#so i can’t watch it very often cause it worms into my brain & i start developing ocd aha anyway

[renegadeontherunn]

my only criminal minds hot take is that i think emily is a lesbian but i also ship hotchniss. they’d be such a hot power couple i’m not sorry why did they keep planting those seeds & then not following up on it. but also i’ve never seen anyone more lesbian than emily prentiss. why did they make her look at jj like That. why did jj look at her like That. i can taste the jemily in my mouth from some of these episodes. these writers have literally no idea what’s going on or what they want. they’re me. i can & will have conflicting ships i don’t give a fuck they’re all true all at the same time canon is my playpen

[lunarsvertigo]

Random Asahna Headcanons and Facts

(but since it’s an oc it’s actually canon :P)

As a Padawan:

She has up pictures of Anakin, Obi Wan, and Madeline (my friend bri’s oc) on her walls and has definitely talked off Ahsoka’s ear asking about what it’s like to be Anakin’s padawan.

Especially during the Clone Wars, I feel like padawans are much more rowdy and rebellious, so I’m definitely leaning into that with Asahna, especially with her best friend (if you make out with your friends) being Caleb Dume.

She and Cal met during one of her studious phases when she fell asleep in the library and Cal lightly nudges her awake. She immediately becomes fascinated with this shy, fiery haired boy. She hunts him down soon after and follows him around quite a bit, before introducing him to Caleb. She basically pleads with Caleb if “they could keep him”.

As mentioned above, while nothing is specifically lined out in terms of romance, Asahna and Caleb sneak around in have kissing sessions throughout the temple. This all started when they ended up on their second mission together (after meeting on their first one) and they were the last two around the fire and just looking at stars. Asahna initiated it…

The little trio loves to sit by the fountain and read or relax once they have gotten back from their missions.

Asahna absolutely has a fascination with bugs which mostly dies out after the Geonsian brain worms. She still occasionally ventures to the nature area of the temple and likes to watch little beetles crawl up the trees.

Even at 15, she likes to hang around with younglings and teach them what Yoda allows. She has so much love for the future jedi, which is what leads her to meeting a 4 yr old Leysha.

Although she is a very rebellious padawan, she deeply respects her master and those who have helped raise her into who she is. She often goes and meditates with Yoda and seeks his counsel.

As a fugitive (about the next decade after Order 66):

She absolutely loves hot chocolate! She loves to brew up some for her and Leysha (the youngling she saved) while they sit on her bunk curled up with a soft blanket and a holonet show on. She loves to drink it late at night and first thing in the morning (a very tired asah below).

Asah makes sure that Leysha stays on the ship whenever she has to work a job. Whether that is meeting up with an informant or dropping off some smuggled weapons. This also means that she has stocked up on toys and things for Ley to do while she is left alone.

As much as Asahna claims that their mosswa (original creature, inspo down below), Gigi, is for Ley, she can’t deny how much love she has for the mossy mammal when it curls up on her shoulder when it’s late at night and she is alone in the cockpit, piloting the DawnShredder (YT-2400) to a new planet.

Even though there are about 4 crew rooms on the DS and they each technically have their own rooms, Leysha and Asahna sleep in the same room and most nights, on the same bunk. Mostly due to Asahna wanting to be able to comfort Ley after nightmares.

She is certainly guarded and a much more hardened version of herself but for Leysha’s sake, she puts on a smile and makes sure to be what she had needed in the last 10 years for Ley.

As a rebel:

She meets up with an informant who happeneds to be Hera. Out of the two existing Ghost crew, she finds Hera more attractive in the beginning. The jet juice certainly makes Kanan look better.

She has the exact same coping skills as Kanan, aka being an alcoholic and a slut. Which is exactly how she meets Kanan… by getting drunk and hooking up with him.

That doesn’t stop her from stealing weapons from the Ghost (Kanan took her back to his cause she never brings men to the DS because she doesn’t want to disturb Ley).

Asahna and Kanan do not recognize each other and will not for a couple years.

Zeb is the first person that Asahna genuinely connects with. It was mostly due to the fact of trauma bonding and having to deal with watching your people die (she was at the temple during 66).

She constantly fights with Chopper as a way to release stress. Sure her and Kanan hook up to do that too but what’s more fun than yelling back and forth with a droid that happens to be a war criminal.

Asah never gives up the DawnShredder. It sits on lothal and from time to time, her and Ley sleep on it as a form of sleepovers. Which means that her and Ley bunk together on the Ghost which is alright because they had practically been doing that before joining the Ghost crew.

so yeah that’s the list i have for right now !! most of this came up on a whim cause i had like 3 but all of them really suit her lol

(references below, found the moss ferret on pinterest, if you know the artists user or @ pls let me know! and asahna was done by little_joy_15 on instagram!!)

[nimuetheseawitch]

i wanna hear more about what you have to say about hunnihawk! i absolutely adore them and would to hear your take on their relationship! ❤

Oh, man. So, I have a lot to say on hunnihawk because they are the reason I went to ao3 to find MASH fic and then returned to Tumblr (I had been a MASH fan for about 10 years but hadn't entered the fandom). I also went from having only ever written one fanfic to writing several, and now I have a bunch posted and several WIPs, so I will put some descriptions and links at the end if you want to check them out.

But first, here are some of my thoughts on hunnihawk as a convenient list:

They are both bisexual. I understand the closeted BJ hc, but I don't like it because I really do think he's deeply in love with Peg.

Which is also why I'm pretty pro-punnihawk.

I love the idea of them actually being mature and admitting their feelings in Korea, but I mostly find it unlikely. BJ hates the concept of cheating, and Hawkeye has expressed a difficulty pursuing married people (although this is wishy washy)

I think they have a lot of problems. Like a lot. They're codependent, they have often conflicting coping mechanisms, and neither of them has actually found a healthy way to talk about their feelings. This is very fun to watch, but could mean they'd be terrible together.

BJ doesn't know how to apologize right and needs to make amends for Period of Adjustment. Also that date book line.

I want them to be friends after the war, but I also want them to kiss and be happy.

I want BJ to write, but there's plenty of believable scenarios where he doesn't.

Both of them have problems about how they feel about each other: BJ needs "real life" to mean Mill Valley and canonically has a hard time reconciling that with his emotions about the 4077 (especially Hawkeye). Hawkeye hates the war and is holding onto the concept of BJ's happy family almost as hard as BJ.

And, Hawkeye has abandonment issues. His mom, Carlye, Tommy, Henry, Trapper, Carlye again, Kyung Soon, Millie, BJ, and those are only the canonical ones. He definitely thinks it's a problem with him and that things with BJ will never be the same

Alright, that was a lot of things, but I could go on. I've probably posted a bunch of stuff, and I've definitely written fic about it, which is below the break because I feel weird about self-promoting, but is a great way to know my feelings about hunnihawk.

Brief descriptions of my hunnihawk fics:

You Can’t Go Home Again - my first hunnihawk fic, and my longest one. This is the brain worm that made me right MASH fanfic. It takes place a few years after the war and technically spans several years. Hawkeye flies to California after finding out BJ and Peg are divorced, and then there are some letters they don’t send each other. I’m really proud of this one.

time to love you - this is where I explore Hawkeye’s abandonment issues. More character study than plot.

I want to try something - smut. Pure smut.

Class A’s - BJ is flustered the first time he sees Hawkeye in his Class A's.

Kissing You Is All I Can Do - what if the GFA hawkmarg kiss was hunnihawk

The problem with starting halfway through - a series with titles inspired by a Tegan and Sara song, although the current two installments can be read independently:

‘Cause I Will Miss You - one last night in Korea

Sitting here tonight - Hawk ignores BJ’s letters until he can’t anymore

[franki-lew-yo]

I really hate 2d purists. No, not 2d animation. Not 2d animators.

2d purists.

The sad thing is it’s gotten to the point that I really cringe hearing any pro-2D sentiment at all. I hate the arguments I agree with because how often they're misused and weaponized by idiots.

Let me make my stance here clear - 2d is NOT appreciated and 3d is used for everything! The layman Karen-mom who doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body looks at stupidsmooth 3D Grubhub ads and assumes quality cause it “looks more real” (aka ‘rendered’). I know as much is true because I literally have a member of my family who told my sister and I that she thinks 3d is better (and also that she “tolerated THOSE movies for us kids”. Touching words. My sister was taking an animation course by the way). Combined that with the studios either using 2D for cheap stuff or finding good 2d animation too “costly”, I get it and I’m not even any animator. I'm just a worm an illustrator.

but holy HELL -

There’s a backlash from the artistic community that's it's own kind of insufferable and deserve to be addressed.

“(insert2Danimatedfilm) is better BECAUSE it's 2D!”

followed by: "Animation is a visual medium and the quality of the art affects how much the story means !!!!”  

Yes. Totally. Animation is a visual medium and the look and style is important. Sadly, people use this excuse to really obnoxious ends, insisting that design being pretty is '' everything ''. When you treat a movie more as a special effects demo I get why you talk about the artistry at hand; but I’m sorry, visuals are not the only thing important and it’s why I’m also getting sick of the sameElsafacesyndrome rants too! There’s this attitude that's reads as "but it LOOKS better fromaproductionimage/teasertrailerwhichapparentlyisindicativeof all themovieactuallyis so it MUST BE better".

-“3D should only be used to make things look realistic!”

I think I know the logic this criticism is made in response to, and that’s the Sony + Illumination films which look just as good in 2D as they do in three dimensions. I know it feels like people are twisting this medium to try and make it like a classic cartoon when by all means people can and would love a classic cartoon being a classic cartoon. That I get- From the unsung 2D animator’s perspective, that’s more than valid !

But it’s a huuuuuuge slap in the face to 3d in saying it should only be used for "realistic animation" because

1: It’s not like realistic animation could age badly or look uncanny in the next few years. It's almost like technology is constantly improving, which I guess 2d animation never did and it was always the same technique and quality as every film that came after it.

2: The industry does treat 3d as a magic-moneymaker for this reason. Just listen to these people call the 2019 LION KING “live action” as if they’re embarrassed to call it animation. It IS animation! It would be impressive if you acknowledged that what it is, but like the CATS, you basically are treating it as just a neato tool to better your live action and not it's own artform - which it is!

3: By this “three-deeonly gud when real liek in da toystories” non-logic I guess 2d should ONLY be for flowyflowy SPACE JAM cartoons and maybe some Disney*. Just that though. You can’t do anything more with 2d. It’s never supposed to be realistic I guess. Good thing Richard Williams only did 'toons' and just toons that’s why we need 3d in the world I guess.

Wait no - that’s stupid.

"I HAVE to see the “Land Before Time 14″ when it comes out! I mean it’s a 2D animated film!"

Lost in the aether that is Youtube comment chains removed from kid's videos is a stream of this very VERY stupid argument supporting the buying of the 14th LAND BEFORE TIME film because it’s supporting 2D. My sister and I can be found on that chain arguing against this stupidity. All you have is my word, but trust me: it really did happen.

I’m sorry but...no.

Unless you have a friend or a family member who worked on these movies there’s no reason to see this and ESPECIALLY no reason to insist it’s a win for the 2D community if you buy up this crap - and I'm not judging if you do like it, but come on! LAND BEFORE TIME 14 isn't where your money should go if you really like this medium.

What’s so infuriating about this argument is you can tell it’s made by nonanimators. Real animators will tell you to support their movies cause they want some respect for their artform which is why there’s such a push from the PRINCESS AND THE FROGcrowd that you SEE and LOVE every 2d thing out there, regardless of how good it is because any recognition for it is k i n d o f what they're after!

Kiddy sequel schlock isn’t even in the same ballpark as KLAUS or WOLFWALKERS; these films DID have very limited theatrical runs (Klaus so it could be nominated; Wolfwalkers in places where theaters opened up after Covid) and should have been supported because they were labors of love made by people who love animation.

As other people have already pointed out, one of the reasons for the lack of interest in 2000sera2D animation is that the only films released alongside critical+financial 3D hits were cheaper 2D films that either coincided with daytime tv shows or should have been just direct-to-video. It’s not to say art couldn’t come out of these flicks, but dayum if it wasn’t abused as much as the texture software that era's CG used... Point being, should the world ever go back to normal: If you hear about an out-of-town showing an acclaimed 2D animated film, make time to trek out and see THAT!

Don’t give your money to see yet another made-for-tv movie on the big screen because all that tells the studio is: “yeah 2d IS cheap and only good for cheap stuff let’s just keep it cheap. Only 3d is important 8D 8D 8D !!!"

“I don’t understand how it works. So it sucks.”

This text is from an ANIMATOR btw.

“I don’t understand how it works” and “it’s just some computer rendering” is the exact same wave of logic the people who prefer cgi use.

The plebian Karen I mentioned earlier? She understands the basics of 2D animation as much as you did from one of those cruddy flash classes you took in middle-school. She 'understands' the basics cuz she watched how it was made on the DVD features or maybe back on the WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY. To her, the illusion is broken and she’s not impressed by 'just some drawings on paper'. You, an animator, know the process is more complicated and is intrigued by knowing how it’s made - not bored or disinterested -

Neither you nor Aunt Karen have really good cg-animation software at your house and unless you ARE a 3D animator you probably DON’T know all the ins-and-outs of how these movies are modeled, rendered, and animated.

Aunt Karen is bedazzled by them cause she doesn’t know how it works and the technical aspect makes her brain hurt so it might as well be magic and she can feel like a cool kid sharing Minion-memes. Aunt Karen is the nonartistic type who just wants to feel safe. You're not. You want to feel challenged.

I get it: you’re pissed off cause you’re in a field no one, including Aunt Karen, appreciates; told to work in cg which it's an artform you didn’t devote your life to and told to learn it cause THIS style sells! 3D is everywhere and is starting to look like 'garbage' even if you don’t animate 3D models yourself you just KNOW, I guess. Besides, you know all there is to know about 2d!! You know all there is to possibly know about this artform and have to fight this 'war' against "r e a l" animation! And I mean even when 3d software is there to use, it's not like you can actually make anything worth while in it, especially not anything that transcends the medium. Right Worthikids?

TL;DR: This argument is basically just " BWAAAAH I’M NOT GONNA USE IT I HAVE STANDARDS (a chip on my shoulder cuz art should be what I deem it to be) "

“PRINCESS AND THE FROG is-”

There’s a reason I can’t say I truly like PRINCESS AND THE FROG even though it's not even a bad movie! Like, stop reading this and watch PATF if you haven't it's good. It's my 'FROZEN', in that; I see a lot of potential in it I just think it needs some serious rewriting and that bugs me. Always have felt that way, tbh.

I dislike this movie because the response from the animation community seems to be it was perfect and the Academy was just Pixar-crazy with UP ((ftr, the Academy IS Pixar’s bitch and I personally advocate a sequel be made to WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY about Mike Eisner’s sabotage of the 2D department at Disney which is still in place now!- but that’s a story for another day)). I’m sorry but UP was just a better story. So was CORALINE. So was FANTASTIC MR. FOX. Honest to god it feels like poor PATF is brought up as just a talking point and never for it's own worth as a labor of love - which it was! I'd like to honestly know: had PRINCESS AND THE FROG come out now and been cg if it would have even half the defenders for it because now it doesn't "look" like how a Disney movie "should" look...

If you like PatF more than the currant Disney lineup because of it's culture, it's music, it's feminism, it's black representation? Awesome. Great. Those things should be appreciated and I never want that taken away from you. But if you seriously think PatF is better just for how it was animated and looks - I lowkey may hate you.

“ALL OF DISNEY’S LATEST MOVIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN 2D! THEY ALL LOOK AWFUL IN 3D!! ALL OF THEM!”

TANGLED, FROZEN, and MOANA? Yeah. Sure. But um, e x c u s e y o u- WRECK IT RALPH sooooo doesn’t work in 2d! It could have used different between the various worlds but it’s about hopping through different video games. I’m also of the opinion that ZOOTOPIA and BIG HERO 6 are fine the way they are. Their 3d is awesome.

The latest fairy tale Disney films are really big on their place alongside the 2D canon esp in marketing. They keep trying to mimic 2D to varying results though I don't think it works as well as the movie's I'd previously mentioned. Me personally, I would love a mix of 3D and 2D technology, like if the backgrounds in FROZEN still got to be 3D but the characters were handdrawn and shaded ala KLAUS ((sweet sigh)). But even then are they truly unwatchable just based on how they're animated to you?

MOANA would have been incredible in 2D but for the record - I don't think it feels out of place in it's style. It reminds me more of a Pixar movie with the heart of a Disney classic which is it's own just as good.

“2D is the oldest form of animation and it’s being replaced.”

Actually, if we’re talking animation in film, stop motion is the earliest form of animation. The stop motion animated THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE ACHMED and TALE OF THE FOX predate Disney’s SNOW WHITE. And yes: stop-motion IS still a form of animation even if it’s a serious of pictures taken of real life things and not drawings, so don’t you dare come at me with the "but that's not animated"/"Technically it’s LIVE ACTION" crap or I’ll envoke the spirit of Sandman to get you at night.

“Every animated film would look better in 2D! Even PIXAR would look better in 2D!”

Again, Stop Motion.

No, I mean it.

Lemme ask: Would ISLE OF DOGS or FANTASTIC MR. FOX carry any of the same effect if they were generic 90s toons? I know NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS wouldn’t. Christ, don’t even get me started on Svankmajer!

Sometimes the problem is that a movie is envisioned with a specific artform in mind. Pixar started out with toys and bugs for a reason and that’s cuz they were always gonna be a 3d studio and they needed to first overcome the placisity of the models. Over the years they’ve gotten really good at effects and blending unrealistic proportions with real textures (and also not so much- ONWARD and THE GOOD DINOSAUR really needed some different character designs and yeah, I do think would have looked better with a 2d artstyle, but not the ones they had in their films. THE GOOD DINOSAUR needed more realistic-speculative looking dinos and ONWARD needed a grittier HEAVY METAL/BLACK CAULDRON appeal to its designs.) My point being that the problems with these movies aren’t even inherently the animation as much as it is a problem of style. As someone who runs a group speculating different styles and designs for movies and tv shows I’m all for envisioning a 2D ZOOTOPIA or Bluth-inspired FNAF. That’s amazing!

But that’s also the talk of fan artists and nerds and not the professional artists working on visualizing their stories!!

Since I ate, slept, and breathed NIGHTMARE in my youth I’ll use it as an example: All the concept art ever done for TNBC was on paper and 2D was used in the final film. However, even when Tim Burton was thinking of making it just a tv special it was always going to be stop-motion. NIGHTMARE’s puppet cast do work very well in two dimensions, believe me, but the film was made as a love letter to Rankin/Bass and the art form of stop-motion. Skipping to another Henry Selick-helmed project (haha), JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH was also always envisioned as a multimedia film to give it a truly dream-like atmosphere. If you know anything about Henry Selick you’ll know he’s 1) a perfectionist, and 2) loves mixed media and different types of animation and puppetry at once. That’s why he was the perfect pick to direct TNBC at the time, why JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH and CORALINE are so beautiful and why MOONGIRL, his only fully 3d film, doesn’t have the same appeal.

As for what films I couldn’t imagine NOT being 3D? Probably; 9, Padak, Next Gen, Soul, Finding Nemo, the Toy Story films, Wreck-it-Ralph (as previously mentioned), Wall.E, Waltz with Bashir, Robots, Inside Out, Arthur Christmas, The Painting, Happy Feet, Shrek, Enter the Spiderverse, Megamind… just naming a few here.

“I want a traditionally animated film [and by that I mean a 90s-Disney/Don Bluth looking movie] of ‘x'-popular live action/stage thing!”

Okay I’m cheating a bit but it’s my blog and so I’m gonna stick this one in because it’s related.

When I see musings about wanting live-action or CGI shiz to be in 2d again a lot of the time this argument actually boils down to " I want this to look like a 90s Didney movie ". Or, if it’s about animals - " I want it to look like a Don Bluth film! "

Like...there ARE other styles of animation out there...you know that right?

Frack, Disney themselves tried different styles throughout the 90s it’s just that the peak of the Disney renaissance films (LITTLE MERMAID, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, ALADDIN, THE LION KING) and the many imitators that followed tended to have the same look to them where only film/animation nerds kept watching into the era that was TARZAN, HERCULES, and ATLANTIS along with the kids. Aunt Karen wasn't singing Part of your World in the carride with you every day.

The Don Bluth argument is especially irritating because...what exact feeling do you WANT from a movie if it looked Bluthish? Each of the four ‘quintessential’ Bluth movies (NIMH, AMERICAN TAIL, LBT, and ALL DOGS) have such a different feel to them that’s complimented by that style; SECRET OF NIMH is a drama about wild animals trying to understand humans; LAND BEFORE TIME is even more squarely about an animal’s perspective as there’s literally no humans around; AMERICAN TAIL uses animals stowing away on the ship to tell a story about refugees; and ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN is ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN.

What the frack are you even asking for with that because I think there’s a certain flavor to the Bluth-styled oeuvre as well as the 90s Disney catalogue that would clash too much stylistically with some films.

Also come on! Like some Bluthian-style 2d would really fix THE SECRET LIFE OF PETS or SCOOB!, bite me.

I think this fixation solely on these two hand drawn styles and nothing else is based on nostalgia goggles, refusing to step outside the norm and discover different films and feelings than Disney and Bluth, and just preference. Goin back to NIGHTMARE there will always be a special place in my heart for Henry Selick’s stop motion, but I couldn’t imagine CHICKEN RUN or ANOMALISA in it's unique style.

Also I’m tired of every time there’s a "lets make an animatic to ‘x’ musical theater song" it’s reliably just Disneyesque or realistic. WHY envision an animated version of the show at all if it doesn’t have A STYLE to it??!?! I’m sorry but 90s-Disney does NOT fit CABARET!

“3D is so CHEAP now! Why can’t they just do 2D again?”

I think - on the cusp of the 2020s and the Grubhub hatedom, there ARE changing times ahead for 3d and 2d. The general public are starting to get tired of the same looking 3d films and wanting some 2d back, but they don’t have the best resources or opinions on animation to know what it is they want. Meanwhile, the animation community + industry is trying to figure out what to do and you have a lot of turmoil between the monopoly that is the industry, the high standards of the artists, and the mixed wants of the animation fanbase deciding what art needs to be.

It’s a tough business. And in the spirit of that tough business - maybe DON’T act like the means of a film’s production is solely your control, that you know best, and know definitively what the artists should have done....cuz you don't. Sorry my fellow criticalfanomanalysist-folks we DON'T and in an age of standom where fans and critics think it's okay to hackle indie animation studios about not getting their pitched cartoon out fast enough - we need to reserve these discussions to our circles and not treat them as gospel.

3d animation and 2d animation have to share this world. Stop acting like they’re either interchangeable in terms of budget, means of production, or artistry or that one has to be superior to the other.

The industry already says one art form is better (spoiler: it’s always live-action), we don’t need anymore of this purist garbage. Just stick to what you like while trying new things on the side. Be critical while also being compassionate. And remember:

[niles-rainbow-room]

Freemod Context! (Long!!)

This is Gordon Freemod! He’s my own little AU Gordon, and I love him!

I made him based around the way I play Garry’s Mod

Cause, in Gmod, my player model is Gordon, and I literally cannot change it because whenever I go to change my model he just

He looks at me. He judges me. He’s just refusing to let me change it.

Here’s just. A bunch of things about Freemod that aren’t related.

Btw, this whole thing is me going-

*projects rapidly*

These were all taken from various moments of me info dumping to my discord friends about him, so, that’s why there’s so many that are barely related.

-

So

To get some characterization down, Freemod can go from Excited Sweet Voice at Everything to This Man is in God Mode and He is Staring You Down as You Attack Him

They’re also

very scared of Gman

It’s not even funny

-

ANYWAYS something else about Freemod, he likes starting all out fights between people, but he’s very polite too so like

Someone says hi to him and he gives this big ol smile, next thing you know, he’s spawning headcrabs that could wipe out an army

-

He also has no idea what to do with bodies like sometimes he just Sweet Voice cocoons them, and other times he just beats them rapidly if it was a combine or something

-

Another thing! He doesn’t like making eye contact 100% of the time! If he gets too excited as well, he’ll despawn whatever was making him excited until he calms down.

-

He’s also really fast when it comes to no-clipping.

He’ll shoot up into the air and fling himself from place to place, just absolutely soaring and loving that feeling of flying through the air

-

He definitely makes Catboy Calhoun jokes but like

He’s also really nervous around Calhoun sometimes like he’s constantly checking in on them after making them fight a ton of headcrabs.

-

He doesn’t really like using the majority of the guns. He just typically uses the quieter/less frantic weapons like the magnum or the crossbow.

-

He’s like

Magnetically drawn to mirrors. He likes watching himself do the Sweet Voice and will do it for hours when he’s in the right mood if someone doesn’t stop him

-

He’s very giggly and smiley when it comes to hearing other characters talk. But he also can be very mean and cutting to the people he doesn’t like. Especially combine.

-

Freemod really likes Houndeyes.

*Really* likes them.

He spawned in a group of 8 and just watched them for a while, and then he spawns a MP Combine. It proceeds to stun stick every one of them. And they all die in one hit. They don’t even fight back.

What Freemod does next is basically the equivalent of “die a very painful death” and just beats the shit out of them while alive and dead.

They have to erase everything because they can’t stand the sight of the bodies of Houndeyes.

-

Hi! Sorry to take you out of the immersion of reading my brain goo, or the annoyed scrolling of “Oh my god will she just shut up already” but!

Another thing I decided to do with him, I gave him a little plot. A hint of his own character rather than just being me but an AU Gordon.

So here that is!

-

I feel like the only true way to contain Freemod and keep him from destroying the world is by keeping him in gm_construct

He likes it there sure, but like

If someone let him into Black Mesa let’s just say that the Resonance Cascade would’ve been way sooner and way more intense.

All he really does is fly around in there. Just. That’s it.

It’s his own personal Bug Bucket.

I don’t even think he realizes he’s trapped to be fair?

-

Another thing with Freemod, I’m not exactly sure how he’d react to... say, the HLVRAI characters showing up in gm_construct one day, idk Benrey takes the gang on a trip to there out of nowhere and they find Freemod just vibing by himself, flying through the air on a capture point from TF2. I don’t know if he’d:

A: Summon a bunch of things to attack the HLVRAI crew for the fun of it

B: Immediately try to befriend all of them desperately

C: Possess a creature and disregard them

D: All of the above

Cause with all this “He’s trapped/alone” sorta thing, I don’t know if I’m making him into a villain or am I just making him very touch starved and sad?

Cause like, earlier I did say that if he was let out of gm_construct, the resonance cascade would’ve been sooner and more intense

Basically what I was thinking is that he doesn’t really limit how crazy his thoughts experiments can be that often, so like, he spawns a bunch of things all at once to see what would happen.

But he’s not like that all the time, like I said, he’s also very polite, he’s just got a thin coating of God Mode on and he’s very lonely.

-

I was trying to figure out the thing with Freemod’s voice actually. I’m trying to think what they’d be like on the Gordon Scale.™️

I’d say he’s able to speak, but he doesn’t do it often. Because typically he’s only around NPCs and they can’t respond to him the way he wants, so why actually talk to them?

But he definitely talks to enemies as sort of a “I am the last thing you’ll ever hear” kind of thing.

But if he were to meet a different Gordon or someone with sentience he can talk to, he’d speak. Totally.

He talks to some of the alien/animal NPCs, cause like!!! Come on!!! That Houndeye over there needs to know that he’s a good boy!!!

-

So, maybe when Freemod is upset or something, he spawns the biggest thing he can possibly think of and posses it, and goes on an absolute rampage until he’s better

So I can just imagine.

Freemod, not feeling great and tense:

Feetman: Mod, hey. Don’t do it...

Freemod: *spawns and possesses a Gene Worm, and roars*

Feetman: FREEMOD NO GET OUT OF THE GIANT MONSTER-

Or like. He just possesses something and just. Flies away.

He just has moments where he’s too out of his head and he needs to just escape.

Something he’s been doing recently is possessing a Stukabat and flying up on top of a roof of a really high building and just. Viewing everything.

This man is SAD please hug him :((

-

Ooh, another thing,

He doesn’t like that dark room at all. In gm_construct? He will not go in there for more than a minute. That place scares him so much. Not even the fact that it’s dark, he just hates that he can’t see anything and while he knows he’s alone in the world he’s in, and he controls what can exist there or not, but, he just refuses to go there, even with a flashlight.

-

Aaaaaand that’s all the content I’ve made for them so far! Now that y’all know the context for him, I’ll post the comic of him meeting the HLVRAI characters, as well as some other drawings!

[captaincravatthecapricious]

No Way To Get Help

@malevon​

Well... this was supposed to be about Jon, but it's about Tim instead. Under the wreckage of the wax museum, Tim isn't dead.

cw nausea, depression, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation (canon typical levels for Tim end of season 3), ambiguous mentions of injury, hospitals

Four more fics to go, and only one more prompt to send in, so if you have something in mind, get it in quick! I hope you know the drill by now!  Thanks @celosiaa​ for the wonderful card!

The silence is deafening.  Or would be if Tim wasn’t partially deaf already.  He hadn’t been wearing his hearing aids.  What would have been the point?  He knows the plan.  Daisy and Basira are ….were?  Hardly chatty.  He didn’t?  Doesn’t?  Didn’t?  Want to hear a single word that Jon had to say.  

God.  Tenses.  

Is anyone still alive?  Is it just him?  

He should clarify.  The silence is deafening after the explosion.  After the circus music that was somehow louder, possibly because it was at least partly inside his head.  There is probably the sound of rubble settling, and the groaning of burning building, and rushing emergency vehicles.  But… he can’t hear a goddamn thing.  Just that eternal ringing in his ears.  He has never been sure if that was tinnitus or just what silence sounds like.  Never thought it worth asking after he learned that people with tinnitus have higher rates of suicide.  And… well… if this stupid plan was nothing else, wasn’t it just some grand suicide scheme?  

One that looks to have spectacularly failed.  

Just him… probably alone.  In the dark.  

Then again, if he’s alive, maybe the others are too?  Does he want that?  

If he’s honest, he would rather just be dead.  

Not that that is a revelation.  

Then again, he could be dead in a minute.  

He can’t feel his legs.  Well… he can.  He wishes he couldn’t.  He wishes he couldn’t feel anything.  There is so much pain that it just… it’s too much for him to even register as pain anymore.  He just feels… cold and crushed.  Probably shock because there are actual fires burning around him.  He can smell it.  The burning plaster and plastic and wood and smoldering concrete… if that is even a thing?  Thick air.  He’s coughing.  And that hurts more.  

He can’t hear it, however.  

He can’t hear anything but that goddamn ringing in his ears.  

He thinks he might be crying.  

He can’t hear his own heaving sobs.  

Just that high-pitched whine of utter silence.  

Do you know what that sound is, highness?  Those are the shrieking eels…

That’s it.  

The only words his brain can find, as he grows ever more numb.  He has no doubt that darkness is eating at his vision, or would be if there was anything but darkness around him. 

Not even the words from the book.  Lines from the movie.   Which isn’t a bad thing…  He doesn’t even know his own feelings about his favorite book and his favorite movie.  

(That’s not true.  He was always a fan of the movie, but… he and Danny read the book to each other so often…  He has the work paperback in the pocket of his bomber jacket.  Wanted to die with it.  Ideally buried with it, but it’s not like he left a note.  Aside from that damn tape).  

The whine continues.  He doesn’t know how long it’s been.  

 Do you know what that sound is, highness?  Those are the shrieking eels…

That had been the first thing he had thought of when he first heard the worms.  

He curses the worms to the darkness.  If it hadn’t been for them… he could have lived in blissful ignorance about the darker nature of his job… well to some degree.  Sasha would still be here.  Jon wouldn’t have….  FUCK.  He doesn’t want to think about Jon while he’s willing himself out of existence.  But….

But Jon.  That little fucking moron.  Who he HATES.  Who he wants to hate.  

Does he hate Jon?  

Is Jon even still alive?  

If he’s dead, does he want to keep hating a dead man?  One who …wasn’t any worse than him.  

Which isn’t to say blameless, or not a twat at times….  But.  But not a monster.  And Tim can’t really blame him for not trusting anyone.  

Jon… was in the wrong, but so was Tim.  They have both been utter dicks.  Which has always been Tim’s least favorite plot.  God back in publishing… a Lifetime ago… he always hated books that hinged on characters fighting, not talking things out, not Understanding and that rift causing endless misery.  Has he really become something that he hated… still hates with every fiber of his being.  The number of books that set his teeth on edge from the first misunderstanding.  He actually hates most Rom Coms for that reason.  Which… surprised just about everyone he’s dated.  

He possibly groans.  He isn’t thinking clearly.  

He can’t hear himself groan.  

He really should give it up, and let himself pass out.  He hurts.  He’s tired.  If he wakes up… that’s a problem for later.  If he quietly slips away… well… maybe he’ll see Danny there.  Maybe he’ll see Sasha.  Hell, maybe if he sees Jon there, they can work something out.  If there is an afterlife… they’ll have all the time in the world.  (Or rather all the time in the next world).  And if not… well.  Eternal rest sounds pretty damn good.  

…But.  But Jon.  If Jon is alive down here… He should be close.  

And… Tim can’t let him die alone under this building.  He can’t lose someone else to the Circus while he sits idly by.  And Damn it, maybe he doesn’t want to meet Jon in the afterlife just yet, maybe he wants a break?  (And maybe he just loves him too much to completely give up on him… even though he knows he is far too late.  Too many bridges burned.  “We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.”  A line from Jon’s favorite play.)

Tim tries to move his fingertips.  And almost screams.  It hurts.  It hurts.  It hurts.  

He thinks he might scream.  But he can’t hear a sound.  

He braces himself and tries again.  Stretching his arms out as wide as he can.  Moving dust and ash and rubble.  He almost passes out.  Or maybe he does pass out.  Time has no meaning in this place.  

He finds a hand.  Cold.  And limp.  And his heart stops, first for fear that this is another mannequin.  Then for fear that this is all that is left of someone who was… could have been… is?  Something to Tim.  Everything to Tim.  

Tim thinks he might vomit.  

He feels out a little further as his head swims.  He feels the stretched and puckered skin of undoubtedly Jon’s right hand.  Unresponsive.  Possibly dead.  

Tim coughs.  Choking on the soot and heat and fumes in the air.  A massive weight both metaphorical and painfully tangible on all of him.  Aching pain breaking him into little shards, which turn right around and skewer him.  

Tim loses consciousness.  Old and cracked and dry paperback of The Princess Bride in his pocket.  Limp hand of his… friend? In his hand.  

Tim wakes up in hospital.  

His lungs hurt.  And everything feels distant and fuzzy.  Probably being pumped through with a lot of painkillers.  Probably for the best, or he might be more upset for waking up.  He wants to ask after Jon… but he can’t get his mouth to open.  

And suddenly he’s thinking about Westley.  Mostly dead.  Revived.  Head flopping around on his neck.  Danny had lost his shit laughing at that… it always made Tim feel sick after… everything.  The imitation of life… couldn’t quite shake the image of… that night.  Christ if he was on less drugs, he would probably puke.  

He would shake his head if he could move. 

“You just shook your head, that doesn’t make you happy?”

He is also struck by the thought that this is Kill Bill in reverse.  Nearly died getting his revenge, and then ending up in a coma.  (He watched those movies on Bad days.  When he downs enough whiskey to drown a horse.  He can’t say he really remembers much of them, but they were always cathartic.)  

He tries to look at his feet.  But he can’t even lift his head.  

He closes his eyes again.  

When he opens them, he sees Martin.  Worn and tired.  Looking older than ever, more haggard than Jon.  

Shit!  Jon.  Is Jon here?  Is he dead?  

He still can’t move.  

He looks at Martin again.  Martin is… talking?  Tim can’t make out anything.  Just the dull murmur of meaningless sound.  

…But.  

Martin is holding a book.  

A sooty, singed book.  

Martin sitting between two hospital beds, holding Tim’s old copy of The Princess Bride, facing Tim presumably so if Tim were to come around, Tim could read his lips.  

“I said, ‘What do you mean, “Westley dies”?  You mean dies?

My father nodded.  ‘Prince Humperdink kills him.’

‘He’s only faking though, right?’  

My father shook his head, closed the book all the way.

‘Aw shit,’ I said and I started to cry.  

‘I’m sorry,’ my father said.  ‘I’ll leave you alone,’ and he left me.”

Martin is also crying.  Just like Billy in the book.  

“’Who gets Humperdinck?’” Tim whispers.  Painfully aware of how dry his throat is.  It’s no more than a cracked whisper.  

And then he’s coughing.  

He can barely hear himself, but he swears he is coughing out a lung.  

Martin has dropped the book.  Staring in wide-eyed shock for a moment, before yelling something.  Scrambling up.  Probably getting a doctor.  Tim wishes he hadn’t gone.  

He looks are where Martin had been, but ends up getting a good look at the bed next to him.  And sees one, very still and very pale Jonathan Sims.  Very bandaged, and frighteningly still.  Tim can’t see breathing.  

And then he’s being poked and prodded and tested and Martin is talking to him.  And everything hurts.  Until it doesn’t and he’s lying still and Martin is smoothing his hair down and holding his hand and telling him that he’s been unconscious for a month.  That Jon is all but brain dead.  That Elias is in police custody.  

By the time Jon wakes up, five months later, Tim has decided to give him another chance, he and Martin are sharing a flat, there is another room ever hopeful that Jon will want to join then if- no, when he wakes up.  

Also.  Jon’s hair may or may not be dyed green.  

Maybe.  

No, Tim has no idea what everyone is looking at him like that for.  

[true-blue-megamind]

Daylight and Dark Ch. 2 - Morning

You can find Chapter 1 or read the entire fiction on AO3 HERE.

CHAPTER RATING: Teen; FULL FICTION RATING: Explicit.  WARNINGS FOR ENTIRE WORK: violence, sex, language, references to prior domestic abuse, and rock n’ roll! CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mom Friend Minion is too damn loveable

Roxanne woke with her head pillowed on Megamind's shoulder. She blinked blearily in the bright sunlight filling the room, and stretched delightfully sore muscles. It had been too long since she'd last awoken with the afterglow of good, rough sex warming her body.

"Good morning, Beautiful," said a smooth, pleasant voice.

Roxanne smiled up into Megamind's handsome face. "Good morning," she sighed, sliding against him to kiss his mouth. She settled back beside him, nuzzling the side his neck and idly sliding one finger up and down his opposite ear. "Mmmmm, I should get up, but I'm much too comfortable."

"Then don't get up."

"But I really should."

"The Evil Overlord forbids it."

"You're not an Evil Overlord anymore."

"Well, then the Defender of Metrocity forbids it," he grinned down at her, turning to wrap both arms tightly around her. "Stay with me," he added seriously. "It's Saturday. As long as I'm not called to duty, there is no good reason why we can't spend the whole day here."

An electronic buzzing suddenly disturbed the quiet. It was quickly joined by a metallic rattling at the window. Roxanne bolted up in bed, giving a little yelp and pulling her coverlet over her chest as she realized six or seven brainbots were swarming outside the glass. Megamind's reaction was even more animated. He practically tumbled onto the floor, bringing the rumbled sheet with him and wrapping himself frantically in it. He stumbled to the window and, ignoring Roxanne's stuttering protests, threw it open to let the little flying robots in. They massed around him like worried children, bumping him with rounded glass domes and pawing him with long mechanical arms. Roxanne was sure that if they'd had tails, they would have been wagging.

Chuckling nervously, Megamind patted them. "Okay, okay, Daddy's alright. This is just Daddy's… ah… private time… So we really shouldn't be bothering Daddy. No we shouldn't." He shook a finger at them to emphasize his words, but that caused the sheet to slip a little, and he snatched it back up into place. "Look, Daddy's not leaving you behind. Daddy just needs to spend some alone time with Roxanne, okay? Daddy loves both you and Roxanne, but in very different ways…"

Roxanne nearly choked on her giggle. Of all the absurd things she had seen him do during her semi-professional Damsel-in-Distress career, none were quite as funny as Megamind giving the Daddy Has a Girlfriend speech to a hoard of cyborg drones. Her humor was stolen, however, when one of the brainbots left the happily swirling flock to hover in front of an empty section of wall. Moments later, the top minion— or rather Minion— appeared, his image projected by the brainbot's red camera eye. Roxanne blushed bright scarlet and tugged the blanket higher. She knew enough about Megamind's technological creations to realize that Minion could see them just as well as they could see him.

"Oh, sir! Thank goodness they found you! I've had the brainbots looking everywhere! Where have you been all night?!"

"Here."

"No phone call? No message? You just stay out to all hours—"

"Minion," Megamind interjected. "This really isn't the best—"

"Without a single thought of what you might be putting me through—"

"Minion—"

"...worried sick, and—"

"Minion!"

"WHAT? I mean…Ah... What, Sir?"

Megamind took a deep breath and began gathering scattered clothes from the floor with one hand, the other still clutching the sheet tight. "You're right. I should have called. I didn't think about it—"

"Didn't… didn't think about it?" Minion blustered, wide-eyed. "Sir! How could you? After all we've been through! You… You know that my sole purpose is to take care of you, and… and…"

"Oh, Minion! Stop being so dramatic! You know very well I didn't mean it that way!" Megamind threw up his free hand in exasperation, flinging his shirt above his head.

"How did you mean it, then?"

Another deep breath and Megamind collected himself. "I got a little caught up in the moment and… things…"

"Things? What things?! That's no excuse!"

"Things, Minion," Megamind said pointedly, motioning his head toward the bed. "And this seriously is not a good time."

Minion glanced where his master indicated. "Oh good morning, Miss... Ritchi..." his cordial voice grew faint as he finally took in the scene. Large aquatic eyes bulged, flitting between Roxanne and his master.

"Oh, Sir! You didn't!"

Megamind rolled his eyes and snatched one of his boots from the floor. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."

"Sir!"

"And I plan to do it again!"

"But Sir!"

"A lot!"

"SIR!"

"As often as possible!"

Minion mouthed wordlessly before shaking himself free of shock. "Well, I just hope you're being safe," he quipped in a tone that sounded entirely too matronly.

Oh, dear… thought Roxanne.

Megamind had paused instantly, mouth open to offer a retort that never came.

"Oh, sir," Minion repeated, groaning in despair. "You didn't…"

"I… didn't think… " He gathered himself visibly. "Look, Minion, it's doubtful our DNA is even similar enough to be compatible!"

"You can't know that without tests!" Minion objected, then asked hopefully: "have you run any tests?"

"It's on my to-do list!" Megamind announced defensively.

Minion clapped a mechanical hand to his fishbowl. "This is a disaster..."

At least here Roxanne could help. "It's okay, Megamind, Minion. I'm… Uh…" she shrugged, fighting the burning heat in her face. "On the pill."

The entire room seemed to sigh with relief.

"Well, thank goodness one of you has some sense!" said Minion pointedly. "Sir, I am very disappointed in you."

Megamind spoke through gritted teeth. "Could we discuss this later?"

"No, we can NOT discuss this later," Minion replied in his best parental tones. "Sir, you have a reputation to uphold now, and—What are you doing?"

Megamind had walked up behind the hovering brain bot, tucking the edges of the sheet tightly under one arm, and started fiddling with something on its back.

"I understand," he sounded bored. "Reputation. Yes."

Minion's eyes narrowed, his tone slow with barely restrained suspicion. "With all due respect, Sir, if you're doing what I think you're—"

"What was that Minion?" Megamind called loudly.

"Sir, leave that audio-visual receptor alone!"

"I can't hear you!"

"Stop that!"

"There seems to be a problem with the receptor!"

"Problem with—That's because you're messing with it!"

"Minion? Ollo? If you can hear me—"

"Of course I can hear you!"

"…I'll talk to you this afternoon when I get home!"

"Sir! Don't you dare turn off that—"

The image went blank.

Megamind heaved a great sigh and idly petted the brainbots. Then he walked to the far side of the room, where he had thrown his collection of clothing, and awkwardly held the sheet with one hand while fumbling with his leather pants. He extracted his wallet and turned back to the brainbots.

"Here," he said, holding out a twenty-dollar bill. "Daddy needs you to take this, go to the bait shop, and buy Uncle Minion something nice. Some juicy worms or maybe some minnows. No, no, no," he admonished as one of them snapped at the money. "Not for chewing. Daddy will bring you a new wrench to play with when he comes home. Now go get Uncle Minion a treat."

The little robots circled him once by way of a goodbye, the lead one obediently taking the money in a dangling claw, and flew out the window. The last one ran into the windowsill, and Megamind sighed, scooped it up, turned back on its electronic eye, and patted it. It sped out the window, chattering irately at its receding fellows. Roxanne could almost imagine a running child shouting for his friends to wait up.

"Well," Megamind said, slumping to the bed. "That certainly woke me up. Maybe it would be simpler if you stayed over at the Lair next time." He grinned suddenly, his lightning-quick thoughts leaping to a new subject. "I'm starving! Where's that lasag-na?"

"For breakfast?"

"It's nearly eleven! Besides, it's better than cereal and wine."

Roxanne laughed. "I guess I can't argue with that." She sighed and got up, pretending not to watch Megamind as he dropped the sheet and began pulling on his clothes.

Megamind, thoughtful as ever, had put the food into the refrigerator sometime during the night.  The salad Roxanne had made had wilted, but the lasagna was wonderful once reheated. Sitting on the small balcony outside the glass double doors, they enjoyed the pleasant, invigorating bite of the autumn air. Megamind ate voraciously, but then, Roxanne supposed, he had gotten quite a work out the night before.

That thought made her chuckle.

"And just what do you find so amusing, Miss Ritchi?" he teased in that heart-melting tenor of his.

She looked at him, adorably happy with his favorite food and his favorite girl. It took so little to please Megamind sometimes, and his exuberance, coupled with his persona as a dark superhero, seemed both oxymoronic and oddly fitting. It was… relaxing and somehow comforting to be around someone who was so content.

"Has anyone ever told you you're cute?" Roxanne asked, dishing out another serving of lasagna to him.

He grinned at her. "Yes, actually. An inmate in Metrocity Prison when I was a toddler. His name was Kip Kendall— or at least that's what people called him. I'm not sure if Kip was a nickname, honestly. He'd been convicted of murdering some thugs who got on his bad side, and he was very possibly the toughest, meanest brute on Cell Block A. But he was always nice to me when I was young. Around anyone else he was stern and dangerous… Around me, well, he was the closest thing to a father figure I had. He used to play pattie-cake with me, if you can believe that, and carry me around the Yard on his shoulders. No one dared to mock him for it either— not even the guards— and if anyone thought less of him for it, they were smart enough to keep it to themselves." His eyes grew distant as a sad memory ghosted behind them. "I'll never forget the day Uncle Marlow—one of the other two inmates who took the most interest in my upbringing—took me aside and explained that Uncle Kip had gone. Kip had been given consecutive life sentences by a jury too forward-thinking to give a clearly unbalanced man the death penalty, but Cancer had other ideas. I'd known he was sick— they'd had to take him to the infirmary, and the last time I visited him there he seemed so… so unlike himself— but when he went it still felt… wrong. Sudden. I remember thinking how unfair it was that he left without saying goodbye."

Roxanne reached across the table, laying her hand over his, willing him to open his soul and let the old pain dissipate like dark mist in the sunlight.

"I remember feeling that way when—" Roxanne's voice caught. She'd never actually told anyone else this before. Not even the expensive psychologist her grandparents had taken her to for years. With a deep breath, she continued. "I remember feeling that way when my mom died. I was fifteen, in my senior year of high school, and someone told me I had to go to the principal's office. I kept thinking and thinking, trying to figure out what I'd done wrong, and then I saw Principal Hartwell's face. The school counselor and my granddad were with him. And I knew. Somehow I just knew," she paused, wrapping her arms around herself and staring at the glass tabletop. "I started crying before they could even tell me, and I kept asking how. I remember someone saying something about icy roads, and dozing off at the wheel, and how it was no one's fault. I hated that person for saying that. I wanted it to be someone's fault, to be able to blame somebody. I wanted to blame the car company for not making her sedan stronger, or the hospital for making her work that stupid double shift, or my sperm donor for leaving us so that she had to work so many hours in the first place. But more than anything else," she dared to lift her eyes to his, "for a long time, I wanted to blame her for not saying goodbye."

Megamind stood up and moved beside her chair to wrap one arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his warmth, laying her hand on his.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had already left Metrocity High School by then. If I had known... I would have been there."

Roxanne laughed a little through her sorrow. "Yeah, that would have gone well... The city's new supervillain showing up to offer a spikey shoulder to cry on." She sighed and squeezed his hand. "You know you couldn't have, no matter how much you might have wanted to."

"I would have. I loved you even then, and I would have done anything for you." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm so sorry you lost your mother that way."

"It's alright. I mean, it's not alright, not really, but… It was a long time ago. I still miss her, but I've kept going. I've built a life for myself, just like she would have wanted." Roxanne sighed, but the sound held more relief than sadness. "You know, it's kind of nice to finally talk about it."

Megamind bent to lay his cheek on top of her head. She could almost hear the gentle smile in his voice. "It's nice to finally have someone to talk about it with," he said.

[afterthelastreset]

Rules Of One’s Soul Ch8 Realizing Feelings P4

Trigger WARNING: Rouxls is going to have a miniture panic/anxiety attack in this chapter. Mak belongs to @coffincrawler

What soon followed after that was actually a dreamless slumber for once which was a surprise in of itself. Usually they were full of danger or Lancer's past shennnanigans, but oddly enough he didn't remember anything past falling upon the bed and giving a few coughs from the dust before he blacked out into dreamland. But when he woke up, he didn't have the usual dread or happy feelings from the past night. Though he was still pretty tired, and from the light noise outside, the rain had let up quite a bit. The bed was pretty soft and warm so he was tempted to fall back to sleep, but the soft coughing from the dust annoyed him enough to groan and sit up. His tired eyes blinked and after a while he managed to see past the usual darkness of his home. Pretty quiet since Jevil decided not to disturb his sleep this time. Well, no time for thinking about that now, Lancer would be waiting for-

.....Oh. Right. Jevil's little mind games tricked Lancer into ordering him on paid leave. Which banned him from the castle for the amount of time the king dubbed. Which happened to be a little over a week. He groaned again and reached his hand up to wipe at his face. Looks like he'd have to find something else to occupy himself today.

He threw off the blanket which also tossed up another cloud of dust and made him go into another coughing fit, waving his hands in front of his face. Whelp! He guess he found what he was going to end up doing all day today. Groaning, he tossed his legs over the side of the bed with a few last coughs and pushed himself off said bed, stretching out his back. It was going to be a long day regardless.

He found the cleaning supplies under the bathroom sink where'd he thought they'd be, and (after the usual morning hygiene) got to work on the two rooms and store front on hand. Dust. It was all mostly dust that covered everything, but there was also leaves, footprints, random items, half eaten dark candy, and random dirt and sticks all over the store front which made it the most dirty. So the living courters being less filthy would take less time to clean, so he began on those first. He sorta lost count of time around after he was done scrubbing the ceiling with a spare broom. His eyes watered and his lungs burnt from the amount of dust there was lying around. His brain was a bit fuzzed over with the sudden urge to clean up the very disgusting shop. No surface was literally left unscrubbed to the worm's disposal. Walls, ceilings, furniture, closets, doors...Clean freak to a whole new level. But it helped to pass the time to the worm and would temporarily dowse his worries for Lancer. So imagine anyone's surprise when the door his shop opened and the tiny bell above the door-

"DON'T COMETH IN!" The worm shouted from his position on the floor, on hands and knees. Whoever it was he could hear shuffle awkwardly on the outside of the door, just a couple inches from the actual shop floor. "Can't thou seest that the sign sayeth I amst closed for thine day?" He mumbled something to himself before dunking the scrub brush back into the bucket of soapy water before pushing it back down to the floor and began to forcibly forcing it back and forth against the unscrubbed parts of the store front. "I amst busy for the day and I shan't have time for thou's antics. If thou wishes to see to me about any problems with the king or guards, then I can't help thee until much later."

There was a small amount of silence as the newcomer watched as the duke continued to clean what was left of the floors before the worm broke it.

"Thou needs to leave before the winds blows anything into mine shop or thou dirty's thine floor anyway-"

"Ahahaha. Well, it's also a coincidence I'm also closed then. Eh, Duke?"

The worm stopped what he was doing and immediately looked over his shoulder. Right in the doorway was the giant cat he had previously seen around. Seam had to duck his head down a little bit to fit in the small doorway and gave an amused look down at the duke cleaning on the floor.

"And I'm afraid I don't seek any company with the kings.

"Then what art thou doing here?...Nevermind. Don't ruineth mine hard work." He went back to his scrubbing and gave a frown when he heard the old cat chuckle again.

Seam wouldn't lie, he wasn't expecting to walk into a spring clean up, but the worm's work was impressive by the way the place shined and how everything was carefully organized, anyone could've sworn the place was brand new. He guessed he should've expected some cleaning when he saw the two full trash bins outside the door, but he didn't expect to see Rouxls in this state. On hands and knees, hair in a messy bun with strands hanging around his face, and wearing something that wasn't a fancy suit. The sight made him chuckle again making the worm mumble again.

''I thought it was a bit wrong of me to take some of your wares, and since I needed to get some supplies of my own today, I thought it'd be only fair if I got some for you as well." His eye panned over to the makeshift clothes lines across the walls and into the next room with the many sheets and clothes hanging from them and hummed. "I see you thought of everything."

"I nay like a filthy home. I preferest to keepeth things in an orderly fashion. I know where everything is and control of mine space at all times.''

Seam hummed again and continued to watch the duke work for a little longer. "....How long have you been working?"

"Since I awoke hours ago-"

"Hours ago?...It's about eleven in the morning." That comment made the worm pause and look over his shoulder at the now confused looking cat. "My friend. Either you had woken up mighty early or managed to get hours of work done with just a short amount of time."

"I-....I'm used to getting things done when they needst to be. Mine king demanded it-"

"I'm pretty sure Lancer isn't one to demand a lot often." Rouxls said nothing but went back to the floor he was working on. Seam gave another hum and looked around the store front a bit more. "....I have to admit, you did a pretty impressive job for just a couple of hours. Could use that kind of energy for my sheap."

"Well, thou should put more work into thine home and appearance if thou wishes to accomplish anything."

"Have you even eaten today?"

"No." At the mention of food, his stomach growled making him wince.

"Why don't you take a break? I left that cake in the cubord over there. A little unhealthy for breakfast, but I don't think there's anything else to eat in here from what's been taking and all."

"Nay! I'm far from done." The duke finally scrubbed the last of the floor ear a corner in the far side of the room and sighed, leaning off his hands and onto his knees. Stretching his back out before turning to Seam.

"How much could possibly be left? It looks like you went crazy with a broom in here." He gestured one of his paws to the practically sparkling space.

"Worm! I obviously have thine shoppe window to taketh care off ....and thine locks to fix to keepest pests out." He mumbled that last part to himself but Seam's sensative ears caught it just like everything else. "And the very fact mine supplies art dangerously scarce is cause for concern."

His stomach gave off another growl and he growled at it. Dropping the scrub brush back into the bucket with a small splash and standing back up onto his bare feet. He bent back down to grab said bucket and walked across the shop entrance towards the room entrance behind the counter. Seam gave a smile and watched as the worm disappeared into the back. The sight amused him more than anything really. And so, he dared to step into the worm's forbidden cleanliness. Surprisingly most of the floor was already dry so he didn't have to worry about slipping or leaving watery footprints. He was never fond of water anyways. He placed the over sized bag in his hands on top of the counter and tilted his head to the side to face the entrance to await the return of Rouxls. Seam didn't have to wait long before the duke finally came back, wearing another fancy suit none the less. Rouxls froze upon seeing the cat by the counter and Seam chuckled at the expression on his face.

"This part of the floor is dry already," he said before he could start on a rant and pointed to the floor.

Rouxls scowled. "I still didn't say to cometh in!"

"You said without supervision. You're still here as far as I can tell." Rouxls sputtered making him chuckle again.

To change the subject Rouxls pointed at the bag and asked, "And what didst thou put in there?"

"Oh, this?" He patted the bag. "A lot of dark candy sprouted this season and like I said, I've already taken my fill of them. I did say I had brought you some after I took some of yours."

"What's inside?"

"Eh..Mostly dark candy and tea leaves, but I did bring back the books and spare blanket I borrowed."

"You mean stole."

"I do remember you saying you didn't care about what I took that night we met. Implying you technically give me permission to have it."

"You- I-....I didn't mean-.." The cat simply smiled at the sputtering duke as his face turned a dark blue out of embarrassment or anger until he turned away in a huff making him chuckle again. His sputtering was quite amusing. "W-Well....I appreciate thou's generous return of mine objects, but I still have duties to attendeth too."

"Oh? But aren't you on paid leave? I'm pretty sure that's what I've been told."

Rouxls shot him a suspicious look. "..And where didst thou heareth that?"

"Jevil told me last night."

Upon hearing the imp's name, Rouxls grimaced. "I should've known. *sigh*.....Where is he anyhow?" He peered back over towards the door as if to look for said gremlin, and also noticed it had stopped raining.

"He left for work. He works for Lancer now I believe, and won't be back for another good few hours. Don't worry, he promised to look after the boy."

Rouxls huffed. "That'll be the day. I thank thee for the returned wares, but you must leave. I'm very busy as it is."

Seam chuckled again. "Oh, come now. What's the point of vacation if you don't relax? Or not. Doesn't involve me now does it? Ahaha." Rouxls huffed and turned away again. But he paused when a paw was held out to him. "Now come friend. I mean no ill will. Let us start over."

Rouxls stared at the smiling cat for a good few seconds before slowly looking down at the extended paw. It didn't look like it was threatening in the slightest position, but he wasn't sure at all. Seam stayed still and just as he was about to put his paw away, the blue man slowly reached his own hand out to the paw. Seam gladly took it in his own and gave it a couple shakes.

"Ahaha. It's nice to meet you fri-"

Rouxls let out a squeak as a pulsation ripped through their bodies and simaltaniously pulled his hand away from the equally startled cat, who's fur puffed up and his eye widened at the sudden feeling. Rouxls's soul thumped hard against his chest to the point he thought it was going to burst from his chest, then as suddenly as it came it left and his soul slowed down and his lungs heaved out. The two just stood there as the effects wore off and slowly looked at each other. Seam was the first to move as he slowly looked down at his paw, his button eye spinning. He stared at his paw for a moment before closing it and giving Rouxls a wide eyes look.

Rouxls gave a small cough as he reached up to straighten the hair poking up on his head. "S-Stupid static cling. I must've forgotten some dust rabbicks on mine person. Art thou-"

"I-.....Didn't think I'd live to see this event....Aheh..ahahaha." He slowly trailed his eye back at the confused man in front of him with an unsure smile upon his face. "Well....This is interesting news to be sure."

Rouxls rose a brow. "What does thou meaneth? A shock of static tis nay new. Though I nay felt one this powerful-"

"Jevil is in for a surprise it seems." He chuckled a little more much to the confusion of Rouxls who rose his brow further. "He certainly won't appreciate having his soulmate's soul atatched to my own."

Rouxls just stared blankly at the cat, but when he reached his paw back out and grabbed his shoulder,he was just about to ask what he was doing when a thump from within his chest shut up any thing he would've said. He stared at nothing for a moment but blinked and looked down at his own chest. Underneath his suit he could faintly make out a soft blue light that softly pulsated within his chest, sending small pulse waves throughout his being. He slowly looked back to Seam who gave the same patient smile on his face.....A light coming from his own chest.

"I think things are going to be a bit hard to explain when Jevil returns. Ahahaha." Seam contined to give the frozen duke a smile, but his smile faded when he felt Rouxls slightly shake under his grip, "Hey. Are you alright there?"

Rouxls didn't answer. Instead his face turned a pale blue like he'd just seen a ghost, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. His body went limp and he fell to the side. The last thing he saw was Seam diving hard left towards his falling body as black enveloped his vision.

=================================================================================

"His hair is so shiny! Can I keep it?"

"No, Mak. I think he's had enough to worry about right now."

"Is he going to be ok? He looks dead. Can I have his shiny neckless if he's dead?"

"*sigh* No, Mak. That's his, and I think he's been through enough stress for the past few da- What are you doing?!"

"Trying to put this bandaid on his face? It looks like he fell on a sharp rock."

"That's a scar! The Healing Hathy already comfirmed that when I took him to see her."

.....What the-?

He groaned and turned his head. The first thing he felt was a soft but scratchy surface hugging his entire body and some kind of force on his chest making him heave a little from the weight.

"Look. He's not dead!....Unless he's undead! Should we get silver bullets?"

"You've been reading lightner stories too much. Now off of him."

He felt the weight lifted from his chest and groaned, his body shifting. His body wasn't in any pain thankfully but he strangely felt less tired than before he woke up before....In fact, he was starting to think that was all a dream. Of course Jevil had sat upon his chest and the two had invited themselves in. Again. But he didn't remember his bed being scratchy? His eyes slowly blinked open. The first he saw were two giant eyes who blinked at him and a black nose that sniffed at his face- He screamed a high pitched squeal which startled the furry thing into jumping back before baring it's fangs at him and giving a small hiss of their own. That thing definitely wasn't Jevil. He shot up and backed away from crazy animal against the soft surface.

"WHAT THY FUCKETH?!"

"MAK!" Their heads turned to a very familiar cat as he scowled at the animal. "Don't scare him. What are you doing, trying to give him a soul attack?"

The animal pointed a paw at him. "He started it!"

Seam sighed before turning towards Rouxls with a softer smile. "Hey, there friend. Are you feeling better?"

Rouxls turned his gaze around the area he was in with a wild look. Stone walls and ceilings held similar things to his bedroom....minus the fireplace to his right and the old looking couch he was apparently sitting upon. His soul still thumped within his chest

"...W-Where-?"

"You're in my sheap." The cat smiled at him from across the couch. "You're alright."

"W-What...What happened?"

"You just fainted. I had you checked out by a healer, she said you'd be fine. I was worried you had a soul attack or something."

"I-I..I may not be in the best condition, b-but I shan't have any medical issues of that sort!," he retorted before finally looking at the animal thing. The small thing was looking up at him and blinked a couple times. It looked a lot like a cat if it wasn't for the shape of it's tail and the wings attatched to it's back. He stared at it for a few seconds before pointing, "And what tis this?"

"Oh?" Seam turned to the child and patted the top of it's head. "This is Mak. They're harmless, don't worry. But they should really not scare guests." The child giggled and just shrugged before looking back at Rouxls.

"You're really shiny! Came I have some of your sparkles?" Their paw delicately reached up to him and made a grabby hand movement at his face, like how Lancer would whenever he wanted attention or to be picked up.

Rouxls grimaced and leaned away. He might've thought it was cute if this wild child hadn't scared him half to dust. Seam must've noticed because he gently removed their hand with a chuckle.

"They like shiny things. But they're a good child I promise."

Rouxls didn't look convinced. "How long was I asleep?"

"Almost three hours. Not very long to be honest. Are you feeling better?"

"I-....I'm fine." He quickly threw his legs over the side of the couch and stood up. he wobbled a little bit from his legs feeling like jello, Seam reached out a hand as to help, but Rouxls waved his hand away and reached down to straighten himself up. "I just....I think tis best I teketh mine leave-"

"I don't think that'd be a good idea." Seam gave him a concerned look. "After fainting like that, you're probably going to be weak for a bit. What if you fall again?"

"N-Nay! I haveth non time to delay! I-I'm feeling fine-" His stomach gave off another loud growl and he winced from the empty feeling coursing through his body at that very moment. "....I'm still fine."

"I think you need to sit down and rest a moment before you faint again of exhaustion. You seem to have a bad habit of pushing yourself, friend."

"HA! Likest thou couldst do anything to makest me do anything!"

A small silence.

"...Ahaha. Are you sure about that?"

"Of course I am! I have more authority than thoust could comprehend." He turned to the side. "I will taketh mine leave now!"

"Alright. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to use force."

"What doth thou-"

He squealed as a large paw grabbed the backside of his shirt and lifted him up from the floor. He heard a familiar chuckle and turned his face to the amused looking cat. He immediately went dark blue in the face and reached his hands up to try and grabbed at the large paw holding him up to no avail, his feet comically kicking at nothing in particular.

"L-L-Leteth me go this instant!," he squeaked out making Seam chuckle, "Tis NAY funny!"

"My, my. You certainly are a feisty one, aren't you?" He gently swung the flailing and squeaking duke over the coffee table and closer to his soft body. Using his other hand, he grabbed one of Rouxls's legs before hoisting him up.

Rouxls made angry sputtering noises as he was forced into being held in the bridal position of the larger cat. His face went completely white from sheer embarrassment and Seam chuckled again at his flustered state. He continued to kick out and try to pry the strong paws off of himself as Seam shuffled behind the coffee table and eventually took a seat onto the couch. Rouxls made an attempt to push himself off his lap as he sat down but unfortunately Seam's way of cradling him like a child prevented any escape. He felt his side be pressed further into the soft, warm body of the stuffed cat as he leaned back, sighing into the softness of the couch. He froze up for a few seconds, soul thumping, and face as pale blue as a frozen blueberry.

"W-What doth though t-thinketh you're doing?!," he managed to squeak out.

Seam let out a couple laughs before patting Rouxls's back. "Well, you did leave me with no choice. I could get into trouble if you ended up passing out from exhaustion or starvation. And I wouldn't be a good person, would I?"

"W-What happened to it being 'none of thou's business'?!"

"When the person who's business involves me directly of course. And you did faint because of the whole soul sparking thing-"

"THAT WASN'T A DREAM?!"

Seam laughed again as Rouxls gave a high whine of flustered feelings. "'Fraid not."

"H-Holy hell!.....Oh no..." His eyes shrunk in size as one thought shot through his head. Swirling pink heart attacks shooting behind his retnas. ".....It's going to kill me....IT'S GOING TO KILL ME!! I AMST GOING TO DIE WHEN HE FINDS OUT!!"

The sudden change in tone from flustered and angry to utterly terrified alerted the two to his sudden fear. The two animals exchanged a look before looking back to the duke who had launched his hands up to clutch at his head and his body shrinking down into Seam's soft body. Seam reached a paw to his back and gave him an unsure pat before asking-

"Who's going to harm you-?"

"T-That.....H-He-"

"You mean Jevil?"

Rouxls winced when he said the imp's name, confirming Seam's thoughts. He hummed before looking towards the small child who looked more confused than concerned. "....What's he talking about?"

"He's just scared of something....Uh- Why don't you get him something to eat?...That's actually edible."

"Oh. Alright."

The small bat thing turned around and scampered it's way out of the room towards the store front, leaving the too males. Alone. Seam stayed quiet and just silently rubbed the other man's back until his breathing and soul thumping reduced to a minimum. They sat in a few minutes in total silence before the dared to ask-

"Are you ok now?," his voice was like a parent talking to a scared child. Rouxls nodded. Seam hesitated. "Do you...think you can talk?" He nodded again. "Ok..Good, good....Do you...think you can tell me why you're scared of him?"

Silence.

"....Ok. Do you want to talk about it?"

"....I a-amst not...scared of him."

Seam had to take a moment to process what Rouxls had just said for a moment. But he blinked in confusion. "Why then..do you think he would harm you?"

Silence.

".....n-not him....s-stupid emotions.."

".....You're afraid of your emotions?" His silence answered his question.

They sat there in silence for a moment, as Seam seemed to piece together something in his head. Taking it slower, weird behavior, all the statue imitations, fainting......Good god what happened to end up like this?

"....I...w-will best al-...alright."

His sudden answer spooked Seam a bit, but the cat stayed calm for his sake and continued to rub his back. "Are you sure? If...If you need me to talk to Jevil, I most certainly will."

Rouxls was silent for a moment. "...No...My p-person...M-Mine rules...I've suffered worst."

Seam wasn't honestly sure how to feel about this whole situation, but decided it was best to roll with it for the moment. Patting Rouxls back and doing his best to comfort him. He sorta suspected Jevil knowing some of this problem now that he thought of the story he told him about yesterday's events with him getting that 'relaxing' leave, but he couldn't be sure just yet. He'd have to wait until he came back to ask anything.

[penaltybox14]

For the record, @dying-redshirt-noises, this is saved as “peteexistentialcrisis.rtf”

Pete thinks that Mac is worried about him.

Scratch that: he knows Mac is worried.  It's scrawled on his face, it's boldface in the set of his shoulders, it's in the way he falters when he speaks like he doesn't know what to say.

Because of course, he doesn't.  He'll say, Pete, how're you holding up?  And Pete will say he's holding up, but not that he's okay, because that's a lie and they both know it: it's why Mac doesn't ask.  Are you okay?  What kind of a question is that?  

Are you okay, Pete?

I dunno, Mac, you gave me a kid to look after and I let him get half his heart blown out his back, probably still little wriggly bits of it stuck to that walkway, maybe gurgling inside some worm, think about it, a hundred thousand tiny bits of Tommy in a hundred thousand tiny worms, turning into dirt as we speak.  

Mac's not stupid, and more, Mac's known him the whole time he's been on the force.  If they were brothers, if they were the sons of the city and causing a ruckus at her concrete knees, under her smoggy, star-fastened apron, Mac would be the middle child of the lot: even-tempered and gentle, every family's peacemaker.  Two months out of the academy with his ears still ringing from instruction, his heart still pumped fire in his fists more often than not, his mouth always writing checks his ass could only half the time cash.  That was when the lieutenant got tired of typing his name into reports and Pete got tired of signing them and sitting at a desk like a boy who'd been grounded - that was when the lieutenant got tired of him and dumped him with Mac for a partner.  

If they weren't brothers, they did a pretty good impression.  Mac almost always found a way to reel him in, and the rest of the time let him smart from his own mistakes.  Mac figured out he'd never really wanted to fight, but even a loyal kid was dogmeat if he let slip he might prefer to end the fight before it started.

It doesn't have to be like that, Mac had said to him.  They were taking seven up on Mulholland, watching the night-time city flicker and pulse, neon taco-stands beside living rooms lit up in television blue, taillights like morse code along the avenues and boulevards.  It was cooler at night, and angle of the hillside.  They had burgers and cokes from a roadside stand, and the reeking asphalt seemed to be the only barrier between the city and the rest of the wild world.

"You can't go singlehandedly make war on the whole city, Pete."

"Why not?" Young, and scoffing around a burger.

"For one thing, the city doesn't deserve it.  Not everybody's a bad guy, Pete.  Not even every crook's a troll waiting under the bridge."

"How'm I supposed to know?"

"Pretty sure those x-rays County Receiving took last week showed a brain bouncing around in your thick skull, so use it, maybe."

He could've fought Mac for that.  It was in his nature, then.  It would have soothed his pride.  But Mac was right, wasn't he?  Pride healed up, and pride was a foolish reason to wrestle every alligator he could spot or thought he could.

"Cause you're so smart," he said, not quite willing to concede.  Looking at the city, where dealers were palming off their goods, where hookers were plying their trade.  Where burger joints blazed, and juke boxes shook themselves off the wall to dance.  Children in bed, babies waking in the dark and crying.  Arms that cradled, arms that cocked back to strike.  Their own radio sputtering out calls, call-signs, the soft, patient, unperturbed voice of the dispatcher, cool and clean and above it all.

"Well," Mac had said.  "I might've made a couple B's in my time.  I can even count to twenty without taking my shoes off."

Mac had made him laugh.  No one else had managed that in close to eight weeks.  Mac's dark chuckle and his blue eyes, very young and creased with mirth, the photographs of his children in his wallet worn pale at the edges.  Mac, like an anchor, reminded not of all the good and decent things in the city, but the will to protect them.  And the wisdom to do it without busting his knuckles up and getting called in, time and again.

God knows he never would've said it aloud, but when they dropped Tommy Parker on him with his fresh-shaved face still raw and reeking of old-spice, his throat too slim and ardent for his uniform, he buckled his belt and counted to ten facing the dark peace of his locker and thought about all the praying he'd followed as a kid in church, all the words his mouth had formed without understanding, and he prayed - a true and honest wanting prayer - to remember to be, for Tom, what Mac was for him.  He breathed the metal smell, and tucked the prayer away like a promise, somewhere against his ribs, where his heart pushed against it with every beat.

It was so good, that time, that short, wrenching time.  It was so good, and Tommy got into trouble but only a little, and his mistakes were his own penance, and Pete forgave them and pushed him, just a little bit harder, each day.  Tommy's wife was a pretty girl from Bakersfield, with dark wavy hair and a turned-up nose, and he carried a photograph of her in his wallet, a little bit blurred, as if the photographer had been too excited to hold the camera still - a pretty girl with her hair down, and a baby in her arms with the same turned-up nose.  Tommy wanted to invite him for dinner, wanted him to meet the baby.  Pete was not so sure.  Babies were small and fragile things, he thought.  Best left with their parents.

"Nah," Tommy laughed.  "Nah, turns out they're pretty spongy, honest.  You prop her head up and she'll be fine.  She likes everyone."

He thinks of Tommy's earnest grin, and the photograph, and his wife, and his baby, and the blood, and the way his shirt from that night is folded up in his closet because he can't look at it, and he can't bring it to the cleaners, and he can't think of his partner and not want to scream and scream and scream.

[rebbecca88]

Why are Chihuahuas so aggressive?

Chihuahua pet parents often deal with unpleasant remarks about the temperament of their beloved breed, even by strangers who have no personal knowledge of their individual dog.

If you want to be better trained to discuss the temperament of the breed with others, this post will help you. If you are currently struggling with an aggressive dog, this behavior is important to address. Let's discuss it:

Why are Chihuahuas so aggressive?

Every dog is an individual; not all Chihuahuas are aggressive, but some are. Aggression usually has one of these origins:

Pain. Many dogs will show aggression as a result of pain to keep people away from touching what hurts them.

Have you tried to pick up your Chihuahua and let it nibble or nibble you? Maybe she hurt her back and you pinched her when you tried to pick her up.

Learned behavior. Because of their small stature, many people let their Chihuahuas get away with a lot of things.

My best advice is to consider if your dog weighed 100 pounds, would you allow him to do what he does? No matter how big a dog is, they all need a calm and confident pack leader; they need rules, a routine and to be trained.

Just like toddlers who are dissatisfied when things don't go well and get tantrums out of frustration, many Chihuahuas behave aggressively because it's the only way they can effectively convey a firm "no". If this behavior is not treated, it will become normal for the new one, and it will negatively affect your relationship with your Chihuahua, friends and family.

"Wiring". Some dog brains are differently "wired" and this makes them naturally aggressive from the moment they are puppies. This varies by individual dog and is not a specific problem for a hard-wired breed.

You know that a dog's brain functions differently if this behavior cannot be changed with medication and training. Unfortunately, this can result in behavioral euthanasia for the safety of others, usually in dogs of large breeds.

How do I get my Chihuahua to stop snarling at people?

First you have to ask yourself why the snarling happens. Here are some of the most common reasons:

Circumstances. In some cases, the snapping is not the dog's fault. Is the person rough with it?

Dogs have only one way to say no, and they are not teddy bears who can be expected to endure anything and everything.

Means. Is the person who bit them something that your Chihuahua considers a valuable resource? If so, there are strategies to deal with it.

History. Has your Chihuahua been adopted? They may have had a bad experience that you didn't know about.

If you had Chihuahua before in a home where children were allowed to treat him roughly, he might break if children come near him, because he only associates children with abuse.

Once you find out why it happens, you will be able to deal with it better.

Here are some strategies to start with when you own a Chihuahua that looks good on people:

Dealing with circumstances. If you discover that someone is rough with your Chihuahua, you should intervene immediately. As a pet parent, you are the lawyer and guardian of your Chihuahua.

If a Chihuahua is treated roughly, they may feel that they have no choice but to react aggressively in an attempt to defend themselves.

This habit could spread to other areas of their lives, so it is very important to be ahead of it. (See the section below on rewriting history for tips to help your Chihuahua overcome past abuse).

Dealing with resources. If a Chihuahua is a resource keeper, he must learn that if he is aggressive, his resource will be taken away, unless he can be nice about owning it.

In order to teach him to be nice when possessing his resources, there are some training exercises to do.

Start with a toy that you like Chihuahua but not guarded.

Pick up the toy and hand it to him and play with him for a few minutes.

Then say firmly, "drop it" and if he lets him go, reward him with a treat, walk away with the toy and come back and give him the toy one more time.

If he gets upset about the idea of giving up the toy, take it away from him, leave the room and ignore him for 5-10 minutes.

If you don't see any progress after about 2 weeks of trying this exchange game, ask for the help of a professional trainer.

Write the history again with a positive reinforcement training. For example, if your Chihuahua has been abused by children, you will need to help him gain positive experiences to learn that children can be nice.

In order to do this, you will need to enlist the help of nice, dog-friendly children and lots of treats!

Let the children walk past your Chihuahua and throw treats on the floor without paying attention to him.

Leave a trail of treats at your Chihuahua's favorite spot and let the child wait there with blankets and your Chihuahua's favorite bed.

The child should read a book or watch television and ignore the Chihuahua.

If he is brave enough to approach and eat treats, that is a good sign!

Gradually work on the child's hand feeding the treats, and place treats on a blanket in the child's lap to encourage the Chihuahua to interact with him.

Then work up to stroke the Chihuahua and give a treat.

Now your Chihuahua has associated a child with things he loves; treats, cozy blankets, and attention!

black and tan chihuahua dog biting the man's hand 700

How do I get my chihuahua to stop grabbing at me?

This can be very difficult and stressful to deal with, but if you can be consistent, circumstances can improve. If your Chihuahua grabs you, here are some tips to deal with this behavior:

Praise your Chihuahua like crazy every time they do something you want them to do, and ignore them when they do something you don't want them to do. With how much these little dogs love attention, ignoring them is an effective way to communicate with them; no physical punishment is needed to send the message.

Sign up Chihuahua for the obedience class and work on the training for a little bit every day at home. If you teach Chihuahua to listen to you and you command him to be confident, calm and assertive, he will have a job to keep his brain occupied, and he will learn the pack order and your expectations, resulting in a better behaved Chihuahua.

If your Chihuahua can't handle having a certain high value item without being annoying, they must permanently lose the privilege of having that item. For example, if you give your Chihuahua a bully and you can't take it away every time he has it without snarling and gritting his teeth, he shouldn't get a bully anymore. If you snarl Chihuahua at you because you are cuddling on the couch, he should lose his cuddling privileges if he is mean by being put down and not getting up anymore.

Give your Chihuahua daily exercise and mental stimulation. If they get bored, ugly behaviors and habits are sure to surface. Daily playtime and a daily walk are very beneficial. Keep in mind that this breed is bred to be cuddled, and that their small paws are less kilometers long than the long legs of a larger dog!

Schedule a thorough physical examination for your Chihuahua with a trusted veterinarian to see if there are any underlying medical problems that could cause aggression; your Chihuahua might react because of physical pain.

My chihuahua attacks anyone who comes close to me. How can I stop that?

If your Chihuahua doesn't like people coming near you or an object he considers of high value, know that it is very common and that there is a term for this behavior:

This behavior will not always make sense to you. Sometimes a dog will guard an obvious object of high value, such as a cheeseburger that has been dropped on the ground and he doesn't want to be taken away from him.

Other times, these high-value items only make sense if you are a dog. Some of my readers have told me that their Chihuahuas resource guards items such as a dried worm on the sidewalk, an old sock, bully sticks, a favorite toy, and their food bowl (whether or not there was food in it). Many Chihuahuas are guardians of the resource.

Chihuahuas are one of the dog breeds that most often guard their people. Dogs see us as resources; we provide food, shelter and love.

If you become Chihuahua aggressive when other people approach you, they see you as a resource worth guarding. While that is flattering in a way, it creates a liability for owners and causes stress on their relationships with friends and family.

If your Chihuahua is lying on your lap and someone walks up to you, they may react aggressively because they want the hugging session to continue or because they don't want to share you.

With a little positive reinforcement, strength and consistency this can be addressed. Here is a strategy to start with if you don't like Chihuahua people approaching you:

Hug your Chihuahua as you would normally do.

Have a volunteer walk up to you, offer a treat, and walk away. If the Chihuahua accepts the treat without snarling, they can have it, but if they become annoying, even if a treat is offered, they should be removed from the lap they are guarding. If your Chihuahua becomes annoying, wait about half an hour and try again. If your Chihuahua has done well, repeat this exercise 2 more times.

5-10 minutes later your volunteer will come back with another treat and sit next to you. If your Chihuahua accepts the treat and does not respond aggressively to those sitting next to you, "feed the meter" by offering multiple treats to help them learn that this is what you wanted them to do. Let your volunteer sit and chat while you "feed" the meter for about 5 minutes, then finish the exercise. If your Chihuahua is behaving aggressively, you should take them out of your lap and try the previous step again later when everyone has calmed down.

Repeat the exercise daily if possible, and continue these sessions for about a month. Keep these sessions short and concise, and always end on a positive note. If you don't see any progress within about two weeks, ask for the help of a professional dog trainer.

I'm at the end of my rope with my aggressive Chihuahua, what should I do?

If your Chihuahua remains aggressive after using some of the advice in this article, do not be afraid to seek the help of a professional dog trainer and your veterinarian, who may be able to prescribe medication to your Chihuahua that may be useful.

Ask your veterinarian for a referral to a dog trainer to make sure you are using a reputable trainer.

[placesthatchangedpeople]

Montana Academy testimony

This testimony was found on Reddit. All rights go to the author.

I’m not going to go into the hell that was SUWS Carolina [wilderness], as that is a whole different can of worms, and the boarding school was far more sinister. I arrived at Montana Academy a few weeks after turning 17. I was absolutely terrified after what I had been through spending 9 weeks living in the woods, but I was at least happy that I could use a toilet and sleep in a bed. [To get rid of any confusion later on, I was born male. At this point in my life I was still living as a boy, and trying very hard to convince myself I wanted to stay that way.] When I got to campus I was greeted by my team leaders and paraded through the lunch room as the entire student body looked at me [as all new students are]. I’m still convinced this is a power play devised by the creators of the school to subtly break your guard down. I said goodbye to my mom, grandmother, and my uncle, and began the worst period of my life.

So the Staff of our team was our team leader Dave, and boy, Dave was a piece of shit. He was the type of guy who would get a shit eating grin whenever he could punish you. You could fucking tell he got a semi off of it, and we would all talk about how much we hated him behind his back. I remember the ear to ear smile he got on his face as my eyes welled up with tears when he told me I couldn’t spend Christmas away from the ranch with my mom, because I was short by one signature on my checklist. That’s Dave in a nutshell. The weekend team leader was Sam and I think he was even worse, because he had the amazing ability to make you feel safe and loved one week, and then emotionally beat you to a pulp the next. For instance... There was one weekend where Sam and I had a long emotional talk where I opened up to him about how much my dad meant to me and how I would give anything to have him back. He gave me the biggest hug and told me he was here for me. The week after was rough and I was so excited to talk to him again, but when his shift started, he sat down and immediately screamed at me in front of everybody for not sitting down fast enough at the table, and put me on privilege freeze for a week. This would happen all the time. It was like he got off on building up our trust and hopes and then he would have a bad week at home and treat us like absolute shit.

I started with every intention of bettering myself. I had fully subscribed to the belief that I was broken as a result of “immaturity”, and the Founder of M.A.'s book was so fond of claiming. Despite coming from a broken home, childhood neglect, death of a parent, sexual abuse, trauma etc, it was MY fault that I ended up at M.A. I was ready to do my part. Unfortunately I wasn’t perfect as the staff expected me to be. I tried my ass off to do chores to the militaristic standards that they upheld, but I often fell short. Perhaps I missed a nearly microscopic hair in a bathtub. Sometimes, my sheets were a little crooked. And for each little transgression there was a severe consequence. If you made more than one mistake on your chores within a week, you could kiss all of your privileges goodbye. No phone call to your mom. No movie night. This may not seem like a big deal, but when you’re locked in an environment where you have maybe one tiny thing to look forward to a week, losing it because of something that is often not your fault is the most heart wrenching feeling in the world. Sometimes the punishments would go beyond cruel and just become abusive. About 5 weeks into my stay, I made the grave mistake of telling my team leader Dave that I had finished my assignment because I was having a really horrible day and just wanted to continue reading my book. Unfortunately he decided to double check. When he found out I wasn’t being honest, he assigned me to my first drudgery. That weekend I spent 6 hours outside in 20 degree weather scraping ice off of every single pathway on the entire ranch campus. I asked once if I could stop because my hands were rubbed raw and starting to bleed, and my weekend team leader Sam refused. I shouldn’t have lied, he insisted. By the end of the night, my hands were covered in blisters and I had learned my place. At this point I was broken, or so I thought. I didn’t know it could get worse.

As for therapy… My 1st therapist was useless. She was liable to cry about tragedies that had occurred during her own life. Ironically she was as cold as ice when it came to my issues. When it came to the issue of me being sexually assaulted in the 1st grade, she breezed right past it, and moved on to other issues. When I told her that I had always wished I had been been born a girl, she didn’t seem to give the slightest semblance of a fuck. When I would bring up the death of my father, or my mother’s alcoholism, she would go into how her brother died and start crying, and the next thing I knew I would be awkwardly wondering if I should console her. The biggest breakthrough in our therapy was when she came to the confident conclusion that the root of all my issues was that I was… wait for it… ADDICTED TO VIDEO GAMES… Every therapy session turned into her trying to convince me that I never wanted to play video games again, despite the fact I was drinking heavily and using substances before entering wilderness. After I finally promised her I would never touch another game again, we finally moved on to trying to process the loss of my father, and even that was a useless endeavor.

Group therapy was a clusterfuck. I don’t exactly know a better way to describe it than to call it “conflict therapy”. Seeing as how the entire M.A. operation was based around punishing students for their mistakes it was only natural to pit them against each other. The students of M.A. were each separated into 7 teams of roughly 10 students each. I spent 90% of my time with my team. They were your my friends, but I can guarantee they knew me fucking biblically. During group, it was common for one student on the team to be singled out and for every other student on the team to just fucking lay into them. It happened to everybody. We were all encouraged to tell on each other if we witnessed any rules being broken. I couldn’t trust my best friends with a secret at M.A. because the consequences were so dire. One tiny mistake could land me there for an extra year. Imagine the fucking paranoia that this causes. I was ALWAYS being watched. I began to question every single thing that I did. I began to believe the punishments I was being given were because I was useless, and because I couldn’t do anything right. After about a year I was 100% fucking brainwashed. I because some kind of M.A. Drone and I genuinely believed that I needed them to survive. It was like I was in a fucking cult, and if they had fucking cyanide in the punch I wouldn’t be writing this right now.

I think this next part was the most fucked up. This was the point where my red-pollyped festering cunt of a therapist decided to use me as an example, to teach a fucking seminar. My team was planning a father-son weekend trip. Doesn’t that sound lovely? Well, problem is, my dad’s fucking brain drowned in its own blood and so he’s in a box in my mom’s closet, so I can’t exactly take that out to Bowman lake with the boys. Luckily for me my therapist called me in and informed me that I was allowed to spend a weekend with my Uncle [who I love very much]. I was so happy, I was jumping for joy! A few weeks pass, and the father-son weekend is getting closer. My therapist calls me back in and tells me to sit down, and then informs me that she actually thinks it would be great for my “therapy” if I went with my team on the trip... I begged her to let me spend the weekend with my uncle, but she said it would also be good for the team’s therapy. So that weekend we all went to the lake. It was a really wonderful experience for everybody except for me. For the entire weekend I was alone. Some of my friends and their dads spent some time with me but I honestly wanted to be alone. Being the only kid without a fucking dad on a father-son trip is fucking humiliating beyond words. The worst part was on the last night of the weekend where the therapist held a group therapy session and the whole fucking thing was centered around me and my fucking dead dad, and all the issues that come with having a dead dad. My therapist had some really great and sensitive questions prepared... “Do you miss your dad?” “Do you feel guilty about anything?” “Why do you feel like it was your fault?” “Do you think your dad would be proud of you?” “Do you wish your dad was here?” “How did you deal with your mom falling apart?” “How do you feel that your mom is drinking again?” and the therapist just keeps pushing me and pushing me and pushing me until I’m inconsolable, and having a panic attack, and I just want her to shut the fuck up. I felt so broken, humiliated, and violated. How fucking dare this bitch of a therapist come at me with all of this heavy shit in front of people I've never met, when all she ever wants to talk about in our sessions is how much I like video games. They don’t care in these fucking places. They wanted to give these stupid fucking dads something powerful to witness so they could write a fucking Facebook post about the amazing work that's being done at MA. May they rot in hell.

Medical malpractice was also Rampant. While at M.A. I was struggling with weight and eating issues. My team “suggested” that I run a half marathon because our new team leader liked to run and they love to fucking push even the smallest beliefs and hobbies on their students. The shoes I was training in had literally no insoles. I asked for new shoes and was told to write a proposal. I wrote one and was never responded to by the treatment team [big fucking surprise]. After weeks of training we finally ran the half marathon. Halfway through, I felt a shooting pain in my foot. I told my team leader as he was not too far ahead. He didn’t give me much of a choice but to finish. For the next 6-8 weeks I asked the nurse every day if I could please go to the doctor as my foot was killing me, and nobody ever did anything about it. Finally after asking over what must have been 50 times, they agreed to let me go into town to get an x-ray. The x-ray found that I had snapped the middle metatarsal bone in my foot clean in half. So not only did M.A. make me run 6 miles with a broken foot, they made me do hard fucking labor on it for 6-8 weeks before allowing medical treatment. Care for Transgender students was disgustingly ignorant and based on lies and misinformation. Despite trying to come out as trans to my 1st M.A. therapist, it was just ignored. I tried multiple times to bring it up, but I’m now certain that my therapist didn’t know what a trans person was, and so she just thought it would be easier to switch the subject. When I moved on to the Sky House [the halfway house portion of the program] I said fuck it and just fully came out. This was met with backlash from the therapy team. Since I was at the Sky house now I had a new therapist and he had a lot of info about transitioning. Unfortunately, all of the info was fucking wrong, and he filled my head with misinformation, lies, and half-truths, in an attempt to make it sound like starting hormones was harder than getting a fucking doctorate from Harvard.

After Finally graduating M.A. I had been brainwashed into believing that getting a script for hormones was like a quest for the holy grail. I had no idea how fucking easy it actually was. I tried to live a normal life. I moved in with my aunt and uncle for a little while until I went off to college. I stayed sober for a few months, but as soon as I got to the university, things started fucking unraveling fast. I realized that I had been horribly abused and that the “therapy” I had been undergoing was nothing more than expensive babysitting. I fucking lost it I started drinking and taking any substance I could. I failed out of my school and moved back home. I drifted around for 3 years drinking, and being a disgusting and terrible person. I had to figure it all out on my own. I fucked with drugs I never should have and fell in with people I had no business being with. I drank too much, and made many regrettable decisions. But I still figured my fucking life out. I figured out that I needed to fucking get it together. I made a goal. I needed to transition. That was problem A. I got sober, went to my Nana [my hero] and found a therapist and within 2 weeks I was on hormones and began my transition, and by pure luck, I found love. It’s been a little over 4 years since I’ve gotten sober and things are far from perfect. I have severe PTSD from going to that hell of a school. I still dream about it multiple nights a week, and wake up in a fucking panic. I never leave the goddamn house because I start to panic, and I have serious trouble holding a job, so instead I work from home as a camgirl, inserting large objects into me for money. I’m lucky though that I now have my girlfriend to help me through it. Without her, I don’t know what I would do most days. Also, its really fucking great to not have to be a goddamn boy anymore. If anyone else had a similar experience [and I know others have] you’re not alone, and good luck.

[cats-obsessions]

Mark Your Love in Ink Part 2

A Geraskier soulmates au

Part one - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Rating: T

Chapters: 2 of 5? 

Notes: I decided to split this up into 5 parts, but on ao3, I posted parts 2-4 in one chapter. So, if you want to read ahead, read on ao3

It turns out, Geralt can run from ‘fate’ but not Jaskier. Somehow, Jaskier worms his way into his life. Forcefully. And deeply. What he expects to be shared milkshakes and parted ways turns into Jaskier following him to the warehouse, determined to set his eyes on some monsters- lucky for them, the ‘monsters’ weren’t werewolves or noonwraiths like he had expected. Nope, they were elves. Angry elves that captured Geralt and Jaskier, bashed the starving artist’s guitar and kicked them both in the gut. Geralt was able to reason with them, and Jaskier was given a lute for his troubles, but he didn’t get any money for his troubles.

As the sun began to rise over the city, bright lights reflecting off of the buildings, they parted ways. The younger man smiled at Geralt with sunshine in his eyes and said “I’d offer you my number, but I suppose you already have it,” which was true- even if it weren’t on his body, Geralt’s had it memorized for years. He was surprised, though, when the musician added “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime,” with a genuine warmth that told Geralt he wasn’t lying. He was sure that misadventure would have driven the boy away, but he didn’t seem deterred. If anything, he seemed more interested.

Geralt practically passed out once he got home, eager to sleep rather than focus on the situation. He was more alarmed to find the familiar number texting him once he awoke. How did he even get his number?

It didn’t seem to matter much. The next thing Geralt knows, he’s getting roped into going for coffee or drinks, then just hanging out doing things he’d never bothered spending time on before, like playing video games. Then, Jaskier starts showing up at his apartment whenever he wants. Geralt tried to argue, but Roach, his cat, loves Jaskier almost as much as she loves Geralt, which is odd considering she scratches up most strangers.

Every step of the way, he tries and tries to push back against this odd little human that seems set on getting close to him, and every battle he picks, he finds himself losing. When Jaskier starts following him to jobs, he knows he’s gone too far to turn back.

That he was not fond of, but Jaskier is the most persistent thing he’s ever met- like a weed. At first it was just local jobs, things he knew Jaskier could watch without getting in the way, but then he started following him on longer jobs. And, well it’s kind of nice to have someone to camp with, especially when he can convince the musician to stay at the camp while he hunts. He even proves to be useful once or twice. Six months later, Geralt finds himself with an intrusive friend with blurred lines and a lack of respect for personal space.

But it’s not bad, surprisingly.

Geralt finds himself smiling more. Jaskier is tactile and unafraid to show emotion in a way that’s almost frightening after so many years of being a loner. And Geralt, he puts up with it- at least that’s what he says. In reality, he does his best to keep his emotions from spilling out of ‘friends’ and toward something more.

Because he doesn’t believe in fate or destiny.

A soulmate bond is a social concept made up to explain magical connections that only go skin deep.

That’s all it is.

So, he doesn’t fall for Jaskier as if he could prove how fake Destiny is by refusing to feel.

--

Geralt hums some song that’s been stuck in his head for days- certainly not because the dumb musician had been playing it last time they saw each other. He’s cooking dinner one late evening when he hears his apartment door handle jiggle followed by several knocks. Does he really expect it to be unlocked for him all the time?

As soon as he unlocks the door, it’s being opened by the musician on the other side. He’s a little flushed and his hair is messy as he complains “If you gave me a key, this would be easier.”

“If I gave you a key, you’d never leave me alone.” Geralt rolls his eyes. “Did you bike here in the middle of the night?” he asks, noticing the helmet in one of his hands, a duffle bag in the other, and his lute thrown over his shoulder “and what’s all this?”

“My stuff- for our trip.” Jaskier answers as if it were obvious. He throws his bag down, slips off his shoes, and begins to make himself at home. Geralt watches as Jaskier moves to the living room, stopping to pet Roach on his way. The brown tabby shoves her head into Jaskier’s palm, meowing happily to greet him. Geralt does his best not to smile at the sight.

Their trip. Geralt had tried to convince him to sit this one out to no avail. It will be a week-long trip at the least- granted he can even find the beast. He got reports of a possible griffon terrorizing an isolated town a few days north of them. They’ll have to drive part way, then hike through the forests and camp there for however long it will take to find and defeat it. But Jaskier hasn’t seen a griffon yet, and he’s enamored with them- that’s probably Geralt’s fault, though.

“We don’t leave for two more days, Jaskier.” Geralt reminds him.

“It’s better to be prepared early, isn’t it?”

Geralt lets it go, turning back to his cooking. Jaskier can entertain himself if he’s so set on showing up unannounced. Though, Geralt throws an extra pork cutlet on the pan; the gods know the boy doesn’t eat enough real food.

He can hear the musician talking to Roach in the background. He’s almost surprised Jaskier hasn’t pestered him about his day yet. But, he doesn’t refrain from taking advantage of the momentary silence. With the meat on the pan, crackling and popping while it cooks, there’s nothing to do but wait. So, he pulls out his phone and scrolls mindlessly through the local news. He doesn’t care much for politics, but occasionally things will pop up that point to creatures, monsters, and jobs.

‘Local YouTuber Dies in Attempt to Catch Kikimora’

A dark figure can be seen in the background of what he assumes is a screen shot from the recording. “It’s an Ekimmara, you morons.” Geralt scoffs under his breath. Typical. Mankind has been chasing after monsters since the dawn of time. The widespread use of cameras only made things worse. He scrolls down further, and another headline pops out to him.

‘Local Dive Bar Found to be Drug Front: Shoot Out Between Owners Leaves Renters Evicted’

Also not terribly surprising; humans are always doing these kinds of things. Over his near century of a life, he’s seen more deaths from greed than monsters could ever cause. But, wait… he looks closer, picking up the details of the image provided. Isn’t that-

“Jaskier, what the fuck?” he barks, turning to face the man now sprawled out on his couch.

“What did I do?” he asks innocently, though the cringe he’s trying to hide tells the witcher he knows exactly what he did.

“You didn’t think to start with ‘Penellie’s had a shoot-out.’!?”

“Ah,” Jaskier starts uncomfortably. “Right- well, you know, it didn’t seem like the most important thing.” he looks down to fidget with his nails- a telltale nervous habit.

Geralt bites back his urge to press for more information “Are you okay?” He asks, finding himself out of his comfort zone.

“Of course! I’ve seen a lot worse.” Jaskier shrugs.

“Wait, were you there when it happened?”

“No, no, dear witcher. I was in my apartment. Apparently,” He starts with renewed energy, “the whole building has drugs in the walls! Those possums that were always making racket- Probably thugs shoving drug packets into our shared walls. I guess Penellie and James had a disagreement about how to split the funds. It wasn’t so much as a shoot out as shooting each other in the close confines of their office.” Jaskier makes a gun shape with his hand as he says it, pretending to shoot at Geralt. “Guess renting from your boss isn’t that good of an idea, huh?”

“Who woulda thunk.” Geralt murmurs flatly, remember the exact words ‘don’t rent from your boss’ coming out of his mouth when Jaskier moved to that dump six months ago. Of course, Jaskier was working as a bartender, and Geralt expected him to get fired and evicted in one go rather than an unknowing renter of drug lords. “They didn’t make you ID the bodies or anything, did they?” he pushes. He’s not sure why it matters to him.

“Oh, come on now. It’s very nice of you to think you have to protect my innocence, but like I said- I’ve seen worse. Specifically, I’ve seen you do much worse. You know, most people have never seen the intestines of anything much less helped dig a liver out of a cave troll or pull teeth from a foglet while brain matter is splattered around them. You’re quite lucky I’m so well adjusted.” Jaskier rambles, accentuating his words with wild gestures of his hands. Geralt ignores it, though.

“You’ve never seen me kill a human.”

“Well, you haven’t recently, right?” he says nonchalantly like he wouldn’t be bothered if the answer were yes.

Geralt shakes his head “Not supposed to, though I’m tempted often,” he grumbles, shooting Jaskier a glare. The musician sees the fondness behind it though and chuckles a little. Somehow, he seems to know Geralt’s only so exasperated because he cares- against his best efforts not to, of course.

Geralt finishes up in the kitchen and pops the caps off two beers, handing one to Jaskier along with a plate of food.

“Oh, thanks! You don’t have to, though,” Jaskier smiles, a little blush tinging his cheeks. Geralt pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Had extra,” he murmurs, shoving Jaskier’s feet off the couch so he can sit and eat as well. After a few bites of food and a long drink of beer, he finally asks “What now?”

“Well, the place across the street will probably have a drop in price,” Jaskier smirks.

“Seriously? Should live somewhere safer.”

“I would, but you know I can’t afford that… I suppose I could get a roommate” Jaskier says, biting his lip as he stares at Geralt.

The witcher grunts. He knows exactly what Jaskier is asking even without the words leaving his mouth.

“Come on, Geralt! It’d be fun!” He pesters “You live in a dump, too. Roach deserves better than this! Don’t you, Roachy?” he coos, the cat mewls at him as though she’s agreeing. Traitor. “We could afford something a bit nicer together. And I promise I won’t get in your way more than usual. No jam sessions late at night or early in the morning. I’ll even cook sometimes. Please… Unless, you want me to find some stranger from Craigslist to live with me… But hm, isn’t that how the Craigslist killer found his victims?”

Geralt grimaces. “No- he killed a masseuse he hired through craigslist.” Is Jaskier even old enough to remember when that happened?

“Ah, I thought he asked them on dates,” Jaskier muses.

“No, you’re thinking of the Grindr- no, the Tinder killer.”

“Ah, so Grindr is a safe app to find roommates with then?” Jaskier asks, tilting his head as if it were an innocent question; he bites his fork as if he were thinking- fucker even flutters his long eyelashes. Geralt does his very best not to stare at his over obvious flirting. He knows exactly what Jaskier is doing, yet that doesn’t seem to prevent it from working.

Geralt groans, pinching the bridge of his nose “Mac n’ cheese doesn’t count as cooking. No unannounced guests, and do not touch my swords when I’m gone.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t make me regret this, Pancratz.”

“Yes! You won’t- I promise.” Jaskier beams.

A silence falls over them while they eat before Jaskier pipes up again “Wanna watch the Monster from Brokilon? it’s the one with the Leshen!”

“Witchers don’t even know that much about Leshens; I can only assume what kinds of inaccuracies are in this movie.”

Jaskier smirks, “You can lecture me about it afterwards.”

It has become somewhat of a past time for Jaskier to find various old and horrible horror movies to force Geralt to watch. At first, he was simply curious if there was any truth in them, but once he found Geralt ranting about their atrocious and uneducated portrayals of even the simplest beasts, he seemed determined to put the witcher through more.

For some reason Geralt puts up with it. Jaskier usually ends up talking over it half the time anyways, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy having someone to share his monster facts with. There’s something that lights up in the musician’s eyes whenever they talk about creatures and adventures; he doesn’t shy away from it like other humans.

So, he hums contentedly as Jaskier sets up the movie. When it starts, Geralt rests his arm on the back of the couch as he always does. It’s not his fault if somewhere in the night, Jaskier scoots closer and closer until he’s pressed up against the witcher. He’s just like that. And if he falls asleep, his head drooping to rest on Geralt’s shoulder, the witcher only lets him because Jaskier’s had a rough day.

[let-it-raines]

Hi, nonnie! First of all, I’m always open to prompts! Secondly, this is so sweet of you to say! It honestly really put a smile on my face knowing that something I did let a little bit of happiness into your life, and even though I know very little about boxing (though I did just watch Creed II three nights ago lol), it’s kind of what got me to write you this prompt! I hope you enjoy❤️🥊

(PS: Tumblr really needs to get their act together and fix itself so I can answer prompts regularly without the “read more” button messing up.)

-/-

A fist flies in the air.

And then another one.

And another one.

There are grunts, some of effort, some of pain, and even though she can feel it in her teeth, in her own bones, she can’t tear her eyes away from the ring as red and black quickly move so that everything seems to blur, her vision blocked by the tears in her eyes and the way that oxygen doesn’t seem to be flowing as it normally does. Emma doesn’t even know the last time that she took a breath.

It was at least three minutes ago.

She cannot go three minutes without breathing.

She seems to have done just that.

He moved around the ring gracefully at first, his feet light and his punches swift, but that was before he took a harsh hit to his gut, another one to his cheek so that blood drips down his lips and into the black of his scruff that he just trimmed this morning. He’s hurting, but she knows that all he’ll think about is the fact that he’s losing.

Killian doesn’t like to lose.

And she gets it. She doesn’t either. In fact, she hates it with nearly every fiber in her being, but boxing isn’t her job like it is Killian’s. She’s a bail bondsperson who needs to say in shape, who needs to get out years worth of rage from the cards life has dealt her, and she found that outlet in boxing.

In a gym. Not in a ring.

In Killian’s gym specifically.

Well, it’s technically Liam’s as well, but considering Liam can’t stand her, she doesn’t like to give him credit for anything other than the fact that she knows that Killian is a good man thanks to his brother. Partially, at least. Killian has that goodness in himself all on his own, and the fact that he doesn’t take credit for it, saying that it’s all on Liam, breaks her heart.

Her heart is kind of breaking right now as she watches a red glove hit into his stomach.

Killian just got back from injury, a few broken and bruised ribs, a pretty nasty collection of cuts on his face, but it’s mostly the fracture in his left wrist that caused all of the issues. He just got back, just recovered, and she’s watching him get beaten all over again.

He doesn’t like to lose.

He usually doesn’t lose.

A flash of blue catches her attention from across the dark room, even the florescent lights not helping the dimness of the place, and she sees Liam move around the back of the room. He told Killian not to fight tonight, not to come here as his first match back, and she’s pretty sure that he came around tonight simply to rub it in Killian’s face if he loses.

When he loses.

Bastard.

Really, she knows that it’s to rub it in her face.

Liam cares about Killian, probably a little too much, but that’s what happens when you’re both a brother and a parent from twelve onward. She can’t possibly imagine trying to take care of a younger sibling and a drunk father, but that’s exactly what Liam did. It’s…she’s thankful for him. She really is. He gave Killian love and care when he so desperately needed it after their mom passed, and even if she doesn’t like the man now, she has to give him thanks for that.

She would have loved to have had someone love her when she was a kid moving from one foster home to the next with foster parents who never really cared.

So Liam loves Killian, but he hates her. She’s never been entirely sure why. She’s racked her brain, tried to think of something, anything, and even when she brings it up to Killian, he tells her that Liam is simply being protective, that Liam really does like her.

That’s a lie.

(It’s the only one that Killian tells her, and they both know it.)

Liam hasn’t liked her since that first day that she walked into the Jones’ Gym three years ago and asked for an instructor to help her with her form, her old gym no longer an option with...everything that happened that morning. Killian had flashed her a smile with his pearly white teeth, and even though she had literally walked into her apartment and seen Neal fucking another woman that morning, she was a goner.

And maybe a little heartbroken.

A lot heartbroken.

So her thoughts weren’t really focused on anything other than pretending that she was punching Neal’s face as hard as he does when he boxes.

(She obviously has a type, but there’s a great divide between Neal and Killian.)

Killian tested her out that first day, saw the potential she had, saw that she wasn’t a complete amateur, and even through most of her punching was rage, he quietly encouraged her, often placing his warm hands on her stomach to steady her core or tell her when to tighten her muscles. It went on like that for weeks until she was coming into the gym every single day and only leaving at night with sweat soaking her clothes and skin, a warm hand on her back as Killian guided her two blocks over to his apartment where the sweat-soaked clothes were left on the floor and her body became heated for an entirely different reason.

Maybe Liam doesn’t like her because she and Killian started off as fuck buddies, the two of them getting out their energy in a physical way outside the gym, but considering the fact that she’s been dating Killian for two of the three years that she’s known him, that she now lives in that apartment two blocks away, she thinks that the man would have enough sense to know that they’re not simply messing around.

They’re in it for the long haul.

Suddenly, the sound of a body hitting the mat rings through her ears, and her eyes dart from Liam back to Killian as he lays down on his back, the referee counting away the seconds. Her heart sinks to her stomach all the while it ticks up several paces, gooseflesh rising on her arms, and she stands from the folding chair she’s been sitting in, her feet moving without her permission as she moves toward the ring, worming her way through the small crowd to be as close to Killian as she can.

He looks worse up close, blood coating his face and lips swollen, and that nagging feeling that’s been sticking with her lately comes back. But she pushes it down. This isn’t about her or her worries. This isn’t about Liam. This is about Killian.

His opponent is announced the winner while Killian stays on the floor, and she ducks underneath the ropes to squat down next to him, tenderly pushing his hair back until he opens his eyes.

“Did – did he knock me into heaven because I swear, I’m staring at an angel.”

Killian makes an attempt at a smile then, but his lips can barely move with how swollen they are, his teeth covered in blood.

“That’s the worst joke you’ve ever made.”

“I, ah – ” he gasps, clutching at his ribs as he grimaces, and she waves Robin and Will over to help him up. They’re going to have to go to the doctor tonight, and he’s not going to be okay with it. Stubborn man. “I figured I had to try to…I needed to charm you since I apparently can’t stop getting knocked down on my ass.”

“It’s a good ass.”

“So you tell me,” he laughs, twisting his head a bit more to look at her. “Sweetheart, is he here?”

She nods her head and leans down to brush her lips over his forehead, ignoring the taste of iron and salt. “He’s here.”

-/-

One. Two.

One. Two.

One –

“Entering the ring is Emma Swan,” Killian bellows in an overexaggerated accent as he gingerly steps up behind her punching bag, his limp a little less prominent today but the bruises even more so as they cover his face in what might as well be black and blue ink to match the ink that covers parts of his bodies. “At a whopping one hundred and thirteen pounds, she packs a punch that could knock a man twice her size down. If she’d steady her core a bit more, it could be someone three times her size.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, adjusting her feet and throwing the two more punches that she needs to finish her set before undoing the strappings on her gloves and tossing them to the ground. She leans down and picks up her water bottle, taking a sip while her forearm wipes some of the sweat from her brow before she steps forward and quickly slides her lips over Killian’s in greeting as he hums into the kiss, trying to goad her into more than what is appropriate right now. Later. “You’re supposed to be at home.”

He shrugs before his hands reach down to find her hips, pulling her closer to him while she feels his thumbs rub small circles over her hip bones. That always does something particular to her brain where she forgets how to think about anything other than how good he feels moving against her. “I got lonely.”

“You know I’m going to work after this, right?”

“I can sit in the car with you.”

“I have a date,” she sighs, knowing that while he fully respects her and trusts her, he’s never thrilled when she does a honeytrap. She’s not always thrilled when he fights, but that’s life. “And you’re supposed to be sitting still because your ass has been kicked six ways to Sunday.”

“Darling, I’ve been tied up in bed many a times, and this is not the way that I prefer it.”

“You’re being petulant.”

“I don’t like to sit still.”

Emma nods her head as she moves her hands up his arms over his sweatshirt until she’s running her thumbs over his cheeks, keeping her eyes trained on his before she examines his face with a careful gaze, her heart lurching at how beaten up he still is.

“Babe, I know. But you can’t…you took a pretty nasty beating, and you can’t be pushing yourself. Your options are lounging around in bed, catching up on whatever TV show you’ve missed, or coming into the gym and sitting in your office with paperwork. I know which one I’d choose.”

“I’m fine.”

“I live with you. I know that’s not true. You can barely get out of bed in the mornings.”

Killian clicks his tongue, and she rolls her eyes. Stubborn ass.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he mumbles, leaning into her until his lips are running over the cords of her neck, sending pleasurable tingles down that almost make her forget the conversation they’re having. Almost.

(He’s pretty good at making her not think.)

“If you’re trying to distract me with sex, you can’t do that either. And I love you too.”

“Killian,” Liam shouts from the second story, looking down at them over the iron railing, “if you’re here, I need you to look over our financials for last month instead of doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he shouts back before whispering to her, “looks like we know which option I’m taking. Will you be home for dinner tonight?”

“Probably not so don’t eat anything good without me.”

“I’ll try, but I was thinking of getting Granny’s.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Killian waggles his brows as much as he can and drops his hands from her hips, the loss of heat immediate. “Guess you’ll just have to find out when you get home.”

-/-

Four weeks and three days later, Killian is training again.

He shouldn’t be, but he is. That’s how it always works with him. She loves him, but he’s stubborn as a mule. That’s the saying, right? Stubborn as a mule, stubborn as an ass.

It should be stubborn as Killian Jones.

He doesn’t have to box competitively, doesn’t have to supplement their income when the two of them make more than enough on their own, but he loves it. She understands the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of power he gets when he wins, but with the last two losses, she can’t help but worry.

She is not someone who worries.

Or she wasn’t. She didn’t with Neal, not when he got in the ring, but with Killian, she worries.

She doesn’t want to lose him to something that he doesn’t have to do.  

So as the weeks go on and October fades into November and November turns into a chilly December, she ignores the fact that he seems to be putting his all into training and to winning as many matches as he can. She’s been busy picking up extra cases, wanting the extra money to buy Christmas gifts for her friends and Killian, so she only really sees Killian in the mornings when she comes home, crawling into bed and letting him wrap himself around her while they both catch a few more hours of sleep.

Those are her favorite moments.

She likes when they wake up in the morning, neither of them having anything to do, and the only reason Killian gets out of bed is to close the blinds so that light can’t get to them, the daylight being pushed away so that nothing else but the two of them exist in a cocoon of soft blankets. That’s what they get to do this morning as Killian trails his lips down to the base of her spine until he starts working his way up again so that he’s resting his chin on her shoulder while his hand covers her stomach, fingers splaying out to cover all of her skin while she nestles her ass into his thighs.

Perfect.

“We’re out of coffee,” he whispers into her ear while his pointer finger draws patterns up and down her stomach, both waking her and lulling her back to sleep as hot breath ghosts against her skin. “We’ll have to leave to get some.”

“That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“We’re also out of poptarts.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Killian hums, and she knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “If you keep eating poptarts like that, they’re going to kill you.”

“They are not,” she huffs. “I exercise enough to cancel it out.”

“That’s only partially true, love.”

She buries her face further into her pillow while her hand comes to rest over his on her stomach, holding him still. “If we splurge a little, we can get our groceries delivered instead of having to trek out into the cold.”

“I have to go to the gym today. I can grab some things on the way home, but it won’t be until late.”

“Wait.” She twists her head to look at him, not caring for the strain in her neck as her nose brushes the cold tip of Killian’s. “Why are you going to the gym today? It’s your off day.”

“I’m teaching a class tonight.”

She furrows her brows. “No, you’re not.”

“I swear that I am,” he promises, the words said against her lips.

“You’re fighting tonight,” she says simply while anger begins to simmer below the surface of her skin, the warmth of Killian being replaced by the warmth of anger. “Who are you fighting that you’re not telling me about it? Booth?”

He grimaces before smiling, the one that he does when he’s trying to convince her of something, and she knows what he’s going to say, who he’s going to fight against.

“Cassidy.”

“No.” She shakes her head, pushing back from him to put a little more space between them as her mind becomes muddled with thoughts and very real memories of Killian’s bloodied face and broken wrist the last time they fought. “No, you are not fighting him. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s good money, Swan. And I have to for the rankings.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” She quickly stands from the bed, yanking open a drawer on the dresser and grabbing a sweatshirt, pulling it over her shoulders before she slams the door shut and goes in search for a pair of leggings, having to work a little bit to get them on. “You don’t fucking have to do anything, Killian. We don’t need the money, and you don’t need to have the life knocked out of you again.”

“I’m a better boxer than him.”

She chuckles, unable to stop herself, and turns around to look at him as he sits up on the bed, the comforter falling low on his hips so that she has a view of the trail of hair that leads to his cock and the quote he has inked over his hipbone. “Damn right you are, but you know exactly what he does to you up there. He talks about me, about how he knows what I’m like in bed, about how I’m the little messed up orphan, and that throws you off.”

His jaw clenches. “It’s not going to tonight. Not again.”

“He’s an asshole. God,” she groans, reaching up to run her hands through her hair, “Killian, I don’t put my foot down on a lot of things, but I’m putting the damn foot down. You are not fighting Neal tonight.”

“If I told you what to do, you’d have my head.”

“Not if you had a good reason.”

She expects him to protest, to list off several horrible reasons that he thinks are good reasons, but instead he rises from the bed and walks to the bathroom, his bare ass in clear view until it disappears behind the door for a total of thirty seconds before he’s coming out of the bathroom with clenched fists, shoving something into her hands.

A box.

A small box.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“No, no, no,” she stutters, continuing to shake her head as Killian stares at her with a raised brow and expectant eyes, his lips curved up into that all familiar smirk. “No. You are not proposing to me like this.”

His smirk falls, but just for a moment. “Why the hell not?”

“For one, you aren’t even wearing any pants.”

“You’ve never complained about that before.”

Her eyes roll. She should have seen that one coming. “And we’re fighting. I’m not going to accept a proposal while we’re arguing. That is not something I want to remember forever. And this still doesn’t answer my question about why you’re fighting tonight. That’s kind of what I care about right now.”

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, turning around and grabbing his boxers of the floor, pulling them on to cover himself before he steps back up toward her, cupping her cheeks with the rough pads of his hands before peppering kisses over every inch of her skin that he can reach, making her giggle even if she’s still trying to stand her ground. Damn him. “You are so damn stubborn, and I love that about you. I love that you challenge me, that you worry for me, but I’m fighting tonight because I have to. He beat the hell out of me last time, Swan, and I can’t let him keep doing that. I can’t let me demons win. And no, we don’t need the money, but I want it to make my last payment on this ring so that I can ask you to marry me.”

“Is that why you’ve been crazy lately? Why you’re fighting more?”

He nuzzles his nose into hers before resting his forehead against hers, the warmth the only thing she focus on for a moment. She has no idea what’s happening this morning, and she’s not entirely sure that any of it makes sense. “Aye, but also because my brother is an asshole, and I had some tension to work out.”

She knows exactly why Killian thinks Liam is being an ass.

“He doesn’t want you to propose, does he?”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know all.” He chuckles, closing the inch between them and slowly gliding his lips over hers so she can feel the softness of his lips that only goes away when he’s healing from a busted lip. She always wants him to have soft lips that make her feel more at home than anything else ever has. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

“He thinks you’re going to break my heart.”

“I’m not.”

“I know,” Killian sighs. He runs his hands down from her face to her shoulders, squeezing the slightest bit while they slowly sway together, the ring box still clutched in her hands. It’s still not quite hitting her that Killian wants to marry her, not with everything else that’s happening to make her stomach roll, queasiness coursing through her. “He…he says that the way I am with you reminds him of how I was with Milah.”

Shit.

“Killian – ”

“You’re not her. I’ve never thought you were her, but he can’t…he’s blinded about a lot of things, Swan. He doesn’t understand how to not be this way with me. He can’t turn it off.”

“He has to. You’re thirty. You’re your own person. He can’t hold some kind of grudge against me because someone betrayed you in the past. That’s not how life works. He doesn’t want you to fight like you do, and yet he’s the one igniting your passion for it.”

“It’s my decision.”

“Don’t do it,” she begs, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting her as she leans forward a little more into his space. “Please don’t do it.”

“I have to.”

“I’m not going to come. I won’t be there to watch.”

“I know.” He nods his head against hers and reaches down to hold his hand over hers, closing her fingers over the box. “Think about the question you won’t let me ask, okay? I promise I’m going to come home to you tonight.” “I’m holding you to that since you insist on being so stubborn.”

He doesn’t come home that night.

She gets the call when she’s sitting on the edge of their bathtub, a plastic stick in her hands with two lines, and she almost doesn’t realize it at first because she can’t quite get over the fact that she’s pregnant.

Pregnant.

It’s…she knows that she can be a little loose with her birth control, that maybe they don’t always use condoms, but she honestly thought that she’d gotten better about all of that lately. But one time without is time enough, and she’s – she’s pregnant.

And her boyfriend is apparently in the hospital again getting his left wrist x-rayed, the crunch heard throughout the arena, with other injuries that had Will’s accent a bit more pronounced, something that only happens when he’s worried.

She could throw up.

That might be the pregnancy.

Without bothering to change out of her sweatpants, she grabs her jacket and her beanie, pulling them both on as she runs out the door and takes the train to Mass General, her leg never stopping its shaking on the way there.

Damn Killian.

Damn Neal.

Damn this idiotic sport that they all love despite themselves.

“Emma,” Will yells when she walks into the emergency room, all of the seats filled with people she probably shouldn’t be around, “he’s back here.”

“I can’t believe you guys let him fight tonight.”

“We can’t believe you did.”

“He didn’t listen to me.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

Will guides her back behind a curtain, pulling the ugly patterned thing back to reveal Killian sitting in a hospital bed with his wrist already wrapped in a white cast and stiches covering his face, a pretty nasty cut on his cheek that Liam seems to be checking out.

Was Liam there tonight?

She should have been there despite absolutely not wanting him to go.

Can her life calm down for just, like, one minute? She needs a minute.

“You look awful,” she says simply, crossing her arms over his chest as her eyes keep scanning his body.

He smiles, just a soft little curve of his lips, and not for the first time, she wonders how much of an idiot he is.

(But she loves that idiot.)

“You should see the other guy.”

“I’d rather not.”

Killian chuckles, but it really only ends up making him cough, and she steps further into the partition to help him sit up a bit more, a pillow propped behind his head. “I won, Swan.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” She runs her hands through his hair, working through the dried sweat, and leans down to press a kiss to the center of his forehead where he’s not all scratched up. “Are you alright?”

“Just a few, ah, nicks and bruises, nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

“Killian – ”

“He broke his wrist again,” Liam explains, making her actually look at him while she feels Killian’s right hand fumble until he’s holding hers, their fingers interlocking. “His ribs are bruised, and he’s had to get several cuts stitched up. He’s not fine, and you need to stop encouraging him to fight.”

“Me? You think I’m the one encouraging this? First of all, Killian makes his own damn decisions, and if you bothered to know me at all, you’d know that I did not encourage this. I support Killian because this is what he loves, but I did not support him tonight. Believe it or not, I actually care about him.”

“That’s what all of the others said too.”

“What about me makes you think that I’m like all of the others?” she yells, anger coursing through her veins even as she remembers that they’re in a very open emergency room. She’s done with Liam being an asshole. She’s done with it. If Killian is going to be her husband, the father to her child, her partner for the rest of her life, she’s not about to keep letting his brother push her around. “I am nothing like any of them. I make him happy. I love him, and I am never going to leave him. I have never given you any indication to think otherwise.”

“You bloody well did – ”

“For fuck’s sakes,” Killian huffs, his voice louder than even hers was. “Liam, get the stick out of your ass and let me live my own life. I love you, but you are suffocating me and Emma. We’re together. We’re staying together, and I really need you to get on board with that instead of making all of us miserable.”

Liam doesn’t say anything, no retort on his tongue, and she watches him cross his arms over his chest, his head moving in the slightest of nods. It’s probably the most she’s going to get for now, if ever, and honestly, she’s okay with that. She has a million other things she’s got to worry about.

Later, when Killian’s been released from the hospital and is sitting up on the couch, his feet propped on the ottoman with ice strapped all over his body, she settles down next to him, her bottom lip between her teeth as she debates on how exactly she wants to go about all of this. She could wait until tomorrow, but she’s never been the best with timing.

“I will marry you under two conditions,” she starts, pressing the ring down onto his thigh. He looks at it first before twisting his head so that she’s staring into the light blue that she loves so much.

So damn much.

“I don’t think conditions are usually made, love.”

“We’re not usual people.”

“Alright,” he laughs, using his good hand to reach over and take hold of her left hand as his thumb rubs over her knuckles, making her breath hitch but soothing her all the same, “I will listen to your two conditions.”

“Good. So for one, I need you to stop agreeing to matches with any ex-boyfriend of mine or anybody who is going to beat the shit out of you to the point where you actually get seriously injured with something that can’t be fixed in a singular hospital visit.”

“That seems like more than one condition.”

“Killian.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, nodding his head and squeezing her hand. “I’ve already been thinking about that, figured my anger has been a little misplaced lately and I haven’t been making the smartest decisions. What’s your second condition?”

Her stomach rolls again, something she’s kind of getting used to, and as nervous as she is, as scared as she is, she can’t help the giddy excitement as she brings their joined hands to her lips. “I need you to be excited about being a father.”

It takes him approximately seven seconds to understand what she’s saying, and when he gets it, his eyes become impossibly bluer, tears pooling in them, and even though it pains him, he leans forward to capture her lips, exploring her mouth in an insistent kiss that makes her toes curl as she laughs into it, all of the anger and worry of today fading into something much lighter.

Much better.

Killian does end up going back into the ring, even if it’s mostly to teach classes at the gym, but this time he’s got their daughter’s name tattooed on his left wrist so that she’s right there punching with him.

[h3l10tr0p3]

P S Y C H O P A S S

A U

I am obsessed with this, okay? please ignore my word vomit and scroll away (I can't seem to use the cut for some reason) Gomenasai!

Izuku cracking the exam like Akane Tsunemori and Katsuki being the Law Enforcer/ Latent Criminal with a police badge- (who is like 3 years older than Izuku). So the psychopass world is governed by this spontaneous cymatic brain scanner thingies which basically calculate your emotional state with a number (by a computer system called Sibyl, but here we'll call it A41) called Psychopass right? If this crime coefficient is above 100 it means you are likely to commit a crime (a Latent Criminal) and, the public safety bureau can paralyze you and imprison you, if over 300 it means you are lethal to society and they are authorized to kill you. And ofcourse they get their own cool Dominator guns to blast people to organic mush.

Psychopass is a fickle thing. When you are under stress it can shoot up easily, so regular mental care and strong minds are valued a lot in current society. Having a low psychopass or a ‘clear hue' is encouraged, while having a high psychopass or a ‘cloudy hue' is looked down upon. Criminals and Latent Criminals alike are considered harmful and recieve harsh treatment. They are not even considered human most of the times.

So enter newbie Midoriya Izuku, Inspector of the public safety bureau, who is supposed to learn the ropes under the guidance of his laconic senior Iida, an Inspector, as the newest member of Unit 1 MWPSB. Iida and Katsuki are always clashing and he refuses to believe that the Enforcers, being latent Criminals or ‘hunting dogs'( as they are referred to) are not to be trusted as they are sub-human. Shouto, Kyouka, Shinsou and Denki are also Enforcers like Katsuki who are appointed under Tenya and Izuku.

On their first case, Katsuki is haughty towards Izuku and constantly mocks him for his inexperience while chasing a criminal. He nicknames him Deku for being useless and letting the criminal get away. The search gets really intense and Katsuki proves himself to be a seasoned ‘hunting dog' to smoke out the criminal but his methods are near brutal. The criminal reveals his connection to the LoV when finally cornered and Katsuki flies into fury. During which Izuku is forced to paralyze Katsuki because his psychopass was skyrocketting on the chase and Izuku was afraid he'd exceed 300 and become a criminal irrevocably.

Katsuki has to be hospitalized and Izuku feels horrible as he let the criminal get away and hurt Katsuki. But Katsuki finally acknowledges that Izuku does have the balls to finally fire a Dominator gun, something he was reluctant to aiming at anyone before. But Katsuki says that firing a Dominator isn’t equivalent to earning the title of an Inspector, and that is something ‘Deku’ has to work for. Pouting at Katsuki's insistence to use that name, Izuku retaliates by calling him ‘Kacchan'. Katsuki almost breaks his bed restraints trying to get up and kick Izuku for such a cutesy nickname.

Izuku quickly understands that most Enforcers didn't approve of him yet, and even Katsuki ignores him for most of the time. He feels like they need him to prove himself in order to give him their acknowledgement. But as days go by and different cases are encountered, Unit 1 realizes that Izuku, with his unfaltering dedication, superb observation and analytical skills, is a force to be reckoned with. And if that weren't enough, Izuku reveals that he is an autodidact Mentalist – someone who is able to Trace the Criminal’s actions with exceptional psych profiling and sheer empathy. This makes Izuku's psychopass highly fluctuant- from single digits to numbers edging on 100. It makes him a little reckless and fearsome but the little Inspector soon makes friends with everyone except Katsuki, but Izuku, emboldened by his dear friend Uraraka’s advice, is determined to get him to open upto him.

Once, during a stakeout, when they are alone, Izuku tries to get Katsuki to open up and mentions why Izuku wanted to be an Inspector after Katsuki commented that he still considers his optimistic and cheerful personality inappropriate for the job.

Izuku tells him that as a child he was terribly sick all the time and he was really depressed because of it. Most children go through psychopass milestones like babies and toddlers have developmental milestones. Children are born with high psychopasses because they have yet to be integrated into society completely. It's one reason why A41 doesnt read psychopasses of children under 9 routinely, but once in 6 months. (Denki is also an example of a child whose pyschopass was abnormally high past the age of 10, and he was forced to become an Enforcer or go to jail, so he chose the former) Izuku's psychopass was too high for his age since he was 4 because of his extraordinary empathetic abilities, and people judged him superficially for it. His body was really weak too, and very few people knew that, so he was constantly bullied as well. When he was 9 he had to get brain surgery done so he was in the hospital a lot. Yagi Toshinori was admitted in the hospital around the same time and they became gast friends. The Inspector often enthralled Izuku with stories and cases, he often forgot Izuku's tender age and spoke of gruesome crime scenes to him as if it were natural to do so. Izuku, himself, was so awed by the courage and heroism of the Inspector that he has dreamt of becoming one himself since. Izuku ends by mentioning that after he finally went through the surgery, Toshinori never came back to see him again, but Izuku wanted to meet him. Katsuki grows pensive and remorseful at the name of Yagi Toshinori, which makes Izuku curious. When he asks if Katsuki knows the man, he is met with the curt answer, “ Toshinori is dead. Has been for a long while".

Shocked, Izuku gulps. He isn't too surprised to hear that because Toshinori was a very frail man when they had met. It was unlikely that he lived for long. But Izuku still cries profusely over him as Katsuki silently watches him sob and feels guilt rip through his chest.

There are countless times where Katsuki saves Izuku's life or reprimands Izuku for being so reckless, and each time, Izuku feels getting more intrigued and charmed by his explosive blond colleague. How can he not be? Especially after seeing how Katsuki takes down a combat bot with his bare fists at the training gym? (Izuku blushes a deep red, averting his eyes from sweat-glistened washboard abs and insisting that Katsuki wear a goddamn shirt because geez! You are so distracting, Kacchan!!!)

They grow close over the several life-threatening incidents they encounter. Izuku manages to get Katsuki to open up about the littlest of things and takes immense joy in each little successful interaction. Katsuki doesn't understand why Izuku is so happy for such small things, but it warms his cockles in an unfamiliar way. No matter how much he pushes it away, Izuku has wormed his way under his skin and made some kind of home in him. Katsuki eventually stops fighting this warm feeling.

Their relationship deepens over solving cases, they grow closer and closer. Katsuki starts to teach him how to fight, spars with him in training room. Katsuki comes to know that Izuku had a frail body and shot nerves (thus his high pain tolerance) and hardly any money for proper treatment. Izuku has put years of effort into overcoming his weaknesses. He might not be the strongest fighter, but he is efficient and knows to hit where it hurts. And frankly, Katsuki is impressed by his dedication. After a particularly exhausting case, when Izuku is bogged down about being too late to save some victims, Katsuki invites him to his quarters for some well-deserved dinner because Izuku has been running himself ragged without food for several days.

They start bonding over drinks and Katsuki finally feels it's time to tell Izuku about his past. He tells him how he was once a Inspector like Izuku himself, but because of his fault his senior, Enforcer Toshinori Yagi was murdered in a very gruesome manner. The perpetrators were related to LoV. The loss of his mentor and the associated trauma caused Katsuki's psychopass to rise beyond 100 and he was demoted to Law Enforcer. But despite that Katsuki continues his fervent search for the LoV. Izuku is shocked to hear this but he comforts Katsuki and tells him that he wants to help.

As their cases get harder to crack and Izuku starts spending more time with Katsuki, and he sees all the gruesome, traumatizing things that make his Psychopass climb steadily from stable 20s to 60s and so on – Iida confronts him and tells Izuku to stay away from Katsuki. He explains that Izuku is becoming more reckless, violent and brutal in his methods due to Katsuki, and although these methods always give results they are unreliable. but Izuku refuses to listen to him.

So an LoV related case comes up where Izuku gets seperated from the rest, Katsuki is going crazy to get him back and Izuku finally meets the guy behind the LoV, Tomura Shigaraki who has kidnapped Uraraka in an indirect attempt to lure out Katsuki buy baiting Izuku instead. LoV wants Katsuki to drop the investigation, maybe even lure him to their side since he has a penchant for destruction. Tomura threatens to kill Uraraka and goads Izuku to try and shoot him with the Dominator. However, the dominator refuses to acknowledge Shigaraki and his psychopass is shown unreadable. However, the dominator catches the psychopass of Uraraka, who under stress has a fatally high number. Izuku realizes the dominator will only hurt the victim and not Shigaraki. He refuses to wield the dominator, but Tomura goads him to shoot him anyway and throws an old-fashioned gun at him, urging him to make his own decisions instead of letting A41 making that decision for him.

For the first time ever since he fired a Dominator n Eliminator mode Izuku is torn about taking a life without A41's judgement.

Just when Katsuki breaks into the scene, he watches Izuku take the shot at Tomura. The shot grazes Tomura, but he is mostly uninjured. Uraraka is killed by Tomura. (r.i.p Uraraka T_T). Tomura escapes, but Izuku is a mess. He cannot accept that he tried to actually kill a person. Katsuki tries to comfort him, but soon Izuku's emotions swing from despair to cold rage.

At this moment Iida busts in and threatens Katsuki to stay away by aiming the Dominator at him

Katsuki tries to cover Izuku from the Dominator cause he knows Izuku's psychopass might exceed 100 right now in his emotional state. And it reads Katsuki's psychopass perfectly. But Izuku walks around Katsuki and in a quiet deadly fury he asks Katsuki to move away. Then he challenges the Dominator/A41 system to read his psychopass and give him a reason to believe that it works when it didn't work on Tomura.

Katsuki tries to drag him back but too late

The Dominator reads Izuku's pyschopass at it's highest limit 999. But before it can switch from the Non lethal paralyzer mode to Lethal Eliminator - Izuku's psychopass changes to 000.

Iida believes his Dominator is glitching. But Katsuki and Izuku both know from previous doubts that the A41 system is flawed and it cannot read psychopass of certain people.

Turns out, Izuku is one of them

(tbc?)

(i love the idea of them weilding Dominators)

[wickymicky]

all girl groups and Pentagon ONLY ahahaha

YEAH

i mean i do like some other boy groups lol, and i’m sure i’ll find some more, but like... the feelings i feel when im listening to pentagon are pretty similar to the feelings i feel listening to my favorite girl groups. just like... safety lol... familiarity...

i think the reason i tend to like a typical girl group song more than a typical boy group song is like... hmmm... it has to do with the presentation and the atmosphere i get from the song, i think. and okay here’s my hot take about why girl groups tend to have more interesting and varied music than boy groups in my personal opinion.....

it has to do with misogyny. i know that doesn’t make sense at first, since wouldn’t that mean it’d be the other way around? wouldn’t that mean that girl groups get the same thing every time? well no, see.... look at this from the perspective of a record label executive who is an old straight dude. boy groups are marketed mostly to straight girls. that’s the demographic they have mostly in mind when they plan boy group debuts and comebacks. more goes into it than that often, i know that, but that’s the majority of the audience they have in mind. but are girl groups marketed towards straight boys mostly? well, they certainly are often marketed towards straight men, yes, but i think they have to appeal to girls too. toxic masculinity often makes straight dudes feel like they cant listen to pop music for fear of seeming not masculine. idk if that’s the same in korea, but like, south korea is a capitalist country, and this is an issue with capitalism, so probably. 

so yes, you will get an audience if you market your pop group to straight men, but it won’t be as big as the straight girl audience for boy groups. so what companies do is they market their groups so that they’re appealing to men and women, so even if they have them do really cute or sexy concepts, they try to make the songs also have an element of like.... either like “girl power” or like... concepts that arent about love at all. cause think about it, in the mind of a heterosexual business exec, a large part of the audience that they’re shooting for with girl groups are gonna be people who aren’t sexually attracted to the members. so they have to vary things up a little bit more and make things with all sorts of different appealing features, and different groups attempt to solve this in different ways. 

boy groups on the other hand are marketed towards straight women, and specifically teenage girls, who ARE gonna be more inclined to be attracted to the members. so, the concepts the biggest groups do are often fairly... same-y... because of misogyny. if something is meant to be For Girls........... i think you probably get where i’m going with this. 

this isn’t always the case of course, and it’s probably been changing a lot more recently. bts are huge enough that they can kinda do whatever, and they have more appeal to them than just how attractive and “cool” they are. ateez are a group that are very much marketed towards people who will find them hot, but there are aspects in the music that are more interesting than just another run of the mill dance-based boy group. and pentagon.... watch a video like humph and just try to tell me you think it was made to make them seem cool, attractive, hot, sexy... that song was not made with the explicit intent of having them be lust objects for teenage girls, and it shows. they still are, of course, but what i’m saying is that because that isn’t the focus, i feel more comfortable. i don’t feel like the way the song is presented is just screaming at me “WORSHIP THESE MEN. WORSHIP THESE MEN. WORSHIP THESE MEN.” i don’t wanna be told what to think about something, so if i get the impression that that’s what a company is trying to sell me on, i’m kinda checked out and i can’t get fully into it. i don’t get that with pentagon. it is still screaming marketing at me, i mean it’s a pop song after all and that’s kind of just how the industry works no matter what country its from, but its a bit more layered. the message i receive from a song like humph is less “WORSHIP THESE MEN” and more “FEEL NOSTALGIC FOR SIMPLER TIMES, THINK ABOUT HOW THESE MEN ARE HAVING FUN, THINK ABOUT HOW THESE MEN WROTE AND PRODUCED THIS SONG AND WHAT THAT SAYS ABOUT THEM AS PEOPLE, HAVE A GOOD TIME :)” haha

and i do wanna clarify, i’m not actually into aaaaalll girl groups. there are certainly girl groups that give me the message “WORSHIP THESE WOMEN” and i’m not really into that either. a lot of girl crush concepts are really hit or miss for me, and overly cutesy songs are too. and like, don’t even get me started on concepts that are meant to be “innocent” and “pure”, that’s my least favorite shit. but like, even though i dislike that concept, i still kinda like gfriend as a group, partially cause theyre moving a bit away from that concept, and partially because ive seen what theyre like as people and i think theyre funny lol. but yeah, a group like blackpink... i like the members but their songs scream “WORSHIP THESE WOMEN” and it just takes me out of it. i cant help but think about the marketing there. other massively popular groups like twice and red velvet dont give me that impression at all though. often, i feel like the mood of the song is what’s being sold to me, rather than simply the members’ looks. those are still of course being marketed to us, but its not the only thing i have to latch onto. also, there are lots of different ways to present someone’s attractiveness and stuff, but that’s something for another post. 

anyway, no matter what i said about who groups are marketed to, i like that us lgbts just worm our way in there and like all sorts of groups, and often for reasons other than the executives had in mind lmao. a lot of us try hard not to actually idolize these idols too much, even though their companies really want us to. okay this post is too long now, but i hope yall appreciated my galaxy brain hot take haha

[takerfoxx]

Gonna knock off some big ones here! The fav(s) of the day are...

BOBA FETT!

Okay guys, let’s get this out straight out of the gate. I grew up as a major Star Wars fan. My dad is an old-school sci-fi nerd and it really rubbed off on me. Classic science fiction was our bread and butter growing up, and the Star Wars movies were no exception. We must’ve watched those suckers a gazillion times.

And the expanded universe? Oh, I was all over that shit! And I mean the old stuff! The Truce at Bakura, the Heir to the Empire trilogy, the Kyp Durron trilogy, both the Han Solo and Lando Calrissian trilogies (there were a lot of trilogies), Darksaber, Planet of Twilight, Shadows of the Empire, The Courtship of Princess Leia, Young Han Solo, Splinter of the Mind’s Eye, the Young Jedi Knight series, all of the Tales books, Galaxy of Fear, even less well regarded stuff like The Crystal Star. All that and more filled my bookshelves.

But like many young Star Wars fans, my boy was the guy that got like four lines of dialogue and quickly gets killed off in the first half of the third film.

It’s hard to really articulate what made Boba Fett so appealing. I think it’s part of the air of mystery around him. In Empire, he strides in with a totally badass design, is the guy to track down and capture the heroes, backtalks Darth Vader and gets away with it, and escapes with one of the main characters in tow. I guess that caused people to become intrigued by him and want to see what he would do in the last film. And sure enough, he shows up looking all cool and mysterious, flies into a direct confrontation with both Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, seems to get the upper hand...and is summarily dispatched by a fluke accident.

Lame.

So I guess many who would become Star Wars writers were, like myself, let down by this, and sought to “correct” this by giving ol’ Boba his own mythos, complex history, cast of closely-related characters, and make it so that he escaped the damn worm and would go on to cross paths with the heroes in every obligatory “The one with Boba Fett!” entry in every long-running Star Wars book series ever.

And boy, did I eat it up!

The Bounty Hunter Wars! An entry in both Tales From the Bounty Hunters and Tales From Jabba’s Palace! Endless comics! The aforementioned obligatory Boba Fett books! All of this created a character that became almost revered by the fandom, who cast a shadow over the whole multi-verse. I bought the books, played with the toys, and even wrote a short little Boba Fett story in sixth grade. I mean, this guy was just cool.

Needless to say, I’m not the Star Wars fan I once was. I mean, the only one of these movies since RotJ that I’ve actually liked is also one of the least popular, so that’s a thing. Hell, I was debating putting up a Star Wars entry to begin with. But man, even if I’m not all that into Star Wars anymore, it can’t be denied that for a time it reigned supreme, and Boba Fett was, in my world, the king.

(Though lowkey, it was kind of hilarious watching writers try to reconcile the already established Boba Fett origin with the one created by the prequels after Attack of the Clones dropped)

He’s no good to me dead.

Also...

DARTH REVAN!

So I went from almost not doing a Star Wars entry to doing one with multiple characters. Yeah, go figure.

All right. So, Knights of the Old Republic is probably my last great foray into Star Wars before sort of slipping out of the fandom. It was recommended to me by a work friend, so I popped over to EB Games (remember them?), grabbed up a used copy, popped it into my X-Box, and...

I think I averaged about eight hours a day on those games. Each of them.

It was one of the best gaming experiences I’ve ever had, a wholly new Star Wars story taking place centuries before the films (and yet somehow still having the same technology level) that features none of the classic characters, but still felt very much Star Wars, but also its own thing: a sprawling space adventure as you, the apprentice Jedi, joins up with a ragtag group of companions and travel the galaxy trying to thwart a rogue Sith Lord from finding some long lost superweapon. The worlds you visit! The characters you meet! The quests, the leveling, the force powers, the plot, everything was just so fresh and so cool!

And then you get to the twist, a twist that is now notorious for being one of the best twists in gaming history: finding out that you aren’t just some new Jedi rising up to stop a Sith Lord: you are actually DARTH MOTHERFUCKING REVAN, the Sith Lord that was the master of the current Sith Lord, long thought dead but had actually been captured, mind-wiped and reprogrammed by the Jedi! What do you do with this new information? Well, that’s up to you!

Needless to say, when this was revealed in the game, I started screaming, and screaming loudly. What a twist! What a game-changer! 

Now granted, being the PC of an RPG means that Revan’s personality was decided by the player’s choices, so he didn’t get much of a canon personality of his own, but that still doesn’t change the fact that he’s the centerpoint of one of the coolest pieces of the Star Wars EU that there is, and that’s worth a lot in my opinion.

Also, Bastila was bae, just sayin’. Sort of a proto-Serana, if you ask me.

(note: yes, I know about his role in SWTOR and don’t care for it. No, I haven’t read the novels yet, but I do intend to)

Honor is a fool's prize. Glory is of no use to the dead.

And finally...

GRAND ADMIRAL THRAWN!

The Heir to the Empire is the granddaddy of the OG Expanded Universe. I mean, Splinter of the Mind’s Eye technically came first, but no one remembers that. No, it was all about Timothy Zahn’s epic follow-up to the original Star Wars trilogy, which set the gold standard for the series for years to come and also introduced several of its most iconic characters. Mara Jade? She came from here. Talon Kardde? Also here.

And then you have the trilogy’s centerpiece, Grand Admiral Thrawn.

It’s sort of interesting how iconic Thrawn has become as a Star Wars villain, given how different he is from all of them. I mean, he’s not a Sith. Hell, he’s not force sensitive at all. He’s a military officer, in a series where they tend to be treated as expendable underlings. But through actually using his brain, studying his opponents’ strategies and cultures, making use of the resources available to him, and actually being fair to his subordinates, he’s gone on to almost rival Darth Vader in popularity in some circles. A brilliant tactician who managed to (mostly) overcome the Empire’s prejudice against non-humans through sheer efficiency, he came incredibly close to bringing the New Republic to its knees simply by outplaying them at every turn. His knack for figuring out his opponents’ thought process simply through studying their cultures’ works of art was inspired, and those who tried to outsmart him often came to regret it. What was more, he also was surprisingly honorable, having a strict moral code. He simply believed that the Empire was the best way to run things, and acted accordingly. Though don’t let that fool you into thinking that he wasn’t just as ruthless as anyone else in the Empire. He was just smarter than most about it.

While there was admittedly a lot of crap in the EU that Disney was wise to get rid of, losing characters like Thrawn was a major blow, which was why it was so awesome to see him return in the Rebels tv show. I literally have seen videos of grown men crying with joy just through watching his reveal trailer. And while I don’t have the time or means to watch Rebels for myself, I do want to give it a go sometime in the future, and Thrawn is a big part of that.

But it was so artistically done.