#my very own bingo chart

[yuriskies]

A fun element to Otherside Picnic vol 8 (spoilers ahead after the break, if you're still planning to read it) is an easter egg about the location of Toriko's apartment. Actually, "easter egg" might be underselling it a bit; it has a huge amount of thematic relevance to Toriko's character. So here's the easter egg: if you follow Sorawo's description of her path to Toriko's apartment, you can actually find the building on Google Maps.

The train arrived in Nippori. Pushed by the rush of people, I got off, went down the stairs, and out the gate. I climbed the hill, out of breath, in the unrelenting rain. The wall of a graveyard continued along the left-hand side. Turning onto a side street at the top of the hill, I could see Toriko’s apartment in the middle of a residential area ...the building uses an autolock system... Getting off on the fourth floor, I headed into the hallway. The town I could see over the chest-high wall was misty in the rain.

The fun thing about this is that Sorawo's narration is just specific enough to follow along. In a way, it's an invitation to the reader to imitate Sorawo. Prior to the events of the series, she spent time tracking down the sites of ghost stories from the minor details that leaked into their narration. Tracking down where the weirdness happened placed it in context; stories from the edge of reality seem more reliable when the reality can be charted.

So, let's do it. Sorawo mentions a graveyard wall - this can only be Yanaka Graveyard, located on the west side of Nippori Station. Yanaka is located on the former grounds of the Tenno-ji Buddhist temple, and is one of Tokyo's largest cemetaries by area. It is the resting site of the final Tokugawa Shogun, as well as a who's who of Meiji-era academics, literati, and government officials.

The road along the north edge of Yanaka Graveyard goes up a steep hill, and where it reaches the top, a side road splits off on the left to go into a residential area. Going into street view shows that all of the buildings along this road are only two or three stories tall, except for a building at the very back. It's four stories tall. The building has an auto lock system at the front door, and chest high walls along the hallways to the apartments. Bingo.

The fun part of this is the name of the apartment complex: 山口マンション (Yamaguchi [Mountain Gate] Mansion).

The first part of the thematic relevance here is its relationship to Satsuki's monologue about being brought into the Otherside.

"What happens to the people who don't return?" "Who knows? They probably die, right?" "Life and death aren't the issue. Once you get to that point, that is." My brow furrowed. "What do you think mountains are made of?" Satsuki asked, smiling. "Trees and stuff?" I said without putting much thought into it. When I thought of mountains, the image that came to mind for me was the mountains of my home prefecture, Akita, covered in green. "If trees were sapient, they wouldn't think of themselves as a mountain. Only as a single tree. It's the same concept. People who go into the mountains, regardless of their mental state, are still people. But the wind that blows through the trees. The rocks. The birds. Every speck of rock covering the bedrock. The beasts, hiding in their dens. The ancient mollusks, sleeping in a geologic fold. The morning dew in a spider's web. The bacteria and microorganisms in the soil, breaking down the body. None of these individual constituting elements is the mountain on its own, yet the mountain is made up of them. So it is for those called by the mountain. Living or dead." She raised her hand, pointing all five fingers at herself. "That is how it is for me." Uncurling her fingers, she pointed at me. "That is how it is for you."

This "mountain gate" connection also ties back to Sorawo's previous visit to Toriko's apartment in File 4, where she opened the door to the apartment and encountered the ultrablue void of the Otherside. Thematically, this places Toriko's apartment at the interface between the surface world and the Otherside. The back of the building also abuts Yanaka Graveyard, and so thematically, also forms an interface between life and death.

Sorawo touches on this latter theme in the back half of File 26, when Toriko forces herself on Sorawo in her parents' bedroom. Sorawo becomes profoundly uncomfortable - equally, if not more disturbed by her surroundings than Toriko's behavior. After relocating to Toriko's bedroom, Sorawo realizes the following:

This home was a grave, and Toriko the crypt keeper—that's the image that I was getting. The sudden feeling of resistance I'd felt when we were in the bedroom might have come from that mental association. Even if it weren't the place where her parents had once slept, it was almost like flirting in front of a Buddhist altar. After entering Toriko's room, I finally got it. This room has color. It's the room of a living person.

Toriko's bedroom forms a small bubble of life in an otherwise dead house. The interface between life and death isn't simply close to Toriko's living space, it is actively defined by it. This ties in closely to Toriko's character, given that she's admitted her pushiness to do relationship things in the Otherside is driven by a fear of loss. Her mothers suddenly died, and Satsuki suddenly vanished. All she has left of them is her cherished memories, and she wants to form those memories with Sorawo, just in case.

Another element in play here is Sorawo's relationship to the Otherside. At multiple points in the series, the Otherside seems to suddenly draw closer when Sorawo gets stressed out with her thoughts about her relationship with Toriko. The most obvious example is in the hot springs when the mannequins appear immediately after Sorawo feels backed into a corner with Toriko's "cute boobs" comment, but those fears are also linked to Hasshaku-sama (both times the entity appears as Sorawo contemplates jealousy and the possibility that Toriko will be taken from her), Satsuki's surface world appearance (Kozakura implying Sorawo is manifesting Satsuki through her jealous fixation), the the love hotel girls' party (the lion dancers appear as Sorawo is trying to avoid a romantic bath with Toriko), and Satsuki's appearance in vol 7 (when Sorawo is considering where she would be without Toriko). In a sense, the terrifying aspects of the Otherside to Sorawo are closely related to the terrifying aspects of a defined relationship with Toriko.

One puzzle piece in play is a conversation from vol 7, as Sorawo, Kozakura, and Toriko are figuring out their approach to exorcize Satsuki. They discuss the concept of "atmosphere" and its ability to transmit emotions, particularly fear, and explore ways to change that atmosphere. Toriko mentions that she's mostly heard ghost stories where sex changes the atmosphere. Sorawo then elaborates to a doubtful Kozakura with the following:

No, it's true. There's stories where they were in a real bad situation, but then they started saying all sorts of lewd things and they survived. I don't tend to say that ghosts are this way or that, but sex is the source of life, so that makes it the polar opposite of ghosts, which belong to the world of the dead... At least, there's that sort of reasoning. It's an idea that's been around since ancient times.

Sorawo also goes on to mention that in some situations, the atmosphere can be overwritten, but in others, these attempts only reinforce it more strongly.

The thing about ghost stories is that for all its other indiscretions, it's an elegant genre in strange ways. There's not a lot of bawdy stories in it. Maybe that's because if you're trying to scare someone, and then sexual elements get involved, it hurts the atmosphere. Anyway, I only brought up the sex stuff as an example of how the atmosphere can get changed. It's too weak to be her weakness. There's some real nasty ghost stories with sexual elements, and there are people who've had scary experiences at love hotels.

All of these concepts start to interweave with one another when the two relocate to Toriko's bedroom. Sorawo immediately notices a change in Toriko's demeanor.

Her expression looked uneasy, without composure. She wanted me, but also feared rejection. Despite the way she'd been breathing heavily through her nose as she led me here by the hand, now Toriko was just standing there awkwardly. As if once she'd dragged me into her room she didn't know what to do anymore. Maybe as we entered what remained of the domain of the living inside this house of the dead, Toriko had come back to life.

This scene firmly links Toriko's fear of the Otherside (death) to Sorawo's fear of the Otherside (relationships). In her moms' bedroom, Toriko had been demanding, frustrated, and angry - the malicious emotional states traditionally occupied by spirits in ghost stories! However, she settles down when she enters her own bedroom. For Sorawo, passing through this interface changes Toriko from an unknowable force who inspires fear into a very human entity with whom she can sit down and discuss the uncomfortable topic of sex. In turn, this allows Toriko to an explore an aspect of their relationship that she views as fundamentally life-affirming. After this scene their Othersides are no longer totally different, or inspire mind-numbing terror, but are now operating on a common logic.

The concept of an atmosphere comes up again just after their first try at sex. Toriko has finally found a turn-on for Sorawo, and Sorawo describes the feeling in the same analytical voice she uses for ghost stories.

Until mere moments ago, our nakedness had been no more than that. Just another awkward state of undress, like when we got in the bath. Not anymore. My nudity, and Toriko's, took on entirely new meaning. One little switch inside of me got flipped, and it caused a startlingly dramatic change in my perception. It was mystifying how, as that change occurred, it swallowed up the entire atmosphere of the scene, including Toriko. Stuff like this can happen... I thought in a daze. The room was dominated by my lust which had suddenly materialized. As it overlapped with Toriko's desire, the atmosphere inside the room became something kind of extraordinary.

Prior to their second go at sex, Sorawo and Toriko take a moment to talk over their last remaining fears about sex - using their Otherside-altered body parts on one another. They come to the mutual realization that they have both been afraid of harming one another, but not of being harmed by the other. This last discussion is important, because it totally diffuses their fears around sexuality prior to indulging it. So as they travel into the deepest reaches of the Otherside, they have total trust and intimacy with one another - and an absolute lack of fear relating to what the Otherside represents to them.

The color of the calm world was blue. As we whorled together, intertwining, the ultrablue abyss spread out endlessly beneath us. We didn't fear it. Because this was our place. No one was watching us. No one knew we were here. We were the only ones watching, and the only ones who knew. So the only things Toriko and I have to fear are each other.

"Was it just me who wasn't that scared?" "Nah, it was the same for me. Everything around us was blue, but it wasn't scary." "I wonder why?" "I dunno, maybe because we were on the side that scared people?" Toriko got a mystified look on her face when I said that. "The side that scared people? You mean the Otherside's side?" "We weren't human anymore, were we, Toriko? When we were there." "...Yeah." Toriko suddenly moved closer to me and chomped down on my ear.

So to bring this full circle, this is why I love this particular easter egg, and Otherside Picnic in general. The setting is treated as an important aspect of the story, and it is carefully chosen for its emotional content and thematic relevance. Toriko's apartment isn't just some random place in an upscale neighborhood of Tokyo. It's a fundamental part of who Toriko is as a person. It's a location that lends a huge amount of thematic subtext to Otherside Picnic as a relationship story, and to the reader's interpretation of the Otherside.

Is it a metaphor for death? For queerness? For our ability to truly bridge the gap in understanding between self and non-self? The reader is invited to imitate Sorawo, and in doing so, finds a treasure trove of understanding. The little rush of discovery shows us what keeps Sorawo interested in exploring a totally alien world and trying to understand its workings.

Miyazawa's writing actively rewards readers for engaging with every little bit of the story, and it really tickles the analytical part of my brain.

[midnight-mama]

More thoughts I had after EP 4

Spoiler Warning

●My Sage Headcanon was confirmed. Yay. I thought she had an overall healing factor(like Kimiko), but it being just for her brain makes sense, too. Now I wonder how many times she's done this??

●Okay, so.....I know Firecracker's not gonna get fired. But if Homelander let's that nasty bitch near Ryan, I'm burning down Vought Tower. Fuck her nasty ass. Sleeping with a 15 year old when you're a grown ass woman is disgusting. The one thing Annie did right was beating her ass.

●I know Homelander is a fucked up guy. And Being real, There is no changing that. If he were a real man, I would want him dead. But he's not so Imma give him his damn flowers. Those Scientists were SICK. I understand that he was a very dangerous child but....C'mon. Nicknaming him Squirt and laughing at him for....His teenage boy activies? Making a height chart for him like yall was family? Emotionally and physically manipulating him? Jesus.

●Butcher, having a version of Mirrorlander(Ghost Becca?), was not on my Bingo card. I know she appeared before Episode 4, but whatever.

●I love Frenchie....But I don't feel bad. No one should. He was being messy as fuck and should have left Collin the fuck alone. Now it's all Ansty and....Fuck I love that.

●Butcher Titties

●Is....there version of American more conservative than our own?? Like Annie is losing popularity within Canon, but it feels like the opposite should happen. Like she might not get more favor from the opposite side, but her own would rally against Firecracker even harder.

●MM/Butcher isn't a thing? Okay, but why? Yall will ship damn near everything and not this?? I mean- it's giving Mom and Dad energy. I said what I said.

●I hope Ryan's okay.

●I want to hug Kimiko. She's really struggling with everything, and she doesn't really have time to open up about it these last few episodes. She also seems to be struggling with opening up still as well.

[yuk-tepat]

Completing the Writing System

Well, sort of. But it’s good enough!

One of my goals for Lexember was to finally finish fleshing out the writing system. I did, although the cleanup and tweaking and stitching together loose ends extended a month into the New Year. I finished.

Until now, there were (possible) words in Yuk Tepat that couldn’t be spelled, but now it is possible to write anything by combining semantic and phonetic signs.

Above is a bunch of glyphs that can be used for phonetic value.

The whole chart depicts a range of onsets, codas, and combinations encompassing the range of syllable types in Yuk Tepat. I originally intended to fill all the squares like a bingo card. I didn’t fill it out completely. While not every syllable type has its own representation, each of them is only one degree of separation from another syllable that DOES have a sign.

By this I mean that any syllable without its own sign could be changed into a syllable with a symbol by a change of one phonetic feature.

For example, there is no sign representing /lʌj/, but /lɯj/ does have a sign. There is only one different phoneme, and /ɯ/ differs from /ʌ/ only in being high instead of low, so /lɯj/ is ‘close enough’ to work for /lʌj/.

This is very reasonable, and not too different from the ambiguity in many real writing systems. How many different sounds can English <e> make? Since Tepatic glyphs are logographic, semantic determiners can disambiguate the near-homophones.

Of course, this took years and years, and looking back I see now how I could have finished this years earlier, but whatever. I didn’t really understand how this worked when I started.

There could be, and will, be more glyphs created in the future. Most will be compound glyphs. As for ‘basic’ glyphs, the component parts, no more need be created. I may still make more if some good ones arise. But I don’t need to make anymore.There’s always more work to be done in the realm of “possible.” But also joy in fulfilling crucial criteria for a language and passing a milestone. I’m happy to say “I made” the writing system.

[tsisisail]

Made my own little bingo chart of my weirdly specific drawtectives predictions (although I’m gonna be real some of these are just me very blatantly hoping and praying for my preferred outcome)

Inspired by @tara-maclays-gf ‘s bingo chart

[drabbles-mc]

Speaking Volumes

Brian Godlock x F!Reader

Inspired by @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo prompt: spending xmas alone

Warnings: 18+, angst, hospitals, blood/injury

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: There was no way that I was going to be able to watch Silent Night and not want to write a story about it. So here we are! Getting out of my comfort zone with this and I had sooooo much fun with this. I feel like I already want to write more for Brian and this Reader but we shall see. Anyway! Enjoy. 😌

No one had stepped up to try and stop you when you had offered to work Christmas Eve. Usually it was a lot more of a fight to get enough people volunteering to staff the hospital for the holidays. Or, at least, that’s what you’d been told. It was your first round of holidays in La Porte—you’d only moved there a couple months before. But it seemed pretty similar to the other hospitals that you’d worked in, in that regard. Volunteers were always preferable, and if there weren’t enough then they would start drawing short straws.

Christmas hadn’t been your favorite holiday in a long time, and being in a new city with no real friends yet, far away from what little family you still considered yourself close with, certainly didn’t do anything to revitalize your holiday spirit. Work didn’t really stop you from being alone on Christmas in that way. Work didn’t bring your family closer, it didn’t magically give you friends and make you close with your coworkers. What it did do, however, was give you something to do. A task. It made you feel useful. That would have to suffice until this time next year.

You were up to your nose in discharge paperwork, patients who were eager to make it home just in time for Christmas Eve. Some of them were leaving even when they probably shouldn’t have been, but there was nothing that you could do to stop them. You’d see some of them again soon, maybe even before New Years came around. Some of them you tried to convince to stay, but deep down you knew that they weren’t going to listen. You were used to that, too.

While the entire night wasn’t filled with chaos, you found yourself waiting for it anyway. There were more empty beds than there had been at the start of the day, and you were waiting for the inevitable call that would fill them all again. That was the cycle of it. The fact that it was a holiday didn’t really matter, per se, but it always felt different around the holidays. It felt more different this year when your patients were going to be the only ones that you were spending Christmas Eve with.

Just as you were finishing up notes on one of your patients that hadn’t been discharged, you heard the call. You heard the rushed footsteps. Doing one last look-over to make sure your patient was alright, you snapped their chart closed before taking off in the same direction that everyone else was going.

“What do we got?” you asked as you kept pace with the doctor who had headed off first, leaning forward just a little bit, so you could hear her answer above all the other background noise that was crinkling in your ear.

“Another shoot-out.” She kept her answers with you short and clear, or at least always tried to, which you appreciated. You never had to ask her to do it, either, and she was never condescending about it. She wasn’t warm and friendly with you, or seemingly anyone, but she was kind in a very professional way.

You were shaking your head, not at the way that she answered you but about what her answer was. The world didn’t stop for the holidays. Unfortunately, just like the hospital, crime was a business that operated all 365 days of the year. Kept you busy enough but sometimes you wished that it didn’t. “Jesus,” you muttered, more to yourself than to the doctor.

Apparently you’d said it louder than you meant to, not always the best at dialing in your own volume. You wouldn’t have noticed it if the doctor hadn’t also responded to you. It got lost in the increased volume of the sirens as the two of you came to a stop outside the door where the ambulances were rolling up.

“What?” you asked, unsure if what she’d said was something that you needed to know.

She turned so that she was looking directly at you, so that you were able to read her lips as she spoke. “Said I don’t think Jesus had anything to do with this.”

You didn’t have any good rebuttal for that. She was probably right. The two of you stood in silence as the ambulances came to a stop, the paramedics inside them instantly piling out. You were so busy looking at the two men that were being wheeled out on their gurneys. Neither of them looked like they were in good shape, but you were so busy looking at them that you forgot to look at the medics as they spoke. Their words became part of the static of the scene, the aid you were wearing only able to filter through so much. You were internally cursing yourself for not paying attention, but regardless you knew that you were still on deck to help. You knew enough about how it all went go get you through until you could talk to the doctor. Stepping towards the gurney closest to you, you tagged in and pushed it into the ER.

From the second you came to a halt in the ER, you were dialed in. The cacophony of noise and static got hard to sift through sometimes, but every now and then you could tune it out. There was a certain element of routine to gunshot wounds and stab wounds which helped. Care varied slightly depending on where the injuries were, how bad they were, but there was a series of steps that had to be followed for all of them. You could do that part of it without issue, without any dragged-out discussion that you had to maneuver through.

One of the two men brought in was a cop. You’d caught someone saying that at one point during the entire process. You hadn’t managed to catch any tidbits about the other man, though. And even though no one had said which one of the patients was the police officer, you had a feeling it wasn’t the man that you were currently peeling the clothing off of. Sure, he might’ve had a bulletproof vest on, but something still didn’t say cop to you. It didn’t matter. Cop or criminal or anything in between he still needed bullets pulled out of him and stitches put in and probably a handful of other things you wouldn’t know about until later.

You were working in tandem with the doctors who were staffing the ER for the night. You didn’t know them quite as well since the ER wasn’t typically where you worked most of the time, but you at least knew of them. You had no idea if they also knew of you, too.

You hadn’t heard what the other doctors and nurses had been saying about the other patient, but what you did hear was the monotonous single note that came with someone flatlining. You looked up just long enough to make sure it wasn’t your guy. When you saw the weak but still present rhythm on the monitor, you looked back over your shoulder. You saw the team trying desperately to get the man’s heart to beat. Even though you didn’t know what exact injuries he’d come in with, there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that was telling you there was nothing that they were going to be able to do to bring him back. The other doctor was too far away for you to be able to read his lips but you saw him looking at the clock on the wall and you knew exactly what he was saying regardless. You didn’t want to have to be doing the same for your patient so you dove right back in.

He was shipped off to surgery quickly once you did your initial check and they got an operating room ready. There was nothing that they needed from you for him at that point. You stayed out on the floor, checked back in on your other patients. When he came back out of surgery, if he made it back out of surgery, then he’d be your responsibility again.

You were watching the doors to the wing of operating rooms swing closed when you thought you heard someone behind you talking to you. Turning around, you saw another doctor standing there, jacket on with her bag on her shoulder. She looked at you expectantly and you knew you’d missed the question.

“Sorry, what?”

She nodded towards the doors that were now shut. “Was that Brian?”

You shook your head. “I, um, I don’t know. He didn’t…didn’t come in with any ID.” You paused, taking in the pensive look on her face. “Who’s Brian?”

“Godlock,” she said, like it sufficed as any kind of real answer. When she saw that you were still lost, her eyes widened. “Right. You weren’t here last—” She stopped herself short. “This time last year he came in. Multiple gunshot wounds. Just lost his son. It was…horrible.”

“Oh…” You were sure that you were supposed to have something to say and you just didn’t.

You weren’t sure if she was talking to you or herself when she said, “He’ll make it.” She nodded, still not looking at you. “He made it last time. He’ll make it this time.”

She didn’t say anything else to you, or to the powers that be. No goodbye, no Happy Holidays or anything of the sort. She just kept on walking, leaving you alone once again. You turned your attention back to the closed doors. Brian. You turned the name over in your head as you thought about what he looked like. He might’ve been a Brian. Sighing, you turned and made your way back to the main floor to keep busy while you waited. You’d find out if he was Brian or not soon enough.

It turned out that the doctor on her way out the door had been right. The man who you helped wheel into the ER was in fact Brian Godlock. A name that meant nothing to you but all it took was a quick Google search to see why she would have remembered him. You thought that you were spending Christmas alone, but you couldn’t even imagine what it was going to be like for him.

When you made it to his room in your rounds, he was asleep. Stable, thankfully, but asleep. You checked his vitals, looked over what exactly they’d done to him in the OR, the extent of the work that they had to put into him. It was a waiting game now.

Just as you were updating his charts you saw out of the corner of your eye some movement on the bed. A tiny shift, but it was something. Turning your head, you saw him slowly starting to shift around, his eyes starting to open. You set his chart down and walked over so that you were standing closer to his head. Part of you wanted to reach out and try to offer some type of reassurance, but you didn’t. You watched him slowly come to terms with where he was. His eyelids hung low for a moment as he looked around, but when he fully recognized where he was and why, you saw him starting to get frantic. A lot of people in his position usually did.

“Brian,” you did your best to be mindful of your tone, your volume, “Brian you’re alright. You’re in the hospital, but you’re okay.” You waited for him to look you in the eyes, and it was only then that you continued. “You’re okay.”

He hesitated, staring at you for a few seconds that felt more like minutes. But then you saw it, the slight drop of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible nod of his head. You didn’t know him well enough to know if it was out of compliance or defeat. He wasn’t relaxed, not by any means, but at least he no longer looked like he was about to get up and try to make a break for it. He sunk back against the pillow and you gave a nod of approval.

“Want me to call your wife?” you asked as you stepped back to grab his chart again. When he didn’t respond, you looked over at him, saw the confusion on his face. Nodding towards the gold band around his finger you said, “You didn’t have anyone as an emergency contact, so we didn’t call anyone. But if you give me your wife’s number I can call her.”

He shook his head. You didn’t feel the expression your face must’ve taken on, but whatever it was, it prompted him to motion at you, miming writing with a pencil. Opening the drawer of the cabinet by his bed, you pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and handed it to him. He nodded in thanks as he took it from you. The breath he pulled in was ragged as he found his grip on the pencil and began to write. He wasn’t holding onto it for very long before he handed the pad of paper back to you.

I can’t talk.

Your eyes widened as you shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t had the chance to read all the way back in your chart.” Clearing your throat, you handed the pad back to him and said, “I can still call your wife if you want.”

He scribbled again. No you can’t.

The look on his face didn’t give you any clue as to why you couldn’t call. Whether he was divorced or if it was something much more tragic than that, you didn’t know. You weren’t going to ask him, either. He’d clearly been through enough without you trying to drag all of that out of him.

“You can’t talk,” you said, allowing yourself a small smile, “and I can’t hear. So I think we’ll be alright.” Looking over at him, you saw the way his brows drew together. You chuckled, turning your head a little more so that he could see your ear and your hearing aid a little better. “Been deaf in my left ear my whole life. Right ear has just been getting worse and worse.” You shrugged. “I learned sign—still learning, actually. It might be helpful for you too.”

He hesitated, and you caught it. You frowned, but you understood. You knew precious little about the man lying on the bed in front of you, but what little you knew gave you enough of a picture. You didn’t know all of the details of what he’d been through that night, but you knew the outcome, the injuries. You knew what happened to his son, and now you knew that something happened with him and his wife. Something was telling you that he hadn’t gone into the evening really planning on needing to communicate with anyone anytime soon.

“Help,” you said simply when you saw in his eyes that he was getting lost in his own thoughts. He looked at you, confused once more. “It’s a good sign for you to know for now.” You put one hand out, palm-up, and made a thumbs-up with your other hand and placed it in your flat palm before lifting both hands in unison. “Help.” You nodded at him. “Try it.”

For a moment you thought that he was going to brush you off. You wouldn’t have blamed him for it. He didn’t know you, didn’t owe you anything. But right now you were all he had, and he was all you had too. Maybe that was part of why he humored you, or maybe there was something else entirely going on in his head. Either way, he mirrored your hand positioning and motions.

You smiled and nodded. “Good. Now you at least know how to ask me for help.”

He nodded, almost lifting the ends of his lips. It was more than you expected to get from someone in his position. He grabbed the pad of paper again and wrote Thank you.

You pressed your fingertips to the front of your chin before pulling them away, letting your arm drop like a drawbridge. “Thank you.” You paused, laughing. “Not to be confused with, you know,” you brushed your fingertips along the bottom of your chin, flicking them outwards, “that one.” You smiled. “That one, everyone knows.”

The smile he gave at that looked a little more real. Still tired, but real enough to make it feel like a win, like a good punctuation mark to the entire conversation. You took a breath and walked back to put the last few details on his chart.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a little while. But,” you set the chart down at looked at him, “you should try to rest. You’ve been through a lot tonight.”

He gave a small nod before pressing his fingertips to the front of his chin and pulling them out and away. You laughed, nodding before stepping out of the room to go about the rest of your business.

The rest of the night wasn’t nearly as busy as when Brian had been brought in. There were no more ambulances and flashing lights. No more sirens. It was quieter for the rest of the night than it had been, but it wasn’t as still as the start of your shift had been. You glanced in Brian’s room when you would walk by even though you couldn’t stop to really check in yet. He always looked like he was sleeping. His eyes were shut.

When you finally made it back to his room, it was with an armful of paperwork. It all had to get done and there was nothing stopping you from completing it while you sat in the chair beside his bed instead of the chair at the nurses’ station.

You didn’t hear him when he started to stir again. You were so focused on the paperwork in your lap that you didn’t catch him out of the corner of your eye, either. Brian could’ve waved to get your attention, could’ve cleared his throat obnoxiously loud as a means to the same ends. Hell, if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown his pencil at you. But instead he just watched you. Watched as you scribbled on the clipboard in front of you, flipping back and forth between the pages. Watched as you gnawed at your bottom lip in concentration, deep in thought.

It wasn’t until you were moving on from one small pile of papers to the next that you looked up and realized that he was awake. You gasped quietly in surprise, eyes widening. Your shocked gasp shifted into laughter as you leaned back in your chair. “Sorry,” you said as you placed your closed fist against your chest and made a circular motion. “Didn’t realize you were awake.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly before tapping his ear with his pointer finger. You rolled your eyes and smiled, knowing exactly what he was communicating to you without him speaking or writing it down. “I know why I didn’t realize it. I’m just saying.” You were about to get back into your paperwork when you saw him copy your sign for sorry. You would have assumed that he was just repeating your motions for the sake of learning if the look on his face hadn’t been so sincere. “Why are you sorry?”

He grabbed the paper and pencil and started writing. He held it up for you to see, his handwriting just large enough so that you didn’t have to take it from him to read it. You’re here on Christmas.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t be sorry. Wasn’t really, um, feeling the holiday spirit much anyway.” You paused. “I volunteered.” Leaning forward, you propped your elbows on your knees. “Lucky for you, though, right?” It was impossible to miss the conflicted look on his face. Letting out a sigh, you said, “I’m not going to ask what happened tonight. Partially because it’s probably a lot to write,” you allowed yourself a tiny smile before continuing, “but also because you’re going to have to answer all of those questions when the cops get here in the morning.” The surprised look on his face would have been amusing if the stakes were different. “Gunshot wounds—they always have to come when there are gunshot wounds.”

He let out a deep sigh, somehow managing to sink deeper into the hospital bed, into the pillow. He shut his eyes for a moment, a long, slow blink before he stared ahead at the wall opposite of him. You thought you’d lost him for the rest of the night before he grabbed his pencil again.

You don’t have to sit here all night.

You smiled, allowing the diversion of the conversation. “I know. But we’re both alone on Christmas. So now, you know,” you settled back in your chair with a fresh slip of paperwork, “now we’re not.”

Despite all of the emotions pooling and swirling around his eyes, he nodded. He moved his pencil for a moment, almost like he was about to start writing. He stared hard at the paper for a few seconds before he let the pencil drop. He looked at the blank sheet of paper for a moment longer before he turned and looked at you instead.

You gave him a small but warm smile as he looked at you, not sure what else you could offer him, or should offer him. It wasn’t much, but it must’ve been the right thing because he let out a deep breath, settling down a bit more. He was still looking at you when you went back to looking at the paper in front of you. You found yourself settling a little bit more too, feeling a little less alone than before.

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo - Hospital

Wednesday was already on the edge of sending someone to the Jericho Memorial Hospital, Weems was pushing her luck by assigning her to play her cello, without even the courtesy of allowing her to practice, at Outreach Day with the Jericho High Pep Band.

The Amazonian woman added insult to injury when she was assigned to read to sick patients at the hospital.

Wednesday didn’t quite understand the insult until she got there, and she was assigned to the coma ward.

It was bad enough that people were myopic, small-minded idiots who would cross the street rather than pass her by. Now they thought she was so ill-fit for human interaction that they wanted her to read to people who weren’t conscious.

There was a macabre sense of hopelessness to the coma ward, she had to admit and felt more at ease there than at Nevermore.

It was as quiet as the morgue with the exception of the beeps and whirls of machines that kept the patients alive. She walked deftly through the hall, her hard shoes against the linoleum almost echoing as very few inhabited the ward, even fewer visited.

She was surprised to see her roommate’s crush sitting next to the bed of a boy their age, hooked up to IV lines and looked so pale he was almost an Addams. Ajax was quietly speaking to the boy, perhaps hoping some part of him could hear him.

Wednesday looked down at her assignment and at the name on the chart.

Xavier Thorpe

She thought the name seemed familiar, but it eluded her where she had heard it.

She was in the right room, what was Ajax doing there?

“Did they double assign us to the same patient?” she asked quietly when Ajax didn’t notice her standing there.

He almost jumped, surprised that someone would come as he was the only one that visited Xavier.

“No…I…I just come by whenever I get the chance to come to town,” he stood up and stuttered to her, slightly afraid of the new girl who had a reputation before she stepped foot in Jericho and only got worse as time went on.

She chose to ignore that he stood protectively between the bedridden and herself, she almost rolled her eyes at his fear.

What challenge or point would it be to attack someone in a coma?

“What happened to him?” she recognized him from a memorial table set up at Nevermore in the foyer once she got closer and could see his face. It was one of the first things she saw when she first stepped foot into Nevermore. A photo of Xavier surrounded by flowers and candles.

Her loquacious roommate had spoken too fast for her to take in what happened, but she had guessed he had died, but apparently, she was wrong.

“He was found severely beaten last Outreach day…he hasn’t woken up in a year.”

Unfortunately, attacks on Outcasts were not that uncommon across the States. She was a little surprised, however, that it had happened so close to the school.

“What happened to the attackers?” she was hoping to hear a rather bloody revenge story.

She was disappointed.

“They were never found,” it was the first time Wednesday had seen the normally calm and flighty Gorgon actually sound angry.

“Everyone knows who did it, but he was found alone and all the boys were each other’s alibis,” He explained when she raised a questioning eyebrow. “It doesn’t help that one of them is the son of the mayor and another is the son of the sheriff.”

Wednesday understood perfectly what happened. Although it was not revealed in her face or demeanor, she loathed bullies and was particularly in a rage that such a heinous attack had occurred with no repercussions.

“He’s my best friend,” he said, almost shrinking into himself. “I just…hate to see him like this…I hate that he’s been hurt.”

She could tell he was all but begging her not to be another person to hurt his friend.

“I’m not the monster you all think I am,” she said coldly, and Ajax had flinched.

As he scurried away, she got herself comfortable and took out a book. It was her own novel, she figured she may as well read him something he definitely has never heard before.

She was a few chapters into the adventures of Viper de la Muerte, and she couldn’t help but notice his hands. There was a peripheral line placement in his hand, but otherwise he had strong, long fingers that she had an urge to touch.

She looked around and saw there was no one around and placed her own hand gently onto his.

An artist’s hands.

She literally had no other way of knowing that other than her own instinctual opinion.

Her gift of Sight kicked in and proved she was right.

She saw him standing in front of a wall with a freshly painted mural. He looked particularly proud of himself, as it was a gorgeous rendering of a raven in flight. It was probably meant to be an homage to the school, but she almost gasped as it was a raven she had seen in her dreams.

She swallowed hard and blinked rapidly when the vision version of Xavier looked her dead in the eye as if he could see her, which had never happened to her in a vision before.

Before he could say anything to her, four boys, two she recognized as the ones Ajax had mentioned, had brutally attacked him, and left him broken and bleeding. One of the cans of paint he had been using had been thrown at the mural, ruining all of Xavier’s hard work.

Wednesday was brought back to the hospital, and she had her proof of who attacked him.

Not that it would do me any good.

She had no doubt that her vision would be mocked and ignored. Weems would do nothing as she was the Normie’s lapdog, and from her own time in Normie High Schools, boys like Lucas and Tyler closed ranks when accused of abuse.

No, if she wanted justice for Xavier, she would have to do it herself.

She was good at getting revenge.

Weems was happy to hear that Wednesday wanted to continue to do her volunteer work at the hospital, so she was allowed to read to Xavier every weekend. She and Ajax switched off, and her care for his friend had warmed him to her.

If the sudden almost fatal injuries to the four he suspected had attacked his best friend, he didn’t say anything.

“Carter had an unfortunately fall down several flights of stairs…in a building with only two stories, it was odd,” she told him in a soothing cadence. The staff at the hospital thought she was still reading from a book, but instead she was telling him of her own fun adventures. “I believe the doctor had used the words ‘pulverized’ and ‘the worst open fractures’ they had ever seen. One of the nurse’s vomited when he was wheeled into the ER.”

Wednesday took the continuous beeping as a “job well done,” and continued on.

“Jonah…well, lets say some Normie’s just can’t hold their arsenic.”

“Lucas and Tyler are unfortunately well connected, and their fathers aren’t as incompetent as I would have hoped. They’re no longer in Jericho and probably put two and two together that someone is getting revenge. They can’t make accusations on Outcasts without putting attention on why someone would want revenge on them, so they’re keeping quiet of their suspicions. While they have power in this Podunk town, Addamses have the ultimate power, the true power in the States…money. I promise, no matter where they go, no matter where they try to hide, they’ll pay for what they did.”

She placed a gentle hand on his, hoping he could feel her sincerity. Part of her also hoped that he could feel the psychopathy and enjoyment she was getting out of this, and that it comforted him that his attackers were getting exactly what they deserved from the one person who could make all their nightmares come true.

Wednesday felt a bolt of warmth and electricity shoot through her body, as if she had been struck by lightning from a raging storm.

All the equipment in the room had buzzed and exploded, sparks filling the air like a star filled night. The lights went out and the room became hazy from the small electrical fires.

In the dimness, she could see Xavier move and for the first time in over a year, his beautiful green eyes opened.

There she was, the girl of his dreams. The Raven who guided him through the darkness and brought peace to his nightmares.

“Does Viper ever find who stole the body from the morgue?” was his first question, his voice raspy from disuse.

Wednesday almost blushed and gave a small smile, glad that he liked her story.

Card under cut

[mayberrycryptid]

pix credit is @tailsticks on instagram. please keep credit if reblogging!

Mr. Pickles agrees - March 10th should be Hawaii Five-0 Day!!!

Which means we have roughly 100 days until we celebrate Steve’s birthday AND our awesome show! 🤙🍤❤️🤙🍤

I’m gonna throw out some ideas and see what the Hawaii Five-Ohana wants to do?

also, also - I’m either super organized or a complete mess (my disabilty comes with its own randomizer chart. yay!!!) so I will do my best to keep posting reminders—but y’all have been warned😂😂😂

I know other fandoms have re-watch parties. We could watch the pilot and one other episode? I have NO idea how other fandoms do this, so if anybody knows how this works…

I do have digital copies of all the episodes. I could put the pilot and the ‘top ten’ episodes in google drive. Then we could take a survey of what the second episode for the rewatch party will be? would that work?

if so, then I need a list of what y’all think the top ten episodes (besides the pilot) are!

Would y’all like to do a bingo card challenge? I could post bingo cards in January, so people have plenty of time to make stuff!

If so, then what about saying anything goes for the bingo challenge—fic, art, photos, vids, etc. What do y’all think?

Another thing that might be fun is all of us doing ‘3 recs and 10 things’ posts that day:

3 recs for cool H50 fan stuff (3 great fanvids, 3 favorite fanfics, etc)

10 things from show (10 funny moments, 10 whump moments, 10 ohana moments, etc)

again, what does the Hawaii Five-Ohana think? would that be a fun but easy way to celebrate 3-10?

things we really need: Some March 10th graphics and pix, cheerleaders and rebloggers, and enthusiasm! and maybe a Camaro😁

sadly, I can think of no way to gift every amazing person is this fandom their very own buttercream grenade-shaped cake. Although I guess we could pass the salt…

any other ideas or things or challenges? Something you think would be fun or cool to do?

Lets throw our fandom — and Steve —the biggest birthday ever!!!!🥳🎂🥳🎂🥳

I tagged as many H50 blogs both past and present as I could but tumblr only allows 50 blogs so…

@five-wow @stephmcx @cowandcalf @alohaspaceman @kristen9999 @hawaiifiveoh @teruel-a-witch @ellena-asg @baci2244 @trickster-archangel @bgharison @comfortfromyourpain @stellagioia @mcdannowave @mcdannoangelwolf @ankhsunamun @redgoldblue @anastablack @gatorasmus @incorrect-mcdanno @rahiodead @cowboymitchell @jacksadventuresinwriting @allh50allthetime @h50europe @h50bigbang @h50bamf @itsmrvlxh50 @fyeahstevemcgarrett @acceptanceispending @bubblegumorthemoon @indiguus @mahalohanaloha @power-bottom-steve @danny-williams @twoonezero @merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale @bee1968-ch @the-itzy-bitzy-spider @confessionofashopaholic-blog @simplyn2deep @murphyhatesme @angels-c @chaosrising451 @grindy-cog @ilikemcdanno @annanight @mymcdanno @iolani-palace @peggyswilliams

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Music meme

Tagged by @monstrousgourmandizingcats, thank you!

Rules: Mark out the artists you listen to or the free space on the one labeled “Zira”. Then you take a screenshot or picture of that bingo and post it so I can see. Next, take a pic of the empty bingo and write your own music artists in it. Then leave a blank image as well so other people can screenshot the image and keep the game going.

I probably put in way more effort than I had to trying to match the band's logo with my Very Limited Default Windows 10 Home Edition font set (I don't even have Evanescent on this laptop!). Except Evanescence; I copied a png. The fave gets extra effort. But in case it's unreadable, the list is:

Evanescence, Shinedown, Epica, Xandria, Starset, Edenbridge, The Rasmus, Nightwish, Tarja Turunen, Kamelot, After Forever, Amy Lee, Amaranthe, Matias Puumala, Disturbed, Puffy AmiYumi.

I probably could've filled the entire 16-square chart out in symphonic metal bands alone! But I wanted to include SOME genre variation. These aren't even the most statistically accurate ones, as far as time spent listening to music; those would include underground djs and very local bands from sixteen years ago. But I wanted to use bands people would have had SOME chance of hearing about. ;P Puffy's there as a wildcard, and I included Puumala to acknowledge the instrumental stuff I love so much.

I tag, under the condition that you Want to Do It:

@chasm-connected @creepycute-kitty-gf @impulse-goblin @orionsdestiny @sirenianheart @sleepingway

And anyone else who sees this and would like to do a music meme!

[girl-of-ink]

Character opinion bingo!! Killua, Chrollo (lmao), your fav cardcaptor Sakura blorbo, and mini pink Sailor moon (I'm sorry I forgot her name 😭)

Killua:

Killua gets a bingo! He is very special to me bc his gayness and miserableness are off the fucking charts. blorbo supreme, created in a lab to be MY personal little meow meow. i would kill 4 him

Chrollo:

I'm so sorry bestie i hate this man lmao. he's not even fun and exciting while being evil he is just kind of boring :/

Li Syaoran:

it was hard to pick ultimate ccs blorbo but i love this little guy! i did add "wasted potential," "everyone but me is wrong abt them" and "done dirty by fans" bc lots of people seem to take "he isn't actually bisexual, he just had a crush on yukito bc his ~magic~ could sense yue's ~magic~" at face value which i feel is a really surface level approach to his character. this magical boy is bisexual and there's nothing you can do about it!!!!!

Chibiusa (mini pink sailor moon is close enough lol):

i loooooove her, i'll go to bat for her any day. everybody else hates her ass for incomprehensible reasons, but i personally respect a little girl who tries to mug her own mother at gunpoint. she's funny, she's resourceful. she is even, dare i say it, bisexual. she has not one but TWO magic dream spirit boyfriends AND a girlfriend who can end the universe. she's even evil sometimes. truly i think she is always 100% delightful and has always been my fave. 10/10, would bake cookies with her and take her to see the pastries dance at the candy store 🥺🥺🥺

[bugsnax-fan-26]

Hi, I’m back for my venture in the void of not post to talk about the thing no one saw coming on their Bugsnax bingo cards…

BUGSNAX ON MOBILE!!

The crowd went mild- Anyway, for only $9.99 on the App Store, you too can own your copy of Bugsnax! On a tiny ass screen…with simpler/worse controls…and no crouching…yay?

I mean don’t get me wrong, I love Bugsnax [it’s in the name after all] so I will give it some credit. Here’s some pros

PROS:

1. When doing “get ___’s lost item” quests, they made the parkour easier [ex. Filbos’ & Triffany’s]

2. It’s easily the most portable option for play BS [just ignore the switch]

3. …the…dirt is…dirt-? Yeah that’s all I got

CONS:

- The textures are very low-res, and it makes most grumps, especially Clumby & Wiggle look like goddamn Cheetos!

- Models like fences or Tables and such “mysteriously vanish” if you’re far away enough.

- Speaking of models, while some look okay low-poly, others like most of the rugs, Snorpy’s chart, the pictures and the map at the start look like shiiit!

- Snorpy’s letter quests still intimidate me [okay that’s not a problem with this port specifically, I just had to get that out there]

- The controls feel wonky & uncomfortable, I have to drag my finger practically off my screen to run fast whilst vigorously tapping my screen to pick up traps

And finally, but most damning of all…

- Fighting bosses is the WORST!! The wonky controls mixed with all the shit you have to do is just…ACK-!! [This mainly applies to Cheddarboardle Rex but the others are kinda tedious to I.E. Megamaki & Mothza Supreme]

Whew…But, at the end of the day, it’s still Bugsnax, so it’s still the best thing ever in fiction. Thanks for listening to my ramblings, here’s a low-poly Bugsnax frog to light up your day, I’m going back in my hole now.

[strawberista]

⚅— @rubiesintherough asked: —⚅ ⚅— 💑 What are my muse’s requirements for a potential partner? —⚅

Sex + Romance Headcanons

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

{Doing this bingo chart thing has really given me a good idea of what this is like. I had a general idea of it before, but I've come to realize there are actually some really crucial points that a potential partner needs to be able to date him, and some of them I've even talked about before and just completely forgot.}

⚀ First and foremost, whoever is coming into his life has to get along with his kids. Be okay with the fact he has kids in the first place, but more than that they have to be on good terms with all of them, too. Joshua especially. If you don't get Joshua's approval you cannot be he partner. If you don't want children, then this isn't the relationship for you. Even though all of his kids are adults, they still come first.

⚀ Branching off of that, the next most important thing a partner has to be aware of and at least willing to accept is that Hanekoma will always love Joshua more. He'll always put Joshua above everyone. Yes, he plays favorites, and Joshua is it. That's his soulmate and Composer, and he will always put Joshua above everyone else. Above all his other children, and above any romantic interests as well.

⚀ Whoever Hanekoma is with has to be deeply and completely in love with him. He's not going to be in a fun or casual relationship, no friends with benefits situation, nothing like that. If someone is going to be a romantic partner they have to be in whole ham and dedicated to him in some way or another.

⚀ While this one isn't an exact requirement, it would probably be very helpful if a potential partner is at least tolerable of Hanekoma's interests or otherwise they might run into an issue quickly. I realized on the bingo cards for example what an issue it would be for those that didn't like jazz. Because he plays it in his house all the time. Now obviously he'll refrain if someone just really hates it, but Hanekoma has eclectic tastes when it comes to music and art, and if someone isn't tolerable of certain genres of things they might have a harder time being around their own partner.

⚀ Any partner with Hanekoma has to learn to at least accept how he runs his business and views the lives of others. Whether that comes in accepting that he doesn't rebel against the HP, or that he doesn't feel squeamish or mournful around death, or that he will put anyone and everything before Shibuya, even sacrificing his own family to ensure its safety. Even if his partner isn't on-board with such outlooks, if they can't be at least tolerable of them, then the relationship likely won't make it very far. Hanekoma is duty before pleasure when it comes to himself and Shibuya, and sometimes that can make him come off as a cold and unfeeling person.

[chivetimetelevision]

i wanna add to this and stand with my 5ds brethren 🫡

i see the main argument for kaiba voters is his interest in blue eyes, particularly all his blue eyes themed paraphernalia. but you have to remember the man has got the funds to buy bewd themed stuff. yusei is an orphan living in poverty therefore he simply does not have the luxury of owning stardust themed items. rather, he handcrafts the things he’s interested in. he builds multiple bikes out of trashed parts found in satellite’s dumping grounds. he collects whatever cards he can find lying around and cherishes them. he spends years rebuilding his stolen bike and planning a route to neo domino city. he evades the police and trespasses in a city he’s not deemed a citizen of just to get the chance to find jack and retrieve the stardust dragon card jack stole from him. he doesn’t even come up with a plan on how he’ll return to satellite. all that matters to him is that he gets his beloved card back. yusei gets imprisoned after his encounter with jack. he gets tortured and almost killed in jail. idk about you but that sounds like some astronomical levels of neurodivergent dedication for one dragon card. sure yusei doesn’t have the money to show off his special interest in duel monsters, but he damn well shows it through his actions. not only that, the way he’s shown to have a deep connection to cards is very autistic. he’s constantly talking about how even the weakest of cards have purpose. he gets visibly upset when he sees cards get trampled. he says it’s a duelist’s job to make their cards happy. the way he humanizes these cards is certainly far from neurotypical behavior. this man’s autism levels are off the charts

i see another popular argument being that kaiba changed the world with his hyperfixation on duel monsters. i wrote a little thing in the comments so i wont repeat it here but tldr yusei saved the world like 3 times with his autism and prevented duel monsters from being wiped from existence. that’s some powerful autism right there.

another main claim i see from the kaiba voters is that his autism sent him to the afterlife to face atem. is that the case though? i’d argue that there is far more than just autism motivating kaiba in this situation. perhaps there’s also narcissistic personality disorder? trauma making him feel like he needs to be the best at everything? the bisexual eroticism of having a rival? i believe it’s a mix of all these and not purely autism. again may i remind you this is an autism swag contest not a dsm-5 bingo board.

it’s certainly irrefutable that kaiba’s got autism, but honestly i see him more as a fruit salad of dsm-5 diagnoses. yusei on the other hand is pure unfiltered autism. that’s why i believe he’s the perfect candidate for representing yugioh autistic swag. also i think it would be hilarious if kaiba got 2nd place because that’s like his whole brand. i will say whatever the outcome, the fact of the matter is that the yusei stans have fought well 🫡 it’s been a pleasure

Finals

Seto Kaiba v.s. Yusei Fudo

[baebeyza]

Kingdom thoughts - Bae edition

Not gonna make individual posts this time, I watched the show at 1-3 am after sitting in a tight space for 30 hours with almost no sleep.

Just gonna share my bingo card and my thoughts under the cut! ~

No spoiler thoughts: show overall gets a 8/10 from me!

A little loose with the definition of personality for Unicron, but I did like the few scenes he had :D

Thoughts:

1. BW Megatron

Honestly? He worked. Good character, understandable motivations, nice use of references, you could really feel his affections for the Silver Megatron and how desperate he was about winning the future he fought for.

10/10, good german voice work, epic design, nice shows of the fact that he is still kind of an ass, he was STRONG, showed that he can be boss when needed, nothing to complain about, also YES, T-REX HEADPAT! xD

2. Dinobot

My brain-deprived head had trouble making sense of his actions, but overall it was fine, they could have needed more time for him though. And unlike most other BW references, I didn't like them with his character - the refs they used from "Code of Hero"...ike, that BW episode has a lot of build-up plot-wise and character-wise. The quotes matter a lot in that episode.

It just doesn't fit or have the same amount of weight as they thought they would in Kingdom. The honour quote didn't even make much sense context-wise.

But overall, nice enough. 8/10

3. Primal

10/10, loved him so much. Every scene with him was epic, the way he was written was great - Snarky, sarcastic at times, far less patient and calm than Prime, still a great leader who cares and doesn't take any shit! <3

4. Prime

I do love his story of WFC overall - he made one mistake that he admits to, goes through a lot to fix it and he did fix it and came out with a better future for it. Loved his last moment with Elita, loved the moments with the Allspark, and I loved his dynamic with Primal! 8/10

5. Megatron

He went unhinged as fuck, was still regal and sweet, loved a lot about him! As always, the angst he has about doing what he does was great! I especially loved the scene in the forest when the disk told him that he got lost, tried to go back to look a the road he took from another angle, but he refused to do it.

He went his way until he got defeated, and Starscream being the one who finally got him out of his one-way route was so sweet! 15/10

6. Goddamn disappointments

So, coming back to Megatron...I think I explained my problem well on discord:

7. Mainly comes to my problem with MAGNUS...yall know I am a MagsMegs shipper, but they could have fixed the problem with Megatron's angst coming to a closure with having him have a last moment with Magnus, just like Prime had with Elita.

It is clear that he feels guilty and horrible for the Death of Magnus, similar to how Prime felt responsible for everything else.

And Prime got closure at the end, while Megatron did not.

He should have had a moment of choosing to fight Galvs and Nemesis because he realised that his past deeds were wrong, and doing that with Magnus would have been a good representation of it all.

Like, I get that he might have gotten over his pride and selfishness which is representated by him choosing to save Cybertron over saving his own future, but still...!

They gave him such amazing angst, but just didn't end it in a satisfying way! Let him have peace with it in some way!

Oof.

7. Six episodes are not enough

I've been saying this since Siege - plot is good, characters are good, but in neither season have six episodes been enough to really flesh it out real good.

WFC is plot upon plot with no filler, and filler is usually needed to show give the characters more personality and show-case them in some way. Show us what makes them the character they are, what makes them unique.

WFC didn't have that, and you are left with having to draw the characterisations out of their plot relevance. And if you aint plot-relevant, you almost got no personality at all.

As far as I know, this isn't a WFC-specific problem though, as many shows have decided that 5-8 episodes are enough and we don't need more.

And I guess some stories manage with that limited time - WFC did not.

I still loved it, but they could have made it much better if they had more time.

Anyway, expect some art and stupid comics in the future - I will defend this show's and my own honour by contributing to it with content! <3

[starbuck]

Hi. I forgot your name. Whatever.

I woke up with the unquenchable urge to illustrate a random TMBG song so here we are.

Also, this comment under the YouTube video destroyed me:

[bakugotrashpanda]

Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter 5: Dynamight and What’s-Her-Name

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

◈ Pro Hero, Fake Engagement ◈ Word Count: 1884

◇ Chapter Select

◇ Previous Chapter

You go on a date.

Gulls cry overhead when you exit the taxi. Salty wind from the ocean gently teases the edges of your clothes. Your first date with Bakugou. He texted you a day after posting a single word on his social media: taken. 

The plan is to keep it simple for your first outing — a walk along the pier, get coffee or something, chat. Ultimately the goal is to appear together. He set it up like a business meeting rather than a date, but Bakugou’s proposition was more like a job between two people rather than an affair of the heart. 

A swath of ash blond hair catches the corner of your eye. Your date stands against metal fencing separating ocean and land. His spiky hair and collar of his dark blue jacket are ruffled by the breeze. Even though he gazes out over the water, no doubt he’s aware of every person passing by.

Bakugou straightens as if feeling your eyes on his back. He appraises you while you do the same to him. His jacket pairs well with his dark green pants, and the black shirt brings the look together. Casual, but classy. You only hope that he thinks the same about you.

“Well?” You strike a pose. “Did I bring it? Or did I bring it?” 

Bakugou nods, the corner of his mouth curling up into an almost-smile. “Looks good, but you’re missing one thing.” He takes off his jacket and places it on top of your shoulders. It settles over you warm and comforting — and with a faint spicy, woody scent. So he does wear cologne.

Bakugou’s hand rests on your waist pulling you against him as you start to walk. Your arm brushes against his side. Are you supposed to hold onto him too? Two people walking side by side in some weird embrace? On the outside, it might look like an ordinary, lovey-dovey couple, but on the inside, you hate it. 

You plant your feet into the ground. “Stop. We’re not walking like this.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“We’re out of sync and I don’t know what to do with my arms.” To emphasize your point, you make a ‘what the fuck’ gesture.

Crimson eyes narrow, but he takes his hand off you regardless. “Ok,” he says, “What’s your smart idea for how to fool the world into thinking we’re head over heels for each other?”

“Hold my hand instead?” you offer. If he doesn’t like that, then that’s too damn bad. He hesitates, but casually passes his hands over his pants. ‘Kacchan won’t admit it, but he’s very protective of his hands.’ Midoriya’s voice flows through your head. A memory from long ago. 

Bakugou sticks out his hand and waits. “Fine.”

His hand is warm and dry against yours. Scars litter the back of it, some old and well worn while others are pinker, the skin healed but not much else. You have to resist the urge to take his palm and stare at it, trace the lines there and wonder what their stories are. Would he be self-conscious about that?

“So what, are we supposed to do all the ‘getting to know you’ stuff?” you ask as the two of you start meandering. “Tell you my dreams about life? Where I see myself in five years?”

“Why would I want to know any of that?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, asshole,” you roll your eyes. “Let me guess, your goal in life is to be the number one hero on the charts and be your own boss. And once you reach that, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You have no hobbies outside of work, and your only friend is Red Riot.”

Bakugou shoots you a disgusted look but doesn’t argue.

“So how far off was I?” you goad him.

“Whatever,” he mutters. The tips of his ears betray him and turn a light pink. Bingo.

“Alright, now me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what you think my life is like.” Show me what you really think of me.

Bakugou’s silent for a moment. You think he won’t do it — won’t cause a scene here in public listing off all your bad qualities where anyone can hear. “You don’t have an identity outside of Deku, and now that he’s moved on and you’ve lost all attempts at winning him back, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You have an alcohol problem which you’ll adamantly deny, an’ you don’t have any real friends and suck ass at making lasting connections.”

You hold your free hand up to your chest in mock indignation. “Well fuck you too.”

“You asked for it,” Bakugou smirks. 

The irony of roasting each other for being two friendless individuals while holding hands on a ‘romantic’ walk isn’t lost on you. There’s no bite to either of your statements, it just hurts that it’s true. 

Shops lining the boardwalk pass as comfortable silence descends. Your mind wanders. You never thought you’d be here, hand in hand with a man that wasn’t Midoriya. Bakugou is right – Midoriya took up so much of your life. And you had to have hobbies outside of him… right? You had to. There’s no way you blindly devoted five years of your life to him.

“We’re here.” A gruff voice pulls you out of your reverie. Bakugou nods at a small cafe. He holds the door open. The cozy shop is decorated with deep browns and light tans from the walnut leather chairs around coffee tables to the tall cedar bar tables. Fragrant fruity teas mix with earthy coffee – both overwhelming and comforting all at once.

You’re guided over to the counter and the barista takes your order. Bakugou pays for both drinks before you can get your wallet out. That’s fine. You can get the next thing. Maybe lunch? And if not that, whatever you do on the next date. 

While waiting for your drinks, something in the atmosphere changes. An intense pressure at the base of your skull. You need to get out of there. Something isn’t right. When you turn to Bakugou to say something, the words die on your tongue. 

Eyes. You can feel the eyes. They crawl over your skin, greedily taking you in. Everyone in the store is drawn to Bakugou… and then you. Hushed conversations go from everyday topics to you and Bakugou. The gossip floats around and you’re able to pick up bits and pieces. ‘Isn’t that…’ ‘Dynamight and what’s her name…’ ‘They look cute together’ ‘When did they start dating?’ ‘Do you think I could get a picture?’

Bakugou bends over suddenly, his mouth against your ear. The deep tones of his voice give you something to hold on to to keep you in the here and now. “We’ll leave after this.”

What’s maybe a minute or two drags on for eternity. 

Warm drink in hand, you follow Bakugou out. The only thing keeping you from running out of there is the fact that his body blocks the way so you’re stuck at his pace. He leads you down an empty pier, the morning fishermen gone for now. There’s nothing but the ocean’s white noise, small waves crashing in on themselves. 

“You’re not used to that.” It’s a statement, not a question. You purse your lips and shake your head. No, no you’re not used to it. “I should’ve fucking known.” Your position doesn’t garner much media attention. Your engagement will shake things up without a doubt. 

You stare out at the water and watch the rhythmic rise and fall as the tide comes in. “You’re a private person, how’re you used to it?” 

“Comes with the job.”

Gears turn in your head. “Katsuki,” you start. He nearly chokes on his coffee when you say his name. “You’re a private person. A very private person. Have… I never…” How do you tactfully ask this?

“Spit it out already.”

Fine. If he wants blunt, you can be blunt.

“You have had a girlfriend before, right?” you ask. “I’m not your first, am I?” That’s the one aspect of his life he’s kept completely silent. Until now. There were rumors that he had a girlfriend, and other rumors that he was single, but with no proof, it was all speculation.

To his credit, he recovers smoothly, only a red tinge to his cheeks. “I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before. Didn’t want one. Thought it was a waste of time.”

Fuck. “I didn’t take your first kiss, did I?” 

“I said I didn’t have a serious girlfriend, not that I haven’t fucked around before.” Oh. Just how much ‘fucking around’ is he talking about? Maybe made out with someone before? Some hands in the pants action? Gone all the way?

“I didn’t peg you as a casual kind of guy,” you say carefully.

“I’m not. I just wanted to get it over with,” he shrugs. So all the way. Just to say he did it. Interesting. No doubt there’s a lengthy NDA in there somewhere. 

His face screws up and heated eyes glare at you. “Are you using your fucking quirk on me?”

Your face immediately falls. He might as well have slapped you. The once welcoming ocean breeze feels like an icy kiss against your skin as heat drains from your face. Taking a step away from him, you try to keep your composure.

Your voice starts out shaky and you hate that it makes you sound like you’re about to cry. A small burning sensation in your chest spreads to your arms while a tiny whisper in the back of your brain advises you to cause chaos. “Katsuki Bakugou, I am only going to tell you this once so get it through your thick fucking skull. I will never ever use my goddamn quirk on you.”

You crush the now empty cup in your hand and stomp off. It doesn’t matter if he follows you. He’s just like everyone else. Throwing the crumpled cup into the garbage with all your might didn’t make you feel any better.

“Oi, that bothered you.” You spin on your heel and stare down your date, hoping he can feel the growing rage you’re tamping down. If you could, you have half a mind to dunk him into the ocean. What an inane thing to say.

“Of course it fucking bothers me,” you hiss. “When people go out to drink and say something stupid, they blame it on the alcohol. If anyone says something stupid around me, guess who gets blamed.” The words flow out of your mouth. “It’s not like there’s a light that turns on when I use it, so no one fucking trusts me.”

That wasn’t supposed to come out.

At least you didn’t tell him that even Midoriya had doubts about you.

Bakugou straightens, his jaw hard set. Slowly, he holds his hand out to you. “It won’t happen again.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but deep down, you believe him. It won’t happen again. Slipping your hand into his, you nod and walk side by side back down the pier.

Truth: Bakugou can read you like an open book.

Truth: There’s attention on you now. A lot of it.

Lie: You had every intention of returning his coat when the date was over.

◇ Next Chapter

Tag List: @thatfanfictionwriter , @loving-katsuki , @dienamights , @katditca , @boosyboo9206 , @alex-sulli , @hypernovaxx , @daddyissxes , @ti-mame , @thekaylahub , @ms0milk , @nerd-nowandforever , @minninugget , @tiny-wooden-robot , @icedemon1314 , @xviternity , @naiomiwinchester , @lovinkiri , @sincerelyyrosemary , @abnormalanimeweeb , @satogg , @liberace2 , @acid-rain27 , @itgetzweird08 , @chaoticorganizedmess , @neurovascular-entrapta , @kiwiified , @bnha-free-writing , @fishbolw , @xxkay15xx , @zombiewarprincess , @izuwumidoriya , @blue-enigma , @mommy-without-milkers , @plaggi , @budibbly , @hiqhkey , @great-goddess-of-sin, @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory, @zyxys1, @doonaandpjs , @chifuyus-slut , @aceredhairliberal , @dxrkdreamer , @archdag , @bakugospartner , @cxshmereclxud , @nuthonii, @sukisprint,

[fictionalwh0ree]

hospital visit- addison montgomery

summary: it’s your birthday but you’re stuck in hospital after surgery. luckily, addison is there to make your day better

word count: 587

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of surgery

pairing: addison montgomery x afab!reader

a/n: this is my submission for @sweetprentiss birthday bingo!

your eyes fluttered open to the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor, still groggy from surgery. you glanced around the bland hospital room, discovering it empty, just how it was when you had gone under. you sighed, placing your hand on your bloated bump where your baby would be residing for the next couple weeks seeing as the surgery went well. you looked at the time, 4:17 am.

great. stuck in a hospital alone for my birthday, you thought as you threw your head back in annoyance.

you’d been in and out of the hospital for weeks after discovering an issue with your baby. thankfully, your doctor, dr. montgomery, said it was an easy fix and if all went well, you and your baby would make a speedy recovery. you were lucky to have a doctor as good as her. she was not only a good surgeon, but she also took the time out of her day to come talk to you. you often found yourself thinking about her, but that was only natural considering she was one of the only people you’d see everyday, right?

you sighed once again, bringing your focus back to the real world. you looked over at the doorway, where someone was leaning, your heart rate spiking for a second before you recognized the shadow as dr. montgomery.

“dr. montgomery, what’re you doing here?” you asked, your voice raspy from not having used it for a while.

“i just got out of a surgery, i thought i’d come check in on my favourite patient,” she joked, taking a seat next to you.

“aww,” you said, throwing your hands over your heart.

“happy birthday,” she said, taking you by surprise.

“how’d you know?” you asked.

“it’s on your chart,” she laughed, holding the clipboard up for you to see.

“oh,” you smiled.

“i hope you don’t mind, i got you something,” she spoke gently, handing you a small bag that she had hidden under your bed.

“you didn’t have to,” you smiled.

you carefully took the paper out to reveal a box of chocolates and a small teddy bear.

“the bear’s for the, um, baby,” she began, her cheeks slowly turning red, “and you can eat the chocolate in a couple days, gives you something to look forward to.”

“thank you,” you said, sitting up slightly and opening your arms for her to hug you, which she did.

when you pulled apart, her cheeks were very flushed and she was awkwardly diverting her eyes from you. she cleared her throat, trying to get rid of some of the new tension.

“it’s really good chocolate,” she said, her voice weak.

“not that i had any of that one. i’ve eaten it before, my own box. wait, i- i didn’t buy it for myself, that would be kind of sad, i had it given to me and i liked it so i bought one for you because you told me you loved chocolate. so, um,” she stuttered nervously, fidgeting with her fingers.

“thank you, dr. montgomery. i appreciate it,” you said, beginning to get all mushy from the attention (and hormones).

“please, call me addison,” she said.

“okay, addison,” you said, as if testing how the word sounded coming out of your mouth.

“i have to ask, do you do this for all your patients?” you asked.

“just my favourite,” she winked, causing you to laugh.

you opened your arms again, and she leaned in to give you a hug, though she was careful not to hurt you. just as she pulled away, you grabbed ahold of her shirt and pulled her towards you. your lips collided and at first she seemed shocked but quickly reciprocated the action. she put her hands on your cheeks to deepen the kiss for a moment before pulling away.

“isn’t there some kind of rule against doctor-patient stuff?” you laughed, now realizing what you had done.

“maybe, but you won’t be my patient in a couple days,” she shrugged, a smile adorning her features.

she placed a short kiss on your lips before getting up and leaving. she stopped right at the doorframe and turned around to face you once more.

“i’ll come check in on you again later, kay?”

--

taglist: @bytheseangie