#mostly around the issue of I Lack A Car

[astrowarr]

“How d’you care so little?” Joel fumes, eyes ablaze as he paces around the shattered glass and splintered wood of his car. It's pretty well decimated, and he's been growling and frothing about it in Gem's ear for an hour now. 

She prods testily at the soft, upturned earth carefully covering their pitfall. “It's not that I don't care,” she huffs, jumping back when the dirt crumbles a little under the toe of her boot. She glances up at Joel, who is practically shaking with rage. He can't keep his eyes off the dumb car. “You know, you really could've fixed it by now.”

Beat of silence. Then, pouting and everything, he grumbles feebly, “Shut up, Gem.” 

There's no heat behind it. If anything, her words seemed to have knocked the wind from his sails of war; he's slumped against the car now, arms crossed as he glares to the side dramatically. God, he sure does put on a show, she thinks with an overwhelming wave of affection. 

It's not that Gem doesn't care. But she can't get this feeling from the four mangrove walls of her stupid barn. She can't even get it from winning. So they can burn down everything she owns, take every last life she has to spare. In the end, none of that is tangible. None of that is what matters. This is a game, and games are meant to be played. That’s what counts for her. Why should she take issue if the universe works as it was so lovingly intended to? 

All she wants to leave behind is a trail of blood and ruin as she puts up a fight. She wants to leave her mark on this world and all the people it holds. She wants to make it hurt, once she's allowed to. She wants to play the game well, exactly how she was made to play it. She cares about that. 

Gem cares, too, about the love she dredges up along the way. She thinks of her hands set to the backdrop of a blood-caked cloak, of long brown hair curling over her fingers as they dig in tight. She thinks of the sharp edge of her sword pressed against pale skin, and the thud of knees hitting the ground. All of that meant something. It still does, she believes, in certain ways. 

“I care,” she says, feeling oddly self-conscious. Maybe it's because she knows Joel now: he can't stop caring. It explodes from every pore in his body, an inescapable curse. It's been his undoing, or so she's heard; he's easy to anger, but if you ask her, he's mostly just… easy to love.

It’s this fact that has her saying quietly, “Just… I gotta pick and choose, you know?”

She's not like Joel. There's only so much room in Gem's chest, and it's permanently occupied with a bleeding, open wound. It takes up a lot of her as she skirts around it, giving its raw, frayed edges a wide berth. Joel has an infected hole in his heart too, but his preferred method of dealing with it is tearing it wider with his bare hands.

“Yeah,” Joel drawls absently, scratching his cheek. “Never been quite good at that, I reckon.”

Gem gets that. It must be hard, holding everything so tight that it rips you apart. The thought of losing that much agency has a venomous, stinging feeling crawling down the center of her back. But… 

“You're doing it right now,” she points out, gesturing vaguely at his poor car. “You could've gone on a rampage, if you wanted.”

He scoffs. “Trust me, I wanted."

“You didn't though.”

Joel blinks. “Guess I didn't.” The answer is simple, but leaden with something that has branches so complex, it nearly consumes his words entirely. Gem can't name the something; she lacks the history she'd need to do so. Even so, his face is remarkably… light? That's a word for it. Maybe he's finally cut the infection from his own wound.

She hums in lieu of response, turning her gaze back to the trap. Whatever is draped over Joel's mind, she hopes it doesn't render him too docile. The game stops for nothing, and it deserves to be played to its fullest, Gem thinks, no matter what's left standing come judgement day. 

[straightline-bow]

I know everyone is mostly joking with the whole ‘oh the GPDA should strike’ thing after their statement in instagram, but I really think we should be having a conversation about how actually, they can’t strike, and that lack of ability to use collective bargaining can be and may be incredibly dangerous.

The issue with the GPDA as a union is that it only covers the twenty current Formula 1 drivers. Now, many people see no issue with this - why would anyone else need coverage? - but this is what sort of hamstrings the GPDA as a union. Should the members go on strike, there would be backlash in the press, pressure on the FIA, FOM, Liberty and the teams - but there are other drivers, who have the super licences needed to drive an F1 car. And could you even blame them? We’ve seen how hard it can be for rookies to get a seat - Colapinto looks a lot like he may be able to get on the grid, either for next year or the year after, and that is a swansong MIRACLE that came out of nowhere for him. Lawson and Piastri had to wait on the sidelines, as did Doohan. The only Driver’s Academies that seem to be working are Ferrari’s (A Leclerc off to WEC, Bearman in Haas), Mercedes’ to an extent (They tossed Aron aside when he’s been doing fantastically, but Antonelli has a seat) and sort of Mclaren’s (Bortoleto was under them in F2, but he has now severed ties to sign for Audi.). And even then they CLEARLY have their failures. Can you truly blame young drivers for taking any and every opportunity handed to them when so few succeed at all?

A strike would be very easily defeated by the FIA and Co - and there would be no guarantee of contracts post strike, and although the WDCs and highest level drivers could probably weather the storm, there is no way the rookies and those from smaller teams would be able to, and they could likely lose their seats over it. Quite frankly, the only way for a strike to work in the drivers favour in this day and age would be for them to vote to include all drivers who have superlicences in the union, and then for all of them to strike together.

A reminder: every driver who has an official contract with a team entered into the F1 championship can apply for a superlicence, if they hold the other requirements (usually a certain number of points plus a driver’s licence pluse a competition licence plus a theory test on first sitting), which means drivers from IndyCar, WEC, lower formulas, Formula E and test drivers are all usually eligible, or can be. I think the official number is around 70ish drivers are eligible, plus any retired F1 drivers who keep up the fitness standard and 100km of practise across a year - so drivers such as Jacques Villneauve could potentially still have a valid superlicence, so long as he proved he did enough practise.

Aside from the sheer unlikelihood of the GPDA being allowed to vote to include all holders of valid superlicences - which could possibly lead to the core members facing severe consequences, possibly the same as striking on their own - there are a lot of drivers who would not strike for safety precautions, purely they don’t think they are necessary (Brundle on the halo) or because they know if they broke the line they could get a drive, and because the GPDA has so little political power it very rarely is able to intercede to set minimum wages etc the way other unions are able to, any drivers breaking the line would know they weren’t losing out on anything but a moral argument, and potential safety issues. Some people don’t think about safety until they need it.

The current state of affairs is just incredibly concerning, and I think that although it’s fun and fine to make jokes about it, we should definitely remember both the driver’s own lack of agency, and that even though some aren’t satisfied with the statement they put out, it is perhaps one of the only things they can do.

[theblueflower05]

These Violent Delights: Chapter One

A/N: Thanks for bearing with when it came to getting this first chapter out! Work has been dragging me by my hair, but i'm going to try to get this story updated every week. At least until I’m able to work through this Spike Fearn brain rot I’ve got going on rn.

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy from the jump. I mean, check the source material. Talks of suicidal thoughts and tendencies. Loneliness. Smut coming later!

Pariring: Bjorn x Reader

Summary: A friendship is formed under the most unlikely of circumstances.

✨Masterlist

✨Playlist

Next Chapter

Every day is exactly the same.

The sentiment runs through your head as you blearily blink up at the water stained ceiling. The comforter is tangled around your legs and your mouth is dry- a side effect from the sleeping pills. The shrill ringing of the alarm is the only indication that the morning has rose on the horizon, outside the singular window in your apartment it is still black as pitch. Your joints crack when you finally force yourself out of bed.

You go through your morning routine in an almost mechanical manner. Shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed in the standard issued trousers and blouse you’d been given when you got your assignment- the holes you’d sewn up yourself are barely noticeable. Barley. Clip your hair back. Even the movements as you eat the tar like oatmeal feel too practiced. Fake.

Lately, you’ve found you dont feel very real anymore. There’s probably droid’s walking around, wires for veins, that feel less hollow than you do.

Jackson Star is a planet in the Alfeios system, and in the 11 years you’ve been stationed here you’ve realized, that it is a planet that should've never been colonized. It’s harsh, by nature. Sweltering summers followed by frigid winters, and the ever present, extremely active volcanoes. The atmospheric processors can only do so much.

And they cant do shit about the lack of sun.

They can try to replicate it; expensive lamps and vitamin C tablets acting like a cheap knock off. Like Weyland-Yutani Corps way of saying sorry we dropped you in hell- here's the shittiest consolation prize in the galaxy.

This particular Friday is gloomier then usual, rain accompanying the dark. The walk down the cluttered streets feels even more…hopeless than usual. Like maybe this is all there is. Blurring lights of neon signs and the ruddy faces of children that hold out their hands on corners, begging for their next meal.

Like maybe if you stepped in front of the bus in this cross walk- then it would end the loop. You’d be able to get out of this eternally dark purgatory.

They aren't new thoughts, but you lifting your foot to step of the curb is. You go numb, not thinking or feeling as you step into oncoming traffic.

Theres the blaring honk of a heavy hand on a horn and then you're being yanked backwards, hard.

You gasp as you’re pulled back onto the sidewalk and out of the way of oncoming traffic. You’re equal parts grateful and disappointed. But mostly you’re shocked.

The girl is small statured, her brown eyes wide behind unruly curls. She curses filthy and fast in Spanish.

Her gaze makes you feel uncomfortably scene. Its assessing and…worried. Its been a long time since anyone worried about you. “Are you alright?”

You’re taken aback by her question.

“I’m fine. Didn’t see the cars coming” you don’t understand why you’re explaining yourself to this stranger. It’s probably the hot embarrassment that’s pointing your face red.

She doesn’t look amused by your answer but nods slowly “Okay…”

The signal turns red, the cross walk sign lights up and you’re gone, fast as your feet can take you away from your unlikely savior. Leaving her standing there, confused.

“You’re welcome!” Comes her snark filled holler. You don’t blame her. But with the shame filling you, you also can’t look at her. You just give a haphazard wave behind you. A piss poor thanks, you know.

You hope you never see her again.

-

After the blip this morning, the routine persists- until it doesnt.

The office is how it always is. Bleak. The yellow lights flickering and the wallpaper peeling. Patty, a heavy set woman with an acidic smile sits at the front desk. The grim reaper at the mouth of the river Styx. It’s pleasantries, your badge is scanned and then you find your way back to your cubicle. As ready as anyone can be to stare at a screen and four walls for the next twelve hours.

Maybe it’s something in the damp air, but once again, the day deviates from the norm.

You only ever work with electronic filing. Sorting piles and piles of e-documents into they Weyland/Yutani system. An office grunt you’ve been called. And yet today they want you up front, something about “Yolanda from zoning and housing” missing a day because her son is dying from black lung. God forbid she want to be by his side. It leaves the office understaffed.

“I’m not trained for that position” you try to reason but it falls on deaf ears. There are numbers to be punched, and your lack of true no how doesn't really matter. You begrudgingly leave your familiar desk, taking only the thermos of hot coffee with me. Small mercies, really.

Front desk is as hellish as one would think it would be. Between having to interact with real human beings, not the computers you’re used to combined with Patty’s snooty remarks; you’re absolutely jonsing to get the fuck out of there and go home by the afternoon.

In the back office the digital copying machine is down for the fifth time this week. All of the filing systems have honestly been off- a result of the shitty outdated tech on this planet.

“Ugh- they really dont know what they're doing back there” Patty sighs, muttering under her beath about how she doesnt get paid enough for this shit “Im going to go help. Again. Keep your head down and follow the guideline on the forms” she gives me stern instructions and a side eye “And dont touch my stories”

She cares more about the trashy soap operas she watches on her tablet then the mother she just evicted from her apartment.

Where’s a fucking droid when you need one? This is most definitely a job that shouldn't be done by anyone with a conscience.

With dread in your stomach you put on a brave face as the security system announces the next client;

Oh.

It’s a girl. With a small stature and wide brown eyes. Ones that reflect the same recognition you feel. It takes a moment for you to swallow the surprise.

“Name” You demand in a practiced voice. The shakiness you feel not transmuting to your tone. Or at least you hope it doesnt.

“Kay Harrison” and just like that, she’s not a stranger anymore “I’m here for an appointment”

You type quickly, plugging in the details on the keyboard. Pulling up her file. Scanning the information quickly. “Yes, I can see that. Here to formally request an eviction extension”

Damn. Thats tough.

“Yes. But only because we truly will be able to pay it next week. I brought not only mine but my brothers work logs and proof of direct deposit-” she pulls out a beat up old tablet and slides it under the glass. “We’ll be able to get the rent paid in full by the fourth”

What kind of cruel fate is this? The most twisted form of serendipity. She saved you this morning and now you have to co-sign on her eviction this afternoon.

You know it doesn't matter, you saw their file. The Harrisons arent newbies to being late for rent and their landlord is chomping at the bit to get them out.

“I’ll scan these into your case but at this point in the process it really doesn't matter” at your words, panic induced tears fill her eyes.

“No- because. We’re late. But we always pay. We’ve never been negligent, not on purpose. Since my dad died we’ve done our best” Kay rambles an explanation that doesn't matter and you feel frozen. Stuck. Conflicted in a way that you we’re supposed to have trained out of you.

“I cant-” you sigh and she looks pathetic. Drained…void.

A feeling you know all too well. That had almost led you right into the grill of a bus this very morning. And yet- she’d stepped in.

You gnaw on your lip and as discreetly as possible, your eyes scan around the empty office. Your co-workers still not back yet. You’re the only one in here. Its madness, but if there was any time to act on madness- it would be now.

You begin typing furiously, entering in codes that a normal front desk clerk wouldn't know, it isn’t in their training. But you’d been trained for filing.

“An extension wont be needed” You speak purposefully, giving Kay a pointed look “The landlord marked the eviction for the fifth. That gives you three more days to get a payment in before the constable is scheduled to come for the lock out”

There’s a moment of heavy silence.

The landlord had actually marked the second but well. It’s an easy enough over turn. Easy, but extremely illegal. You just did something that could not only cost you your job but risk your contract. Land you in jail-

“He marked the wrong date…” Kay chews the words, like she cant believe what she’s saying.

“Yep” I say quickly, finishing up, covering my ass by copying multiple files into the system. It would be hard as shit to uncover it, if anyone cared to bother. Kay’s just another file in the hundreds today. “Here you go, Miss Harrison. You have seventy two hours to get the payment to the respective party. If not the constable will be there to conduct the eviction”

I slide her tablet back towards her.

“I- I don't know what to say” She stutters and you give her a glare. You don't have the time for groveling, for un- needed thanks. As far as you’re concerned, you are now even.

“Don't say anything. Take your things and go”

I don't look at her again, not even when she leaves. Instead I refocus on my computer screen. Trying to breathe through the nerves that wrack my body. That was just about the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

Your heart beats furiously and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in months.

-

After that it seems like something has been broken. The pattern no longer functions.

Jackson Star is by no means a small colony. Thousands strong, full of unfamiliar faces. And yet. You keep running into the same one.

“Here, I grabbed you a coffee. Extra sugar, like ya like, even though it’s going to rot your teeth out” Kay waits for you at the same corner that the two of you had met on. Weeks ago. She’d hunted you down after that fateful day and had shown that she wasn't giving up on showing her gratitude so easily.

Having friends in the colony is a dangerous game. Every friend you’ve ever had has either been transferred off planet or died. And yet here you are, eagerily bounding over to Kay. Taking the paper cup full of cheap coffee.

“My teeth are my own business thank you”

And it goes like this; the train station where Kay catches her ride to the mines isn't far from your job so the two of you make your morning commute together, gabbing about nothing. It's nice. It feels familiar, you used to have loads of friends.

Kay’s easy to talk to and she shares so much of herself so freely. Her little stories about her family make you smile. Make you feel warmth, and secretly longing. And yet still, every time the topic of you meeting everyone comes up you shy away.

Being friends with Kay is one thing. Meeting the most important people in her life is another.

She offers again today. Dinner at her house, ya’ know, the one she still has because of you. It’ll be lowkey. Just the friends. Fun.

Although you crave it, you’re scared of it too. That’s why you’re shaking your head, giving another of those flimsy excuses. Kay just pats your arm.

“If you change your mind, you’re still more than welcome to come. I’ll text you the details, okay?” She’s got this way about her. Gentle but not condescending, a hard balance to strike. Too bad she’s on this near barren planet, she’d be a great mother.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you”

When the two of you hit the proverbial fork in the road- you go your way and she goes hers. You to the office and her to the mines. Both prisons in their own rights.

You watch her cross the street and join a tall man at the train station. His skin’s the same shade as hers, his eyes the same almond shape. He’s handsome in a way that you’ve only seen on screens, in those old movies your mom used to watch.

This must be the older brother she talks so much about. Tyler.

He says something you can’t quite decipher to her and then looks over her shoulder, across the street at you, and beams.

Its not a normal smile. It’s pearly whites flashed at you in a way that makes your heart skip a beat in your chest. When he gives you a smooth wave you feel like you might be knocked over.

You just know the grimace and jerky hand motion you give back is as awkward as it feels.

If you obsess about how much of an antisocial weirdo you are all day, that’s your own prerogative.

I mean come on? You can’t even manage to wave back at someone? You truly need to get it together.

You think about that as you eat dinner at your makeshift table that night. Maybe, you’re just out of practice. You’re not awkward, just dusty. You just haven’t spoken to anyone for more then five minutes since your upstairs neighbor had a pipe burst.

It’s what leads you to pulling out your phone, to pulling up Kay’s contact. It’s still new. Still fresh.

Is there anything I should bring?

You don’t have to wait long for a response.

Kay: Nope, just yourself!😊 [location attachment] see you tomorrow.

You stare at her response on the small bright screen until your eyes burn. This is the change you had craved so badly.

So why are you so scared?

This chapter kind of took on a life of its own. I so desperately wanted to have Bjorn in this but there was just- a lot of ground to cover. Next chapter we’re jumping right into introducing him (and smut towards a the end of that chapter to!)

Big shout out to @spikedfearn for letting me ramble like a crazy lady in her inbox. Her Bjorn content literally makes me salivate.

If anyone else is still going through Romulus hyperfixation please feel free to comment or send asks! I’m always here to chat!

[kyrithenerd]

JASPER HALE HEADCANONS 2

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

I can see him being really into Arctic monkeys, HIM and Chris Isaac.

He feels terrible about the civil war and what happened with Maria and is often depressed about it.

He's also very insecure about his scars and bite marks. He doesn't wear anything that shows them around anyone except you and some of the Cullens.

When you two first started hanging out he was constantly asking Rosalie for advice, and still does when he runs out of gift ideas.

Had a phase where he tried wearing contacts to blend in more but it irritated his eyes enough to stop.

Gets really overwhelmed in crowded spaces bc he feels everyone's emotions, so he's not the concert buddy.

He still goes to festivals with you, but that's bc he loves you and not the festival in itself.

Has a huge vinyl connection.

Misses the 60s-80s A LOT.

He thinks a lot about what would happen if he lost you, and he can't see himself.

He secretly thinks Tanya is very annoying and foolish for being into Edward like that.

He's part of the school paper.

Reads a lot of books and often compares your relationship with fictional couples.

"You know darlin', I love you like Gatsby loved Daisy"

"Honey, you're my Nastenka" and so on.

Has a private library bc he can and why not.

I can see him fighting in one or both of the world wars (on the side of America, obviously)

He's big on geography and visited every country, collecting fridge magnets from everywhere.

He hated Bella at first but won't admit it bc of the Cullens. He also didn't understand why Edward was so open with her.

Mythology fanatic.

Didn't take P.E. for a long time bc of his bloodlust.

Isn't a fan of Spanish bc of Maria.

He has awful short term memory but an incredible long term one

HELL OF A DANCER. I mean really, he knows every famous dance from every decade he was alive for.

Was a hippie at some point (he doesn't like to talk about it)

Got his motorcycle license taken away a few times for going over the speed limit.(He wasn't putting anyone in danger tho)

Is addicted to energy drinks.

"Hun, I can't have a heart attack, my heart is not beating .... You can make it race tho-"

His fav monster is the violet one and his favorite hell is black cherry.

Can't say tongue twisters, blames it on his accent.

In over a century he never learned how to drive a car, bike guy till the grave.

Still has horses and rides, breeds and cares for them as a hobby.

He's very good at archery, both from shooting while in the saddle or not, he doesn't miss his target.

Got canceled on Twitter for saying that pineapple belongs on pizza.

Despite his tasting being mostly gone from being a vampire he loves Italian and Greek food!

Cracks his knuckles loudly to annoy people

Writes a diary.

He actually has a pretty good handwriting bc he studied calligraphy.

Loves Victorian poems.

He's a little sad that he missed victorian Europe for the wild west.

Writes his own books but never publishes them bc he's afraid of judgment.

He has self-image issues. He often compares himself to Emmett and hates how lean he is. Even if deep down knows he can't change that now it bothers him no matter how much you tell him that he's perfect.

Takes a bath every day despite the lack of need for him to actually do it. He just likes the hot water.

He sings and acts surprisingly good! He played in musicals too.

Knows people like Stephen King personally.

He's a DiCaprio over Pitt type of guy.

He watches the titanic with you every time you want him to

Collects real swords from all eras and all around the world.

He doesn't like Taylor Swift but listens to her with you if you want him to.

Loves when you get your nails done for some reason.

Played the "get Rick Rolled" meme w/ Emmett for months.

He loves classical music but instead of being Debussy obsessed like Edward he's more of a Puccini person.

Actually calls Carlisle and Esme mom and dad instead of their names.

Unbeatable at Monopoly

OKIII THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY!

I'd like to apologize for being inactive in these past days, I have a school play/ dance (basically English waltz) we have to do and it's consuming me so excuse my absence! My requests are still open so feel free to ask me anything<3

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Keeping Quiet (Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Severe bullying, injuries, turf burn, mention of violence

Request: Hi, can I request?, a Holmes brother fic, where reader is their youngest brother who is in high school/university getting bullied bc their disability(mute/deaf) and how their deal with that situation, I kinda want reader to be a ball of sunshine who always smile but are sad inside and although they can see through his smile, they struggle to find a way to help them. 🥺

Your life from the get go has always been a little harder than other kids your age. For one, you were the youngest Holmes, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, though when you were born your eldest brother had already graduated university, and your other brother was a teenager not far from leaving school. With their own unique personalities, they struggled to connect you immediately, and you didn’t see them much as a young child. However, since starting Secondary school, they had become a bit more involved, especially since you had moved in with your eldest brother so you could attend a good school that was closer to him, however, you were still mostly by yourself, especially since how work driven both your brother’s were. Oh yeah, and the other thing that made your life a little harder- you were deaf. 

A silent world was all you had known since birth, and because of that, you didn’t have to adjust to any change, instead you just learned to do things differently, like when trying to cross a road on a corner, you’d look at those around you to see if they were going to cross, knowing that if the road was clear and they didn’t move, they could hear a car coming. You never had speech therapy growing up, and since when growing up your parents and brothers always communicated with you with sign language, you never used your voice. To you, your hands were your voice, and the thing in your throat that let you make noises was only for dire emergencies to get immediate attention. 

Right now, you were convinced this wasn’t an emergency, but you had the overwhelming urge to just scream as hard as you can. You wanted so badly to be heard, but feared backlash, either from your peers of your issues being perceived as fake or not nowhere near as bad as you felt they were, or backlash from the people who were making you feel like this. 

You’d just gotten home from school, and you entered as quietly as you could, closing the door briskly and looking around, not sure if Mycroft was home, and you didn’t want to see him right now. You closed the front door, looking at the empty coat hook where you’d usually place your coat, except you didn’t have it with you, so instead you just kicked off your shoes and tried to head to your bedroom with your school bag. However, for obvious reasons, you hadn’t heard Mycroft and Sherlock bickering in the other room, or that they had promptly stopped when the front door shut loudly from how quickly you had shut, followed by your footsteps through the house at an accelerated rate to your bedroom, and the noise of your door being shut just as quickly as the front door. The two brothers stood in silence, staring in the direction of the noises before turning to face each other. “Something’s wrong.” Sherlock spoke up. 

“I’m aware of that.” Mycroft scoffed, before they began to walk to go up the stairs. Sherlock stopped at the bottom though, though Mycroft continued up. Sherlock checked the entrance of the house, noticing your lack of coat, either meaning you were still wearing it or didn’t have it, and the droplets of water on the floor, as well as your school shoes being shiny and darker than usual, told him it was the latter. It hadn’t rained in the last hour. He finally followed after Myrcoft, who was already trying your door, though it was locked. He turned to Sherlock, and Sherlock’s eyes followed the wet droplet stains in the carpet to your door. “He’s locked himself inside.” Mycroft pointed out.

“Give me your credit card.” Sherlock demanded. Mycroft went into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet and going through it to hand him a card, before Sherlock shoved him out of the way, sliding the card through the door, pushing the lock out, and when it clicked open, he turned the handle opened the door enough to stick his hand in, reaching for the light switch, flicking the lights on and off in your room to get your attention. He didn’t get a reaction from you. No multiple knocks to signify he could enter, and not a singular knock for him not to come in. He waited another moment, before looking at Mycroft who at this point looked worried, fist pressed to his mouth. Sherlock opened the door further.

They didn’t see you when they first stepped into the room, but Sherlock noticed your school bag- wet through, soaking the carpet, dirty, the zip busted, a strap broken, several school books looking ready to fall out after being crammed in that were soggy and ruined. With that, he knew where you were- the small bathroom attached to your room. He walked to the shut door, trying the door, finding this one unlocked, and he slowly stepped in, looking down and to the side, seeing you sat on the floor, legs pulled to your chest, head resting on your knees. 

“Mycroft, go make tea.” Sherlock said monotone, not taking his eyes away from you. Mcroft, who had noticed your bag and was trying to find anything to salvage, stood up straight, processing the situation, before turning and leaving the room. Sherlock slowly entered the bathroom, kneeling down before sitting on the floor beside you, carefully reaching out, lightly tugging on your soaked and dirty school jumper to get your attention. You peeked up, making eye contact, your eyes red and as wet as your uniform. Sherlock didn’t need to ask what happened, and you didn’t need him going on a revenge campaign in your honour, at least not yet. Instead, he signed ‘I’ll run you a hot bath, and you get undressed. Are you hurt?” You sniffed, signing a yes, before you started to take off your jumper, pulling it over your head, and Sherlock’s eyes immediately took notice of the wet white material that had stains of red on your arms, and as he looked closer, he saw your hands, and presumably your forearms as well were scraped up and red raw. Sherlock took your jumper from you, standing up, before signing to you again. “Drop them just outside the door when you’re done.” He said, turning to the bath, plugging the drain, and turning on the taps, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Mycroft arrived shortly after with a tray, cup of tea and snacks as well, placing it on your bedside table. “What happened?” Mycroft asked. 

“He’s been bullied. I’m not sure what happened, maybe he tried to bring up what was happening or tried to stand up for himself, but it escalated outside of school- his uniform needs to be cleaned and died- where’s your first aid, he’s scraped up as well.” Sherlock listed. Mycroft’s mouth open and closed repeatedly, before he spoke. 

“I-I didn’t know.” He stuttered. “He never… he never told me he was having issues at school. I had no idea.” He explained, and Sherlock frowned. 

“I didn’t know either.” Sherlock added. It wasn’t a lot to say, but it made Mycroft feel so much better. If Sherlock didn’t notice something was wrong until now, then there was practically no way for Mycroft to see either. You hid it, and you hid it well. You hid it from the best. 

“I’ll call the school administration and organise a meeting with them. I’ll find out who did this.” Mycroft decided, reaching out and taking the jumper from Sherlock. “I’ll also get the first aid” he commented, turning and leaving the room again. Sherlock stood in your room, not moving, and he waited until he heard the bath water turn off, the door open, your clothes hit the floor and the door shut again before he turned and went and grabbed the clothes, taking them to be washed with your jumper. Sherlock heard Mycroft on the other side of the house, yelling on the phone about repercussions, demanding a meeting tomorrow, even if it’s the weekend, before his voice became louder, him walking into the same room with Sherlock, wordlessly giving him the first aid before leaving again to continue his argument, and Sherlock headed back upstairs to your room. 

He peeked into your room, seeing you had gotten out, dried off and dressed into your pyjamas, sitting on the edge of your bed. He flashed the lights again to get your attention before stepping in, coming and sitting down on your bedside, carefully taking your hands, rolling up the sleeves to properly see the scrapes and turf burn, which made him wince, imagining the pain in the bath, even though you didn’t make a peep. You didn’t make sound despite the pain, and that really, really bothered him. He wordlessly cleaned them and bandaged them, before signing to you “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You nodded, crawling deeper into the bed so your legs were rested on it, and Sherlock pulled your pant legs up to your knees, seeing even more turf burns, and he copied what he did with your hands, pulling the legs back down when he was done, before he pushed the medical equipment away from him, and waited in front of you till you looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He signed to you, speaking the words along with it. All he got was a shrug, which Sherlock was not going to accept. “Did they threaten you?” He added. You looked away, before finally signing. 

“It wasn’t too bad. I could handle it, I didn’t want to worry you. But I think someone else reported what they saw and they thought it was me.” You explained to him. 

“So if it wasn’t reported, you hadn’t planned to tell us?” Sherlock questioned. 

“It wasn’t a big deal.” You signed, clearly frustrated, which was paralleled by Sherlock. 

“Well it is now. We’re your brothers, your family. If something bothers you, you tell us, even if you’re annoyed at the way light reflects through a window, or how they’ve changed the packaging on a product in the shops, you tell us. Even if you think it’s harmless or not a big deal, we’d rather you told us about little things instead of hiding things until they become huge things. This is huge now, and we’re going to deal with it.” His signing firm and almost exaggerated. You’d never seen someone yell via sign language, yet here Sherlock was, somehow finding a way to do it, and it was pretty effective. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You quickly apologised to try and calm him down, which seemed to work. 

“How long has this been going on? How many of them are there, and what are their names? Tell me everything.” 

A few minutes later, Mycroft finally got off the phone, pacing for a minute to plan his next actions- deciding if he needed to call someone else, or go and check on you, but then Sherlock came into the room, and handed him a piece of paper, with names, examples of what each person did and their role in the attack, and how long it had been going on with a short timeline of other incidents. “I trust this is enough to start with?” Sherlock asked, watching as Mycroft skimmed over it. 

“This has been going on since he started secondary school?” Mycroft questioned, Sherlock briskly nodded, before tapping the paper to make him focus again. “Yes. This is enough. I’ll locate their parents and addresses, gather more information, I’ll have people look into CCTV to see if we can catch any footage of them following, chasing or… attacking him.” Mycroft explained, folding the paper up, before tucking it into his pocket. “How is he?” 

“He’s going to be sore for a while, keep an eye on his injuries- maybe take him to the doctor just to have it on record. He’s not very talkative at the moment, but we really need to get him to start talking to us more about things happening to him. If he’s ever quiet around you, try and engage him and ask about what he’s thinking about, get him out of the habit of keeping everything locked up. Leave the addresses to me. I’ll personally make sure they get the letters about the police investigation when you have it ready.” Sherlock said, walking to the entrance of the house, Mycroft followed him, watching his younger brother grab his coat, swing it around him and put it on. 

“Sherlock, do not threaten them- it’ll not be good for the investigation.” 

“I have no intention of threatening children, Mycroft. But I will make sure the point is put across that those parents have done an awful job and that they shouldn’t have messed with Y/N.” Sherlock promised, before promptly leaving. Mycroft huffed after the door shut, glancing up the stairs, before deciding to make a fresh hot drink for you to get started with a conversation with you.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter@keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[alpaca-clouds]

Rural Living vs Capitalism

Something I find rather funny is this one thing that somehow left wing and right wing people will agree on: They kinda hate farmers and their protests and them wanting living wages - just for different reasons. Like, sure, there is a certain group of right wing traditionalists who idealize farmers, but pretty much everyone else just is angry with them in one way or another.

Among left wingers I usually make myself unpopular by looking at farmer protests and go: "Yeah, well, actually they are right?" Because most of the times the protesting farmers are the smaller and middle sized farms, who get fucked over by the big coorporate farms. And that is an issue. It is among the issues they are protesting about.

And this is a general thing when it comes to the rural communities.

See, a lot of times left wing people tend to be rather suspicious of rural folks, having this idea that everyone in rural areas is super conservative - not to say racist, misogynist and queerphobic. And... Like, we know that statistically speaking a lot more people with "conservative" ideas (if not outright rightwing) live in the rural areas, which has to do with folks in those areas generally being older. And if younger families move into rural areas, they often are better off and hence statistically also more likely to be right-leaning at the very least.

However, the fact is that nobody gets quite as fucked over by capitalism as people in the rural areas are - both farmers and people just living there. And there are always people living in rural areas for the other reason people might move there: The fact that living in rural areas is on the surface a lot cheaper. Homes are cheaper there at the very least.

But that is where it starts. Because rural folks get fucked over in so many way. Generally there is the fact that a lot of other stuff is more expensive in the rural areas. Often amenities might be more expensive. You want fast internet? Lol good luck finding someone offering it. The internet cables lying in your village are probably like 15 years old. You remember ISDN? You wanna go shopping? Well, you gotta drive 30-60 minutes to the next supermarket. Need new clothes? Well, it is a two hour drive now. Also, the supermarket might be more expensive than the one in the city. You cannot drive a car for some reason? Well, we have a bus that comes two times a day, if you miss it, you are fucked. The next train station is like an hour away. Mostly because for "small" rural communities it is just not payign under capitalism to put all those things into the villages. A big supermarket? Does not make enough money there. Fast internet? Costs too much to put down there. The same with everything else. And thus... Because capitalist companies want to make a profit, a lot of stuff is not available in rural areas. In the worst cases this leads to food deserts - large areas where no supermarkets and ways to get food (other than fast food joints) are avaialble.

Oh, and schools? At times the next school might be more than an hour away as well.

And if you are a farmer? Well, if you are a small farmer you are fucked as well. Because no way in hell are you able to work your farm as efficiently as a coorporate farm management company is able to, who underpay the farmers working for them. Those companies can afford for giant automated systems, too, that take care of a lot of the stuff. Things that a lot of smaller farmers just cannot pay for or need to go into dept for.

So, in so many ways... Yeah, people in rural areas get fucked over again and again. Both people living there - and the farmers. And... Well, yeah. Of course because in the rural areas people tend to be a lot more conservative - but in the end they might be fucked over more than anyone else by capitalism. And due to the lack of basically everything around them, they often lack access to the information of how and why they are fucked over.

Which is not to say, that there are not left wing organizations active in rural areas. And some people there start to see how they get fucked over.

But I just wished for left wing people to also realize that this really is a big issue. And have some sympathy for those people.

[nurse-floyd]

The Weight of Living

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, ED’s (not overly descriptive. Avoid if you’re suffering from these issues and you’re always welcome to reach out to me if you need help with these issues.

You stood in front of the mirror in your hotel room, adjusting your outfit for probably the hundredth time that morning. Grand Prixs were always a glamorous affair; the paddock was always crowded with celebrities, models, and the other WAGs. The familiar feeling of anxiety washed over you as you turned to the side and further inspected your outfit.

“Hey, are you ready?” your boyfriend Daniel’s voice called out as he appeared in the doorway. His smile was bright, as always, but it faltered slightly as he took in your expression and the way you were examining yourself in the mirror. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Just trying to look presentable. I guess this is as good as it's gonna get.”

He walked to your side, his arms wrapping around you and his head coming to rest on your shoulder. “You look gorgeous, as always,” he emphasized with a kiss to your cheek.

You leaned back into his embrace. “Thanks, Danny.”

As you walked through the paddock hand in hand with Danny, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. The other WAGs and celebrities looked so effortlessly perfect, not a hair out of place, their clothes fitting just right and their makeup flawless. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t compare.

You had been trying so hard since these feelings started to arise, skipping meals and spending more time in the gym in the hopes of losing a few pounds here and there to try and fit in among them. All it did was make you feel weaker and more self-conscious. Danny had noticed; he always encouraged you to eat with him, knowing the signs too well himself, but he also trusted you to come to him when you needed and when you were ready.

Danny, always attuned to your emotions, noticed your change in demeanor as you looked around, seeing photographers and the other guests in the paddock. He squeezed your hand a little tighter in support. “You look gorgeous,” as if he read your mind, he leaned over and whispered in your ear.

When the pair of you finally managed to get to the VCARB motorhome, you were left on your own as he was in and out of briefings and media. You hung around and talked to a few friends and RB employees, but mostly kept to yourself.

“You okay, sweetheart?” you heard Danny say as he came over to your side, breaking you from your thoughts. He had just finished up with an interview and wanted to spend any free moment he had with you.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you replied.

“Let’s get you something to eat before free practice. I know you skipped breakfast this morning.”

You hesitated, but nodded. As you made your way towards the catering area of the motorhome, you couldn’t shake the feeling that people were looking at you as you loaded up a few items on your plate. Judging. Criticizing your food choices. The anxiety was driving you crazy. In the end, you ended up with a small plate of some fruit, which you mostly pushed around with your fork.

A few hours later, free practice was in full swing, and you found yourself struggling to stay upright as you watched from the paddock. The noise, the stress, the lack of proper food—it was all becoming too much for your body to handle. Your vision blurred, and you felt yourself sway on the spot. The last thing you saw before your vision began to gray was the blur of cars as they zoomed past the screen.

When you came to, you were lying on the plush couch in what you recognized as Danny’s driver's room.

“Hey,” he said softly as he brushed a strand of hair back from your forehead, noticing your eyes fluttering open. “How’re you feeling? You scared the hell out of me.”

You could see the worry etched on his face as he knelt on the floor beside you. As you tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness had you closing your eyes again as you felt Danny guide you back against the plush sofa.

“I’m okay. Just a bit overwhelmed, I guess.”

You knew he wasn’t buying it, though. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and a knowing look. “Sweetheart, I know something’s going on. I wanted to wait for you to come to me and tell me, but now we need to have a serious talk.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Shh, it's okay,” he reassured you as he pulled you into a gentle hug. “I’m not mad, just worried.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. After a moment, he helped you sit up, his hands never leaving yours as his spare hand plumped up a few pillows for you to lean against.

“What’s going on, love?” he asked gently. “You’ve been different lately. Skipping meals, pushing yourself too hard...”

“I just... I don’t feel like I belong here,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I look at the other WAGs and I feel... inadequate. Like I’m not good enough.”

Danny’s eyes softened with understanding. “Your weight or how you look doesn’t define your worth. You are so much more than that, and I love you for who you are, not what you look like.”

“I just want to fit in,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

He wiped them away with his thumb, his touch tender and comforting. “You don’t have to change yourself to fit in. You’re perfect as you are. And if you ever need help or support, I’m here for you. Always.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Thank you, Danny. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with love. “You don’t have to find out, because I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in weeks.

Danny kissed your forehead, then stood up, offering you his hand. “Now, how about we get you something proper to eat and take it easy for the rest of the day?”

You nodded, taking his hand and standing up. As you walked out of the room, you felt a renewed sense of strength, knowing that with Danny by your side, you could face anything.

[pillowprincessgames]

Dev Log! 1.04 BETA Release Date Confirmed & Info Dump!

I was going to post up a video update, but editing videos is time consuming!!  ​So, written devlog it is! This devlog is a long time coming. There's been some trials and  tribulations leading up to this point. There was a situation of lost coding, lack of time, and even some health issues that kept it from coming out sooner! I was hoping to have it out in March around my birthday. That didn't work out. So it's late! However, no lie, this feels like the biggest update I've ever done for Camp Gash! So, sit tight and get a snack. This may take a minute to read! I feel guilty for not saying much until now.

​ However, I'm here to rectify that! Release date for this update will be placed at the  very end of this devlog! So, here's what is all coming to the:

1.04 BETA Consequences and Scenarios Update

First off: An Inventory System!

That's right! A working, real, inventory! WOOO! I thought it was just going to be a list for now, but I figured out a system! There will be 4 categories of  items:

Consumable Items

Dialog Items

Mission Items

& Special Items

Consumable Items can be clicked on and used in the inventory. Instantly. Consumable items can help with raising and lowering your horny meter, some can be shared to NPCs, and even help your HP. <More on that detail later!

​cigarettes

bottled water

beer

first aid kit

bandages

no-baby pill

​Dialog Items can only be used during interactions with NPC's or during certain situations. A dialog option will either appear or the MC with automatically use them. Each one has a limit to how much you can carry and use. Some dialog interactions won't be present without them!

lube

condoms

Mission and Special Items are items you pick up during missions as an objective. 

Special items are  found in secret, given, or found in select areas. These are considered non interactable.

You start WITH ONE STARTER ITEM that you can pick while in the car ride with Moxie. You can now find items in a stick pile during the tour. It's random chance.

New Artwork!

Another part of this major update is a few new changes to the games artwork! The bridge to the player's  cabin is updated! It is no longer a sketch! The player is getting a new design for their cabin. ...Isn't it delightful?(it's trash I know!) A few new NPC sketch buttons for Carrie, Lyle, Mars, Lucian, and Lucy! I hope to have some new buttons that are finished like Moxie's soon. But, it takes a while to do! I've also resized Moxie's tour buttons so she's not a giantess. She's closer to what she needs to look like compared to the other buttons! The original buttons I created by drawing with a mouse. That's why they looked so wonky! They now have a revamp!

There's a few new MC customization options for their face!

New hair! Long flowy and Mullet(because it's the ✨​80s~!✨​)​, tired eyes, and a new nose!

Added or Expanded Locations!

The nurses station, although mostly still basically a sketch, has a back room that you can go into. A side garden at the green house and a secret 'relief' spot for the green house! Now you can jack it in peace during your groundskeeper tour!

Let's get down to the nitty gritty!!

Game Play Additions and Changes!

There are new things to customize your character and change up player experience! Many of them aren't fully implemented, but will be added in with each bug fix update and future updates. These all include:

The requested virginity option. You can now start off, by choice, as a vcard holder. This means that you can lose that vcard to other NPC's, both counselors and monsters alike. This may change up scenes for sexy time. If you tell your RO that you are a vcard holder or not! Only a few Counselors have been added to this, the monsters for the most part have this implemented! Lyle, Barb, Mars, and Kyle have reactions to this(only certain scenes!). Moxie just knows you are since the two of you are besties. The twins and Carrie,  are unfinished for now. 

The ability to choose if you have pubic hair, facial hair, and body hair. Will be implemented for scenes overtime. (facial hair not a selection for visual MC appearance yet! Still working on it!)

*Some requested that it should be an option for vagina havers (both intersex and lone vagina warriors included) to have an option to have their period during the camp week. (OPTIONAL) Not mentioned or implemented currently, but may open up more options for bloodplay. If this is selected, the game play may increase in difficulty. Monsters, not just the monstrous ROs, smell BLOOD. Attacks may increase and if hiding, yes that will be added later!,  it'll be harder to stay hidden. Survival is about to become more of a thing!

PREGNANCY. Yes, I said it. Pregnancy. Depending on the equipment your MC has - vagina, penis, or both. You are now able to become or make other NPCs pregnant. Will you know? Probably not. Only one NPC can tell you if you are. And it will only be said in passing! Practice safe sex~! Or don't. This doesn't change gameplay much, but will affect your ending. Make your game as MESSY as you want! There are items to prevent - or terminate - the pregnant variable. Condoms and the No baby pill(For MC only). If an NPC knocks you up or you knock another one up, you will gain a variable that will keep track of which one you got pregnant /got pregnant. Once the player is pregnant, unless terminated, you can not become pregnant by another. **Birth preventative items can be purchased in next update when the SHOP is implemented!

The ability to change what type of undies you wear! Briefs, Panties, and Boxers.

You can now be injured during the tour! It's random chance! 

Consequences on day 2 for fucking Barb on night one and NOT having a truce with her.

Lucian has a more complete Sleepover scene if you invite him over! This one has a story attached... I lost all of it for some reason. The coding just disappeared for some reason and I had to rewrite ALL of it. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. And I'm STILL writing it!! 😡 FUUUUUCK! You can be kinky with him or just do it vanilla! (interesting scene if you tell him of your virginity during sex~!🩸​​)

Lyle shower sex on night one (if invited to shower with him after shed sex)​

You can die during rough sex now! Yep. Keep an eye on your HP!  If your health is low during rough scenes you might die! There's consequences to your hoeing now! XD And you don't heal completely when you go to bed. You heal one notch when you sleep now. No more.  DON'T WORRY! I've placed a few first aid kits on the map on day two, if injured when you talk to Lucy on day two you she may heal you once,  and one of your starter items can be a first aid kit! Be safe! LUBE is recommended for rough sex and helps prevent injury. This can be useful for if you have a vagina and are going to have your first time roughly! Just a tip! ;)

There are new dialog options, scenarios, and sexy scenes! You can now KISS the monster at your cabin on night one! Nothing like rewarding your stalker with kiss. 💋

PROTECTIVE MONSTER is now a thing. On night one when you need saving at your cabin -if you know you know- only if your LOVE IS HIGH with the slasher or the swamp monster. (Eldritch horror has it's own idea of protection) They will come to your rescue! This unlocks a different wake up scene for day 2! ...With consequences.

NEW NPC(s)! Jackeline! She's a friend and bandmate of Lyle. This goth gal shall show up on day two after she is mentioned in Lyle and Carrie's day two conversation. She doesn't have much dialog for now but she will have MUCH MORE in the future. She will be... Helpful. Also, a serotonin boosting NPC you can find at the greenhouse on day two! Have fun with the little guy!

​

WOW THAT WAS A LOT! Phew! Do you all see why it took me so long? It has been a TRIAL! Let me tell you! Didn't mean to turn this into a safe sex class but here it is!

I hope to have the newest version of the game posted up here on 

MONDAY April 7th

Of which, if you like what I do so far feel free to become a patron or do a one-time purchase of the game! Every little bit helps.  Thank you all for playing and I do hope you're having fun with what I've created so far! Stay tuned, because there is more to come!

Until Next Time, Doves! Take initiative and game on!

- Pillow Princess Games

Play the current/non updated version HERE! 18+ ONLY!

[andre-and-cal]

Hi! Unfortunately someone irl found my acc and I had to delete, but I’m still here! Question bout a thought I had: did cal and Andre have any other friends besides each other (and Rachel for Cal)? I always hc a Character named Nick who’s also kind of like them and who is arrested afterward because people think he might’ve known something. Any thought?

Hey hey! No worries dear Anon! I hope you’re doing well! :3

Analysis on Cal and Andre’s friendships,,

To answer your question, I think that Cal and Andre did have some friends besides each other. And for Cal, Rachel.

I also find your headcanon of Andre and Cal having a trio really cool! It opens up a lot of opportunities for different alternate universes and writing ideas. I find it realistic that if they did have another friend who they’d trusted equally— Nick, for example— then it would make sense for him to get arrested for criminal negligence! Especially if he did know about their missions.

Further, canonically, Andre and Calvin were on good terms with most of their peers at school. Andre had some track friends and acquaintances in his science club, while Cal was friends with the few students in band. But I do think they didn’t speak to them as much, you know?

However, Andre wasn’t necessarily the most approachable person, and this is evident by how he didn’t have anyone to go with for prom; outside of school, he is shown neither hanging out around nor spending time with anyone besides his family and Cal. This goes to show how he predominantly prioritized closer-knit relationships over his classmates at school. I also think he primarily lacked an opinionated attitude toward the people he knew. Additionally, on the occasion, whenever he was upset, he held unnecessarily stormy beliefs about Brad Huff.

Calvin was on much better terms with his band mates than he was with Rachel’s group of friends. He always felt uncertain and uncomfortable around them— he didn’t want to be there; he hated that Rachel was friends with such insufferable people. He told Andre that it felt like he was “slowly being amputated, like in some war movie” whenever he lingered in their presence, whenever they’d look at him. For example, he experienced these feelings in the car before and after prom. Rachel had always known Cal as a real nice guy, so she’d quietly defended him when the group made fun of him.

By contrast, Andre and Calvin believed that they’d been wronged by everyone. Both boys had a “black and white” frame of mind, and thus, they saw themselves as the victims. Which, when they were parted, they were convinced that they were being silently criticized and mocked, that they were seen as inferior by the people surrounding them. Yet, Cal and Andre remained mostly indifferent when accompanied by their individual friends. That is why I believe Brad Huff probably wasn’t as bad as they’d made him out to be in the film, as I feel that Andre and Cal grouped just about every person at school, including those they had a good relationship with, into one, unlikable class.

It was a little different, though, with Cal and Rachel, as they’d known each other for a long time. I think that Calvin believed she deserved to achieve her goals because she was a good person at heart, so not once did he truly agree with Andre whenever he’d make targeted comments about her.

Clearly, Andre and Cal should’ve gotten psychiatric help. Yet, they didn’t believe they had anything wrong with them. A lot of the time, people suffering from mental health issues and disorders won’t necessarily be aware of what’s going on— at least at the beginning. Cal was indeed a little more self-aware about how his previously-repressed feelings and motives were abnormal, but he didn’t care to seek support, and neither did Andre. From their perspective, as stated by Calvin, “you can’t cure somebody who has nothing wrong with them”.

The reason why the public was so stunned and horrified following the shooting was because nobody saw it coming. Andre and Cal were mostly successful young men, so to easily trade out their positive futures for violence and suicide in return was something that no one, especially not the Gabriel and Kriegman families, could even comprehend.

In conclusion, sometimes you cannot prevent a tragedy from happening. Because frankly, the warning signs may not even be present. There are a lot of people in this world who are able to easily hide behind a persona that falsely depicts who they really are.

I prefer exploring various concepts somewhat from Calvin and Andre’s perspective, if that makes sense. Essentially, with different topics, I try to describe the world as though I was looking at it through their eyes, while also providing an outside view such as my own.

[class1akids]

What are your thoughts on Bakugou being ranked 15? Ignoring that rankings still exist.

Do you think this is Hori saying that Bakugou doesn’t care about being number one anymore and that his main goal is to be heroes with Deku? And that being rivals with Deku is all he wants now?

Or is it saying that Bakugou never grew or developed since he was a teenager to better conduct himself in public?

I kind of answered this question already when Ch 430 revealed that Shouto was ranked higher than Bakugou.

Basically, no, I don't believe that Bakugou is holding back (for him that's a sign of disrespect, and he has no reason to be disrespectful towards people like Mirio, BJ, Mirko who are all ranked higher than him, plus saved his life).

Also, since higher ranks get better money, if Bakugou wanted to finance Deku's suit, it makes no sense for him to not try to get the best ranking possible.

I was a bit surprised that he was 15th - I thought he would be 8-10 based on what Deku was saying in Ch 430, with Shoto, Shoji, Kirishima and Iida all ranking above him.

So I personally think that the type of hero work that's mostly around these days is not the best fit for Bakugou and the way Hawks changed the ranking criteria (which is never explained by the way) doesn't favor him.

What I mean is:

Bakugou has a highly offensive quirk and great battle sense. But big threats like AFO don't exist anymore. When it comes to catching car thieves in a highly populated urban environment, his quirk does not give him edge over someone like Sero or even Mineta.

He has to hold back his power all the time. Because his quirk is so offensive and destructive at full power, he has to constrain it. If he let out full-power cluster, he'd be faster than Iida probably, but also would destroy all the buildings along his path. So he has to tone down his explosions, so they don't break the windows or even disturb people.

His quirk is also not great for rescue. Not useful in fires, only so much he can do in earthquakes, in floods, not to mention never put him close to a snowy mountain, if you don't want an avalanche.

His quirk is not great for little crowd pleasing. E.g. Shouto can go on patrol on a hot summer day and earn lots of favors with the public just by cooling down the streets - Bakugou at most could entertain the kids with fireworks - but does he do that?

Attitude - he's just not interested in pleasing his fans and has no natural desire in him to make random people happy like some of the others do.

Lack of charity work - he is focusing his caring on a smaller group of people; Deku's suit, giving rides to Edgeshot, others too probably, but he gets no points for that.

Basically, Bakugou's quirk, battle tactics, leadership skills and attitude is built to shine in big, legendary fights and there are just not that many of those anymore.

He became the shonen comic book hero who struggles a bit with the realities of a peaceful, mundane life (431 was a bit tongue-in-cheek about that).

[The only thing that really puzzles me is why Mirko ranked so much higher than him, when she's just a female copy-paste Bakugou with the same attitude issues]

[eleventhhourfactor]

First day of 2025 has been good so far. So good, in fact, that I've decided to actually make a self-reflection/look to the future post, as much as I'm trying not to be vain.

Anyway...2024. There was a lot happening there.

If we're looking at Tumblr alone, it's pretty clear that this was the year that solidified Mario and Luigi as a hyperfixation for me. Helped along by the mutuals I made along the way, I turned out a lot of stories for AO3--moreso than I'd ever done for any other fandom prior to this. It's...mindblowing, honestly. Just the year before, I'd written and deleted my works after becoming convinced that it wouldn't amount to anything and ought as well not be out there. It was a pattern I longed to break, and I think I've finally cracked it, and I've never been happier to put myself out there and be cringe and free.

The rest of 2024 was a hell of a lot of change for me--mostly good. I moved across the country, started writing for another company, found another special interest in the form of Mario RPGs. I also realized that a load of my extended family have garbage takes, and that I alone can't fix that for them. My cat needed teeth taken out, my car got hit by a delivery truck in the parking lot, and I got holed up at my in-laws' house with the flu on Christmas Day. I'm still trying to make real-life friends, which seems to be an outstanding issue for little ol' me. Outside of college, I've never been great at making and keeping friends.

But I do have my network, without which I wouldn't have been able to publish a story, plan a big move, or even doodle on occasion. And you, dear mutuals and others, are a part of that, I've come to realize. It's stupid and corny, but there's something really neat about going to the internet and nerding out about things through headcanon posts, fabulous art, and wonderfully-written tales. What's even crazier is what fanwork can drive me to do in my original little things.

So, for 2025, along with some outstanding fics I need to wrap up and work on, I also want to put some work and effort into fleshing out a long-running project of mine: the world of Astrara, the worldhoppers moving throughout, and the threads of the universe tying it all together. There's characters I've been bouncing around in my skull for nearly a decade now, and it's about time I clear the sad lack of confidence from my space and actually draw them to the life they deserve. Might I make a comic? Who knows. For the next year, I just want to draw my little dudes until I run out of pencils, and then scan it in and color digitally. I want to make more art, and I want to write out the story of Lenora, Aylín, and their absolutely batshit journey to find their way home. Or at least, get the bullet points down and go from there.

It's crazy, but I thought turning out over a dozen fanfics was insane as well, and look where I'm at. Anything can happen. The spark has caught aflame. I want to keep creating. For the first time ever, I want to keep going with whatever the heck I've got going instead of letting it sit while I grind to live.

So, follow me as I get this going. See how far I go or fall short. Maybe ask me some more about what exactly I'm working on. I'd love to brainstorm and share and get others interested, too.

A bit of insurance in the form of doodles. Lenora on the left, Aylín on the right. One's being careful, the other wants to fight.

Kinda funny how much I project onto my own little stories.

Thank you all for sticking with me. Sorry this turned from reflection to a bit of narcissist goal-setting, but I've never felt so set on a creative goal before. This project means a lot to me and my growth over time, and without stepping out and meeting you all, I'd never be able to do this. So, thank you for being there, and I hope I've been able to do half as much for you.

Under the cut special! Sending love to all the people who keep me going on here. Like, y'all are so great. You are all great people.

So, mutuals and creators I admire (as well as my frens), this one's for you:

@giddlygoat @peaches2217 @snakeeyesdraws @bberetd @itsavee4117 @silenzahra @silksongmaiden @fyreburning @akiiame-blog @megamagimugi @supergay-64 @artizonka @rainbogen @loud-kid2 @@diamondempp @dooxliss @lu1g199 @laatgag @moriouchou-radio @thegravityshark @gustygardns @vulpixfairy1985 @vbnhuet

[rei-ismyname]

Magneto beats up the poor

Recently, the X-Men tried to recruit the Blob and failed miserably. It was such a disaster that they provoked a war with an entire carnival, only managing to survive by brainwashing everyone. Their lack of mutant solidarity and class consciousness preordained failure, but now it's Magneto's turn. Let's see how he does.

I love Mags' self awareness of how ridiculous he looks, yet he dresses like that all the time. I suppose he fits the bill of 'costumed' performer' quite well, and he walks among them with ease while searching for the man of the hour - Fred J Dukes - The Blob.

Mags and the reader get reminder of what he can do and the Master of Magnetism is impressed. He approaches The Blob for a word but his disinterest compels Mags to brainwash him. I think. Dude is basically a wizard at this point - he can do pretty much anything except defeat five children.

He's surprised to find a mental block there - Chuck made him forget everything to do with mutants. The carnival owner steps in but Mags drops his catchphrase and yeets a cage on top of him as a display of dominance.

You know, I was sure that this 'carny battle cry' thing was bullshit and had several clever japes ready. I looked it up to be sure and 'hey rube!' is legit, among other things, a carny battle cry. The more you know. Some carnival workers rush to defend their brethren but Toad and Quicksilver beat the fuck out of them. They do a lot better than the X-Men did. Toad even manages to cheerlead Magneto at the same time.

Wanda and Mastermind lend a hand too, but the latter is mostly creeping on the former and she doesn't want anything to do with him. With the rest of the carnies laid out, Mags makes his offer. It's only slightly better than the X-Men's efforts, and The Blob responds to threats by manhandling Magneto. It's great. For once Mags actually uses his powers effectively and throws Fred around. He hits his head and the events of issue #3 come back to him.

With full possession of the truth, The Blob angrily joins Magneto. THAT'S how bad a job the X-Men did, though I blame Chuck most of all. Cyclops picks up mutant action on Cerebro and is like 'fuck! The consequences of our actions! Better summon Captain Planet.'

Magneto is quite the real estate speculator, as is his wont, so the Brotherhood hoof it to a nearby factory. As the X-Men scramble, Mags rings them up to say 'hey losers, I'm going to fuck shit up if you don't stop me! Here's the address.' That's really convenient!

The X-Men roll deep in a fucking helicopter lol, but Magneto easily destroys it. The Blob isn't especially keen on being bait for a trap, but he wants to fight the X-Men anyway so fuck it we ball. Warren goes for a helicopter blade to no avail as The Blob shrugs that shit off. It's looking good for the working class even as four more establishment lackeys bear down on him.

Beast goes down too, and Marvel Girl's telekinesis does jack shit. They're regrouping when Magneto springs his trap - hurling torpedoes at them. It's not looking good for anyone in that direction.

The asshole X-Men hide behind The Blob, who absorbs the impact and the explosion. He's dazed yet mostly physically okay but the X-Men aren't very grateful. Magneto just ... gives up super prematurely due to low morale. He probably shouldn't be surprised at that, considering he just blew up an ally. He summons the magna-car and The Brotherhood bounce.

Iceman flat out insults poor Fred, though Jean is at least polite when offering the spot on the team he previously turned down. Having been mocked, used, ordered around, beaten up, bombed, brainwashed, used as bait and betrayed The Blob is traumatized and depressed. He has zero interest in being drafted into more violence and gives up on the concept of friendship and trust. I honestly don't blame the guy as all the other mutants have treated him like shit.

Cyclops basically calls him a coward with an incredibly condescending and tone deaf saying he picked up from Chuck. As Fred Dukes resigns himself to working as a freak until death and walks away in obviously pain, Hank 'almost' feels pity. The rest of these heartless jerks don't even pretend to give a fuck as they're more worried about getting home without the helicopter. That this violent and rude press gang can casually crash helicopters without concern must be salt in the wound of someone who works for a living in humiliating circumstances.

As I said the last time the X-Men terrorised this guy, Chuck is stinking rich. Warren is even richer. The at least half a million dollars the ruined helicopter cost could set Fred up for life! He understandably didn't want to leave his only source of income to jump when Chuck says jump, but he probably would have agreed if they fucking paid him. Fred's yearly wage is pocket change to the X-Men but it never crossed their mind, either for selfish reasons or to lift a fellow mutant out of poverty. The Blob ended up turning to crime and while he might have made the choice, the X-Men pushed him towards it. Their calculus is good mutants vs evil ones but they have no idea how to approach someone who's neither. Their actions helped make him into an 'evil mutant' and his life has been miserable.

There's no irony, only sadness, in that Fred landed on his knees when Krakoa fell. Tortured and brainwashed by a prison built for Chuck, he's back to fighting the X-Men again - against his will. When Chuck fucked off into space he wasn't just abandoning his dream, but the forgotten casualties like Fred J Dukes. He could have freed him as easily as he did himself, but it didn't even occur to him to help a mutant that caught his strays. I hope he's freed soon, he didn't even do anything. He was labelled a bad guy from the beginning and everyone has been kicking down since.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #38 – Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion

Didion is one of those canonical authors I always feel like I should already have read at some point (isn’t that what high school English class was supposed to be for). Of course this was a very vague feeling, and not attached to a single scrap of actual information about her and her work beyond the general time period and cultural milieu – so I grabbed this from the library and started it entirely blind (partially my own fault for skipping the introduction by a different and much worse author tbf). Fascinating book, artistically successful and emotionally affective, but not one I’m able to say I really found enjoyable, or even necessarily beautiful (it’s no Giovanni’s Room, to compare another bit of canonical latter-20th century high literature).

The book follows Maria Wyeth, an (increasingly former) actress in 1960s Hollywood, through her slow decline from up and coming starlet and wife of a prestigious young director to an enforced retirement as an isolated upscale sanitarium/hospital resort. Which is hardly a spoiler – the book starts at the end and jumps through the timeline freely, and in any case the whole thing feels telegraphed to the point of inevitability. Maria’s life in LA is contrasted with how she grew up in a tiny desert town in Nevada, so small it at some point stopped existing, and in the process more or less gives you the narrative of her life.

Which is as close to a plot as the book has, really. Maria and her internal monologue are the near-sole focus, and her view of the outside world and what’s happening around her basically always says more about her than the world. Watching Maria’s life falls apart really is watching a car crash in slow motion – you’re never really surprised at any point, but the shearing metal and flesh are hard to look away from.

The book’s very much capital-l Literature, here meaning that the style and prose is at least half the reason to read the book. The story’s told through short vignettes (I’m not sure a singe chapter was more than ten pages, whereas the vast majority were two or three) and the deliberate, generous use of white space, both figurative and literal. Maria is pretty relentless in her self-deception and lack of self-awareness, and in any case is quiet elusive and vague with descriptions of people and events – reading between the lines is quite necessary. This overall really does work for me - the imagery is vivid and memorable, and Maria’s head is a compelling and believable place to be.

It’s also just intolerable. I have no particular issue with deeply unsympathetic, tragically unselfaware, or wince-inducingly self-destructive characters, but Maria sure is all three of those to a degree I rarely see. More than that, she is just profoundly passive. It is, for me at least, far easier to be invested in operatic delusion and hubris leading to ruination than a just resolutely thoughtless and pettily cruel person letting her life rot around her. Which is a failure of literary empathy on my part, probably, but did make this a somewhat frustrating book to read. You’re left want to scream at Maria to just do something (anything!) that she isn’t led to by people around her like an ornery goat to water.

This is probably exacerbated by the supporting cast. Who are all very much portrayed as hopeless, clueless gamblers and unprincipled, hypocritical Hollywood decadents,, absolutely – but despite that, keep trying to reach out and offer her lifelines or support. Which is mostly surprising because she might literally not say a single kind word to another human being in the entire book, is relentlessly caustic in her internal monologue, and sure isn’t doing favours or advancing the career of anybody. The real tension of the book ends up not being whether or not she’ll destroy her life and more how long before everyone around her just lets her.

It’s a blisteringly cynical novel overall, really – both in its portrayal of individual characters and of society as a whole. I joked while reading it that it felt like American Psycho without a Patrick Bateman, and while that’s a bit too far – everyone’s still very recognizably human, most of whom do care about at least a few things besides status symbols and dick measuring contests – but the portrayals of Hollywood and Wall Street certainly feel like they rhyme.

Though the implicit politics of that cynicism do feel do feel very different here. Very possibly because the back cover called it something like ‘a blistering satire of the excesses of the ‘60s’ (paraphrasing from memory), but the book definitely ended up feeling very (socially) conservative, full of worries about broken families and marriages of convenience and just generally decadence. The whole plot where Maria gets a motel-room abortion to deal with the consequences of her affair which almost kills her, sends her spiralling into months of total, life-ruining depression, and destroys her relationship with both her husband and her paramour feels like something you’d only see coming out today in explicit pro-life propaganda, for example; certainly it’s a trope I’ve seen complained about more than (until now) I’ve ever actually seen done. The fact that Maria’s foremost redeeming feature is always her love for and desire to be with her (disabled and permanently hospitalized for vague reasons), and that the climax of the book is a suicide directly caused by infidelity, also. None of which should exactly be surprising, really – a book almost as old as my parents has dated opinions on social issues! - but for some reason I always expect canonical authors to have been free-wheeling libertines and bohemians.

Speaking of being written nearly sixty years ago – the time capsule quality of this book is positively fascinating. Which I say whenever I read something from before the millennium, but still – the ‘60s are still so profoundly mythologized I do love the chance to see anything written about them at the time, if only for ‘the past as a foreign country’ tourism reasons. The Hollywood of exploration, drug abuse, meaningless sex, vicious gossip and every combination of the above feels like it could almost be written about today, right up until the point where an easy divorce means finding an amenable judge and finding a witness to corroborate the husband’s admission of wanton emotional abuse (which becomes a stark reminder of how horrifying even a historical five minutes ago was when you consider what happens if you can’t meet any of those conditions). The illegal abortions, the utterly casual homophobia, the auteur theory being a hot new thing, the cult of the open road. It all adds up to an interesting effect.

Speaking of the cult of the open road – Maria’s only real sense of peace, happiness and self-control in the entire book is when she’s spending all day cruising the highway at dangerous speeds just for the sake of it, without itinerary or destination. No real coherent point to make, just that there’s something truly and incredibly American about that? The descriptions of the Nevada desert and highways, too.

But yeah, an expertly written novel that’s positively lovely in places (the opening monologue is near-sublime, for example), but not one that really awed or oved me the way some other literature has.

[alaskan-wallflower]

I absolutely loved what you said forever ago about Pony making a small jab at Steve which completely breaks Steve's final straw. Could you maybe go more in depth about that senario?

Thx, you're the best, seriously xx

sure can! and thanks, that’s real sweet <3 sorry if this sucks, Sick Brain is not treating me kindly lmao

adding a cut cause it’s long

honestly the comment could really just be anything—maybe something about steve’s teeth. his height. his hair that day. maybe it’s something about insulting his intelligence or his ability to think on his own. i know pony means no harm, but he can be extremely cruel without really realizing it? he thinks he’s being funny when he’s not always being funny and he’s just horrible at knowing boundaries and facial expressions. if we’re getting ultra specific, maybe ponyboy questions steve’s dedication to soda. maybe insults him by insinuating soda doesn’t like him. whatever it is, it clearly wasn’t funny and instead of rolling his eyes and scoffing like he normally does, steve just punches the closest thing to him—probably either a wall or a table, and he just barely restrains himself from yelling at pony or lashing out phuysicallu. him and soda have been working on controlling his temper a bit better, and soda tells him to walk away when pony’s antagonizing him, which he does.

he probably has a long week—it’s only thursday and he’s slept in his own bed maybe two or three nights. maybe he had to deal with longer work shifts than he could handle. maybe school’s really stressing him out and he has a bunch of things he has to study for. he’s dealing with home issues on top of work conflicts and a busy schedule and school stress and a lack of proper sleep because his car isn’t really a great bed and the lot gets real cold at night, and he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in at least three days…he does not need ponyboy making comments about him or his relationship with his brother. so he goes outside for a smoke and decides to drive around a bit. going fast clears his head and leaves his brain mostly empty, save the sound of the wind and his engine squeaking. he goes nowhere in particular and just pulls over to let it out because everybody needs a good mental release every once in a while, no matter how put together or “strong” they are. he comes back maybe an hour or two later to a guilty looking ponyboy and an exasperated looking sodapop. his hair’s windblown and he looks pissed off like normal, but his eyes are red and there’s clear tear streaks on his cheeks. ponyboy looks even more guilty at that, which makes steve feel bad deep deep down—he knows pony didn’t mean any harm, and he was probably bored and looking for playful banter, but today wasn’t the right day for that, clearly.

steve doesn’t really say much—he doesn’t trust himself to. he just silently squeezes pony’s shoulder before walking up to sodapop’s old room (which might as well be his bedroom at this point with how frequently he sleeps in there) and he doesn’t come down for a long while. he sleeps it off, figuring that he could get at least one problem to go away. him and soda talk about it later—he apologizes for punching a hole through the wall and pays for it, despite repeated insisting from soda that he didn’t need to. he explains what happened and soda assured him that he talked to ponyboy already and gang it wouldn’t happen again. ponyboy even comes in later to apologize. steve doesn’t wanna hear it at first, but soda’s firm hand on his shoulder makes him stay. pony apologizes, and he can see the genuine regret in his eyes. he forgives him because he knows pony was just being a brat and that he didn’t mean to make steve that upset. soda stays with steve in that room that night and makes sure he gets a full night of sleep and an actual meal that’s not just shitty, expired tv dinners or scraps that him and johnny scavenged together from a dumpster.

by the morning he’s back to his normal self, but pony’s subtly more careful about when and where he jokes with steve because he knows steve has a lot on his plate and he just likes teasing him, not making him actually upset to the point he needs to walk out.

hope this is good <3 sorry if it’s not—

[tulipe-rose]

forget I just posted that because I just thought of the funniest skk fic prompt while brooding in bed and scrolling through my dashboard.

Pm skk, but they stay at an abandoned hospital, that surprisingly still has its beds, for the night (organizations like the sheep usually get to them as soon as the place gets abandoned).

They split up to check the place for any threats before meeting back at the main lobby, giving each other the all clear. They're both too weary to actually sleep despite the apparent lack of threat so they decide to pull an all nighter. They take all the mattresses off the beds and stack them on top of each other using Chūya's ability and begin playing some twisted versions of sleepover games like 'never have I ever'. There's always a penalty lmao.

Oh and there's this unspoken competition on who'd fall asleep first. Competitive mfs here.

Chūya begins feeling drowsy from staying put for too long so he abruptly gets up and just casually strolls around in circles until an idea pops into his head and a devilish grin spreads across his face. He heads over to one of the hospital beds and rocks it a little to test its wheels. Mildly rusty but functional enough. nothing his ability can't solve.

Dazai be looking at him and like 'really?' and Chūya smirks back in 'you chickening out?' which ends up with them racing through the halls and down flights of stairs on mattress-less hospital beds, repositioning the mattresses at the bottom to cushion the crash. They head over to the kitchens later and unexpectedly find an ancient radio that seemed to have a small issue where some wires were connected wrong, easy fix for Chūya, who spent most of his life living off scraps and repairing stuff like this all the time. (Dazai thinks it's cool but he'd rather let Mori admit him into therapy than admit it; he can just drive the therapist a little insane and gaslight them into believing Dazai is perfectly fine.)

There's little to no signal in the kitchens (seriously what was this thing doing there in the first place?) so they end up scouring the hospital (they give up 2 minutes and forty seconds in.) for signal until they just head over to the roof, which was full of broken and discarded objects.

They sit at the edge and settle on listening to a punk rock song that was audible enough with the tune being satisfying enough. The light pollution in this part of suribachi city was especially non-existent, so the stars burned brightly, the sky's beauty a sight to behold for Dazai, who didn't see stars all that often given that he was a city boy through and through, and a nostalgic scenery for Chūya, who used to stargaze whenever he had too much to think about. The atmosphere was tranquil, calming even, for a while there.

They spend the last two hours before sunrise sitting there mostly in silence, save for some small talk and the occasional comment about every new song that came on. It was actually nice.

They head out by sunrise, calling Hirotsu up to send them a car once they were out of the broken down area and into familiar Mafia territory.

They go back to the hospital again as twenty two year olds, Chūya having taken the radio with him last time, returns with it, the signal as bad as it was back then. They felt like teenagers again /pos (for them, being a teenager was actual hell so I felt the need to specify that this is a good thing in this case), the place felt more and more nostalgic the longer they strolled through the halls, the mattresses they left, torn up and yellow, exactly the way they left them.

The stars were just as beautiful as they were all those years ago.

[lace-coffin]

hii!! I absolutely love your works ‼️‼️ yummy

//

But I was wondering how Asa Emory would react to a Kid? Around 7-9.

Butttt, Asa comes home from teaching a bunch of kids, gets dressed and goes to the hotel but when he comes in, there’s stuff like missing, other peoples doors / cages open, etc, and there’s like a little kid stuck somewhere (like maybe Asa’s safe room or whatever) and the little kid kinda of just broke into the hotel looking for shelter.

(Like the kids in an abusive family, etc, and has really ripped clothing and a few bruises on their face)

Idk if this is silly, 😭I just wonder how Asa would react to a abused kid breaking into his hotel and being like ‘dis my hotel now’

How would Asa Emory react to a child breaking into his hotel?

Requests are open!

Asa was bone tired. Teaching children will do that to you. Not that anything particularly noteworthy happened, a few tantrums he had to sooth but that was about it, nothing special. Still, teaching kids sucks the energy and maybe your soul out of you.

Children operate on such a different wave length to us and come out with and do things that Asa couldn’t even begin to conceptualise. Today a kid told him “mommy said that my daddy is going to be having a sleep over at his lady friends house from now on, so I get to sleep in the big bed!” And then walked off like it was nothing.

Trudging into his room Asa tugs off his tie, work clothes following soon after, sighing he slings them onto the bed in a heap, he can deal with it later. Usually he would take a shower but considering the work he does it would just be a waste to get clean to get dirty again.

Slamming the door of his white, but mostly grey van due to it being in dire need of a wash, Asa makes his way to the front entrance of the hotel.

Immediately he can tell something is wrong, the door is still locked as he left it but the bordered up window has a gaping hole across two of the planks, most likely rammed in on the spots that were weakened by weathering.

The gap was maybe large enough for a lanky adult to squeeze through, maybe a child? It definitely wasn’t the police, there would be cop cars and way more fanfare. Looters maybe? If it was looters then there’s a chance the traps inside had taken care of the issue already. It’s not like they’d find anything of value, well anything of monetary value, he’s not sure criminals would consider his collection as valuable as he does.

Steeling his nerves he enters the building, hand readied at his pocket knife clipped to the ring on his belt, it’s unlikely anyone would manage to get the jump on him in his own hotel but it’s always good to be prepared. After darting around corners cautiously he makes it to the control room, something of a safe room almost, before pausing.

Ah, a child. Stood defensively just beyond the door is a dirtied looking child, skin unclean and clothes having seen better days. He defiantly has some guts breaking into here of all places, or maybe it’s just desperation? It looks like the child may not have anywhere to go or atleast doesn’t have a safe home environment. Ok, get the kid to safety and then he’s out of Asa’s (lack of lol) hair. He’s pretty sure all his subjects are secured and in there cages but he can never be too sure what happens overnight when he leaves so it’s best to be hasty. He works with kids all day, he can do this.

He can’t do this. Admittedly the kid probably has a lot going on but they’re a nightmare. So far they’ve kicked and hit whenever Asa approached, attempted to bolt from the locked room, and declared “this my hotel now” to an unamused collector. Eventually they come to a truce, finally managing to subdue the kid with fruit slices and the promise of taking them to the authorities. As much as he doesn’t want the police snooping around here it’s not like he can leave the kid in the cold like this. Asa’s going to have to drive to a random street and essentially lie about where and how he found the kid.

Lord help this man.