗

“When you think of me, is it fondly?”

Tom resisted the urge to rub his hands together to warm them. The frosty January air was unrelenting, seeping its way through the thick stone walls of Hogwarts making the lengthy descent into the school's dungeons more unpleasant than usual.

Eager to get out of the frigid hall, Tom mentally thanked Salazar when the door to the potions classroom came into view. Walking through the door, Tom saw a few of his fellow classmates already huddled along the back wall and talking amongst themselves. He gave them a polite nod as they wished him good morning, continuing to make his way to the opposite end, away from them.

From his spot in the back, Tom watched as the other students slowly trickled in. Girls linked arm in arm, whispering and giggling to one another; boys knocking into one another, speaking loudly about next week's Quidditch match. The sense of comradery left Tom internally recoiling in disgust as he tried to imagine himself acting in such a way.

Tiernan Lestrange came to stand next to him, a little closer than what Tom was comfortable with. Tom side-eyed the boy, but ultimately said nothing to him, choosing to instead focus on Professor Slughorn who called the class to attention as he used his wand to wave the classroom door closed.

Tom began to tune his professor out as he began his theatrics about the point they’d be working with today— befuddlement draught. A potion used to cause the drinker to become reckless, something Tom would take precautionary measures not to spill or ingest in any capacity.

“I will be pairing you off today—” was all Tom heard before he felt the trickles of irritation creep into his mind. Working in pairs was always something Tom hated, preferring to work alone instead of having to potentially be weighed down by some idiot.

“And Mr. Riddle,” Professor Slughorn called out, breaking Tom out of his thoughts, “you will be working with Ms. Y/L/N!”. Slughorn’s arm was stretched out, motioning towards a girl standing on the other side of the class, just out of view. Tom ran the last name over in his head a few times, trying to spark some form of recognition in his mind, but he came up blank.

Slughorn clapped his hands, telling them they have until the end of the hour to finish their potion. Tom mentally prepared himself for what kind of girl he may be working with as he made his way through the dissipating crowd of students to find his partner.

Ah, there she was.

She hadn’t noticed him just yet, so he took those few seconds to give her a once over. It would make sense he didn’t recognize her, she was not in his house. They locked eyes as she finally noticed him just a few feet in front of her, and she swiftly closed the distance between the two.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Y/N” she said, introducing herself. Her voice, though a bit quiet, was sweet. It wasn’t the same condescending tone Tom was used to receiving from the girls that hung around Lestrange and Avery, and for that he was glad. Giving her a polite smile, Tom guided the both of them to an empty cauldron, “I don’t believe we have, my name is Tom.”

Y/N was not unbearable to work with, much to Tom’s relief. The only hiccup didn’t occur until thirty minutes into making the draught when she unknowingly overstepped a boundary of his. Tom had brought his hand up to drop the scurvy grass into the cauldron when she grabbed him; his eyes immediately snapped to her, surprised that she had the audacity to grab him.

“Wait,” she said, a hint of panic in her tone, “you have to add the sneezewort first.” Their hands stayed locked together as Tom took a peek at her potions book laying out in front of them. As his eyes glided over the instructions he saw she was right, causing him to now feel a little embarrassed at the mistake he almost made.

“You’re right,” Tom cringed on the inside, “it is sneezewort first.” Y/N let go of his hand as he lowered it to switch out the ingredient he was holding. Her grabbing him should have left him disgusted and discreetly wiping his hand against his robes to rid himself of the feeling of her touch But, it wasn’t disgust he felt from her touch; just annoyance and a lingering tingling feeling in his hand that he did not want to think about.

Tom and Y/N had just finished their potions when Slughorn had stopped in front of them. “A perfect brew! Though I expect nothing less from either of you!” Slughorn exclaimed in his usual jovial tone. “Thank you, sir,” Tom and Y/N replied at the same time. Tom and Y/N looked at one another, and he watched, unable to look away, as a genuine smile tugged at her lips.

Tom momentarily forgot they had been talking to Slughorn until the old fool spoke again, telling them they were welcome to spend the last few minutes of class how they wished. The two chose not to speak, something Tom was grateful for, as they put away their belongings. It wasn’t until the bell chimed telling them it was time for lunch that they spoke again.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, yeah?” Y/N looked at him with, what he could only describe as a hopeful look in her eyes. Tom nodded, “of course.” Tom watched as she left, her figure sauntering out of the potions door. He was once again reminded of where he was when he heard Avery’s grating voice ask him a question.

Though Tom did not have another class with her till next Thursday, he couldn’t seem to stop seeing her in some form. He saw her in the halls, a weird feeling gathering in his chest when she would give him a friendly wave as they passed each other by. He saw her in the Great Hall, his skin growing warm as his eyes accidentally caught hers from where they both sat at their respective tables.

Their next potions class together, Tom planned to work alone, but Y/N fell into step beside him, a playful smile dancing on her lips as she asked, “do you mind if I join you?”. Tom, who should have found a polite way to tell her to ‘fuck off’, couldn’t bring himself to turn her away.

“Not at all,” Tom wanted to hex himself. Why would he say that? Tom worked alone, he didn’t want nor need a partner, yet he did not hesitate to let her join him. It was beginning to drive him mad, how out of character he was being towards a girl he’s known for no longer than a week. Tom needed answers for why he was acting this way, for why he was being affected in such a way.

But answers wouldn’t come. For the next month Tom was tormented every time they worked together: sweaty palms, shortness of breath, conflicting thoughts. He was beginning to think she was attempting to bewitch him in some way, casting discrete spells on him. So, he began to pay closer attention to her, trying to catch her in the act, paying attention to her every move.

He noticed everything. From the way she hid behind her hands when she laughed all the way to how she liked her fruit cut a certain way. Every mannerism he noticed, he mentally jotted down— in case it was needed for future blackmail of course (he was sure he could spin the fruit thing into a vicious rumor of some kind).

Everything came to a head on February 26th. It was a chilly Friday night and the Slug Club was supposed to meet for a lavish dinner in Slughorn's office with its usual attendants.

Except, when Tom walked in it was anything but the usual attendants or atmosphere. Instead Tom walked into an office decorated to look far more lavish than usual with trays of food and drink floating about for guests to pick off of. As Tom walked further in, he saw more than just the typical group of boys that met once a month. He saw other students, as well as other adults, whom Tom assumed were acquaintances of Slughorn.

Tom thought of skipping this meeting, as gatherings such as this were out of his comfort zone, until something caught his eye. ‘Sweet Salazar,’ Tom thought to himself, exasperated. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at— or should he say, who he was looking at. It was Y/N, dressed in a flattering knee length, emerald dress. Tom thought of approaching her, but found himself rooted in place.

After a second, he finally found himself moving towards her, but before he could make it to her side, another boy approached her first. Tom slowed his steps as he felt a surge of white hot anger consume him at the sight of this Neanderthal touching her, as if he was worthy of such a thing. He was a plain looking fellow; average height, basic attire, and dull features.

‘As if she would go for the likes of him,’ it was that thought that made alarm bells go off in his head. Why would he think that? If not that boy, then who would she go for? Tom’s mind raced as he thought the question over. He fought with himself as he kept coming back to the same conclusion: Y/N deserved himself.

It was a conclusion he didn’t understand, but it was the only one he kept coming back to; the only one that made sense. Needing time to process what he realized, he slinked off, out of Y/N’s eyesight.

Tom was good at sneaking around and avoiding others, it was something he’d done since before his days at Hogwarts, when he was just a young child at Wool’s Orphanage. So it wasn’t hard to avoid Y/N for the remainder of the gathering, but in trying to avoid her, he ran into Slughorn.

“Tom! My boy! How are you enjoying the party?” Slughorn asked, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. Tom, though he wanted to be left alone, faked a polite smile, “I’m enjoying myself well enough, sir, you’ve truly outdone yourself this time.” He hoped a little flattery would help spend this conversation up, as he wasn’t in the mood to deal with him right now. “Good, good..” Slughorn trailed off, Tom hoped that would be the end of it, but the Professor seemed to have one more thing to add.

“I’ve noticed you hanging around Ms. Y/L/N more, and I must say, I like the idea of you two growing closer,” Slughorn confessed. Tom, though feeling embarrassed that his teacher noticed and decided to comment on an aspect of his personal life, played the bashful card. He forced himself to smile and glance at his feet, “I see.”

Slughorn gave Tom a pat on the back, wishing him luck, and departed to go mingle with more guests. Tom managed to avoid both Slughorn and Y/N for the rest of the night as he stayed in the furthest section of the party, mingling with the likes of Mulciber and Nott.

Finally having had enough, Tom decided to slip out of the room and into the empty hallway, intent on going back to his dorm and getting some rest. He hadn’t made it far from the party when he heard Y/N call for him from behind.

“Tom!” Y/N’s voice echoed throughout the hall. Tom stopped and turned to her, unsure of what she could need from him. Once she finally caught up to him, she stopped before him, slightly winded. Tom gave her a moment to collect herself, but a bashful look crossed her face as she seemed to be second guessing herself.

“Yes, Y/N?” Tom gently goaded, trying to get her to spit it out. It was another second before she finally spoke, “will you walk me back to my common room?”. It was a question that took him off guard, as that was not in the realm of what he guessed she could want. The fact that she wanted him to walk her back to her common room made his heart thump wildly against his chest. Giving her a slight nod, he held his arm out to her.

Feeling her hand delicately grasp his arm made him feel sick, having never done anything like this before. “Did you enjoy yourself? I assume this was the first time you’ve been invited?” Tom asked, trying to fill the silence. Well, that’s what he told himself at least. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear her voice; he could listen to her speak all day if she let him.

“Yes, this is my first time going,” she confirmed, “it was alright, a bit overwhelming if I’m being honest.” Tom nodded, knowing what she meant, “I felt the same.”

The two of them lapse into silence, only the sounds of their shoes could be heard as Tom escorted her back to her common room. Tom made sure to take smaller steps to be sure he didn’t accidentally drag her across the castle, but also, to prolong their walk.

Still, the walk was over far too soon as they came to a stop in front of her common room entrance. She let go of his arm, and the two of them faced each other. “Thank you for walking me back, Tom,” Y/N said. Tom gave her a genuine smile, “it was nothing.”

Y/N looked from Tom, to the entrance, and back to him again. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, and Tom, not wanting to be rude (for once) patiently waited for her to gather her courage to say what was on her mind. “I plan to go to Hogsmeade next weekend, would you mind accompanying me?” She asked.

The look on Tom’s face must have been awfully amusing as Y/N’s laughter reverberated throughout the hall. The sound of her laughter making his chest ache with how sweet it sounded. It made Tom wish he could bottle it up and keep it on a shelf; save it for moments when he needed to be reminded that something other than pain and cruelty existed in this world.

“So..” Y/N trailed off, laughter still evident in her tone, “is that a yes?”.

Finding his voice Tom agreed, “that’s a yes.”

Tom and Y/N bid each other goodnight, parting ways as she stepped through the entrance to her common room. As the entrance closed behind her Tom turned to make his way back to the dungeon, a feeling of anticipation filling him as thought’s of Y/N and their future date overrun his mind.

Taglist: @r-a-c-h-e-l

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #that’s all i got #take it or leave it

546 notes · View notes

intervex · 6 months ago

Text

Inter-transgender, trans-intergender, trans-intersexual, etc

Following up my post about the difference between demi-intergender and inter-demigender, here's one for transness thanks to an anonymous request 🩷

This post is long because there are several of terms to differentiate! This one is complex because of how "trans" has multiple meanings. I'll cover some ways that transness and intersexness can combine:

Inter-transgender (intertrans): when an intersex person is transgender in any sort of way, and this transness is connected or linked to being intersex.

This includes intersex people who feel trans because of a forced medical transition (mistransition/distransition).

This includes ipsotrans/exparium people: intersex people whose gender is the same as their AGAB but are trans.

This flag design follows the pattern of the interfluid, interdemigender, etc flags. It takes the transgender flag and adds intersex yellow stripes to top and bottom to signify it is an intersex/intergender version of transgender.

Hex codes: #FFFFFF #F5A9B8 #5BCEFA from trans flag, #FDD70A from intersex/intergender flags. ***

Inter-ultergender (interultergender): when an intersex person has a gender that is different from the one they were assigned at birth (ultergender) and this feels connected or linked to being intersex (intergender). This is ultergender in an intergender way.

Like above, I took the ultergender flag and added yellow stripes to give it an intergender flavour. Note: (inter-)ultergender people may or may not identify as trans. Ultergender does include trans people. Ultergender hex codes: #FFF378 #A263BD ***

Transgender-intersex (trans-intersex, ultertrans): an intersex person "whose gender identity does not match the one decided on by their doctors and/or parents at birth, and identifies as transgender and intersex at the same time." (@intersexfairy, 2021). Flag by Jesse Bananasaurus (2017).

This can be thought of as ultergender people who use the trans label, or ultertransgender.

Note that trans-intersex is not limited to people who feel their transness is related to being intersex. For example, somebody who is both trans and intersex, but feels that these two are completely unrelated from each other, would be trans-intersex and not intertrans.

Somebody who is trans, who transitioned, and then years later found out they are intersex, would also be trans-intersex.

Hex colours: same as inter-transgender. ***

Trans-intergender: when an intersex person changes/transitions from extergender to intergender. Extergender is when your gender is not influenced by being intersex; intergender is when it is.

For example: an intergender person who was assigned a binary gender at birth, who transitions from presumed extergender to becoming intergender/intersex-gender.

Another example would be an intersex transmasc who didn't know they were intersex until long after they did their gender transition, and then later got in touch with their intersex side.

Or, for another example, an intersex neutrois person who swore up and down during their gender transition that it was unrelated to being intersex (perhaps to access gender care) who later realizes or reveals they are intergender.

This flag design combines the intergender and extergender flags. The purple on the outside represents intergender. The white ring represents transition. The black in the centre represents extergender. ***

Trans-interine (transgender-inter, trans-intersexual): when an intersex person is trans, and their transition goal is their body's natural state - i.e. intersex/intergender/intersex-gender.

Per @intersexfairy (2021): trans-intersexual are intersex people "who feel as if they’re both biological sexes and do not fit into the categories of “male or female.” These people fit the categories of both intersex and transgender people."

Similar to how trans-feminine is a trans person who is feminine, trans-masculine is a trans person who is masculine, etc, I'm coining interine as a gender quality for intergender. This is an intersex-exclusive gender quality.

Trans-intersexual and trans-intersex tend to get (understandably) mixed up so I'm hoping interine is visually different enough to help out. Inter- in interine is for intergender, -ine is a common suffix for gender qualities (outherine, xenine, etc).

Trans-interine is a broader category than retrotransgender, a term I coined several months ago for intersex people like myself who transition to undo IGM/forced HRT/etc. Trans-interine would include intersex people who were free of coercive medical transition but are socially transitioning to be intergender.

This design follows the pattern of the four-stripe transmasc/transfem flags and the extended series posted by @ryanyflags in 2022. It replaces the two middle stripes that are used to indicate gender quality with the yellow and purple of the intersex & intergender flags.

Hex codes: #FDD70A #7A01AA from intersex/intergender flags, #FFFFFF #2b2d2c from trans* flags. ***

Intersex and trans (left), intergender and trans (right): flags for people who are both intersex and trans (left), or both intergender and trans (right).

Like trans-intersex, they do not imply a connection between the transness and the inter(sex|gender)-ness.

Unlike trans-intersex, these flags include ipsotrans people, and people who feel they are trans because of forced/coercive transition.

I've made these flags because I wanted ipsotrans & mistrans people to have options for flags. These flags follow the pattern of "stick icon in place of ring" to make X that is also intersex flags, like the flags for intersex & disabled, intersex & autistic, etc.

Table for reference

I hope this helps clarify how trans & intergender can be combined as terms (and flags)! Let me know if you want even more permutations of these concepts/flags 💜

Tagging @intersexflags @interarchive for archiving

#intergender #intersex #trans #trans-intersex #trans-intergender #ultergender #interine #new term #new flag #mogai #yellow border #symbol for both #requests #transgender

29 notes · View notes

vulpinmusings · 7 months ago

Text

My speculations on Indigo Park

I'm putting this post under a read-more in case it finds someone who hasn't played Indigo Park yet and wants to experience it blind.

(BTW, it's free and takes about an hour to finish so just go play it. The horror value's kinda tame overall, but trigger warning for blood splatter at the end.)

Why Rambley doesn't recognize Ed/the Player: The collectables notes make it obvious that our Character, Ed, used to be a regular guest at Indigo Park as a kid. Yet, when Rambley goes to register them at the beginning he says he doesn't recognize Ed's face. I've seen speculation that this might be due either to Ed's age or the facial data database being wiped or corrupted after the park's closure. However, I think there's another possibility.

The Rambley AI Guide was a relatively new addition to the Park. Indigo Park is essentially Disneyland; it's been around for a long time and I rather doubt that the technology for a sentient AI park guide was available on opening day. Rambley mostly appears on modern-looking flat-screens, but in the queue for the railroad he pops up on small CRTS, so technology has advanced over the park's life time. I suspect that Rambley as an AI was implemented a short time before whatever caused the park to be shut down, and the reason that Ed's face isn't already in the system is because Ed just never went to the Park during the time between Rambley's implementation and the closure.

Rambley needs Ed just to move around. Rambley claims he'd been stuck in the entrance area since the closure. That might imply that as an AI guide he's not permitted to move around inside the Park unless he's attached to a guest, and he has to stick close to them. He's probably linked to the Critter Cuff we wear, which would explain why he insists we get it and doesn't just override the turnstile or something. He still needs cameras to see us and TVs to communicate, but it's the Critter Cuff that determines which devices he's able to use at a given moment.

There are other AI Guides. Rambley's limitations in where in the park he can be seems inconvenient for an AI that's meant to assist all the park's guests. Perhaps during normal operations he was less limited because every guest had a Critter Cuff on, but that might have put too much strain on his processing if he was the only AI avatar. Ergo, some or all of the other Indigo characters could have been used as AI guides as well; either a guest would be assigned to one character through the whole park or the others would take over for Rambley in their themed areas while the raccoon managed the main street. Due to the sudden closure, the other AIs may be stuck in certain sections of the Park like Rambley was stuck at the entrance, and we'll interact with them and/or free them as part of the efforts to fix the place up.

The "mascots" are unrelated to the AI. But Rambley believes they are linked. The official music video for Rambely Review has garnered a lot of speculation for how different Rambley's perception of how the Mollie Macaw chase ended is to what we saw in the game. I'm not 100% sold on the idea that Rambley flat out doesn't know that the Mollie mascot got killed. His decision to drop his act and acknowledge the park's decayed state is because he sees how freaked out Ed is by the Mollie chase, and he seems to glance down toward Mollie's severed head when he trails off without describing the mascots. HOWEVER, I don't think he sees Mollie as being truly dead. He's possibly come to the conclusion (or rationalization) that the AI guides, based on the actual characters, are stuck inside the feral fleshy mascots and the mascot's death has led to Mollie's AI being liberated. This idea will stick with him until such time as we encounter an AI character before dealing with the associated mascot (likely Lloyd).

Salem is central to the park's closure. All we really know about Salem the Skunk is what we see in the Rambley's Rush arcade game, where Salem uses a potion to turn Mollie into a boss for us to fight. This reflects real world events, although whether Salem instigated the disaster due to over-committing to their characterization or was merely a catalyst that unwittingly turned the already dubious new mascots into outright dangers remains to be seen.

Rambley's disdain for Lloyd is unwarranted. Collectables commentary indicates that Lloyd's popularity may have been eclipsing Rambley's, and that ticks Rambley off. That's not the fault of the Lloyd(s) we're going to interact with, however. That's on Indigo's marketing for emphasizing Lloyd so much. And who knows, maybe there were plans for other retro-style plushies, but the Park got shut down before those could come out. Either way, while Lloydford L. Lion may be a bit of an arrogant overdramatic actor, the AI Guide version of him isn't going to come across as deserving Rambley's vitriol, and that's going to be the cause of one chapter's main conflict.

#indigo park #rambley the raccoon #mollie macaw #finley #lloyd the lion

38 notes · View notes

marzipanandminutiae · 11 months ago

Note

re: your recent post about the Houthis and how you thought the free Palestine movement was all in agreement and specifically this paragraph -

"kind of makes me concerned that some people who say they're censuring Israel for the right reasons- ... -have something more sinister going on"

sadly, a whole fucking lot of them do not, in fact, care for Palestinians - or at the very least, not at much as they hate jews.

we have been talking and yelling and shouting about the amounts of rancid antisemitism overtaking the entire political spectrum, and it seems very few people listen to us. I'd like to add just a few posts that might make my point clear - took me about 3 minutes to find them

https://www.tumblr.com/spacelazarwolf/738972445267165184/people-call-you-a-zionist-because-you-dont-post

(people using (((Zionist))) to mean jew, and/or as a slur, and/or without knowing even the most basic definition, never mind the very different streams of thought regarding it)

https://www.tumblr.com/pauvrecamille/739139228538208256

("Hitler was a humanitarian" + Palestine flag -- which do you think the user actually believes? could they be trying to mask antisemitism as anti zionism?)

https://www.tumblr.com/rock-reblogs/739264338509053952/no-bc-you-are-so-right-for-this

(people taking a frat-boy-esqe stupid/dangerous act of digging a tunnel under a building and turning it into... that)

https://www.tumblr.com/mariacallous/738956988704292864

(a Palestinian man trying to pave the way for peace getting called a 'slimy collaborator' and a 'zionist' (derogatory), + not in this post, but there's also John Aziz, another Gazan advocating for a peaceful resolution, who got a shitton of death threats for saying hamas' mass rape is bad)

https://www.tumblr.com/noparlpf/738692836513431555/anti-zionism-is-not-antisemitism-and-im-gonna-say

(anti zionism and antisemitism are currently incredibly intertwined)

thank you for seeing that there's something wrong and pointing it out - a lot of people don't care enough to do that.

That is. All deeply horrifying. Pointing out misinformation is what I do, though, albeit usually about history.

And while I shouldn't have to say this in a post that's explicitly about antisemitism and the co-opting of concern for Palestine to promote it:

I do not support the Israeli government's current actions in Palestine. I think they are appalling. I think they're akin to responding to a murderer using a child as a shield by shooting the child point-blank, and that's unacceptable. This must stop. Palestinian people are being killed indiscriminately and the international community must stand up and say "no." The only thing with the word "Zion" in it that I understand well enough to have an opinion on it is Cotton Mather's "Ornaments of the Daughters of Zion" (1692, unrelated to the Levant or Judaism), but I know that killing innocents on this scale is wrong. I also think my own country, the US, should not be supplying Israel with weapons.

Clear? Hopefully so.

I'm not sure I'd agree with every view expressed by every person linked in this post, buyt that's no excuse for some of the treatment they're getting. Most of what I've seen in my orbit has been people expressing support for the Houthis- perhaps without realizing (gods, I hope so) that the Houthis are a violently antisemitic terrorist group with the slogan "a curse upon the Jews," and are currently attacking ships unrelated to Israel. I feel like some bigoted people are taking advantage of the compassion and outrage of others to lead them down really horrible ideological paths. There are some online activist types who are led more by Vibes than research, and that's a problem when a lot of misinformation seems to confirm what they're already feeling.

The Palestinian activist whose words you linked used a phrase that stands out to me: "resistance porn." That seems an apt term for people who want to assign Good Guys and Bad Guys in this conflict wholesale, rather than recognizing it as two pretty horrible leading groups- the Israeli government and Hamas -catching innocent civilians on both sides in the crossfire. This is not a YA dystopia novel. You cannot just hate every single person on or associated with one side here, or laud every single person on the other side as a bold freedom fighter.

It's just. Like. How the hell does this go so awry from the very noble, correct, and necessary goal of Stopping The Slaughter Of Innocent People? How do the monsters using people's compassion to advance hateful agendas sleep at night?

I don't know. I'm just reminded of the folks who care more about The RevolutionTM than making actual positive change right now, but with bonus antisemitism.

#ask #anon #long post #antisemitism #palestine #current events #like do you actually want change or are you just caught up in the excitement of The Struggle #(and in this case falling for some seriously disturbing stuff in the process)#I mostly try to keep my blog as like...a place people can go for A Mental Break from all this besides sharing actionable ways to help Pales #*Palestine #but this bears saying honestly #rape mention

50 notes · View notes

a-bad-case-of-the-stephs · 1 month ago

Note

Do you think tim's current treatment of steph via dumping her in the callous way he did and ghosting her makes him another one of men who treated her badly and abandoned her?

Hi! Thank you so much for asking a question, I love questions!

Personally, on a meta level, I felt like Stephanie was long overdue to stop dating Tim. While their relationship can certainly be cute and I’m not like entirely against it, it tends to hold her back as a character. When she dates Tim she is ends up being put her in situations where she’s being written solely to create drama in Tims life, which is just horrible for her as a character.

I thought it was a strange choice to just.,.. not show their breakup. We only find out they broke up in the Urban Legends arc of issues which introduce Tim Drake as bisexual. This choice really links Tim drakes coming out with his break up with Steph. This from a meta level makes their break up all about Tim, and what’s most convenient for his character. This is something that, as discussed, happens to Steph a lot, she’s a prop in his narrative. In that way, their break up disappointed me. Personally, I would have preferred it if she has dumped him (for reasons unrelated to his bisexuality of course).

But those are meta complaints, from a story point of view, what we know about their breakup is fairly limited.

For instance, we don’t actuallly see Tim break up with Steph (at least in any comic I’ve heard of or read), so I don’t think we can say whether or not Tim broke it off in a callous manner. The treatment of Steph and her relationship as an afterthought to Tim’s narrative is callous but I don’t think we see Tim the character himself act that way.

Tim avoiding Steph after their break up is a dick move, but I think how much of a dick move it is depends on how much of their history is still intact. If it’s only the new 52 stuff, they don’t have nearly as much history and avoiding your friend who is now also your ex for a bit isn’t cool or nice, but it is understandable. If their entire history is intact, it’s way worse for Stephanie and much more mean, given just how much they’ve gone through together and the sheer closeness of their bond, even just as friends. Quite frankly, I can’t keep good track of what is still decanonized and what has been reestablished.

I wouldnt hasten to assign Tim into a “bad man who hurt Steph” box. He has done loads of things which were personally hurtful to Stephanie back when they originally dated. But so did Steph. They’ve both hurt each other and they’ve both forgiven each other. And historically, they’ve both been there for eachother when no one else was.

If she had been dumped and then ignored during her pre new 52 and especially pre Batgirl 2009 i would be much less reluctant to call that out as hurtful behavoir from Tim. But, while hurtful, it doesn’t seem to affect Steph as much now, which makes sense given how her character has evolved.

Stephanie is portrayed at this point as a much more independent character who is much more secure in her identity and value as a person. As such, it makes sense that she’d very willing to forgive Tim Drake for avoiding her and move on to being friends again.

(even if this is in part because her new most useful function to the Tim Drake narrative is getting out of his way so he can date someone else)

TLDR: While I have my issues with how the breakup was handled on a meta level, character wise Tim avoiding Steph post their breakup is rude but not something which I’d strongly condemn him for. We don’t get an indication that it’s affected Stephanie to the extent that would make me take it as a serious offense. I don’t see it as behavior which would place him at all in the same category as a lot of the genuinely manipulative and abusive men in her life.

I’m absolutely open to other takes on this if anyone has any other context or nuance I missed! I’m well read on new 52 but my focus is primarily pre new 52 post crisis so It’s very possible I’ve missed something. Thanks again for asking for my thoughts!

11 notes · View notes

staybabblingbaby · 5 months ago

Text

Janitor AU (Ambush Part) a1 d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader is a member of the cleaning staff at JYP. With a decent history of managing to avoid the idols on staff, Reader keeps to themself and keeps their head down. A chance encounter with SKZ in one of the practice rooms may change that...

Word Count: 1,293

Notes: LMAO Just saw that I already posted this and just didn't put it on the ML. RIP. I'm keeping this one instead of the old one <3

I remember spitting this out really fast and then hitting a dead stop and hating everything about it. Not sure what that was about, it's a pretty standard first attempt for me. Not feeling editing notes rn, so just. have at.

This was pretty heavily inspired by a BTS fic on Ao3 that was MUCH smuttier and about a Brat, but I can't remember the name anymore. If it reads as familiar to anyone, will you please tell me what it reminds you of? I'd love to give proper credits.

Original Notes: This is the first one that really looks like the w.i.p it is lol. The beginning is super awkward and I'll probably redo that entirely. This concept is inspired by another fic, but I'll have to hunt it down bc I can't find it rn. I saw that one and went "I want that but without the smut" and so I wrote it lol. This one needs a lot of work, but I probs got frustrated bc it looks like I left off in the middle of sentence lmao.

Warnings: None that I know of?

Masterlist link |

You hum lightly to yourself as you pull your hairband up from where it rested around your neck and push your hair out of your face. You double check that you have the appropriate ‘cleaning in progress’ and ‘wet floor’ signs up and turn to hijack the sound system every practice room was equipped with.

This was the most envied privilege of your assigned areas - you got to blast your music loud and proud as you cleaned instead of hoping your headphones can go loud enough to be heard over your machines without bursting your ear drums. It was envied in your opinion anyways. You wouldn’t trade areas for anything, even if the stink of sweat was overpowering sometimes.

You can’t help your amusement at the thought that there were some fans of the idols you worked for that would adore having to smell their stank every day. It was just an occupational hazard for you, though.

You’re sure being janitorial staff is no one’s dream, regardless of which building you happen to be cleaning. It works for you, though. You wouldn’t say it had been remotely in your life plan to be scrubbing huge mirrors, or airing out the smell of sweat from the JYP practice rooms, but you enjoyed the peace it allowed you.

Two years out of college, with an unrelated degree, in a country you’d never dreamed of moving to, and you still wouldn’t trade it for the world. The twists and turns of life that had lead you here hardly mattered anymore.

Besides, you don’t see the idols as much as you’d assume for someone who cleaned their practice rooms for a living. It was another privilege of yours, if anyone were to ask your opinion. Not that anyone asked you much of anything, aside from your supervisor. Your quiet existence as just another cog that kept everything running smoothly was soothing to you.

You could be loud and take up space outside of work. Not that you really did, but you could if you wanted to. Maybe you should. You were still virtually friendless a year and a half after getting this job. You only really spoke to your coworkers, and barely at that. Your homebody tendencies continue to sabotage your social life.

You had plenty of online friends, it was fine.

You’ve digressed. No idols equals privilege of your area. Right.

You knew several of the newer folks spent a few weeks after their hire giggling to each other when they got to see the idols just casually hanging around and doing their jobs, but you’d avoided them from the start.

At first it was just because you were shy and many idols had a bit of rbf going on. You’d been incredibly intimidated by both their beauty and their success, and your Korean hadn’t been as eloquent as you’d have liked it to be. By the time you’d spoken to enough trainees to relax around the idols, you’d still been unsure with your Korean. And then when you’d gotten that in order it’d been so long you simply felt awkward.

You’d been working in the building for a year and a half and had done a spectacular job at crossing paths with as few idols as possible. You weren’t about to seek them out now. You’d been sought out yourself a time or two, by idols that were close to the trainees you spoke with more frequently. Apparently you’d been labeled “the nice janitor noona with the snacks” and curiosity and food were fabulous motivators.

It didn’t happen frequently. When you’d asked about it, you’d learned that apparently you were being gatekept by the trainees. Ostensibly so they could keep your snacks for themselves, but you liked to believe they just liked you.

You finally get your phone connected to the speakers and start to blast your work playlist. You can’t help doing a little dancey-dance as you begin to sweep, mop, and wax the hardwood floor. What could you say? Your playlist was simply bop after bop.

You’re in the middle of dipping your mop handle low and pretending to sing along to Fall Out Boy when the door creaks open slowly.

You straighten quickly but there’s no way the person at the door didn’t see you goofing around.

“One sec!” You call out quickly, forgetting to speak Korean in your haste. You dash over to the sound system to pause your music, your ears ringing in the silence. When you turn around you’re confronted with the amused eyes of one Lee Know of Stray Kids.

“Ah, Lee Know-ssi!” You bow quickly but politely in greeting. “I’m sorry, this room is being cleaned right now, it’s not available for practice.”

Lee Know gives you a slow nod, looking like he was holding in a laugh.

“I know, I saw the sign,” Lee Know replies, tilting his head at you. You secretly let out a breath of relief at that. For a second there you’d thought you’d forgotten. “I was just curious who was playing music loud enough to hear outside.”

You immediately fluster at that, waving your hands in front of yourself, “Ahhh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb!” You gesture at the floor machine sitting pretty in the corner of the room with your supply cart.

“I’ll be waxing the floor in a bit, usually the machine is loud enough to cover it. Hadn’t gotten there yet, though.” You laugh nervously, popping your wrists and fingers just for something to do with your hands.

Lee Know shakes his head, waving your apology aside. “No, you’re good, I got to see something fun out of it.”

You’re sure you flush bright red, and you cant help but bury your head in your hands with a groan. You can hear Lee Know stifle a laugh, but you’re too busy languishing in your humiliation to pay attention to him.

After a moment you peak at him from between your fingers. He still looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh at you.

“If I bribe you with snacks will you erase this from your memory?” You plead with him. He raises an eyebrow at you and hums consideringly.

“Depends on the snack.” He finally concedes, prompting you to start towards your cart, much more at ease with a potential solution in sight.

“I’ve got a couple kinds,” You start to explain, “Everyone likes to ambush me for them, so I’ve learned to come prepared.”

You hear another huff of laughter from far closer than you were expecting, Lee Know having wandered over while you were distracted with rummaging though your cart. You have to move several things out of the way before you can grab the small basket containing your prize.

You may have gotten used to being ambushed for snacks, but that also meant you’d gotten used to hiding them so that you’d at least get to eat some of them. You swore the trainees could smell when you had their favorites stocked up. Animals, the lot of them.

“Who’s ambushing you?” Lee Know questions with amusement.

“Everyone who knows I have them.” You reply with false despair. “The trainees have a sixth sense for them, I fear.” Lee know snorts at that and you grin at him with equal mirth.

“Ah, yes, as a former trainee, I can confirm that they do.” He tells you somberly. You click your tongue and shake your head.

“I knew it.” you say, “They only love me for my snacks. And here I thought they just liked to talk.” You place a dramatic hand over your heart, acting hurt and betrayed.

Lee Know chuckles at you, but doesn’t respond as he leans in to

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #w.i.p fic #skz fanfic #skz fic #w.i.p #baby writes #janitor au

12 notes · View notes

crossroads-of-the-raven · 28 days ago

Text

By Blue Eyes, Yellow Will Die - Chapter 3: A Murder Drones story - Please read the warning first if you are scrolling (this version contains an attempted suicide - if you hit expand it WILL show you the attempted suicide scene - below is a link to the version without the attempted suicide)

Trigger Warning there is an attempted suicide towards the end of this chapter, I have put a keep reading line before the scene, if you cannot handle it, then please do not read past that point.

"MARC, if you can't be useful, then get out" Alice shouted as she and her team worked to hold down the oil-starved drone - Marc's reproduction sister, Ali.

There are three ways for drones to be born; fresh off the factory line, Pill-download, and Core-incubation. The drones that came off the factory line were, by code, considered unrelated, no code family to speak of, these drones could be identified by their white eye-lights, a code string that could persist for three generation or more if there was a code mutation (that same mutation even allowing it to skip a few generations). Pill-downloads and Core-incubation is what created families and generations. When a drone owner found a drone whose code they wanted to have persist they would pair that drone with another (either one they owned or by making a deal with another owner) and then purchase a set of pill-bodies, the drones and the pills would then be sent to procreation centers (or a procreation room if the owners had one) and the two drones would remain there till all the pills were awake and functional. As for Core-incubation, it was exactly what it sounded like, an older method that didn't really allow for mass drone production. A male drone had a cord in their core that would attach to a socket in a female drone's core, in the female drone's core, the code would mix and over the course of a few months the code would become a new AI that would be then placed into a UNN pill-body.

Marc and Ali had shared the same, set of drone parents. Their parents had been from a textile lab and had been marked to be company assigned spouses, the day they met had been the day they were sent to the reproduction room where they were left with twenty empty pills and a week to fill them all. However, it was at the end of that week that the humans had asked (read: ordered) a Core-incubation. As it was, every pill that the two created were all eventually ordered to be disassembled as they failed every test, some as young as two, others as old as seven. The only ones that survived to be sold were Marc and Ali, a rare case of Core-incubation fraternal twins and were thus sent out into the market at the age of eight where they were bought by a family that had wanted extra help in their boutique. Now all these years later the twins were here, in Cabin Fever Labs.

"I don't know how you can watch all that" Amanda said from where she was seated logging notes and doing her best to ignore the sounds coming from the security feed that Beau was watching.

Amanda was one of the few drones that Alice trusted to watch over her son - though Beau was now nearing fifteen and didn't really think he still needed a babysitter. Personally, Beau was watching the feed because he was worried for his mother, oil-starved drones were as dangerous as they were terrifying; what he wondered was how Amanda didn't want to watch considering that he knew for a fact that Amanda and Marc were seeing one another behind closed doors.

Beau turned to look at her before tapping to get her attention, when he had it, he pointed at himself then at his mother.

"You worried about Alice?"

A nod.

"Don't be," her tone was dismissive, "your mother's been through worse."

That ... didn't really ease him. He tapped again before pointing at Amanda and then pointing at Marc.

"What about me and Marc", her tone was calm but wary.

Beau drew a heart in the air.

"I don't know what mean" her voice was strained.

He pointed again at Amanda, then at Marc, then made a heart again.

"Sorry, you're just not coming through clearly," she said before turning back to her work.

Now Beau was frustrated, looking around he found some blank paper and a J.C. Jenson (in spaaaaacee!!!!) branded pen, taking his finds he drew a heart and inside wrote "Amanda + Marc" before taking his drawing over to the drone woman and tapping her shoulder.

"What is it-!"

Beau took a step back, startled at Amanda's reaction to his picture. Yet, just as he took a step forward, the drawing was ripped from his hand as the drone woman stuffed the paper into her mouth. The UNN, blinked twice as he heard her swallow and startled again when she turned her eye-lights on him, but before she could speak the door opened.

"Beau, medi-kit and follow, we had to cut open some arms to get her under control."

Grabbing the extra medical cart, Beau began wheeling it past his mother as she attached a new right hand to her oil bleeding stump.

"Marc's fine, by the way, Mandy, just incase you were wondering if you'd have to cancel your little date."

"Date? Alice, I don't-"

"Quit the act, I could care less, about what goes on between you two, just keep your codes to yourselves - we don't exactly have extra pills to go around."

"Y-yes, of course, we wouldn't even think of it."

"Ya, better not" Alice said before turning to her son, "follow."

Once they were a slight distance away, Alice continued to speak, "they're getting antsy, I want you on alert, I know you may like Amanda but you don't know what these drones would do just to get ahead ... from now on you're with me unless we have to be separate, understood?"

A nod.

"Good. This room, we have Ali in lock-up recovery and everyone else in here; thought since we have to repair we might as well also collect for the oil stores."

It was after that, that Beau began noticing strange things. Alice had a strict rule about secrets, namely that they weren't allowed.

"All it takes is one drone for Yellow Eyes to get in," that was her reasoning and she always made her point clear to the dissenting, not that it stopped drones from being secretive anyway.

Amanda and Marc's relationship was one such secret, how Ali became oil-starved when Alice ran such a tight lab to prevent oil-madness, was another. But now Ali was unconscious and in lock up and the only drones allowed to visit her was her brother and Alice for checkups and feedings, the current feeding being the reason Beau wasn't with his mother at the moment. While Beau had opted to stay in the same area as the lockup rooms while he waited for his mother's return, he had also ended up getting bored, checkups and feedings took time and in that time he had begun to wander around. In his wandering he heard the whispers of drones and began to listen in.

"You've noticed," Jerom asked the others as they were all eating lunch.

"That Antlers is getting crazier by the day," Max said, "who hasn't?"

"Shh, she could be listening," Connie said, taking furtive glances.

"Con-" Jerom started.

"I'm serious," Connie continued, "Ali went and suddenly it's like Nori escaped all over again."

"Except back then the Humans were in charge of this place," Amanda spoke up, her voice showing her apathy, "except back then, we were just lab rats and all we had to do is stay in our rooms and pray."

"Exactly, how did Ali even starve herself, Amanda-"

"Just because I'm dating her brother doesn't mean I know, I'm just as confused as the rest of you."

"Wow, you actually said that out loud," Max said.

"I don't know when she found out, but she did."

"It was probably her kid," Jerom said, "the little spider probably snitch to mommy dearest; you were his babysitter."

"Were, being the operative word here, apparently my services are nolonger required."

"You do something to upset the kid," Max asked, "I thought he liked you?"

"Maybe, pretty sure Antlers is just worried I'll gut him; she told me that Marc and I are to keep our codes to ourselves."

"He is the only pill we have," Connie said tentatively.

"Should just let the brat grow up," Jerom said, taking another bite of his food.

"You know why she doesn't!"

"All I'm saying is that she could just move him into a kid body, like four or something."

"Yes, because we definitely have parts for a four-year-old" Amanda said.

"I'm being speculative."

"Mandy," Max started, "has Antlers started production on a body for Spider?"

"Heck, if I know; that would be out of my jurisdiction."

There was a lull accompanied by the sounds of eating, then Connie spoke up, her words silencing the room.

"I've been having the dreams, again, something's wrong, I know something's wrong, we always eat together, Marc and Ali, they're always with us. How did she starve when we always see her eat with us?"

"... Well," Max started, exchanging looks with the others, "first, I would suggest you do more then pick at your food."

"I'm not hungry."

"Did you catch a virus," Jerom asked, worry evident.

"I don't know, I can't, I just-"

"Connie?"

"Something's wrong, I just, I don't-"

"I'm getting, Antlers," Max said as he rushed out the room, Beau quickly climbing to the rafters to avoid being seen and scrambling back to where he was supposed to be waiting.

"Alice," Beau heard Max scream as the drone man came rushing around the corridor just a second after he had returned to the waiting area.

"Kid," Max started when he caught sight of Beau, "your mother, she-"

"What's with the hollering," Alice asked as she and Marc exited Ali's recovery room, "Ali's tryin' ta sleep!"

"Ali woke up- wait, no, Alice, Connie, something's wrong with Connie!"

"Right," Alice said after a beat, "Marc, lock down Ali's room then go get the weapons and restraints, Max you're with him, Beau, with me."

"Wait, Alice, Connie said she's been having the dreams."

"... I see ... then make sure to get the drone breakers, I don't wanna kill her but we'll need to be careful, who's with her?"

"Amanda and Jerom, why?"

"Marc, I'm going for the prototype, you're leading till I get there."

"Wait, what prototype," Beau heard Max ask Marc as he and his mother rushed to the main lab.

Arriving, Alice's tail made a grab for a crowbar before tossing it into her hands, getting a good hold on it, the drone woman began prying up the floor in a tucked away corner of the room.

"It's not perfect, but now's a good a time as any to test it."

Reaching into the hole she revealed, Alice pulled out a large USB patch in a crud shape of a crucifix attached to the end of one of the ID cords.

"Based it off the notes the humans left us; think of it this way, Beau, if we need it and it works, then you get to grow up for your fifteen birthday," she said just before placing the lanyard around her neck and tucking the patch beneath her lab gown.

Prepared, Alice began leaving the room before turning back.

"Beau, stay here and lock the door till I get back, you can watch from the cameras but that's all, understood?"

A nod.

"Good," and then she was out the door that Beau locked behind her before moving over to the security cameras.

The cameras weren't always the best, the color could be monotone and the sound while okay, was better at picking up shouts and screams but only if there weren't too many at once otherwise it would come out garbled, yet Beau valued those cameras. Rare was the times that his mother let him outside the main lab room during a crisis. It wasn't his fight, she would tell him, because his fight was directly with Yellow Eyes, but as he watched, he didn't think he'd ever be ready to face the abomination that had already caused so much pain.

From what he could see, Amanda had already taken damage and was just trying to keep herself from losing control, her right arm, nowhere in sight. Jerom had half his visor damaged, heavily losing oil but was still attempting to keep the possessed Connie distracted as Marc and Max alternated between attempting to restrain her and just trying to keep her corralled as the claw like growths snapped at them and kept her out of their reach. Then, as his mother entered the room it was like everything shifted.

Back then, when the humans were still alive, Nori had been one of the strongest solver weilder and she made it everyone's problem, so much so that she had gotten the attention of Yellow Eyes. Her favorite targets had been her lab assigned sisters, Yeva and Alice, but where she had to get creative to mess with Yeva due to the solver, Alice had no such protections. As days went by Nori's eyes took on a permanent shade of yellow, as days went on, it took everything Alice had to survive Nori and Cyn's combined torment.

"She gave in and let her in," Alice would tell her son, "and then when they had the chance, they killed all the human's; the little monsters thought they were pretty clever - kill the humans, stop the search for a cure, but that's why we can't stop Beau, not until she dead and gone."

As his mother approached the possessed Connie, the entity within seemed to recognize her.

"Giggle, the little chew toy has come back for more. Inquisitive tone, that little program five years ago, is he your's. Mischievous look, did Emmett get his hands on you."

"Turned him into dinner if that's what you're askin'."

"And the little one."

"Looking forward to the end of your pitiful existence."

"Reprimanding tone, tut, tut, Alice, you should not be so rude, I suppose I will have to punish you, perhaps my pet V would like a snack, she has never had spider before."

"And it never will," as those words were spoken, Alice hit a switch on her antlers, setting off a flash-bang, flipping high into the rafters out of the way of a claw swipe.

As the other four drones took cover out of the way, Cyn searched, Connie's head whipping around as she work to get a visual on Alice before a thump landed behind her.

A claw striking back, Alice ducked low, going under the drone and between the claws weaving back and forth in a deadly dance of twirls and flips, every landing pause, only half a millisecond long as she kept in motion, eyes searching for an opening, then she took a twirling leap. The blade of her tail - a sword harvested from a murder drone - sliced off two of the claws from Connie's back and as Alice grabbed on to the drone, she took out the patch and stabbed it into Connie's visor.

There were screams as Cyn fought the patch and screams as Connie was coming to and screams again as Connie's head began smoking. Lightning seemed to spark as Connie began to glitch, her limbs - both her own and the growths - began to swing wildly as some part of her worked to be rid of Alice like a wild horse before she finally keeled over.

As the extra limbs fell off and Connie's own color came back, Alice waited a beat before removing the patch. Quickly, she applied Connie's restraints and began to do her medical checks as the others came out of hiding.

"Marc, get Amanda and Jerom to one of the medical rooms for repairs," Alice said, not looking up from where she was examining the unconscious Connie, "and get Amanda some sedatives before she loses herself."

When she didn't get a response or hear the drones moving, she looked up from her work.

"Did I stutter, get moving, before we have another incident!"

"You had a cure" Jerom asked, his voice in disbelief.

"What I had was the potential for a cure, operative words being had and potential, the thing's near fried her head, don't even know if Connie's cured, her core might've corrupted itself, if I'm right - which, I unfortunately think I am - we'll have ta put her core in the ovens with the others; for now I just want ta know how this happened."

"You ... you're no better then the humans," Jerom said, "do you even hear yourself."

"Watch your tongue, Jerom."

"Or what, we're the only ones left, we're all you have and you treat us like nothing, it's been fifteen years, Alice, how long are you gonna hold this grudge?"

"Sorry to burst you're bubble, but surprisingly, this ain't about you, I admit, I don't exactly like the lot of you, but I'm only interested in finding a cure and putting an end to the little monster that just payed us a lovely visit. If a few drones gotta get put in the ovens then at least it's better then when the humans would dissect their cores."

"And when you run out of guinea pigs?"

"Then I'll go for the murder pets first" she was joking of course, if only by half, she had no intention of dissecting a core of one of the lab drones, but as she turn back to Connie, Jerom made a flying leap at her, tackling her down and grabbing her tail.

"They should've given you to Emmett a long time ago, maybe then we wouldn't have to deal with this!"

"Oh so, I suppose waiting for death to come would be better," Alice said as she fought back.

"She's only coming here because you won't stop!"

"And if you believe that then I got an Earth to sell ya!"

"Just let the kid grow up, we send her a message with him and she'll stop!"

"Touch my son and you'll have more then Cyn to worry about," with that, Alice got her tail free and wrapped it around Jerom's neck, pulling him off of her and throwing him down where he rolled to a stop near Connie's still body.

Rising, Alice turned to the others, "Marc, Marc, either get moving or get out; Max, Amanda's still bleeding out, help her to a room and then get her an oil tin, actually make it three."

Then from the corner of her visor, Alice saw it, "Jerom stop!"

And the drone man stabbed the patch into his visor, his body glitching and sparking before he fell down beside Connie.

The labs were quiet after that, both Connie and Jerom's cores were put into the ovens near each other. A week later Ali was up and about after making a full recovery but when she heard what happened, she broke down crying. Apparently, since Yellow Eyes couldn't fully possess Ali, Cyn had instead used her to torture Connie, to prime the younger drone woman for full possession, these constant visits being the cause for Ali needing more oil than usual and leading to her oil-starvation - these constant visits also tampering with both drone women's memories.

A week after was Beau's fifteenth birthday.

"I'm sorry the patch didn't work out, but I got you something."

Opening the scrap paper wrapped present revealed a cowboy hat and bolo tie.

"They belonged to Dr. Beaumont, he got them from his mother who said they used to belong to his granddad, that man used to own a ranch in Texas, in America. The good doctor said he used visit when he was real young, before they lost the place, before his pa past away, then it was just him and his ma in the little place his pa got her in New Orleans. Said his pa's family lived in that area for ten generations, said they had wanted to open a restaurant there before his ma got her madness - was gonna be a fusion place."

Taking the gifts, Alice helped Beau put them on.

"There, a real gentleman ... I promise Beau, things will get better."

He was fifteen, this was their second rebellion, and his mother's latest cure was a bust, how much time did they really have left?

3 notes · View notes

summercourtship · 1 year ago

Text

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter two: hard times in the city [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual themes | word count: 4111 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

Though Dr. Crane held office hours every Tuesday and Thursday, you only attended his Thursday hours to assist him or anyone who needed help with the class. But you hoped that no one would come in, for a few reasons.

One, it had only been a week and the first assignment wasn’t graded yet. There was nothing to need help with, not yet. If someone came in needing help, you were certain it would be more tedious than anything.

Two, you wanted to be alone with the man, even if you embarrassed yourself in some way almost every single time you are. He was like a drug, something you shouldn’t crave but by god you did. And he hadn’t even touched you.

And the third probably most influential reason was that you were exhausted. You were taking five classes in addition to your assistant position while trying to maintain at least a 20 hour work week. All you wanted was just to finish up the work you were doing right now (homework for an unrelated class) and go home.

And then you groaned as you remember that you don’t just get to go home later, that you had to work a six hour shift at the Stupid Corner Store.

Dr. Crane looked up at you, a question clearly poised on his lips. (His stupid lips.)

(Please erase the next thought from your brain.)

(His stupid, kissable lips that you desperately wanted somewhere, anywhere on your body-)

“I have work tonight.” Just saying it out loud was annoying. But you didn’t even bother entertaining the idea of calling out, knowing how horribly they reacted when you actually had genuine reasons for being out. Besides, you wouldn’t do that to the poor guy you were letting off since they’d probably make him cover your shift if you didn’t go in. And you don’t need that on your conscience.

“The convenience store, correct?” He flipped another paper, sighing and crossing something out.

“Yup.” You popped the end of the word, not much else to say about the hole you worked in.

“What time will you be off?”

“I get off-” Hm, don’t say that. “I’m done with my shift at eleven.” Because your boss forgot to care about you being mugged the last time you worked a late shift. Or just forgot that it happened at all.

“Walking home?” He flipped another page.

“Yup.”

“I’ll give you a ride home.” He wasn’t asking if he could, and he said it so casually like he was a friend from work, not your professor.

“What?” Your head snaps up to his but he’s not even looking at you. “You don’t need to do that- I’m sure it’s really out of your way and it’s late-”

Now he was looking at you. The slightly irked expression was on his face again, the same one he had in the cafe when you’d pushed back against him helping you out with your career.

“Let me take you home.” His voice was soft but firm. Insistent.

And when he says it like that, what can you do but agree?

You left office hours ninety minutes later, shrugging on your raincoat before stepping into the torrential downpour, immediately turning in the opposite direction from your house.

You really hated your job.

Sometimes, you could tolerate it or even convince yourself that it wasn’t that bad. But when you’d had a full day of classes, office hours, and whatever-the-hell you had going on with Dr. Crane, you just wanted to go back to your apartment and collapse on your bed, fast asleep before you even hit the duvet.

But you trudged through the rain, sighing in defeat when the flickering neon sign proclaiming the store as OPEN came into view. The store wasn’t even warm when you got inside, the space heater still behind the counter. The heat had been broken since last year and that was their solution. Your co-worker, Robby, slumped down when he saw you entered, relief evident in his body. He just started working at the shop a few weeks ago and you estimated that he’ll last about two more before either quitting or being fired for something stupid.

How you managed to escape either of those fates is beyond you.

You waved at him as you passed the register, headed back to drop your stuff off.

You threw your bag on a chair in the breakroom, which was a glorified closet, and grabbed your badge, clocking in at the ancient computer on a rickety desk.

And then began another boring evening shift. If it was sunny out, you could watch the sunset through the windows of a nearby skyscraper for some entertainment. But it was raining and the streetlamps were already on, illuminating the street in their orange glow.

At least you had the heater on you now, burning your legs while your hands still trembled with cold.

The hours slowly crept past you, the yacht rock playing on the loudspeaker giving you a headache. You were so tired of Sweet Caroline and it somehow came on every ten songs. The only thing getting you through the night was the thought of your downright heavenly full sized bed at home.

Finally, your replacement swept into the store, his dark frame glasses foggy from the rain. You, like Robby before you, slumped in relief against the counter, immediately going to grab your stuff so you could leave.

All you had to do now was walk home, which was still nerve wracking. Probably more now that you had actually been mugged only a few months ago.

You stepped into the rainy evening, your book bag on your shoulder, about to start your trek back home when someone called your name, the voice slicing through the constant patter of raindrops like a knife. You whipped your head to the direction of the sound, balking when you saw who was waiting for you.

Dr. Crane was leaning out of the driver’s window of a sleek black car, and you realized that you had completely forgotten about his offer.

“Come on, get out of the rain.”

A moment passed where you simply stared at him before you snapped back into your body. And realized that you were getting drenching just standing there and there was a much better option right in front of you.

You hurried over to the passenger seat, flattening yourself against the car as vehicles zoomed by on the road, waiting for an opening to slip into the car without risking the door or yourself being dragged down the road by a passing vehicle. Surely he could have parked with the passenger side to the sidewalk, right? But it was an odd parking set-up on this road, so you didn’t blame him for choosing the one closest to the shop.

Heart racing, you finally managed to hop into the car, wincing as water droplets fly off your coat and into the interior.

“Sorry-”

“No worries. It’s Gotham, you can’t really avoid the rain.”

“That’s true.” You smiled, adjusting your bag on your lap, almost hugging it to you to calm your nerves about being in Dr. Crane’s (very nice smelling) car. (It was so warm, leather seats comfortable against your body, rock music playing softly in the background- not yacht rock either, but a droning, almost soothing wall of sound. You could fall asleep here, you could live in this warmth.)

“There's a coffee for you, if you want it.” He nodded down to the drink holder where, sure enough, there was a cardboard cup with a slow trickle of steam escaping from the hole in the lid. Your stomach flipped at the sight, the thought of him getting coffee specifically for you sending flutters across your entire body. The cold from the rain had already settled into your bones so you don’t think twice about the caffeine as you pick it up. You had homework to do, anyway, it would help.

You took a sip of the coffee, sighing as your insides are warmed by the stream of somewhat sweet liquid. It’s not your typical order but you’ll take free coffee anyday.

“Thank you for the coffee and, again, for picking me up, you really didn’t have to-”

“These streets aren’t safe for anyone at this time of night. I would hate to lose a good TA because of some lowlife.”

His clinical, detached way of explaining his reasoning stung. Like he didn’t actually care about picking you up so you’d be safe but instead making sure you were still an efficient and non-injured worker after your late shift.

But then again, he also confirmed that only a week into the class he already considered you a “good TA.”

You win some, you lose some.

“Well. Thank you.” Was your voice a bit tense now? You took another sip of your coffee, using it as a visual reassurance that he cared about you in some capacity, right? He wouldn’t have bought it for you if he didn’t give a shit about you on a personal level.

The car fell into a silence and you couldn’t decide whether or not it was awkward. On one hand, you’d clearly discovered during office hours that Dr. Crane doesn’t talk much in these situations, the personal ones. If there was nothing professional to discuss, he was quiet. On the other hand, you had just tragically failed to begin a conversation (which he had tragically murdered, so maybe you were both at fault here).

He didn’t ask you how your shift was (normal and mind-numbingly boring) or if you’d seen any good movies lately (nope). In the few one-on-one conversations you’d had with him, he hardly asked anything about you. Sure, he wanted to know about your plans for the future but that’s not the same as wanting to know your favorite band or what you did when you were alone with nothing else to do.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say. Traffic was, like always at this time of night, bad. The constant stopping and starting of the car would normally make you car sick but Dr. Crane had a way of driving that smoothed these transitions out, making the entire ride feel like one continuous motion, a hazy dream.

You decided, then, to rest your head back and not worry about making conversation. If he didn’t want to speak, you wouldn’t feel the need to fill his silence. Even if your nerves were fluttering around in your stomach like restless bats, which you decided to blame on the caffeine in the coffee.

You only realized once he pulled up in front of your apartment, putting the car into neutral, that there was one important question he hadn’t asked you, and it was perhaps why your stomach had been twisting in anxiety with each turn. You stared up at your building through the passenger window, before slowly turning to Dr. Crane, trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Trying desperately to ignore the fear spiking as you were faced with the reality of needing to ask: “How did you know where my building was?”

A question that he only gives a miniscule shake of his head to, looking at you like you’re being silly (or worse, stupid).

“You told me when I offered to pick you up.”

You’re certain that you didn’t. You didn’t even remember his offer until he showed up at your workplace. It was that unremarkable to you- so you would have remembered giving your address to him, your mind would have come up with scenarios where him holding that knowledge would come in handy. He could have easily said that he saw it on one of the forms you had to fill out or in your student information that you knew he looked at before. But he didn’t say any of that, instead choosing to tell you that you told him. When you hadn’t.

You let the silence linger for a moment, letting the music fill in the empty space.

“...Right.” You didn’t bother hiding the fact that you didn’t believe it, furrowing your brow and narrowing your eyes. He showed no sign of being fazed by your obvious disbelief and discomfort, only that little quirk of his head he does when looking at you sometimes.

Like he was examining a specimen at a museum, one that had surpassed his initial expectation.

You weren’t sure how you felt about being subjected to his scrutiny like this, like you were a test subject.

Finally, he broke eye contact, your impromptu staring competition over as he looked out of the windshield at your building.

“There’s a sponsorship gala being held next month for the university. I would like it if you would join me as my plus one.” If you could get whiplash from a conversation, this sudden turn in topic would do it for you. It’s not like your clunky changes when you’re on the phone with your mother, which are fueled purely by your desire to not talk about uncomfortable subjects.

You blinked at him, certain you had somehow hallucinated this change, that you had blacked out for a moment and missed the smooth transition from your questions to this.

When he didn’t clarify, you figured you had heard him correctly and he was just deciding to ignore your discomfort.

“...Why?” You were not the type to be invited to galas, let alone attend them.

“You’re my TA. We’re a team, right?”

A team.

“I guess.”

“I would enjoy your being there.”

And despite your discomfort about him knowing where you lived and being unwilling to give you the reason for why he knew it, your heart skipped a beat, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I’ll think about it.” It was best with Dr. Crane, you decided then, not to make any immediate decisions. He had a way, though, of siphoning them out of you like blood, convincing you to bend to his whim before you even realized it.

So you did the next best thing and left.

You opened the door, beginning your exit from the car, reaching down to grab your bag. Before you could, a pale hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, not tightly but steady, with calming pressure against your pulse. You barely stifle your gasp, your skin electrified from where he’s touching you, your veins live wires.

“Be safe.” You looked up from where you’d been staring at the connection between your wrist and his palm, right into his eyes.

“O-of course.” You pulled yourself free of his hold, mind clearing the moment he let you go. For some reason you can’t place, tiny tendrils of anxiety are swirling in your stomach- perhaps lingering discomfort from before that was only temporarily alleviated by his touch.

You stepped out of the warm car, effectively cutting the conversation short, grimacing at the icy cold rain as it began hitting your skin again. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked up to your building’s door, but you held back on looking at him until you opened it and were sure you’re at a safe enough distance to avoid being sucked back into his magnetic field.

You waved goodbye at the dark car, at the man watching you.

He didn’t wave back.

But still, you looked after him as he left, watching as his car joined the multitude of others and you finally lost sight of him.

You thought a lot about his hand over the next day, distracted in your actual classes the next day. You could still feel his touch on your wrist, the way the pad of his thumb pressed right against the pressure point that calmed your anxiety. It’s only when the professor of your historiography class dismissed you that you look at your notes and just see a rough sketch of a hand, no notes on any of the things you’d discussed in class (which, when you thought about it, you weren’t even sure you comprehended you were so distracted).

“What a cliche.” You muttered as you snapped the notebook shut, shoving it back in your bag. You could survive not paying attention in a few classes because there was no way you were turning your brain on for your second and last class, not when you’d apparently already spent half of the day doodling hearts.

At least you weren’t writing his name and yours together. (Yet).

****

You could not believe that some people made it all the way to their senior year of college and still didn’t know the difference between to, too, and two. You crossed out yet another too where the student obviously meant to, sighing. It’s just another red mark on the essay you’re currently looking over that is already covered in red marks, corrections on par with Dr. Crane’s usual method of grading.

Part of you thinks that the assignment was also acting as sort of a test for you- for Dr. Crane to see how well you could maintain his level of standards, how efficiently you could grade. You were certain that if he wasn’t absolutely confident in your abilities after this, he would create a thorough guide for you to reference when grading. And you didn’t want him to feel the need to do that, not for you.

It’s why you were wasting your Saturday night- one of the few nights this week you aren’t working a shift at the Stupid Corner Store- cross legged on the couch with your headphones over your ears, surrounded by papers.

You looked up when the TV screen- that you hadn’t turned off, for whatever reason, instead opting to just pause whatever show you were watching though you had no intention of continuing it that night- finally fell asleep. And then you practically jumped out of your skin when you noticed a figure behind you in TV’s reflection, only minimally relaxing out of flight mode when you realized who it was.

The Batman was on your balcony, again.

He didn’t knock, or move, or do anything to indicate he wanted to come inside and yet you knew that he wouldn’t be there if he didn’t need something. Like a lightning bolt had hit you, you spring into action, jumping up while pulling your headphones down to your neck and leaping over the scattered papers to get to the door.

You practically threw the door aside in your hurry to get to him. As much as you would like to begin your second meeting with a cute quip, something stupid and flirtatious like “Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me,” you know he isn’t here for pleasure. Maybe you did something wrong that you didn’t know about, but you’re certain he’s here for help, whatever that may be.

You examined him, trying to find whatever’s wrong. His eyes are unfocused, his breath heavy, but you see no injuries- at least not physically or externally. He stared past you into your living room but he clearly isn’t seeing anything that’s actually there, his eyes moving around the space rapidly.

You quickly stepped aside from the opening in the door, sharply gesturing for him to enter with one hand.

“Get in.”

He complied, though his steps aren’t as sure footed as you would expect from him. Your gaze followed as he entered your space, watching him apprehensively. You only slid the door closed once you’re certain he wouldn’t immediately collapse into a pile of armor and muscle.

“What do you need?” You’re already moving to the bathroom, your apartment small enough that you were able to keep an eye on him even in the small room. You grabbed your First Aid kit from under the sink, not sure what you’ll need from it. It wasn’t very well stocked but it had enough to patch up a wound until he could get actual medical help.

“You… were close.” He said in greeting, his voice strained. He was leaning against the counter, his teeth clenched and eyes closed. You gently placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes spring open, pupils dilated but quickly focusing on you.

His eyes were blue, a stormy color like dusk in Gotham.

You guided him to your table, recalling the offhanded thought you’d had all those months ago when he’d saved you about him sitting in one of your mismatched chairs. But with him obviously in pain or distress or whatever the hell was happening to him, it wasn’t the amusing image you had thought it would be.

“What happened to you?”

He grunted in response, stumbling slightly as he obeyed your guidance and sat down. “Gas.”

Your mind raced with every scenario he could mean. A gas leak? Chemical warfare? …Indigestion?

“Do I need to call someone?” You squatted by his side, placing the first-aid kit on the floor and popping it open. You really needed to restock some of the items- being mugged and attacked had severely depleted your supplies. But doing this was better than just sitting there, wringing your hands and doing nothing. “The GCPD, hospital-”

“No-” He coughed, but already he’s seeming less inebriated and lost, his eyes returning to their usual intensity, no longer clouded with something else. “I’ve dealt with it once before. Just need time for it to get out of my system.”

“When you say gas-“

“Weaponized.” He doesn’t elaborate. And for your own mental health’s sake, you’re okay with him keeping it to himself. No use worrying about the new villain in town until you had to.

“Right.“

You lamely shut the first aid box. It was silly to think that you would be patching him up. Of course, he just needed a quick place he knew was safe to hide until he could get back out there. He probably had an entire team of nurses ready to patch him up back at his headquarters or wherever it was he went when he was done saving the city.

You crossed from the table back to your couch, sighing as you sunk back into the cushions. Now that you’d been distracted from it, you really didn’t want to get back into grading.

You turned your head back to the vigilante in your kitchen, only to see him already watching you.

“I was busy when you came in.” You explained, though you’re not sure why. He didn’t respond verbally, only standing and approaching you slowly. He stopped just before he got to the mess of your living-room-office-area, staring at the scattered papers and psychology books that you had moved from your bedroom to the side table.

“What is this?”

“Grading. I’m a TA.” You shrugged.

He tilted his head and you realized he’s reading the (heavily annotated, covered in notes and reminders) syllabus you almost always have splayed on the couch when it’s not in your bag. His jaw worked back and forth before he looked back at you. His pupils were normal, his eyes completely free from the fog that was over them before.

“Are you better now?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

You drummed your fingers against your thigh.

“Do you want anything to eat-”

But he’s already turned, moving around your couch to the balcony door.

“Alright.” You whispered to yourself, annoyed that he was once again leaving without even saying a word of greeting or goodbye.

Before he exited the apartment, the Batman stopped by the cork board hanging on the wall. He paused, examining the fliers and other scraps of paper you’d put on there. It wasn’t special, just a place to put things to keep them kind of in your brain (though you often forgot about the corkboard, to be honest, some of the things were so old.)

But before you can ask him what he’s staring at, he turned to look back at you one more time, not saying anything, before leaving back out of your fire escape. You watch out of your window, but with the shadows it’s hard to tell where he’s going.

When you’re certain he’s left for good, you go back to the board, trying to figure out what he had been staring at.

And then you see it.

Barely sticking out from behind a flier for the Sponsorship Gala is your ticket from the Bella Real campaign party at Gotham Square Garden.

And you wonder, for a brief moment before shaking it off as wishful thinking, if he had remembered you from that night.

chapter three, pt I

#stbotdi #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #batman x reader #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #my writing #my fic

33 notes · View notes

sohannabarberaesque · 7 months ago

Text

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Just some thoughts from Old Point Comfort

NEAR OLD POINT COMFORT, HAMPTON, VA: One of a number of small communities in the Hampton Roads region just outside Norfolk to become the City of Hampton sometime in the early 1960's, about the time yours truly made his television debut, Old Point Comfort seems to have one of those interesting sort of names about it ... and makes you wonder about its origins. Even if it requires crossing Hampton Roads via the Hampton Roads Bridge/Tunnel (alias I-64) to so reach.

Yet yours truly, as much as Huckleberry Hound, something of a compadre in these journeys of late, got to thinking in the laziness of a mid-spring morning segueing into the afternoon about the glory days of the Old Bay Line steamers (1840-1962) arriving in the early morning at Norfolk after an overnight run across Chesapeake Bay from Baltimore ... or just leaving Norfolk in the evening heading to a morning arrival in Baltimore. Pretty wistful, you might say, to little ol' Huck.

"Ahhhh yes ... just to sit on a deck chair on one of those Old Bay Line steamers heading from Baltimore to Norfolk ... especially after something of a dinner of the choicest local specialties--fresh oysters, terrapin stew, roast turkey, steamed blue crab ... kind of makes me hungry to be so yearning...."

"I couldn't concur with you more," replied I.

Whereupon Top Cat called us up from his mobile phone unto ours. It may not have been a treasure-seeking assignment for the Jolly Rodger, since repurposed to serve Peter Potamus' Magic Divers, but to have such come "out of the blue," and three hours behind us--

"Welllll, hello Snagglepuss, you old charmer!" was how TC started things along. "How goes it there on the road?"

"I certainly have to admit, speaking from Old Point Comfort--"

"Obviously unrelated to Southern Comfort" was how TC rejoindered that remark, to which I replied "It's just outside Norfolk," for which TC quickly apologised for the humourous misunderstanding. "But at any rate, I understand you paid homage to a certain photograph of one O. Winston Link out Luray way--"

"Correct, TC ... and if I may say so, for some reason or another, the thought came across my mind of maybe having one of our Character Convocations in some small-town July 4th celebration."

"Now THAT would have to be an interesting prospect, especially where the boys can get some meet-and-greet time, yours truly included, no doubt!"

"You still recall the July 4th parade in Bristol, Rhode Island a few years back?"

"Now that you bring that up--"

I handed the phone to Huck, who responded, "Now we were thinking of hosting such somewhere in the Midwest, somewhere a little on the Middle American side."

"Without, I hope, tasteless propaganda overtures as could play--"

"After all, TC, we Funtastics can't help but be the sort to show warmth and good feelings. Especially when we have our Character Convocations, replete with plenty of meet-and-greet opportunities ensuing as much as some convocative time among us...."

(You can imagine how the conversation ensued, but I don't think you'd want to hear further, as such would be unlikely to interest you, the average Old Hanna-Barberian.)

"So where to next, Snag?"

"Make it a surprise."

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @iheartgod175 @jellystone-enjoyer @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @funtasticworld @archive-archives @themineralyoucrave @thylordshipofbutts @screamingtoosoftly @thebigdingle @warnerbros-blog1 @groovybribri @indigo-corvus @theweekenddigest @zodiacfan32 @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #fanfic #fanfiction #road trip #motorhome life #snagglepuss #huckleberry hound #hampton roads #old point comfort #the old bay line #top cat #hannabarberaforever

4 notes · View notes

juniette13 · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! I have two questions about your version of Genshin: First, if you could turn your version into a game, what would its battle system be like? Or would it be the same as the original? What will the role of Childe and Fatuis be in your version?

TYSM for the questions! I love talking about things like my rewrites LOL

So for the battle system, I’d probably have it be turn-based, this could probably be because I just really like turn-based combat, it would be akin to Persona 5’s combat (I’ve only been able to play P5) or Baldur’s Gate 3 combat (Cause I’m obsessed with that game)

And an unrelated side tangent (Sorry I just love yapping LMFAO) I would have the OST be various jazz subgenres (Cause I absolutely love jazz and it has so many subgenres)

And if the rewrite did have anime openings, I would have the music be songs by 4hero, that resonate with the respective themes of each arc

I even have a list of the songs! I’ll link them in their titles

Escape That - General Series Opening (Would be made after the series ends)

Another Day - Mondstadt arc (First ever opening)

Golden Age of Life - Liyue arc

Hold It Down - Inazuma arc

Look Inside - Sumeru arc

Star Chasers - Fontaine Arc

Natlans arc theme is undecided

Ways of Thought - Snezhnaya arc

Bed of Roses - Abyss arc (Final arc)

I’d def want the openings to be like somewhat trippy, but heavily associated with their arcs (Via imagery)

Now about the Fatui, I definitely don’t want to reveal everything about them from the get-go, it honestly feels like Hoyoverse ruined their mysteriousness by oversaturating the game with Fatui appearances, alongside showcasing every single Harbinger within one video

I would keep them pretty mysterious and slowly tear away the threads to reveal their true nature and how they work

They’re on pretty good terms with the nations at the start of the story, having citizens believe that they have nothing but pure intentions

Some Harbingers are assigned nations to keep a close eye on, just so the nations are secretly monitored

The friendly facade will begin to slip away during the Liyue arc

During the Mondstadt arc, they’ll be foreshadowed

Now they won’t be the cause of every single problem behind the nations, I feel like Inazuma’s plot was shot in the foot because they just had to have the Fatui be the reason Ei’s such a tyrant, I feel like it wouldn’t hurt to just not have Fatui meddling occur in every single freaking major story arc

Now I do have some changes planned from some Harbingers that I can list out as of now

Pierro - I plan on keeping Pierro’s face and plans obscured, I only wish to reveal a bunch of the information surrounding him later on in the series (Since he’ll eventually become a major villain)

There is more about him that I have planned, but I’m hesitant to share, because I am heavily considering turning my rewrite into a webcomic, and I wouldn’t want to spoil major story beats before the rewrite even has a chance to breathe and soar

La Signora - I don’t want her to get killed off early on, cause I feel like that was done by Hoyoverse solely for shock value

Pantalone - He’ll be heavily involved in the Liyue arc

Scaramouche - I don’t want to give him a redemption arc TBH, I feel like my rewrite Childe deserves it more than him

It feels like Scaramouche only got redeemed so he could be extra marketable and whatnot, it feels cheap NGL

Plus I see no harm in a character being consistently a bad person who won’t change their ways, those types of characters are so much fun LOL

Childe - I’m heavily considering getting him a redemption arc where he learns to stand up for himself and to surround himself with the right crowd, as I feel like making him be a really recent newbie, who most of the Harbingers do not like

I plan on having the Fatui be the antagonists, but not the ultimate orchestrators

Oh and each arc will have a main group/team (OFC my Persona 5 hyperfixation is leaking in LOL)

I have the Mondstadt crew planned out, here’s the list

-Lumine

-Jean

-Venti

-Kaeya

-Lisa

-Amber

-Razor

Oh and my notes for my rewrite is super long LOL, my friend likes to call it “The Genshin Bible”

Anyway thanks for the ask! I really love rambling about my projects!

#Genshin #genshin rewrite #genshin impact #mondstadt #rewrite #fatui #snezhnaya #pierro #la signora #scaramouche #childe

5 notes · View notes

fandomsideworks · 2 years ago

Text

Dreamwidth Fanfiction Community Recommendations #5

allbingo (All Bingo)

via the community’s profile:

This community provides a space for creative people to share their work, using bingo cards for inspiration. Post about your own work and enjoy what other people are creating. Game Parameters Signups: Always open. Get a card or use one assigned by any other bingo fest. Read the rules. Posting: Always open. Post works in your own venue and link them in this community. You can call bingo on any card you have from any fest or round. See the posting template. Fills: All formats are welcome including art, crafts, fiction, meta, music, photography, poetry, etc. Original and transformative works are both acceptable, across all fandoms. There are no size requirements for this community, although if you're using another bingo fest's card, they may have their own rules. You can do all kinds of fun things with your bingo card. Marketing: You do not have to post everything you create in order to call bingo, because some people will want to sell their original work. If something is available for sponsorship, you can mention that in your post. It is recommended that you have at least one work visible to the public in each bingo that you post here, just so folks can see some of your work. AO3 Collection Visit the Allbingo collection over on the AO3 archive of transformative works. Any item created as a fill for a square in creative bingo for this community, which fits into AO3 posting parameters, is eligible for inclusion in the collection. You may add your own works or browse those submitted by other community members. Announcements: If you are hosting a fest in another bingo community, you may post here to advertise activities, open/close dates, rule posts, public cards, prompt lists, etc. You may also link to resources in this community if you find them useful for yours. Cross-traffic and signal boosting are heartily encouraged! Crossposts: Feel free to crosspost whatever is relevant. For example, if you want to post about a bingo fest, you could do that here, in your own blog, and in a fandom-specific community. Generally, posting to your blog and one community tends to be safe; posting to unrelated communities is safe; but posting to multiple communities with overlapping topics risks the same people seeing the same post over and over again. So figure one or at most two bingo communities, and then whatever else might be relevant to your topic.

#allbingo #dreamwidth #writing #writing challenges #fandom #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

sepublic · 2 years ago

Text

G1, Beast Wars, and Bayverse Scorponok are all radically different, totally unrelated characters. Literally the only similarity they share is their name, due to turning into Scorpions. I don’t think the creators of each post-G1 incarnation particularly cared about nor intended for their take to be read as an adaptation of a previous one, they just saw the cool name and applied it. Completely different personalities, appearances, roles, etc.

…With all that said! I can’t help but think it’d be hilarious if Nizziverse Scorponok just combined traits from all three together. Keep in mind, his appearance is still the same as in the live-action movies. But perhaps instead of being just a Mini-Con, he’s also a Triple-changer, with his modes being a helicopter engine, scorpion, and of course the robot mode itself. Somewhat humanoid and not much of a departure from his scorpion mode, based mostly on the toy we got in 2007.

Robot-mode Scorponok would have legs that flip out; His forearms would reverse themselves with regular hands coming out of the ends; The tail slides in; And his face splits apart to make room for another head, probably based on his G1 and/or BW counterpart. Scorponok’s stinger removes to act as a trident like his G1 toy. He talks and he’s a fully intelligent scientist.

And he’s got a crazy backstory, we’re Star Wars background character-ing this arachnid… This animalistic Decepticon who never spoke and harasses some of our humans once? Presumably not sapient? Is actually a fully thinking and speaking scientist back on Cybertron, the inventor of Pretender technology under the rule of the Functionists. But when the social implications of Pretender tech were discovered, it was banned and even demonized by the Functionists, much to Scorponok’s chagrin.

He sided with the rebels to get back at the Functionists, and explained afterwards to Megatron the truth of Pretender technology. He created “Alice”. When the Decepticons attempted to invade the home planet of the Nebulans, the Autobots helped the locals fight back. As a result, Scorponok teamed up with Zarak, a xenophobic Nebulan, to drive the Autobots away. In the process he formed a taxing mental link with Zarak. After Megatron disappeared, Scorponok came close to seizing control of the Decepticons, only for the Fallen to orchestrate his downfall.

Scorponok was eventually assigned with some other Decepticons to scout out Earth, and bonded with Blackout, ALSO forming a symbiotic psychic link with him. Blackout was the most loyal to Megatron and basically acted as the group’s leader when confronting Starscream over suspected treachery, only to be reduced to literal pieces. Not sure what else to do, Scorponok single-handedly repaired Blackout, enabling him to take revenge on Screamer. He has a pet Cyber Bee and once fell into a pool of lava, only to somehow survive. Scorponok signs his missiles with the Autobot insignia.

Always having had a fascination with organic life (hence the Pretenders and psychic bond with Zarak), Scorponok eventually invented robot mpreg by attaching an incubation harness to his body, hoping to raise a generation of Decepticon-programmed humans. The Autobots managed to stop Scorponok, removed the baby from him, and placed it in the adoption of some human.

He was present when Scalpel examined our human protagonist for Cybertronian data in their brain, inside of Blackout and ready to deploy if needed. He powerlinked with Blackout during the forest fight, only for Blackout to die, forcing Scorponok to hitch a ride on Starscream when the Decepticons retreated. All of this, ALL OF THIS culminates in Scorponok getting smushed by Jetfire, who has no connection to him beyond being a former Decepticon himself. At this point, why not just make him Shockwave’s mentor as well, since that’d explain a lot?!

Wouldn’t that be twisted. If in the films, Scorponok was just a one-off mook that was forgotten and brought back in the next movie to be killed and resolved? Only to have this elaborate lore, personality, and involvement in background materials? I for one think it could be hilarious. I’m half-tempted to go with this idea in the Nizziverse. Imagine being some human named Connie who grows up, adopted and not aware of your biological parents. Only to one day be told that your mom is Scorponok and he got killed by Jetfire in Egypt, right in front of the humans he’d previously harassed and failed to kill. In addition to all of the OTHER history…!

(Does that make Blackout her dad??? Zarak an old flame of her mom by proxy?! EVERY PRETENDER A SIBLING!!?!?)

And you know what? Scorponok’s actually a quadruple-changer Mini-con, with his fourth mode being a giant head. Because yep he’s a headmaster and had an enormous Titan of a transtector at some point.

#maccadam #transformers #scorponok #nizziverse

6 notes · View notes