#not that I need to qualify that but I get the feeling that my misery would bring you some satisfaction. you will not find that here

[phantomoftheorpheum]

.

[soupacool]

You sent a black woman death threats and told her to lick your boots?! You’re trash! I hope you’re misgendered every day by your family and friends everyday. I hope you are never in the position to get the help you need. I hope it piles up and ruins your life until even tumblr isn’t safe for you. You deserved that and more.

I told a black woman she was being obnoxious for defending transphobia. come off anon and say the same thing please, the transphobia doesn't hit as good when you're not showing your face

[communistkenobi]

hi, i'd like to read marx's capital, but I've heard it's quite challenging. do you think there is a best way to go about reading it, maybe skipping or reading chapters in a particular order or taking notes in a particular way?..

I read some parts of it a very long time ago so I can’t give specific advice on what to skip. I’m preparing to read it in August for an exam, and I’ll be using David Harvey’s companion to Marx’s Capital as a study + learning guide. David Harvey also has video lectures about it that you can watch, which are probably the most accessible.

however, and I mean this in a completely non-judgemental way, I think an important question to ask is why you want to read Capital - is it for Marxist theory cred? Are people telling you that you have to read it? Do you feel you ‘need’ to read it to understand Marxist theory or call yourself a socialist/communist? Is it casual intellectual curiosity? Is it part of a larger reading set that you’re doing? I’m not going to discourage you from reading it, but i wouldn’t recommend starting with it if you want to read Marx, particularly if you haven’t read a lot of economic/political theory.

and i want to be clear I’m not trying to talk down to you, I ask these question to myself constantly because it helps inform my learning priorities - what is it that I want to get out of this text, what are my goals and expectations, what personal/intellectual/moral worth am I tying to the completion of this text, and so on. Capital is a difficult and boring read! something I’ve seen both on and offline is people try to read it, it’s dense/confusing/boring, they give up and feel discouraged or think they’re ‘too stupid’ for Marxist theory, when like in reality it’s a specific text intervening on a particular set of political debates in Marx’s time, and is also an origin point for a wide range of political and economic belief systems that have undergone fundamental and global developments in the nearly two centuries since its publication. Which is all to say that I think picking up Capital for the sake of simply reading Capital sets yourself up for failure, disappointment, and potentially feeling stupid/incapable of meeting the demands of your own political convictions. Which is not a good mindset for communists to be in! CLR James says that every cook can govern; Marxist theory should not be a site of personal misery and intellectual punishment. A challenging text is not the same thing as a confusing or boring one, and I think there is a lot of moralistic expectations floating around in “leftist spaces” (big quotation marks) about the development of “critical thinking skills” as this miserable slog of whipping yourself into being radical.

I call myself a communist and have not read Capital; not only are there many other works by Marx to read, not to mention the nearly infinite amounts of secondary sources that engage with Marx, it’s also not something I feel is going to answer the questions I need when I want to read theory. I am specifically reading this text because I have to be qualified to teach it and regurgitate it on an exam, which is how I’m approaching this text. I think asking yourself what your approach is (are you doing it to advance your own learning, to answer specific questions you have about Marxist theory [and what are those specific questions?], to inform your historical understanding of the development of continental economic theory, etc) will help answer some of these “philosophy of learning” questions. Maybe Capital is the place to start based on your own motivations and prior reading, but maybe it’s not. And if it’s not that’s totally fine! Marx is perhaps one of the most responded-to European political thinkers of modernity - we are engulfed in theory engaging with his ideas. You have your pick of the lot

[scekrex]

Another idea💕💕💕 if you want to do this thank you 🙃

Male reader x Adam were y/n died for Adam and after the extermination he starts to see y/n every where he goes but believes it is his imagination, he didn't even like y/n so why is he caring so much for a nobody that save his life for him he is straight right? But one night in his apartment he couldn't stand it and hugged the imaginary y/n and he finally felt warm and starts to cry tears of joy and sadness even though you are not real.

"I'm sorry I let you down y/n"

"Oh, there's nothing to be sorry about, Adam"

"Not all of us are cut out to be exorcists"

"I'll say"

"Adam"

"This is really for the best"

"Some shouldn't have to survive there"

"You have a good life, an easy life some envy you"

"I miss you"

"I'll always be with you, Adam, and if you ever need me I'll be there"

"Now go dear it's starting to get dark"

"Adam I love you"

"I love you too y/n..."

Hurt/comfort 💕

Okay so we know Adam would never truly admit his feelings, never. Not even in a situation like that. So I changed it up a little bit but I hope you still like it!

Goodbyes that feel like you're still in my city

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, mentions of character death

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

He didn't know why you weren't able to leave his mind. He didn't know why he was feeling guilty for your death. Maybe because he was the reason you had died?

He did know that it was driving him insane though.

The image was burned into his memory, he could practically still feel your hands on his body, feel the force you had used to shove him out of the way to take the stab to the heart for you. Your scream of pain that had formed his name was ringing through his ears and all he could do was press his hands against them to try and mute them - to no avail. The blood that had covered your body - your own blood - was still covering his hands even though he had washed it off days ago. He still remembered what your body had felt like, how it grew colder and colder once your heart had stopped beating.

Why did he care so much about you? You had been one of many - the only qualified male in his army of females. There had been nothing special about you and yet you weren't leaving his mind ever since you had sacrificed yourself for him. That was maybe because whenever he looked at the other angels, all he could see was your face, sometimes it even felt like you were walking next to him. But that was just his mind playing tricks on him.

He turned around in his bed, his back now facing the open room. His eyes were squeezed shut and his wings had wrapped themselves around his body to hide his misery from the world. Not that anybody was seeing him, he was in his bedroom. But it felt better, to be shielded from curious eyes that weren't physically there.

His eyes slowly opened and he saw your face yet again. Not just your face though, your body was laying next to him, you looked so lifeless and yet you moved your hand to reach out and cup his cheeks, to wipe away the silent tear that he hadn't even noticed rolled down his cheek.

Fuck, why was he crying?

Because deep down he knew, none of the others would've had done what you did for him, because even when it was life or death, you chose him, chose to die for him. You had proven your loyalty once more, this time in the most final form that existed. And he hated you for it, he hated that you had died for him.

He leaned into the gentle touch, his eyes fell shut again at the warmth of your body despite it looking so pale, so lifeless and he sighed. “You fucker left me,” he mumbled, he knew no one was there to hear his words and yet he needed to get them off his chest. What he didn't expect was your soft voice to respond, “It was you and me Adam,” there was a short pause and Adam could only imagine the warm smile that must've been on your lips. “And I’m glad it was me.”

The brunette opened his sad, golden eyes yet again to look at you, “I’m fucking not, I need you to get your ass back to me.” Your smile saddened at that, knowing very well that wasn't possible. Angelic steel caused a permanent death, no matter if angel or demon. “This is for the best,” your voice was coated in sadness and your eyes were apologizing over and over again. You knew what it meant to him when someone left, you knew he struggled with that ever since what went down in Eden. “Everyone always fucking leaves,” he hissed, his eyes reflecting a mix between anger and love. “You fucking swore you'd always be there,” he sounded betrayed and on a certain level he was right with that, you did swore to always be there to have his back when you had joined the exorcists. “But I'm here, aren't I?” you spoke softly as your thumb caressed his cheek. Your touch was numbing, it made his mind shut up for a second, all the thoughts and the gruesome memories were gone ever since you had cupped his cheek. “No you're fucking Not you- you're-” he was out of words, out of breath, out of energy. You knew what he meant to say was ‘I miss you’ and ‘Come back to me’. He just wasn't the type of guy to admit it out loud, not when those words scared him the most. Commitment was something Adam didn't do, didn't admit to. And yet he wanted to commit to you and your soul, until death would do you part. But that had already happened and there was no way to fix it.

“Adam,” he liked the way you said his name, it was like he was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, like all the love your heart held was dedicated to him. Had you ever said his name that way when you had been an angel, before you had been killed by that little demon girl? He couldn't remember. He felt like every memory that involved you was slipping from his mind except the one in which you saved his life but paid the price by offering your own. “I have to go,” his hand shot up to grab your wrist and fear was visible in his eyes. “No you fucking don't, you fucking can't, you hear me?”

The smile slipped from your lips entirely and you couldn't bear to look him in the eyes as you continued, “But I have to. I’ll be around, you won't forget me. But for now, I have to leave you.” He didn't know what that meant, all that he knew in that exact moment was that he wanted you to stay, he wanted to hold and protect, wanted to right the wrongs and shield you from the pain. But he couldn't. You had made that decision without his consent.

His eyes looked at his hand holding your wrist and he wished he could go back in time and stop you from scarifying yourself. He wished he would've been better. But he wasn't, he hadn't been and he never would be. History will repeat itself, that he knew.

“Adam?” The first man couldn't help himself, he had to look at you. “I love you,” your voice whispered, it sounded so distant all of a sudden, so far away. And your wrist was slipping from his bone crushing grip. “Fuck you,” he spat out but what he meant was ‘I love you too’. But he couldn't say that, not after you had died. He had lost yet another person he loved because of demons that were no good. They took you from him before he even had you and he hated them for it.

And then he was alone again, alone with the unbearable pain, with the thoughts that haunted his head and with the feeling of loneliness.

And that was a thing he might have hated even more than commitment.

[mcytrecursive]

What DOES this event look like?

So, I know that I have wanted to do a recursive exchange in the MCYT space, probably in the winter of 2024, open to all of MCYT.

It will be an exchange where you write fic of fic— a work inspired by someone else's work. But how exactly will it run? There are two options, and I'm asking the community to help me decide.

#1: Remix Exchange.

In that exchange we will have qualifing fandoms (probably the canonized tags on Ao3) and you have to have written a certain number of qualifying fics in those fandoms to sign up. Then when you sign up you do so with the ships in your past works and the ships you are willing to write, both platonic and romantic! And then you're matched with someone who has written the ships you're interested in. You then remix one of their fics, writing an AU, prequel, sequel, alternate POV, etc

So for example I would sign up having written mostly Dream SMP Technoblade & Phil Watson, but I am willing to write anything from SMPearth, most Dream SMP, a bunch of QSMP, some 3rd Life, and anything from Origins. I might be matched with someone whose main pairing is DSMP Quackity & Tubbo, and I’ll scan through their fics for one I want to respond to. Meanwhile, someone who offered DSMP Technoblade & Phil Watson is reading my fics, looking for one to respond to. 

We'll have our creation period like is usual for an exchange, and when I post my gift I will be using both the "gift to" function and the "inspired by" function. Once posted, there will be an anonymous period of the exchange where I get a mystery gift and my gifter gets a gift that is on anon as well, and then all will be revealed a week later.

#2: Derivative Works Exchange

Option two is that we run a nomination period, and people nominate fics that either have a blanket permission statement (fun database here), or a comment from the author saying that fic inspired by their fic is okay. Then each fic is entered into the tag set as its own micro fandom. You then sign up as you would for a normal exchange, with up to ten of these fic fandoms as being something you are either offering to write for or requesting for your own gift. Once matched, you then write a side story, prequel, sequel, AU, or something else within the universe of that fic. 

So for example, I had the idea that I really want to see a side story about Etho and Iskall in This Is About A Stuffed Bird, by Bee_4. I will sign up and request that fic as one of my fandoms (and others, you'd probably need a minimum of three fandoms), and meanwhile I’m offering to write people’s requests for This Is About A Stuffed Bird by Bee_4, Dog at the Door, Passerine by Thscs, Misery Meat by ReturnsNull, and Catbag by Supinetothestars (note that I, the person writing this, has not checked for blaket permission for those fics, so don't take it as given that they'd definitely qualify for the exchange).

We'll have our creation period like is usual for an exchange, and when I post my gift I will be using both the "gift to" function and the "inspired by" function. Once posted, there will be an anonymous period of the exchange where I get a mystery gift and my gifter gets a gift that is on anon as well, and then all will be revealed a week later.

__

And feel free to tell me your feelings in the notes!

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a less-than-easy mission, you can't help but feel like a deadweight among the strong crew you'd joined. kanan is sent to solve your mood, offering words of comfort.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ghost crew x gn!reader, kanan x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: self doubt, mention of wounds, requested by @ohnonixll

The hum and vibrations of the Ghost buzzed across your body, the cold durasteel floor pressing into your back as you stared up at the cargo’s ceiling. Not much had changed in the spiderwebs spinning in the uppermost corners; you would know. You’d been staring up at ‘em for well over an hour.

The skid of someone sliding down the ladder and the thunk of their boots hitting the floor jolted you back to reality. You peeked up, eyes straining to spy who approached, when the orange of Ezra’s cargo pants came into view.

He gave you an odd look. “Weather good down there?”

“Peachy,” you said, sighing deeply. “If you can call being doomed by uselessness peachy.”

Ezra took one look at the forlorn shadow in your eyes and turned tail. “Yeah, hope that goes well.”

“Screw you!”

You flopped back down in your pile of self-misery, while Ezra made a beeline for someone more qualified to deal with your… predicament.

And to his great luck, he ran right into the best possible candidate in his opinion. Ezra stumbled back, bracing one arm on the wall as he looked up at Kanan. He puffed a sigh of relief, getting a raised brow from his mentor. Kanan had a sigh locked and loaded before Ezra ever got a word out.

“What is it?”

“It’s Y/N,” Ezra exasperated. “They’re wallowing in the cargo.” He patted Kanan’s shoulder as he swept by, off to his room. “I think you got that handled.”

“Why not Hera?” Kanan called after him rather desperately.

Ezra waved a dismissive hand. “She’s out with Sabine, remember?”

“Oh,” said Kanan. “Right.” Just my luck.

But—you needed help, apparently. So as much as he dreaded these sort of confrontations, Kanan made his way to the cargo bay, running several questions over before settling on simply winging it. 

You lay unmoved from your position where Ezra found you, hands folded on your chest adn eyes locked on the ceiling. Kanan peered down from the railing, sighed a rallying sigh, and climbed down the ladder to reach you. Kanan slid to the floor, crossing his legs and resting his arms on his knees. Glancing between you and whatever you were staring at, he leaned to nudge your arm. 

“What’re we looking at?”

You gave a hefty puff. “Nothin’. Ezra sent you?”

Caught. Kanan shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. He was worried.”

“Tch.” Clearly, you disagreed. That, or you just didn’t care. Either way, Kanan too felt concern gnaw at him, your behavior odd to say the least. 

“Mind if I ask what’s wrong?” Before you could quip back something snappy, he beat you to it. “Because obviously something’s on your mind. You’ve been off for a few days now.” 

Ever since that last mission, he noticed silently. Kanan tried to think of anything that might have triggered such a reaction, yet he came up short. “Listen… can we skip the part where upi pretend to be fine? You know whatever you say won’t leave me.”

You gave a hefty sigh and adjusted to sit up, shuffling toward the wall to rest against it. You nodded to the space beside you, Kanan soon occupying it. For some time all you did was fiddle with your hands, lips sealed shut. “I can’t even dress my own wounds.”

Kanan quirked a brow, eyes wandering confusedly, till… oh. He zeroed in on the gauze wrapped around your bicep, expertly tied off by Sabine that morning. You’d been shot with blaster, leaving a nasty burn behind. “Neither can Ezra.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” you scoffed, brows knit. 

He rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, it’s supposed to.”

“Well it’s not.” You shifted further away from Kanan. “I just… I want to be more useful.”

There it is. Kanan tilted his head, trying to catch your fleeting gaze. “What made you think you were?”

You sputtered over fractured words, grabbing at them frantically. “Just look at me! That last mission could’ve gotten screwed up because of me.” You coiled your knees into your chest. “And on top of it all, I got myself hurt too.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“But it is! If I only knew how to fight…” You huffed, puffing out a breath. “I’m not a pilot or a Jedi or a warrior… I don’t even know why I’m here anymore…”

Immediately Kanan’s face fell. In the tense silence to follow, he set a gentle hand on your shoulder. In a soft tone, he cooed your name, saying, “You’re not here for anything you can do.” When you only sighed further, he said, “None of us are. We’re here because we believe in the same cause. Freedom.”

Lifting your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath and nodded solemnly. “Still, doesn’t make this wound any less my fault.”

Kanan ticked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Then let it heal and I’ll teach you to fight myself.” Your head swiveled around, lips agape. Kanan offered you a smile. “You’re here for a reason. You may not know what it is now, but one day you will.

“Besides—” Kanan stood to his feet, reaching out to take your hand “—I want you here. Everyone else does too. The ship wouldn’t be the same without you, kid.”

Heart swelling, you gave a shaky nod and jumped to your feet, doing your best to stifle a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Sudden trampling echoed out from the balcony and seconds later Ezra jumped out, sliding down the ladder and making for the control panel. He pressed a large button and flipped a switch and the hatch to the cargo bay began to lower. “Sabine and Hera are back.”

Sure enough, the two women walked up the ramp, a box of supplies in hand. A grin tugged at your lips, only widening as Sabine ruffled your hair as she passed and Hera’s smile met yours tenfold. Yet it all fell apart when you caught Kanan’s I told you so gaze, and you forced your lips into a stiff frown. 

Ezra broke the moment as Hera called to Kanan, the boy’s eyes stuck on the corner you’d previously been staring at. “Wait, that spiderweb is kinda cool.”

You rolled your eyes. “Idiot,” you scoffed, heading off into the ship's depths with Sabine, unwilling to acknowledge the warm fuzzy feeling unfurling in your chest. You would learn to fight, and then maybe you wouldn’t be so useless—or, perhaps, start to believe Kanan, and you would accept this little family more and more, bit by bit.

[mel-155-a]

I fucking hate being trans and also transitioning was the correct decision and I have no idea how to square those two things.

Hormones took way too long to do way too little, almost twelve years down the line I still get constantly misgendered, my tits are...fine. I guess. Average, which is honestly more than I expected so.....woo.

Vocal training makes me suicidal and a significant majority of the people offering it are actually offering extremely overpriced singing lessons when they aren't even qualified in anyway to do that beyond "being good at singing". I'm still stuck in a shitty cycle of trying it and failing hard every couple of years, because my voice makes me cry when I fail to disassociate properly from it in my day to day life and actually hear it.

It took me ten years to get the first stage of a colovaginalplasty in July, and it's been three months of pain, frustration, anxiety, and fear as my reward for the previous ten years of endless humiliation and stress that was constantly getting fucked with by surgeon's offices and insurance companies. I have never been particularly horny, but even for me, three months of any kind of masturbation or sex being complicated and difficult to get anything out of is a whole fucking lot to deal with.

I am getting the second stage in December, and the wait is hellish and the healing process is going to be worse, another extended painful, frustrating, anxiety and fear inducing healing period that will likely last at least a year, maybe longer. And it may or may not be over at that point, I might need revisions which will require more healing and frustration and pain.

I could try to get some kind of FFS so I could look in the mirror without cringing, but god, MORE surgery? Having to go through another years long process to try and force an insurance company to cover it, only to get the chance to be miserable for a year or more? Yeah, sounds great. Just what I wanted.

Make-up is a no go because of the face stuff, clothes generally don't fit me because I am a freakishly large 6'3" 230 something pound giant, and even when I do find something, a new skirt might feel good for an afternoon if I am really lucky. Getting misgendered in it regularly lasts forever.

And the trans community is just FUCKED. I know I am a traumatized, depressed, downer pretty regularly, and that is after ten years of therapy and trying really hard to get better. There are quite a lot of trans people who have not had the chance to do that ten years of work on themselves and oof. It shows. It's not their fault, but god is it draining to constantly be around.

Add in the fact that I am a trans woman who has the gall to not be bright, happy, and conventionally attractive, that I am not the girldick sex bunny AND I am also not the humble non-passing ogress who is none-the-less so proud and happy to be trans, who has pride flag everything and a dozen Blahajs around and just...ugh. I can feel people just waiting for a reason to make the call-out posts and when I eventually come across them where they think I won't see, I just want to never talk to anyone again.

Nothing about being trans is good for me. It is all an exercise in misery both internal and external that I can never escape. But it was also the right choice, not transitioning was worse. What the fuck do I do with that?

It's made even worse because I feel like I am "betraying the cause" or something, hurting all the other vulnerable trans women around me and the non trans femmes I love and have in my life, by being this just constantly screaming pain parade. That there should be a finish line to all this and I should have reached it by now, and been able to come back and happily report to everyone else that their time wandering in the desert will end as well.

I am just stuck. I don't have the resources or ability to disappear into the background and leave being trans behind except as a historical footnote, and it's all so normalized that any joy or novelty is long, long gone, leaving just the pain. I am not sure the joy and novelty were EVER there for me personally. If they were, the memories are so distant and faded as to be meaningless.

So...what the fuck do I do? There isn't a Transition 2 to get me out of the rut. This is just my life. And it fucking sucks.

I feel really apprehensive about posting this, I feel like people will be weird about it. But I am pretty sure that I can't be the only person who feels like this. Who feels stuck, left behind, and unwelcome because they are miserable with the thing that they are constantly told should have saved them. So, if that sounds like you, you aren't alone. I don't have any answers either, but we can have a little pity party together I guess. Wooooo.

[okkotsuus]

“ten years” (yoichi i.) !

for @saeist , always here to provide angst 🤞🤞

features: yoichi i.

contents: crying. episode one spoilers. crying. pining. childhood friends to lovers. 700 words

isagi guided his bike slowly as you walked beside him. eyes never leaving the ground in front of him.

isagi had been your best friend since you could remember, you knew something was wrong: anyone could see. but you also knew him well enough to wait for him to express it on his own. pushing it would result in hurt feelings and words better left unsaid.

his prefectural qualifier game had been something that he had been looking so forward to. you knew the moment he passed the ball to his teammate that they would lose. you knew isagi would end up blaming himself. you knew because you knew him. for everything he is.

the river you traveled next to glimmered like opalescent gems in the light of the dying sun. the warm amber glow illuminated the boy’s face in a golden haze. despite his stricken eyes, he was still entrancing.

his breath flowed out in puffs, visible to the naked eye due to the cold nipping at your nose. isagi tucked the bottom half of his face into the scarf you wrapped around him when he came out of the locker room: not wanting him to get a chill from his sweat.

all you could remember in this moment was sitting next to isagi when you were kids and watching his passion for soccer ignite when noel noa scored that goal. you were both supposed to be asleep, the room dark as the light of the television made his eyes shine like sapphires. that was when you fell in love with something too.

isagi was a talented player, but team dynamics stunted him when he really needed to grow. now he was a ‘second-year nobody,’ as he would say.

all you could do was grieve his dream at his side until he opened up. you felt your hand rest behind him on his empty bike seat. you needed to let him know somehow that you were there. but his eyes were so foggy are faraway that you didn’t dare disturb him. he needed time to grieve too.

you could practically hear his thoughts. wondering what would’ve happened if he had just taken the shot. he would’ve won. you knew that. because you knew him, you knew what he was capable of. you knew yoichi isagi.

because you have loved yoichi isagi for the past ten years of your life.

as some kids came running by, you saw isagi stop and turn to the sky: voice quivering as his spoke. you felt your eyes sting from the pure emotion in his words.

“remember its one for all, and all… for… one.”

the kids began to whisper about him as he continued on, you just stood beside him: waiting for the dam to let loose. isagi wasn’t ready for comfort yet.

his hand gripped his bike’s handlebars as the front of his body fell forward while he screamed. he screamed in anguish, despondence, misery, you name it. he screamed for the little boy that clutched a soccer ball close while watching his idol. he screamed for the preteen who was well above his peers. he screamed for the boy who had just lost a match that could’ve kickstarted his dream.

his voice wore out in a strangled fade, cracking as his tears spattered onto the dirt path.

“damn it! i really wanted to… win.”

your hands came to his cheeks as you raised his sullen face, thumbs wiping away the crystalline beads that flowed from the pools of his eyes. his lips pursed as his shoulders shook from the magnitude of the emotions surging through his being. this was the first time you saw yoichi isagi shaken to the core. you hoped it would be the last.

gently, you feathered kisses over his warmed cheeks, not minding the lingering taste of salt from his overflowing tears. he sniffled as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“yoichi isagi, i have loved you for ten years of my life. i know you better than you know yourself, this is not the end. you will find a way, and you will become the world’s greatest striker.”

okkotsuus 23

[bots-and-cons]

Heya, i got another request that's been stewing in my brain for a while. Do you think i could get a kinda angsty scenario for a techno-organic reader who was experimented on by mech to be turned into a techno-organic, and then after wandering they find a new home (and perhaps family) in the Autobots. Think, same size as human, but with vaguely cybertronian aspects, metallic skin plating, glowing optics, the usual. Additionally, if it gets too much to write an entire scenario for this, headcanons on how the Autobots and perhaps kids would react to the techno-organic reader would also be nice.

I wrote a scenario, but it might be a bit all over the place, because I wanted to fit stuff from the past into it. Usually I would do HCs for a request like this, but I got a good idea, at least in my opinion, so I wanted to see if I could make it make sense. I couldn’t really do all the bots with this, so I just did some of them. This is not very focused on the bots as individuals but more as the team. Also, a bit of a mess, but I’m okay with it

You didn’t know where you were or how you got there. It didn’t feel like a hospital, nor did it look like one from the little you’d managed to see. You were pretty sure of one thing though, you weren’t at the M.E.C.H base anymore.

You didn’t know if you should be relieved or even more scared. Maybe those bastards had sold you to someone even worse, or maybe someone had finally put an end to your misery and gotten you out of there. You really didn’t know.

You were drifting in and out of consciousness, and you didn’t seem to be able to focus your vision on anything in the moments you had your eyes open. You heard talking around you, but you couldn’t really make out what was being said. You did know the distant voices were those of strangers, not of the scientists’ you’d listened to for who knows how long before this.

You knew you were in no condition to get away from whoever it was that had you now. Your body felt foreign, like it wasn’t really your own. You were quite sure you could move, but not nearly fast enough to get away from anyone. So you decided to open your eyes, to at least look around to see what kind of facility you were being held in. You were still a bit out of it, but not drifting in and out of consciousness anymore, you were awake.

As you looked around, you still felt like your eyes couldn’t quite focus. You felt like this is how it must have been to need glasses. When your eyes did finally focus, you saw something big on the right side to you, it was colored orange, white, and a metallic gray in some parts. Maybe this was one of those decepticons you’d heard the M.E.C.H people talking about. From what you’d understood, they were giant robots, and the one standing near you certainly looked like it would qualify.

Ratchet was quite worried about you. You seemed to be a combination of cybertronian technology and human biology. He was starting to get an idea of what those M.E.C.H scientists had done to you and it was horrifying. Even though it seemed you would be fully functional once you recovered, Ratchet wasn’t hopeful for your mental state, with the agony and torture you must have gone through to end up like this.

When Ratchet turned around to check on you, you were just staring at him. You looked oddly at peace, you didn’t seem like you were even in pain.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Are you a decepticon? Are you going to kill me?” you croaked.

“Me? A decepticon? Please, I would never” Ratchet said and rolled his optics.

“What are you then?” you asked, and turned your head away from him, to look at the ceiling.

“I’m an autobot, we come from the same planet as the decepticons but we’re nothing like them. They are our enemies”

“Ah, so I’m not going to die today?” you asked, trying to focus your eyes on the lamp, dangling from the ceiling.

“If it is up to me, then no. You’re not going to die today” Ratchet said.

“Damn, I was kind of hoping for a different answer” you sighed.

“You must be in a lot of pain” Ratchet stated.

“No, I don’t feel anything”

Ratchet wasn’t very surprised by that information. You had been through hell and with all the changes they’d made to your body, he was sure there would be some malfunctions.

“Optimus, you should come see them” he said to someone else you hadn’t noticed before.

An even bigger robot, moved into your field of vision, and just looked at you for a while with his arms crossed across his chest. You got the feeling he was some sort of big shot with these autobots you’d ended up with.

“Are you aware of who we are” the big bot asked.

“Autobots? At least that’s what he said” you coughed and tried to motion toward the orange bot.

“Yes. I am Optimus Prime, leader of the autobots. We do not mean you harm, and you are safe with us. Are you aware of what has happened to you?” Optimus asked.

“I know I’ve been cut open and put together more times than I remember, but I don’t really know what they did to me” you said quietly.

The two robots shared a look. You detected pity and dread in their faces, like they didn’t know how to tell you about your current condition. You weren’t really even sure if you wanted to know. Your body felt so strange and foreign.

>>>>>

Three months ago you woke up in the autobot base. Even though you didn’t know what to think of the bots at first, you’d come to consider them the best thing that had happened to you in a long, long time. 

It had taken a lot of work to get to where you were now. You were able to walk again, even if you did need a cane most of the time, and you couldn’t walk for an extended period of time, you were happy you’d made so much progress.

You weren’t allowed to leave the base. That decision had been made for you by Optimus and Fowler, but you couldn’t really argue with their reasoning. Fowler or someone who worked for him delivered all the necessities and things you asked for, once a week.

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a manga you’d managed to convince Fowler to get for you.

“This is such a good use for the military budget” you muttered.

“What are you reading?” Arcee asked, as she appeared behind you.

“Some manga, it wasn’t really as good as I expected” you said and turned to face her on the couch.

“You in any pain today?” Bulk joined the conversation.

“Not really. It’s pretty weird that I got my sense of pain back when I got better, even though my sense of taste is still pretty much gone”

“It would’ve been easier if you got your sense of taste back instead of the pain” Arcee said.

“Yeah, but I’m just gonna have to deal with it” you shrugged.

The first month you spent with the autobots, you were terrified that you were going to end up back into M.E.C.H’s hands. Every time the bots clashed with those bastards, you were scared they were coming to take you back, but that never happened. You had grown close with the autobots, and you felt safe with them. Even though you led quite a solitary life, aside from your robotic friends, you were fine with it. Even if your body wasn’t like it used to be, and you were now living a very different life from before, you just felt grateful for being away from those sick scientists and the people that had experimented on you.

You were safe, maybe even content, and definitely glad to be away from M.E.C.H.

[inkblackorchid]

Sigh.

Screw it, I have to talk about it. Watching episodes 56 and 57, but especially the latter, hurts my heart every time I do it. Yusei has had some emotional moments up until this point, but I would, without the shadow of a doubt, claim that this is definitely his most emotional moment in the entire show. And the thing is, it's so unnecessary, and not in the "this is a poor writing decision"-kind of way. Quite the opposite. Allow me to elaborate under the readmore because I have a feeling this post is going to get long.

A question I had for a long while before I really started bothering to analyse the show, especially for fic writing, was when and how Yusei found out that his parents were leading developers in the Moment reactor that ended up causing Satellite's separation, killed presumably hundreds of people, and caused a lot of the misery in his own life, too. The thing is, the show never gives a definitive answer to that. Only context clues. We can infer from Yusei's reaction the first time Goodwin mentions his father and the Moment research before the signers depart for Satellite that this circumstance isn't news to him. Furthermore, we can infer from Crow's reaction to the impassioned speech Yusei gives in episode 57 that he must have known about his parents' identities for a while.

Personally, I take this to mean that Yusei has known about his parents' involvement in the Moment research for several years at this point—in fact, I'd go as far as saying that he's known about it since his childhood, and there's a reason why I think that: To a child, the line of thinking "my dad developed this giant machine that ended up blowing up and killing a lot of people, even many of my friends' parents" makes complete sense. (Even taking into account the cover-up the city did, pretending the whole explosion was a tectonic shift—because you can't convince me even for one second that the people in Satellite who lived close enough to the reactor didn't see that the Moment explosion happened first.) And I really feel the need to stress that this explanation is something I think especially a child could have come up with. Because with all the context the show gives us about the Zero Reverse incident, it's easy to see that there were a lot more factors involved there than just "man built bad machine, bad machine exploded". In fact, this drives me up a wall so badly I need to dig into it for a second.

With all the exposition Roman/Rudger gives us in this duel, we learn several things about the late Professor Fudo. Chiefly among them, three things: He was extremely smart, he had a project with the potential to change the future on his hands, and most of all, he was extremely passionate about that project, to the point of Roman/Rudger making this comparison:

The reason I'm mentioning that is because despite all the above-mentioned factors, Professor Fudo was 100%, completely ready to shut down his entire project when he realised it could become dangerous for the city and its people. And as someone who's worked with people engrossed in their own research projects, albeit in a completely different field, let me just say this: Giving up a project of this scale is not a decision you make lightly. Scientific research, as intriguing as it sounds and looks from the outside, can be an absolutely draining affair of trying to get funding for an idea, and fighting to keep that funding later down the line, sometimes even forcing you to pay for things with your own money for a while just to keep the project alive. At a point like the one Yusei's dad was at here, this project would have already had exorbitant amounts of money put towards it, not to speak of countless hours of labour from qualified professionals. This would have been a humongous undertaking, not to speak of the fact that it was likely to be the thing that could have defined the Professor's entire career (even though I don't think that's why he was so invested in it). So I'm going to say it again, because this drives me nuts: Deciding to not simply change the direction of a project like this, to not simply try a different approach, but to instead step away, install containment seals and shut the thing down entirely, taking the whole damned idea back to the drawing board, is. not. a decision any self-respecting researcher would have made lightly. And that's without talking about the sponsors' reactions to the Professor deciding to shut the project down.

The Professor may not have been willing to risk the city populace's lives for this project, but the sponsors certainly were. And so was Roman/Rudger, because by that point, he'd already been tempted by the darkness to give in to his worst impulses. It's honestly tragic because with all the facts laid out like that—everything from the project going out of control due to factors Yusei's father couldn't control, to him deciding to shut down what would have been the project of a lifetime, to Iliaster using their shadowy machinations to tempt Roman/Rudger, to him replacing the Professor as head of the project at the sponsors' behest because they wanted a return on what money they invested into it, all the way up to Roman/Rudger purposefully blowing up the reactor in order to be reborn as a dark signer—I, for my part, couldn't find it in me to blame Yusei's dad for everything that happened. Sure, he's somewhere at the start of the causal chain that lead to the Zero Reverse, but saying it was his fault is vastly oversimplifying the whole dilemma, in my opinion. Unfortunately, we all know that there's one person who can't find it in himself to forgive Professor Fudo for being part of the chain of events that led to the Zero Reverse.

And you know what makes this extra painful? Not only is Yusei blaming his dad, who was trying his damndest to prevent this catastrophe, for what happened, he goes as far as blaming himself for it, too, on behalf of being the late Professor's son. What drives me absolutely insane about this is that there's no need for him to. Even if the Professor had, somehow, been directly responsible for the Zero Reverse, that would still not make Yusei, his son, in any way culpable. None of what happened was even remotely Yusei's fault, and he couldn't have done anything to prevent it, either. He was an infant. This is what I meant by it being unnecessary above—Yusei is carrying this insane amount of guilt around, even though there's no reason for him to. Though I don't think he could be convinced of it, come hell or high water, Yusei is blameless when it comes to the Zero Reverse. What kills me is that Crow even tells him as much:

But. BUT. There's one more thing I absolutely need to stress: While seeing Yusei shoulder all this blame for a thing he's not responsible for and that I don't consider his father responsible for, either, is painful to watch, my frustration with it does not come from the fact that I consider it sloppy writing, or a character inconsistency, or any other such thing. In fact, I think it's the opposite. Granted, this is obviously built on my headcanon that Yusei has known who his parents were since he was a child, and thus came up with his rather simplistic, causal explanation of "my father invented a thing that caused a horrible catastrophe" without looking at (or even being able to look at, considering how hush-hush the public maintenance department and M.I.D.S. apparently kept the Zero Reverse thing) all the additional factors surrounding the Zero Reverse. And that this simplistic, condemning view of his father and his past had several years to fester, at that. But assuming for a second that this guess of mine is correct, I think the writing around Yusei's guilt complex is actually spot-on. Being confronted with this as a child, he would jump to the conclusion that his father was the reason the catastrophe that changed the lives of everyone he cares about for the worse happened. He would think that as that man's son, he has a responsibility to make up for his father's devastating mistake. And he would willingly put on blinkers, never stopping to consider whether there could have been other factors that contributed to causing the catastrophe, and never stopping to consider whether the friends he's so dedicated to compensating for the losses his father caused them even actually think that he's to blame.

It's like. My frustration with this aspect of Yusei's character is endless. I want to shake him and tell him to stop being so stupid and taking the blame for this insane thing. But at the same time? That's good character writing. That makes perfect sense. And my frustration is earned because I can't help but feel that this is exactly what Yusei's complex is supposed to evoke. So yeah. I love this writing choice, and I want to throw something against the wall every time Yusei gives this speech.

[muffinrecord]

Given all the revelations we'll be getting coming up, I want to take a moment and think about this line. What was Oriko thinking when she originally said this? What did "my world" mean to her, before Kirika was important, but after her father had died and she was left with nothing?

I think, with these lines, what she was hoping for was a meaning to her life. To ask "what is the meaning of my life" implies that there has to be one-- there HAS to be a reason that you exist. I think you can interpret this a few ways, but the two that most prominently come to mind would be:

I must be important enough to have a reason to exist in this world.

There must have been a reason to all the misery I've endured.

I think that both could easily qualify for Oriko. The first one is a little self-centered, a little grandiose. It assumes that one's birth had to happen because you obviously, necessarily had to be important enough to impart some special change to the world. That without you, the world would be completely different. You were necessary to be born. And... yeah, it's not really a pleasant character trait to be that self-important, but I think it can apply to Oriko a bit. But I think actually the second reason is what forms the first one.

Oriko desiring a meaning to her life, wanting to have someone accept that she exists, reminds me of a quote I often see tossed around:

For Oriko, everything that she's gone through-- her mother's early death (and Oriko needing to take over her mother's role in the house), her father's suicide, the bullying and ostracization she's gone through, the loneliness, and the lack of support need a meaning. All of the things she's done-- encourage Kirika's killing, damn Yuma's soul as a magical girl, attack random magical girls (through Kirika and otherwise), plan to kill someone who hasn't done anything wrong yet-- they all need a meaning too. There has to be one. It's impossible to her that this could have happened for nothing at all.

Because she's self-important? Yeah. But also because the truth otherwise is too painful to bear. She wouldn't be able to move forward with her life. She needed something to attach herself to in order to keep putting one foot in front of the other. She doesn't want to be a girl who was born just to suffer and cause others to suffer. It would be so much better, feel so much better, if that pain was noble and in service of something greater.

And her wish was in service of that. She held on to it, despite the monster it would turn her into, because it meant there was a reason for it all. It meant she was actually important to the world.

To put it in other words, this was her way of forging a new truth, that the world cannot ignore her. She was meant to exist. She was meant to exist and go through the things she did and the terrors she would inflict, and it was all good for the world.

So...

The idea that what she wanted all along could have been solved with... a friend? With a partner? A companion? That she didn't need to do the things she did, and she could have been content with just Kirika by her side?

Realizing what she actually wanted means to take down the scaffolding of what has been holding her up this whole time. You can't be held up by something new if you don't unbind yourself from what was keeping you afloat. Of course she had to lose everything before she could realize she was trading her home for a future she doesn't even really want.

[kipperlillyforpresident]

re: seven birds au. dnd party consisting of ivy ruben and buddy and then getting hired by kipperlilly is actually so fucking funny to me im really obsessed with it. especially if theyre all still like 16-17 in this au. imagine planning a train murder mystery or breaking the laws of life and death out of grief or running a horrible painful game of peoples misery and suffering for your enjoyment, and being thwarted by a teenage boy in a puka shell necklace & cargo shorts (or maybe he becomes emo after the memory wiping) and his friends

its EXTREMELY FUNNY. like. we never see them interact in canon. bc the rat grinders are cardboard cutouts. but this means we can make our own rules.

I think they're like. 21-22 in this AU. They were 16-17 during The Stolen Century (the IPRE sent a bunch of teens up into space for this super dangerous and unsupervised mission and they're like don't worry ^_^ there are two clerics on board they'll be fine ^_^ and since going into dangerous and life threatening missions as a teenager is what qualifies you to be a Hero in the logic of fantasy high they can still be the protagonists).

And then they get to Spyre, do the relics, Kipperlilly does a funny little memory wipe. (I feel like there's something to be said about memory wiping/rage starring...? Lucy being the only one able to resist it, and so she loses all of her memory as a last stand to try and convince Kipperlilly to change her plot...?) And 5 years pass.

So they're college-aged now, which I think lends itself to the narrative while still being extremely funny.

This also makes Mary Ann the red robe, which I think is really funny. She slots into the role a lot better then being one of the Tres Horny Boys, at least. (what would they be in this au... the High Three Heroes?)

Also, I'm genuinely unsure if I want Ruben to be in puka mode or not. Because well. Rubens treatment in canon sucked, as we all know. But also if we keep him in puka mode it means that he gets to also parallel Merle, which is fun. But also him being in emo mode because he lost his memories of 100 years of puka mode, and then everything comes back and Ivy is like 'holy shit how could I forget Oisin' and Buddy is like 'oh gosh now I remember all of my conversations with The Hunger!' and Ruben is like 'oh my god. my ukelele. I NEED TO FIND MY UKELELE.'

[trensu]

I've recently reread Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall, and I can't help but think it'd be a fun modern day steddie au.

It's a bit of a stretch, probably, but Eddie could work at a struggling, obscure charity. Not sure exactly which role, but the charity is so small it doesn't even matter because if any of the, what, five or so people who work there get caught in a scandalous situation it would mean bad, reputation-ruining press for the group. And Eddie getting photographed while he, idk, drunkenly makes his way home after a quickie in the alley behind a bar or smth is MOST DEFINITELY bad press. Now, Eddie may not care what people say about him, but he also doesn't want to be responsible for the charity's collapse either. He's not heartless.

In order to rehabilitate his public image, he needs to get himself a respectable boyfriend. You know, so he could be a PR-friendly type of gay. Does conforming to heteronormative expectations for his hypothetical queer relationship make him wanna grind his teeth to dust? You bet your ass it does!! But again, he can't have the death of the charity weighing on his conscience.

He's bemoaning his plight to his bestie Chrissy, who has the brilliant idea to hook him up with Steve Harrington.

"No. Nope! No fucking way," says Eddie. "He's a dick who thinks he's better than everyone else!"

Chrissy gasps in offense. "Not true! Steve's actually a really sweet guy, and I know if you just gave him a chance, you two would make a great couple!"

"Chris, I already gave him a chance. Like, two years ago at that Halloween party. Put the moves on him, took him home, and I woke up completely alone, fully clothed and sadly untouched the next morning. And the one time someone thought we were together? He laughed. Like the thought of dating someone as low on the social ladder as me was absurd. The guy hates me!"

Chrissy looked completely baffled. "Well that doesn't make sense at all! Robin said-- nevermind, there must've been some misunderstanding."

"I know you find this hard to believe, my love, but your girlfriend is, on occasion, absolutely and completely wrong," Eddie crosses his arms defensively. "Whatever. It doesn't even matter because it's not happening. And he's not even my type."

"Now that's a lie. He's totally your type," Chrissy counters smugly. Damn her for being his best friend for nearly a decade and knowing him better than anyone else on the planet. Eddie, maturely, sticks his tongue out at her, which she immediately reciprocates because they're besties for a reason.

"Even if he wasn't," she continues, "he's exactly the kind of person you need for this! He's a Harrington, for one." Chrissy starts ticking off fingers. "He chose to work at a public school even though he could've gotten a cushy, better paying job at his dad's company. Not to mention, his inheritance is big enough that he doesn't even need to work!"

"Ha, so he's stealing jobs from more qualified candidates to fuel his own ego!" Eddie tries, but Chrissy narrows her eyes so venomously it makes Eddie feel a twinge of guilt for the admittedly baseless accusation.

"And, and!" Chrissy plows on as if Eddie hadn't interrupted, "he volunteers at after-school programs for underprivileged kids. You literally cannot find a more wholesome or attractive guy for this. I mean, his own parents still parade him around occasionally when they wanna score brownie points with the press."

Eddie opens his mouth to make a snarky comment and instead grimaces when Chrissy kicks him under the table. Then she metaphorically kicks him in the teeth with the most sugary sweet tone when she finishes her last, most pertinent point.

"Besides, beggars can't be choosers."

Eddie throws his arms up in dramatic defeat. "Fine! Fine. I guess I can at least give this a try."

Chrissy squeals excitedly and starts tapping rapidly on her cell. "I'll let Robin know so she can help set up a date!"

Eddie drops his head in his hands and lets out a pathetic, drawn-out groan of misery.

"Trust me, Eddie-bear, this is gonna work out perfectly and you can thank me in your wedding speech when you two get married!"

--

One week later sees Eddie walking into a restaurant that is so far out of his price range it might as well be on another continent. He feels severely underdressed in his only pair of unripped black pants and the wine-red button down that Chrissy bought him for his birthday that was a size too small and pinched uncomfortably across the shoulders.

Steve spots him from the table he'd picked for them, and stands up as Eddie approaches like some kind of old timey gentleman. Eddie is abruptly certain that if Steve had been wearing a hat, he'd have removed it respectfully as if Eddie were a proper lady. He goes so far as to pull out Eddie's chair for him. A part of Eddie melts a little at the treatment, but a larger part beats that part with a nail bat and feels a bit condescended.

"Eddie, hi," Steve says with a tight smile. "It's, uh, it's good to see you."

Eddie swallows down a sudden bout of nerves. He sees Steve's eyes flicker down, and for a brief, completely insane moment, he thinks Steve was following the line if his throat down to where he had left a probably less than appropriate number of buttons undone on his shirt (which he cannot be faulted for because seriously, Chrissy should know his shirt size by now). But no, of course not, because Steve's eyes continue down to look at the wine list at their table.

"Hey, yeah," Eddie responds awkwardly. "Um, same."

The silence that follows is, in a word, excruciating. Eddie is seriously tempted to take the nearby fork and stab himself in the neck just to escape. So of course when the silence is broken its because they start talking over one another.

"Did you want to look at the wine m--"

"So how expensive is this--"

They stop simultaneously. With another tight smile, Steve gestures for Eddie to go on. Eddie clears his throat.

"I was asking what the price range is for this place? It's not my, uh, usual scene so I don't really know what to expect."

Steve's smile warms a little. "Yeah, no, don’t worry. I'm paying. "

Eddie can't even enjoy the small change in Steve's smile because the trailer trash kid in him reared its head at the implication.

"No! No, jesus, that not what I meant," Steve interrupts. "Look, I picked the place so it's only fair that I pay for this da--uh, outing."

"I can pay for myself, you know," Eddie snaps. "Just because I didn't have a trust fund doesn't mean--"

Eddie scowls. "No, I'd rather pay for myself, thanks."

Steve sighs and looks like his wants to pinch the bridge of his nose like a fed up school teacher. Which, good. Serves his privileged ass right.

"Listen, just let me pay this time. Please?" He barrels on before Eddie can protest. "If it helps, the chef is one of the kids I used to babysit when I was in high school, okay? She only started working here a couple of months back and I want to support her. She's fantastic, I promise. Worth every penny. But you know how it is. No matter how good you are at something, there's always moments of doubt and she's had a rough week."

Steve finishes with stubborn set to his unfairly handsome jaw. Jesus H Christ, what was Eddie supposed to do with that? Of course Steve had to have a stupidly cute and sentimental excuse to pay. Now Eddie will be the asshole if he kicks up a fuss.

"Fine," Eddie begrudgingly relents. The smile that forms pretty pink lips is one of the sweetest Eddie's ever seen. It crinkles the corners of Steve's eyes. Eddie swallows nervously and goes back to fiddling with his fork. There's a fluttering in his chest that he's trying hard to convince himself is heartburn. It isn't.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Steve's started pointing out different dishes that this El person apparently invented herself, but Eddie can't focus on his words. He's too entranced by Steve's voice and the way his whole demeanor relaxed when he started talking about El. Eddie again contemplates stabbing himself with the fork.

He's so fucking fucked.

[aeoki]

Blackjack - Santa Will Not Come: Chapter 2

Location: Yumenosaki Student Council Room Characters: Touri, Shinobu, Souma, Mao & Yuzuru Season: Autumn

Mao: Last year’s “Star Fest” was a send-off party for “Trickstar”.

In other words, the main goal of the event was for everyone to give us their support and cheer us on since we’ll be representing Yumenosaki at “SS”.

Every year, “SS” begins less than a week right after “Star Fest”.

“Star Fest” is like the eve of the “SS” festival – something like a rehearsal of sorts. It’s efficient and logical.

Touri: Really…? Honestly, that wasn’t on my mind at all back then, so I don’t really remember.

Yuzuru: Hehe. You were going through a rough time back then after having the proposal you came up with rejected…

Touri: Yeah… I won’t forget the misery I felt, thinking everything was over, and how cold the snow felt on my knees and in my palm.

Of course, I won’t ever forget how bright and dazzling the performance after that was too.

Souma: Hehe. Even though it was the send-off party for “Torikkusutaa”, I remember everyone was grappling with their own problems.

In reality, that was the least of everyone’s concerns…

Naturally, “AKATSUKI” was the only one who did not get swayed and worked diligently to give “Torikkusutaa” a proper send off.

Touri: What? Are you trying to say that “AKATSUKI” is better than “fine”? You’re so impertinent, Kanzaki-senpai, and you’re not even a member of the Student Council!

Souma: Hehe. My apologies. I was simply stating the truth – I had no intentions of provoking you.

Mao: Watch that mouth of yours, Touri~ Kanzaki may not be a member of the Student Council but he’s still your senior. He’s been helping with our work since the beginning of the new school year, so we’re indebted to him.

Souma: Well, it can be easier to work if one is not affiliated with the organisation at times.

Even so, I am here to help as that is what Hasumi-dono has asked of me, so it is not my intention to cause trouble.

Please treat my presence as you would the air and continue with the discussion.

Mao: Well, this air certainly has a LOT of presence…

Anyway, if you guys have something to say, then feel free to mention it – that includes you, too, Kanzaki.

The others will speak if I don’t so that’s nice.

Sengoku, Anzu, do you have any questions so far?

Shinobu: Y–You don’t have to make sure we’re included every single time, you know!? Didn’t you just ask us that?

Mao: Right. I said that on purpose. For twice the comedic effect.

Touri: Can’t you speak unless it’s got something to do with comedy, “Trickstar”?

Mao: Heheh. Anyway, it seems this year’s “SS” will be fundamentally different from last year’s.

“Trickstar” won’t be the only ones taking part – every single idol can at least take part in the Qualifying Rounds if they so wish to.

Touri: So what you’re saying is since “SS” has changed this year, the same needs to apply to “Star Fest” too?

Mao: Yup. If it was the same as last year, we’ll just be criticised since we’ll be the only ones favoured.

I’ll just be repeating what you just said, Touri, but we also have to change everything for “Star Fest” in order to match “SS”.

The one thing that won’t change is the fact that it’ll be a one-day event held during Christmas Live.

By the time “Star Fest” reaches its climax, it’ll be a new day and everyone will celebrate by saying, “Merry Christmas!”

Touri: The same thing happened with “Tanabata Fest” but it’s gonna be tough performing into midnight… I get so sleepy every time.

Yuzuru: During last year’s “Star Fest”, the Young Master fell asleep halfway through, perhaps due to feeling less tense.

Touri: Yeah… Maybe Santa came by right then, but there were presents everywhere when I woke up.

Shinobu: Hehe. Santa did a good job using that opportunity. He’s definitely a stealthy one ~de gozaru.

Mao: Yeah. Anyway, in order for the one-day-only “Star Fest” to be the best festival there is, we idols will be seeing hell, though.

Shinobu: This always happens with Anzu-dono’s proposals.

Touri: Yeah. It makes me realise every time that the most important thing an idol should have isn’t singing skills or cuteness, but stamina instead.

Mao: You hear that, Anzu~?

Well, seeing as it’s another of Anzu’s proposals this year, I guess one thing won’t change – it’ll be a test to see how long we can hold out for.

As long as we’re up for it, we can stand on stage for as long as we want, as many times as we want.

Souma: It is certainly something Anzu-dono would come up with.

If it is the job of a “purodusa” to guide us “aidoru” to the stage we’ve wished for, then Anzu-dono has done a splendid job.

Touri: That’s a compliment from the upperclassmen with tons of stamina, but it’s gonna be tough for the new students who don’t have the right physique for it. Don’t forget about them.

Mao: I’d like to think they’ll be fine, though. There have been fewer students collapsing compared to last year – Anzu included.

Touri: Anzu has also grown after learning a thing or two.

Mao: I can’t believe how different you are now – We couldn’t leave you alone at all back when we first met you.

Hm? I’m the same? I didn’t seem reliable in the beginning but now I’m doing an excellent job as the new student council president?

Oh, stop it – you’re making me blush~♪

Touri: Stop flirting with Anzu and get this discussion going!

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[fleursetrebellion]

I've known for a while that I don't experience the "normal" emotions that other people describe. So as a kind of journaling exercise, here is...

A Comprehensive List Of Emotions That I Experience

(in order of how often I experience them)

All-Consuming Curiousity: my brain and my heart rate speed up, I can only think about one thing, and I must Must MUST learn more about it. Like my body is on fire. Almost always is about something technical and vast. Science, math, computers, engineering, history, philosophy, religion, etc.

OVERWHELMED: like my brain is screaming in 1000 voices all at once. Coherent throughts are scrambled into keysmashes, every muscle in my body needs to tense and push and bite and tear. Once almost accidentally sped at 120mph into another car from it. Bad, obviously. Happens when there's too many conflicting noises at once, or fluorescent lighting in a grocery store, or several tasks I have to do at the same time, etc.

Scrutinized: like my whole body is stiff and I have to filter myself multiple times before saying or doing anything. Usually in "nice" neighborhoods, or around very normative or older people. But there's a slight amount of this just being around people who want to talk to me.

Yearning: floaty romantic feelings, triggered when I interact positively with a crush. I think about them too much, and my actions and body and thoughts become soft. You know the one.

Content: a warmth deep in my belly. Usually when I wake up early and I'm having coffee and doing something I enjoy, or when I'm out camping, or when I'm exploring somewhere new and cool, or playing an exploration-heavy video game.

Safety: the opposite of Scrutiny, like a transcendental relaxation in my body and mind. Generally while I'm alone and hidden, or sometimes in places where things are kind of dirty and broken and everyone is a little weird but minding their own business and nobody wants the cops around.

Misery: tired, numb, distant, no desire for anything, usually devolves into alcoholism. Comes from the fact that I can't recognize "normal" negative emotions when they're happening, like I almost never feel angry or sad in the present moment. Instead, those feelings are happening in the background and build up until one day I notice that I've been miserable for weeks.

Existential Rage: my brain starts circling the same thoughts, which gradually get more extreme. Generally it's about climate change, and what we can but aren't doing about it (as a society, but also sometimes on the scale of just me and my friends). Sometimes it's also about colonialism or other issues like that, though generally those are too far outside of my control to qualify.

Anxiety: like my body is splitting itself in half from inside my chest. ALWAYS happens when I think someone is mad at me.

[beegswaz]

Something went wrong somewhere along the fight, whether it be the fact Tangy has a chunk of what used to be a passenger side door stuck in his left side, or the broken right arm he's currently sporting. Schematics, really.

Either way, he is incredibly fucked. He's already gone numb from the adrenaline, but the sun is slowly going down and he can't see well in the dark and he needs to get the fuck out of there.

The steadily approaching tire screeches are like a fucking sign from Heaven, woe, Amalia be upon ye. Maybe he believes in divine intervention just a little bit after this. Just a bit.

Tangy doesn't stick around to see her show up, they don't need to see him like this, though he's also not keen on getting his ass chewed out by Amalia for letting things get that bad.

He doesn't even know how things got that bad. Maybe it was the fact he didn't have Cero screaming into his ear to "Get the fuck out of dodge" and to "Move his scrawny ass." Maybe he was just preoccupied with something else. He was never the best about paying attention.

Which is precisely why he's now outside of Moxie's bedroom window and shit, he definitely doesn't want to make Mox to deal with him right now. He's a big boy, he can stitch up his own wounds and make his own cast and wallow in his own misery in Amalia's apartment on the floor of her bathroom.

Except he can't stitch up wounds, make casts, or go to Amalia's apartment. And he can't go home so Kat can deal with him and he can't go live on Cero's floor and he can't go to the hospital even if any of those options should be before Moxie logically.

Maybe he just wants to see Moxie. Tangy's never been good about thinking rationally when Moxie is always an option.

"Fuck! Tangy, you good??"

Shit, yeah, he's outside of Moxie's bedroom.

"Yeah! Yeah... I'm fine just uh, shit, forget I was here. Sorry Mox. Uhm.. shit." Tangy winces, and prays on more divine intervention just so Moxie doesn't notice it.

Moxie does, because he always does, and gets a good look at Tangy despite his status of curling in on himself and his arm shouldn't fucking bend like that and that is too much blood to pass off as a cut and is that a sheet of metal Tangy what did you fucking do get in here oh my God don't be dying please don't be dying–

He doesn't verbalise any of this, because Tangy looks like he's about to bolt the moment Moxie says anything, so he settles for giving him a look between panicked and upset as he slams open his window with, admittedly, too much force. But his boyfriend is currently bleeding out in front of his room, so he should be cut a little bit of slack at least.

This was a shit idea, Moxie doesn't even know first aid and he can't drag all of the medical supplies in the house to his room without some suspicion, but he can't let Tangy fuck off somewhere.

Because he knows Tangy, and he knows he's not going to Kat or Amalia or Cero if he leaves. And Moxie knows he doesn't want to see him on the news.

"...Mox I don't want to get blood all over everything," He wheezes out, pitching over slightly. "I'd feel bad."

"Well don't, now get in here, Tangy."

Tangy gives up all apprehension suddenly, too tired to fight Moxie on it. He just awkwardly uses his left hand to half crawl his way in while he gets guided to the floor.

Moxie shuts the window and immediately goes back to focusing on Tangy, who seems a lot worse now that he's not intentionally hiding his injuries. And seeing them all makes him realise how under-qualified he is for this.

Tangy closes his eyes and lets out a weak wheeze.

"Sorry Mox.."

"Tangy if you keep apologising I'll kick your ass."

Tangy sniffles and laughs a bit, before descending into a coughing fit.

"I'd let you, y'know."

Moxie huffs, vaguely amused and annoyed, before opening his door and sliding out. Not before telling Tangy he'll be back, though.

The door shuts softly, and everything hits Moxie. Fuck, he doesn't even know how to stitch up wounds, and his stomach most definitely needs stitches. He feels like throwing up.