#speeding bullet dads for the soul

[eepy-prince-maxxy]

WIP

I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish this any time soon, but it's been stuck in my head, so have at least a wip sketch of speeding bullet dads

(Also to celebrate the 7th comic)

I'm not crying, you are

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 6

summary ;; This is the reality of Jake Sully: the father and Olo'eyktan of the People cannot coexist, Eywa teaches her lessons in the toughest ways. PART 5 | NEXT (wip) pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; well this took a hot minute. am back on my bs WARNING for violence and t0rture, reader discretion is advised. Please excuse my mistakes if you see any!

Jake moved on pure primitive instinct, unbridled arctic rage honing all his senses into one laser point of focus. It wasn’t survival, and it surely wasn’t prey running from predator, there was nothing noble about what he was trying to achieve. 

That avatar was going to die today, and Jake was going to make it hurt. No fair game. No warrior’s death. No respect. 

Devoid of the shape of humanity or the ties that bound him to it, he was the embodiment of a creature’s killer intent, body taking over and consciousness disappearing to the backseat as he catapulted his tomahawk at the avatar, taking advantage of the miniscule opening provided by a magazine change needed after emptying all of his bullets to a Jake luring him into wasting his resources away. 

The dull squelch of the hand-carved ax’s head plunging into flesh couldn’t be dampened by the avatar’s choked and short shout, and Jake was jumping out of cover in no time, a bull to red, advancing towards the man, footsteps not hidden out of having no concern for it at all, let him panic or try to struggle for all Jake cared. 

Opposite of what he expected, the rifle wasn’t picked up or fumbled to aim at him. The avatar, pale in the face and pupils having devoured the yellow, fear trumping the pain of his arm almost sliced off from shoulder, crawled away on his back from Jake in full speed, getting up before Jake could reach him, and started staggering into the forest, dropping the tomahawk in the process. 

Jake stopped in his tracks for a moment and picked his weapon up, the dark liquid glistening purple in the light of the Tree of Souls, droplets of blood making the moss light up as they hit the ground. His chest heaved in controlled, loud breaths, mouth pulled back in a snarl, watching the pathetic son of a bitch trying to get away. 

He was one of the lot who’d shot you, hurt you, tortured you — simply to get a reaction out of Jake. 

He was the one who pulled Jake away before he could fix his mistakes, undo the damage they had done, and get you back. 

Jake was so close. So close. 

You were there. You were right there. He could still feel you in his arms, his shoulder imprinted with your tears, shiest of smiles at a better future he could build with you from the burnt soil of your relationship. 

If it hadn’t been for him… 

That man was your murderer. 

He deserved the hell of a father’s making.

This avatar was a marine — and the fucking idiot was running into the oblivion blind worse than a normal civilian would in this situation, had all those years of training evaporated in one second? Jake’s steps were determined, yet lax following after the guy, nose picking up the trail of blood left behind, eyes watching the red splatters. This was all Hansel and Gretel for him, playing follow the breadcrumbs.

The sound of thumping, frantic running, bumping into obstacles, crashing into flora, all was distinguishable from the natural song of the forest Jake had gotten so familiar with in these fifteen years. No response came from the avatar, but Jake wasn’t hurrying. He would have him. Let the bastard tire himself out first — but he wouldn’t let him die. No. He could smell the fear, the blood, anger at bay, all ice, knowing the trees would carry all the sounds he needed to Jake. He could hear exactly where the avatar was. and If he was hoping he’d bleed himself out faster than Jake could reach him to save himself from what was going to happen, well… 

He’d better start praying for mercy to whatever deity held his worthless faith, because Jake had none of it. They had no mercy for you, his sinless, innocent child, all but wails and yelps and blood, and apologies for it. 

Every time Jake thought of you in that tremendous pain to the brink of delirium, he burned in his heart’s ice until he was black and purple all over. Your smile was so real, your embrace was tiny and warm in his arms and he had a chance, the only chance no parent could ever get in this life. Jake had dissolved together with that mirage.   

The part of him engulfed in flames wanted to end this quickly and painfully—to burn it all, break that man in, scream his lungs out, the other part of him, frozen fury that scalded over in the loss of you, wanted to draw it out, wanted to inflict never-ending pain, to bring the avatar back from the brink of death over and over again just to repeat it in a cycle. 

His child. His baby. 

The ties that held Jake together were getting pulled tight, the pressure building like deep water currents, thinner threads snapping and crackling, body being pulled to all five directions from all five limbs. Awareness went out and barged its way back in hot flashes, he couldn’t comprehend the passing of time and how long he let your murderer catch the delusion of shaking Jake off his tail — but, his instincts knew to reveal himself before the avatar could be claimed by blood loss. 

Dangling hope right in front of his face just to snatch it away wasn’t enough. It could never be enough compared to you who had dragged your own corpse back home, muted to your own pain cocooned between those who should have meant nothing but home and safety to you. Torture. You had lived torture in your last hours with help just one step, one word away. 

Nothing would ever be enough.  

Jake emerged from the thick flora like the grim reaper himself who would always be waiting right at the spot of the reaping wherever the soul ran away to, detached and unimpressed, blank face not reflecting the scorched soul inside. The almost passed out avatar jolted awake when he smelled the smoke from Jake’s shadow falling on him, and could only press his back further to the body of the cluster of big rocks he had taken shelter against as if somehow becoming one with it could shield him away from Jake’s wrath.  

The man’s breathing was getting louder and shakier the more Jake stood there motionless. “C’mon then,” he said between clenched teeth, spasming hand dropping from his mutilated shoulder, squaring up the last drops of his courage. “Get on with it.”

Jake’s whitened fingers were making noise against the handle of his tomahawk, but his voice was hauntingly hollow, unfeeling now that he had the man right in his palm. “Thought I should let you live what you did to my daughter first.”

The avatar began to scream. “Fuck you, man, we didn’t do none of this shit to that kid—”

Jake’s tone didn’t change, but it cut worse than a knife. “You killed my kid.”

His eyes widened, breath hitching, the reality of what was coming to him finally sinking in and Jake witnessed every panicked second of it. “Fuck…” His gaze wildly alternated between Jake and the tomahawk, raising his better, trembling hand up for feeble defense. “Look, look, listen, we didn’t kill her, alright? We patched her up, okay, she was going to be a prisoner, what happened happened because you engaged in battle, we wouldn’t do that to a—AGH!”

He was interrupted by Jake sharply shoving the head of the tomahawk into his injury, just putting it in there, not moving it further down. “Do you have children, marine?”

The man palmed at the weapon, fingernails digging into the wood, but no matter how much he pushed, it didn’t budge one bit. “Stop, stop! Fuck—”

Jake repeated again, firmer. “I asked you a question, do you have children?”

“No!— No, god, argh!” 

He spaced out for a while, watching him squirm and trash to get away with defeated, half-assed attempts, also unable to because of how much of an immovable object Jake was making the weapon buried in the open wound be. It would hit the bone if he used more strength. 

With a fixed, stony stare, Jake removed the tomahawk, waiting for the man’s deplorable whimpers to recede before breaking him the news like reading it off a doctor’s report. “You won’t get to have any.”

He didn’t look like he cared about something like that, but the man knew his fate insinuated by the words. Nevertheless,it didn’t mean he could be free from the survivor’s instinct’s mood swings his body was putting him through. Denial to bargaining within minutes. “Just kill me already, you deserter piece of—”

“Oh, no, no no,” Jake reassured, the only flicker of emotion he had shown since he’d cornered the avatar. “You won’t get to die for a long time, either.” 

The avatar grunted, head falling down before he started to shake it. “Please just let it end—man, just let it end, I’m sorry, okay, please!” A whole body-trembling begging shifted to anger the more Jake remained non-responsive. Watching. Just watching. The hole in his chest getting wider the more he fed this man’s suffering to it — it wasn’t enough. “Just fucking do it! Pussy ass bitch! Come on you blue motherfucker, kill me! Kill m—”

“Are you the one who shot my daughter?” 

“What?”

“Are you. The one. Who shot my daughter?”

The avatar’s face twisted. “It wasn’t me—it wasn’t—asshole, you already killed the guy, I didn’t fucking do anything!—”

“You... didn’t do anything?”

A beat. The forest fell silent in Jake’s ears. Just like how the noises you made had abruptly died down as he was putting pressure on your wound.

And like that, the thick haze that had Jake desensitized blew over, unadulterated anger rushed to his body, acidic and nauseating, soul stitching back to his limbs by a million needles and he began to shake, face contorting, teeth showing itself, the hiss that lacerated his throat was the most terrifying one of his life yet, it didn’t sound like it belonged to a sentient being, twisted by a grieving, demented animalistic horror. The avatar’s breath hitched, whatever protest and voice he had escaping deep inside his body, ears pinned back to his head. 

“Of course,” Jake glowered, swallowing the scorching stones blocking his throat. He closed his burning eyes, and was greeted by the image of you, opening them back again, and shaking the ax as if it was an accusing finger. 

And without a word of warning, his hand shot down and grabbed the avatar from the neck of his tactical vest, hurling him over the chest-level array of big rocks forming a pointy bed above, ignoring the cries of pain as the abused, torn open flesh of the wound dragged through the sharp teeth of the gravel, dousing them in blood. “Please, please, stop!—I’m sorry, I was wrong, that wasn’t right, shit, shit!”

Jake snatched the man’s dominant arm that was coincidentally the same one dangling by fractured bone and tendons from the shoulder. His soul had known what he wanted right from the start before his brain had processed it. “This hand,” he spat, holding it from the wrist, gnashing his teeth. “that pulled the trigger at me…” 

Murdered his daughter for a second time. 

All a soldier’s worth for. One hand to hold the stock tight against the body and one to fire. All that to take a single life.

Leaning the hand down against the rock in a sudden move, Jake slammed on the blunt, pointy end of the tomahawk on it like he was hammering a nail, the sickening crack of the bones breaking got followed by the avatar’s fractured scream. 

Jake saw you hunched, cheekily laughing in the blue and purple of the creek, freckles glowing because of the eclipse, silhouette illuminated by the floating bioluminescent bugs.  

Spinning the tomahawk in his clammy hand in a full 360 turn, he smashed it down once more, stronger. The metal broke skin and sank into spongy muscle. His ears were buzzing, ringing from how the shrill yells. 

Jake was hugging you after what seemed to be years, and your little arms were clinging to him for life — you were sand slipping from his fingers. 

Jake hammered again. 

You were telling him how mean he was to you, your voice suppressing the avatar’s. 

He brought it down one more time and felt the tomahawk recoil from hitting rock. 

You were bashful as you repeated how Jake would always love you. 

Guttural breaths getting louder with effort each hit, he kept slamming it down until everything was his beautiful little sweet girl. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again and again and again and again and again until there was no resistance from the limb anymore and the man had gone silent and it was all mashed meat he was pounding— 

And then he almost plunged it to your bleeding, battered corpse, your stomach covered in reddish brown from the dried brown, body ashen blue, and Jake cried out in terror, jumping back and losing strength in his legs as the tomahawk flew from his hand and he fell over. 

His lungs constricted, refusing to take any breaths in and his heart ricocheted around in his ribcage, he was gaping at the wall of rock now washed red as if it was some white rose painted red in Alice in Wonderland. 

Jake sat there for the longest time, dissociated.

In those moments, he wasn’t Toruk Makto, he wasn’t Olo’eyktan, he wasn’t the pillar of a family of seven. He was simply Jake Sully. 

However, he wasn’t allowed to be stripped down to the bone until all that’s left was a mourning father. That was Jake’s reality. 

He had to cast the crippled man aside, the tragedy of his child away, and bring the leader of the People out right as your ghost rippled in his vision, watching spitefully within the forest — because all you wanted was for him to be your father, and he couldn’t even fucking do that after your death. 

This avatar was a valuable asset, a hostage to question. For the sake of his people. 

He wasn’t allowed revenge. 

A single drop of tear rolled down expressionless face. When he looked down, Jake’s hands were still stained with your blood. 

The only instance a child should be covered in blood is when they come out of their mother’s womb, little lungs being burned with existence for the first time, crying from the pain of being separated from Eywa’s arms, birth mother a complete stranger to them. 

The gore of you barely clinging to life, unmoving, drenched in your own blood, wiped and wiped to the point Neytiri had to change buckets of water until it turned light pink was overlapping with the joyful image of your newborn self she had lovingly and gently cleaned of the remains of labor with wetted mothsilk, skin too sensitive for water for the moment, the blue coming alive as the blood and other clotted bodily fluids were cleansed. 

It wasn’t the broken, ice-cold, lithe body of a young girl Neytiri had cleaned in the torment of her excoriated, unraveling mind, it was her baby’s. Her baby, her poor baby with a gaping hole in the middle of your body, memories marauding Neytiri’s lucidity. 

She lived the moment of your first cleansing over and over again. 

You were a particularly indomitable cryer, Neytiri had known you would be infamous for your battle cries right as she was brought back from the blackout of post-birth by your overly-healthy wailing — or perhaps you would best Ninat as a singer when you’d unapologetically blossom, but one thing was ascertained: her first daughter was a fierce, fiery blue ball of ardor compared to Neteyam, who was almost shy and reluctant in disturbing people around him in his weeping that a collective worry for his health had plagued the whole clan. 

As you squirmed, smeared in chunks of her flesh and blood, as if you wanted to jump off from her arms and start walking already, Neytiri had smiled up at her Jake, your father, unable to take his eyes off you, stuck between awe and laughs that came and went. “She has your heart,” she’d told him, spent and hurting, but wonderfully alive. “Strong.”

He’d traced his thumb through her drenched hairline. “Lungs, you mean?” His scent, wind and hearthfire, had enveloped Neytiri when Jake had leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I think they’re yours.” The teasing about how you had made Neytiri scream in labor wouldn’t have gone unpunished if she wasn’t on the edge of sleep held up only by your crying, so, he’d gotten a light hit on the side of his face instead. But Jake knew how to apologize, he’d always been spectacular at it. “I’d say she takes after me in appearance, look at her little ugly face.”

To Neytiri, you were beautiful, face dark purple from how strong you were screaming, and a mini-village elder with the wrinkles, swinging those little fists — things that made you lovely in her eyes. Her first daughter. 

She had learned motherhood from Neteyam, but she would learn to understand her mother and her choices through you, someone she thought couldn’t be more different from her — Neytiri, all Mo’at could have been, and Mo’at, all Neytiri might have become, once. She prayed you would love her as much as she’d begun to love you the second you were in her arms. 

To think the enormity of her love hadn’t reached you — it was one of the greatest failures of Neytiri’s life. If it had, you’d be wounded, but perfectly conscious and well in her mother’s tent. If it had, you would have been beyond comfortable telling those demons had hurt you. 

In that all-consuming devastation, the woven towel she was using to wipe the thin sheet of sweat that formed on your body slipped from her uncoordinated hands and fell on your chest, and Neytiri had to hold back the breath that spiked to become a hiccup by covering her mouth, and immediately, her curled hand was engulfed in a smaller, five-fingered one. She came eye-to-eye with Kiri after raising her head, putting her other hand on hers at the girl’s more disheveled and messy self, heart dropping to her stomach at the fatigue varnishing an extra layer of moisture in her daughter’s drooping eyes. 

“Oh Kiri,” Neytiri mumbled, caressing her cheek and brushing the tangled hair away from her face. 

“Why don’t you go get some rest, mom, hm?” 

“Even if I somehow agreed to that, I could never agree to leaving my daughter alone in this.”

“I’m fine.” Stopping to take a breath, she sighed, collecting the towel and starting to fold it. “Well, not really fine, but don't worry about me. We’re all miserable here. And that’s natural.” Fiddling with the corners of the cloth, she leaned in a bit and lowered her voice, light reflecting from the yellow of her irises making it look like they shone from within. “I… I know she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Eywa has bestowed us a gift she has never given to anyone before and it’s for a reason. I feel that everything will be set right.” She shook her head up and down, determined. “Dad will do it. I know he will.”

Neytiri trusted Kiri with her intuition and understanding when it came to the inscrutable intentions of Eywa, she was closer to the Great Mother than any Tsahik was — so close that she would drift away too much from her family. And deep down, Neytiri was heartsick by this invisible line that separated her from her daughter, any parent in her place would be unsettled like this.

She was also hog-tied to close the distance growing between them because of the human boy Spider and how she would find camaraderie in him in their ‘orphan’ status as she called it. Kiri was already faraway in her obscure existence and unwittingly separated herself as if she didn’t see herself as a real part of the family some days, and Neytiri hated that the ‘kinship’ she’d formed with Spider was planting these ideas into her head when she was her and Jake’s daughter, no more, no less. To overwrite those feelings, she tried so hard to reach Kiri, but was unsettled by the feeling of being hated sometimes, again, more or less for her stance in placing Spider at the outskirts of their family. 

But oftentimes Kiri would express her affection through small, otherwise unnoticeable actions, just like this one, a caring touch and reassurance that could melt an ice cube — and Neytiri basked in the babiest of steps between them. And maybe this was how Jake had it with you, too, she had never thought about it like this before. 

Taking in Neytiri’s solemn silence, Kiri grumbled, suddenly agitated about something. “I just… I just wish I had isirka resin and xhikul seeds for this paste and cover her wound with it. Grandmother’s extract isn’t enough to stimulate the bone marrow and ugh—” The girl groaned with the obvious guilt at groaning in the first place, as well. “I’m sorry, mom, I don’t know what—”

“It’s alright, Kiri,” Neytiri said, weariness blending with tenderness, knowing you’d agree too. You would have probably told her to not waste her energy and wait around when there wasn’t anything left to do anyway. “Maybe it’s you who needs some rest. You’ve worked hard. Harder than any of us. You do need rest, too.”

Kiri was quick to refuse. “I’m trying something new, I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sure one of your brothers—”

Her earpiece buzzed alive. “Neytiri, do you read me?”

The unexpected timing of it caught her off guard, her hand flying up to the device, drums of alarm going off in her head by the croaky, despondent note to his voice. The impact of their previous argument evaporated from existence just by hearing his distress. “Jake?” She focused on you, not observing any difference, and frowned in worry, her pulse picking up pace as Kiri also locked her attention to her the moment she heard her father was on the line. “What happened?”

“I have here one of Quaritch’s dreamwalkers—whatever they are.” Neytiri’s mouth opened and closed at the reveal, forehead creasing. “Alive. Somehow survived to get to the Tree of Souls.”

Her hand instinctively descended to touch your cool and clammy arm closest to her. “Tree of Souls…? But you were—”

“Yeah. Yeah, he… I couldn’t. I couldn’t…” 

She stared at your face, all thoughts draining from her mind. “What are you saying, Jake?”

Silence.

“Jake,” Neytiri implored, her voice snuffed out towards the end. She tried again. “Jake, I don’t understand. What does this mean..?”

“Son of a bitch pulled me out before I could… before I could finish talking to her.” Kiri reached for her when she let out an incoherent, disbelieving voice, getting more panicked as Neytiri clawed at her tightening chest with his next words. “I failed, Neytiri. I couldn’t… She…” 

Neytiri was physically helpless to respond, and Kiri couldn’t hold back from inquiring seeing the state she was in. “Mom? Mom! What’s wrong?”

“This man, if it wasn’t for this man, I had it.” Jake kept talking at an increasing speed the longer Neytiri didn’t say anything. “I had her right in my arms, making future plans, smiling, everything was perfect, and then he—” His breath quivered. “He fucking—” And he stopped the sentence abruptly to get some semblance of control back because Eywa knew Neytiri was losing it ever so slowly. “I need you here with me right now, please. Please, I…” 

Neytiri refused to acknowledge what Jake couldn’t say out loud. You were still breathing, she felt your chest rise and fall even if the pattern was weak. You had life left in you. Jake saying he failed made no sense to her, she didn’t believe it. 

“Neytiri, I need to question this… this filth, need to learn all I can about what’s going on, but I can’t do it on my own. I’ll kill him. In a heartbeat. I want to squeeze the life out of him with my hands right this moment and I— I can’t… We have to know how they could have gotten this far, what they’re planning—and now right to the Tree of Souls too, and…” The rambling that got chaotic and disconnected faded off eventually, as if he’d lost his voice. “Shit.”

And throughout all that, Neytiri had gone from confused, in denial, at the threshold of grief but not nearly in there anchored by your pulse, and lusting for blood within minutes. Kiri was taken aback by the anger radiating from her. “Bring him here!”

“I can’t. He could have a tracker on him—they could have put it in his body. I can’t risk that.”

Neytiri stood up with only one thing in her mind, and it didn’t match Jake’s. “Where are you?”

“You gotta let me pass, buddy, come on! You wanna take my head off or something? Why are you being like this!” 

Hands up and quick on his feet, Lo’ak was trying to negotiate. 

With an ikran of all things. Not even his.

Yours. 

Mom storming out like a wronged, vengeful spirit had been the perfect chance for him to do a quick supply run sneak off, but your overgrown big bird with the exact same attitude as you was getting in his way and blocking Lo’ak off by snapping its jaw at his head and opening its sunset fire tinged wings every time he attempted to cross over to his own ikran. They were basically at a standstill and he had no idea why. 

Lo’ak just wanted to help. Help you. 

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Shit. 

Neteyam. Making his way to him with such speed that got his braids swinging and of course he’d sniffed Lo’ak out like a nantang. Followed the odd silence, probably. Eywa, he should have thought this out better. 

“Skxawng, do you not remember what dad said?”

“I do,” Lo’ak hummed and hawed, and that was the problem. He’d never felt this guilty about disobeying dad’s orders before, it was making him squirm. “But look, Kiri said she needed isirka resin and xhikul seeds or whatever to treat her, I’m going—”

Neteyam’s jaw had flexed when he said whatever, but there was no visible agitation after he gave a sharp breath through his nose.  “So let’s call mother or—”

“They’re busy with some sky person dad caught—”

“I know. The same ones who did this to our sister. I know, Lo’ak.” Neteyam aggressively gestured to the exit of the cave system, shaking his arm while speaking. “What do you think will happen if you go off on your own and land yourself in bigger trouble than she did? Huh?”

Lo’ak threw resentful looks at your ikran. “I can’t stay put like this. I have to do something.”

“This again? There is nothing we can do.” He hadn’t said that in his normal drilling of dad’s orders — Neteyam had the same pain of acceptance that were Lo’ak’s bruises etched onto his face.

And that made Lo’ak want to throw up all over the place. He’d experienced countless sicknesses his siblings had fallen to over the years, none of those were as fatal as this and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. What was he supposed to do when his sister was dying? What did one do when a family member was in this situation anyway? Nothing seemed right to him. 

And something was finally, finally within his power — and Lo’ak would of course rise up to the challenge without hesitation. He wasn’t just going to sit down and let that possibility of your salvation slip by. “But there is. Kiri said—”

“Lo’ak if you leave right now and somehow get caught dad will never trust you again. He was the most open he’s ever been, don’t betray him like that.” 

He was getting annoyed that Neteyam was ignoring the whole point, though it wasn’t as if Lo’ak didn’t know. He was fully aware, and that’s why this was supposed to be a secret. Dad couldn’t be hurt by what he didn’t know now, could he? Not only were you getting Kiri’s remedy, which he was sure as his name was Lo’ak that would end up most effective, but he also wasn’t breaking his promise to dad when the tiniest thread of trust in his son was knotted by the man just recently.  

Neteyam grabbed him by the top of his head in a brotherly manner but his hold was of steel, the boy tried to grumpily push him off but he didn’t budge, staring right into his soul. “Use what’s in this for once and just tell dad or mother, they’re down in the forest already anyway.” When he let go, Lo’ak stumbled back, rubbing the sting off, and the semi-playful older brother was back. “And one of them will actually know what to look for.”

His immediate response was refusal. “I know what I’m looking for—”

“What does isirka look like?”

The sounds your ikran was making was eerily close to laughter and Lo’ak felt heat rush up to the tips of his ears. “It’s a tree.”

Neteyam didn’t have brow hair like Lo’ak did, but the way he raised the lines was always more expressive than how he did it. “Xhikul, then?”

“Flower, skxawng.”

“Wrong.” Lo’ak’s tail started beating the air at the condescending tone. “Kiri is talking about the fruit. Xhika is its flower.”

He rolled his eyes, turning away. “Whatever—”

“Is it whatever?” Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak by the shoulder and spun him around so rough that he got dizzy. “Are you calling my sister’s life whatever?”

Lo’ak was going to explode from how wrong this was going and how insistent Neteyam was to twist his words. “That’s not what I meant bro!” 

“You are so careless.” Neteyam’s tail had shot up ramrod straight, the little bush of hair at the end of it all puffed up, ears perking in all directions. He wasn’t necessarily yelling but was tense all over, something he did whenever they were playing back in the day and he was about to pounce after staying still enough to implant a false seed of safety. “You don’t even think about what can happen if you were to bring a completely different ingredient! You don’t think!”

“Sorry that I’m trying to help! What are you doing?”

“Keeping us safe. Keeping you safe.” He pressed his lips together on a thin line, but couldn’t hold back whatever was bubbling inside. “I’m not losing another sibling, Lo’ak!”

Only a small gasp escaped Lo’ak when he opened his mouth in retaliation. He couldn’t have found his voice even if he found something to say to that rawness in return, anyway. 

The gut-churning guilt doubled. 

“Hey… I—”

“Go,” Neteyam whispered, tilting his head together with the lone word. “Since you’re dying to help, help Kiri. She’s exhausted. I don’t think grandmother will refuse.”

“What about you?” And there he goes again. Wrong words. Neteyam was looking more closed-off than before. “I’m not accusing or anything—”

“I can’t go in there.”

“What?”

“I can’t,” Neteyam took a deep breath and loudly let it go, tail deflating, the arch of it depressing as hell for some reason. “I can’t look at her.”

Neteyam just gave a forlorn smile in return to Lo’ak’s heavily concerned looks demanding he continue but not knowing how to word it, his back looked weirdly lonely as he was tending to your significantly calmer ikran to join back the horde. 

Buried in negative thoughts all the way back and ignoring the pitiful looks from the rest of the clan, he met Kiri outside of the healing tent talking to Spider, and he could see Tuk’s back covering the view to you in his peripheral.

They were whispering about something and it was obvious even from a distance where they were nothing but stick figures. At least try to look less suspicious, Lo’ak thought. 

The only part he caught from the conversation was Spider saying, “Just describe them to me,” — Kiri was really leaning in towards him. 

“What’s going on?” 

The two looked like they were caught in the middle of scheming, and it clicked almost immediately. 

If Lo’ak had thought of going off on his own, so had they. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, bro,” he said, draping his arm across the human boy’s shoulders. “Neteyam’s literally patrolling.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Spider groaned, visibly disappointed. It warmed Lo’ak’s heart to see he was totally down for sneaking off the camp for you. “You said your dad told him to rest.”

“Yeah, he did. Except Neteyam never rests. He has a dancing glow worm up his ass.”

The conversation couldn’t continue because Kiri did a double take at something. 

“Tuk!” Kiri took a few steps aside, squinting as if she didn’t think she was seeing it right. Then her expression burst into panic, her hands flying forward as she ran to the tent, Spider and Lo’ak could only stare, baffled. “Tuk, oh Eywa, what are you doing!—” 

“I’m giving her water, she’s thirsty.”

“What?”

He actually rushed to the entrance of the tent, nearly falling headfirst in, having stumbled on some rock. Your mouth was actually open. And Tuk was really trying to get you to drink from the bowl she was holding against your mouth.

You choked at one point, still unconscious, but it was a sign of life. Lo’ak didn’t know if the shocked screech came from him or Kiri.  

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul

@eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC in 15 or less Tag

Thank you for the Tag, @cowboybrunch (here)! <3

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

I'm doing half of this for my OC Cory Blythe, from Mutant Inquiries, and the other half for Augustus Grimmure, from Enchanted Illusions for this tag!

Cory Blythe

"Listen, douchebag, I'm far too sober to deal with whatever this bullshit is right now and I'm already running late for my fucking job - by the way, I'm far more scared of my boss than I am of you. So how about you go mug someone else and I don't stab you with these heels?"

"And you seriously thought involving 'Miss Trust Fund' over here in our mess was a good idea? No! You just signed our early death certificate." [...] "Why? Oh my god, I don't know, Becky... maybe because her infamously overprotective dad is the CEO of a fucking multimillionaire enterprise and you just dragged his only daughter to the middle of a conspiracy?! I don't care if she wants to help! That's Violet Villarosa, for fuck's sake. We're dead now, we're so dead - I'll have a closed casket for sure."

"The more I live, the more I realize I might be the sanest person in this group of idiots. And that scares me."

"Are any of you going to explain why there's a random dude bleeding out in my brand-new car? No? Okay then."

"Becky," [they take a deep breath] "My best friend, my surrogate sister, the caffeinated cutie-pie of my life, I say this in the most polite way possible - I'd rather be waterboarded with lava than hear that plan ever again."

"Teague, let's make one thing very fucking clear - I'm following my side of the contract, so you can do whatever you want to me in the meantime. But my friends - my family - they're off limits, and if I ever find out you sent any one of your thugs after Rebecca or any of them again, it'll be the last goddamn thing you do. I don't care if you're the head of the mob, or if I'll be food for the fishes afterward - you're not the only one here with a pocketknife, fucker."

"I call dibs on the fluffy socks and the cereal!"

"Look, just because I'm not a mutant like you guys doesn't mean I can't seriously fuck somebody up with a shotgun. Now, one of you might want to take the wheel of this car 'cause I'm about to do just that."

Augustus Grimmure

Augustus felt rejuvenated - like he’d just woken up from a nice nap, adjusting his bloodstained dapper suit and glaring at the now soulless corpse. “Oh -" He looked down, noticing the crimson splatters on his coat "That’s just nonsense! Look at this, it's all ruined and covered in blood! It was my new suit! How dare he stab me.”

"My, my, it's a great deal of a fall from up here. I'm not so sure about this anymore, Hattie-" He looked over the speeding train's railing, turning to Harriet with a shaky, nervous chuckle. As he did, he noticed the outline of the two goons clambering into the wagon behind them, guns ready. "Oh, well, as some say - ladies first!" Before she could say anything, Augustus pushed her over the railing - summoning a portal beneath her. Two bullets flew past the spot where she'd just been standing, instead lodging themselves in the young necromancer, who jumped into the portal just before it closed.

"Well, you could attack us, boys, and I'll merely consume all your souls - string by string, painstakingly severing the cord between your life and afterlife until you're all empty husks. You know who I am, and what I can do to mercenaries who threaten people I hold dear." His eyes glowed in the dark, the mark on his wrist causing the mercenaries to stumble back in shock, as shadows swirled around him. "Now, are you sure this is a wise decision to make in the name of your boss, a man who was too lazy to even come get his own hands dirty?"

"I can't tell you more about it, love." He shook his head with a dejected smile, clutching his own arms in a vice grip. "About my deal, about the Deathbringer and what I did. I can't. It's, no - they're just too dangerous, and I made a mistake. I fear it... it won't end well."

"For some reason, I don't think your cousin likes me very much, Harriet." Augustus spoke under his breath after Vincent stormed out, a playful but somewhat serious lilt to his words, concerned. [She replies "It's not about you, per se. Vincent doesn't really like anyone"] The necromancer chuckled. "No, this seems so very personal."

"My grandma used to bring me to this place, when I was a kid." He mused, fiddling with the blue flower between his fingers, before placing it inside the book. "For a lonely commoner kid with a strange magic that everyone was afraid of, these dusty books were paradise. A world where maybe I really could be anyone."

"May I have this dance, darling? We may as well enjoy this uppity evening on our own terms, before anyone makes it otherwise."

Tagging - @oh-no-another-idea, @dreaminggoblin, @mitchell-nihil, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams,@yet-another-heathen @talesofsorrowandofruin, @thetruearchmagos, @writernopal, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @clairelsonao3, @little-peril-stories, @memento-morri-writes and @saltysupercomputer

[supernovelhunter]

<Dragon Ball Majin Buu> 1-Chapter 1 Preface

"MajinBuu is full of energy!"

"full of energy!"

"MajinBuu is finally coming back to life!"

A short, ugly figure, standing in front of a slow-beating egg like a walnut, was dancing and shouting with an evil smile.

He is human, but he is more like a bug, but he has more hands and feet than a bug.

In this scene, Babidi, the evil mentor, is very happy, while Supreme Kai Xin is very scared.

The seal is about to be lifted, is the scary MajinBuu finally going to show up? It's over! It's all over!

He was immediately annoyed, put his head in his hands and blamed himself:

"how… How did this happen! The worst has happened! This is not at all what I imagined! "

SonGoHan of Supreme Kai Xinbian was also shocked.

At this time, SonGoKu and Vegeta, with an aperture above their heads, were in love and killing each other outside the ship.

When the two men fight, the escaping energy speeds up the release of the MajinBuu seal.

бнбн

Like a huge egg with a beating heart, a soul suddenly appears.

"who is quarrelling and laughing? Do you still laugh so badly? "

"MajinBuu?"

"Resurrection?"

"who is watching the Dragon Ball next to me?"

"I'm still watching next to me. I don't know if I was playing games all night. Are you sleeping now?"

"when I get up, I must shoot him!"

The seagull thought vaguely.

"Ah, what is this? Oh no, it's eating my soul! "

The seagull roars in pain.

An unconscious great evil will wraps the sudden appearance of the soul, that huge evil but mixed with good will instinctively engulf the seagull soul.

[limiter] loaded successfully!

A loud sound came from the soul of the walking gull, but it could only be heard by the walking gull. The next moment a golden light appeared from the depths of the soul of the walking gull, saying that he wrapped it and formed a golden ball.

But the evil and chaotic will was unconscious, and despite the change, Kim Kwang-Il swallowed up each other in a flash with the large and evil will.

If the evil and chaotic consciousness is blue in the intestines of regret.

The next moment, the golden light soared, unreasonable to absorb the evil chaotic will, evil and chaotic will, although unconscious, but still aware of the danger and terror of the golden light, was absorbed a lot of strength

The evil and chaotic consciousness immediately gave up some of its power and went straight away from the gulls wrapped in golden light.

бнбн

You punch, I punch.

The two men played dozens of tricks, and their clothes had long been torn apart in the battle.

The M word on Vegeta's forehead made him look evil, and he defended SonGoKu's attack:

"I haven't had such a good time for a long time! Carrot! "

"No matter how good it is, you can't beat me, Vegeta!"

SonGoKu, with an aperture above his head, punched Vegeta with a heavy blow.

Tilt your head to avoid SonGoKu's punch.

Vegeta rallied an energy bullet in his backhand and hit SonGoKu around the waist, blowing him up.

Boom, boom, boom!

Several more flares were added and hit him.

"not bad! Vegeta, you make me warm up! "

The smoke dispersed and the energy light bomb emptied.

SonGoKu appeared to one side, arms folded over his chest, a smile on his cold face.

бнбн

In mid-air.

"Hey, Tenanks, I feel a strong breath of anger!"

"whose is it? is it Dad's?"

"I don't know. I also showed up at the martial arts convention just now."

"Why can I feel such a strong breath everywhere?" Trunks sighed.

"is it difficult to fight all over the world?" SonGoTen replied.

"I have no idea what happened!

Why don't we go back? " Trunks suggested.

"No! I want to see MajinBuu! " SonGoTen vetoed it directly.

"all right! Then let's hurry up! "

Emitting golden arrogance, the two men flew over the earth and mountains and headed for the far north.

бнбн

Beating slowly, the platform is placed under the walnut-like egg, continuously emitting a large stream of gas, forming a large cloud of smoke above the egg.

Supreme Kai, who was in a state of mind collapse, was dumbfounded by this scene and burst into a cold sweat.

The pointer placed on the stage turns to the middle of the M word.

"MajinBuu is going to be all!"

Babidi was more happy and shocked, and then burst into strange smiles, followed by Dapra, the king of the demon world.

"Hey, hey, hey, Dapra, finally coming out, MajinBuu is coming out!"

"Yes, yes!" Dapra answered dryly.

"I'm finally going to meet MajinBuu, hey, come out, come out!"

"what a great expectation! Lord Babidi! " Congratulations, Dapra.

With the passage of time, the walnut-like egg beats faster and faster, the breath becomes stronger and stronger, SonGoHan sees the situation, clenches his fists and frowns.

It seems that the damage energy caused by the fight between my father and Uncle Vegeta should be the damage energy after surpassing the Super Saiyan, so that MajinBuu wakes up quickly!

"finish it all!"

Supreme Kai Xin, who was beside SonGoHan, was frightened by this and couldn't help saying:

"there's nothing we can do. Let's run! Mr. Wuhan! "

"run away!"

"run away?" SonGoHan was stunned and looked at Supreme Kai Xin, who was stunned and could not help taking a step back.

What about your confidence just now?

Are you really Supreme Kai?

And if I run away, what about my petrified Uncle Piccolo?

Oh, and Uncle Kuririn.

He couldn't help shouting:

"even if you say so, where can you escape? If you just let it go, MajinBuu will definitely wake up! "

"but you can't beat MajinBuu with your current strength!

No one can beat him, no matter you or others, the person who can beat him does not exist at all! Let's run! " Supreme Kai Xin was very depressed.

"but…"

"there are no buts. Run away! Don't waste your life! "

Supreme Kai Xin said, suddenly his eyes lit up.

"We can escape to the Supreme Kai world!" As he said that, he immediately froze, and he thought of the dead South Supreme Kai, the Big Supreme Kai, who were all killed in the Supreme Kai world.

When MajinBuu wakes up, even the Supreme Kai world is not safe.

He was in a moment of despair.

Hey, tired! Destroy it!

SonGoHan looks like a walnut-like egg, such as the heart beats, the pink object in the egg becomes more and more obvious, clenching his teeth:

"he's all done anyway! At least let me try! "

"what do you want?"

Ha!

SonGoHan in Super Saiyan state raised his arms, clenched his fists and roared angrily on his back.

The golden air and waves all over the body rise to the sky! As the energy in the body rises, the air waves spread, the energy rises to the extreme, and the air waves dissipate, leaving only flamboyant flames.

SonGoHan murmured.

"Let me fight at least once!"

The hands show a claw-shaped virtual grip at the waist, and a golden wave of light is generated from the palms of the hands, shining brightly.

"what does that guy want?" Babidi asks Dapra.

"I don't know."

SonGoHan pushed his hands forward, and the next moment, a golden shock wave of energy burst from the palms of his hands and shot at the Dome behind Babidi.

A terrible shock wave is coming!

Dapra's pupil shrinks.

Pick up the dull Babidi for a moment and avoid the attack of SonGoHan.

The golden shock wave collides with an egg like a walnut for a few seconds.

"Boom!"

The sound of the explosion dispersed the smoke.

The egg, like a walnut, shakes slightly and spews out gas.

Unharmed?!

"Damn it! Ah, ah, ah. "

SonGoHan does not believe in evil, drink, and make up another energy shock wave, he continues to output energy, the Dome is still intact under his attack.

"Mr. Wuhan!" Supreme Kai Xin couldn't help shouting.

"that guy, Lord Babidi, I'll take care of him!" Dapra was furious.

As soon as he was about to do it, Babidi grabbed the corner of his coat.

"it doesn't matter, that kind of attack has no effect on MajinBuu at all!"

"fool, even if you do so, it will be useless! In vain! " Babidi watched SonGoHan keep attacking the Dome with a mockery on his face.

Boom!

The earth is broken and dusty.

The big egg like a walnut was blown up.

SonGoHan looked at the Dome flying in the air and did not hesitate to add another energy shock wave.

Touch it!

The Dome hit the ground hard and rolled a few times.

All of a sudden, click!

The egg cracked like a walnut, snorted and leaked like a balloon, and a puff of pink gas came out of the egg.

"Oh! Here we go, here we go, here comes MajinBuu!

Babidi was overjoyed.

The pink smoke dissipated, leaving only a split shell with nothing inside. Babidi and Dapra were dumbfounded.

"empty… It's empty! "

Where's my big MajinBuu?!

бнбн

[limiter]

Soul breakthrough is successful!

Phase one, 20%.

[bastionbibi]

Hi, Drabble Anon here and I’ve taken your suggestion into consideration and have decided to put ghost au and swapover au to ao3 once I get my computer fixed! Thank you so much for answering to these little drabbles, I’m really glad you’ve enjoyed them. As thanks, here are a few things for you in regards to the aus, I hope you have a good day/night:

Ghost au:

- It’s very common for ghosts to attach to people they know, whether it be family, friends, loved ones or even animals and people they hate. If they don’t have anyone to attach to, they linger on in familiar places until their soul eases enough to move on.

- When it comes to interacting with the living and corporeal, at a baseline they can make their presence be sensed via warm feelings like the ones Taka’aki feels whenever his family hugs him. Each ‘warmth’ is distinct but if it’s someone they hate then it’s either cold or really hot. However, as Hiromitsu said, it requires concentration, determination and pinpointing what you want to do, hence why Date phased through Takagi. This also applies to manipulating objects but sometimes when a soul wants to protect something or someone, they can instantly pinpoint and interact with things around them like when Date was holding back the rubble.

- When a ghost dies, to others they look about the age when they died but to the living, there’s ‘markings’ so to say that shows how a ghost died. Taka’aki nearly had a panic attack when he tried to capture his parents in a picture and saw the stab wounds he found on their corpses on them in bloody red. Taka’aki also withheld the urge to hold back tears when he saw a crossed out heart over Aoi’s chest and a bullet hole in Hiromitsu’s.

- Depending on how angered/determined a ghost is, they can briefly appear to the living and manipulate things heavily correlated to their deaths. For a ghost who was stabbed to death, they could either make someone feel a horrible stabbing pain without killing them or ease the pain of someone being stabbed. You can imagine how Jodie’s dad looked to Vermouth when a body of fire with gunshot holes in his chest suddenly appeared.

- The Kudos have a very strange connection to the dead, something Yusaku is strangely oblivious to, citing it as normal. Yukiko mostly shrugged and adapted to the strange stuff.

- Bad Omen is not the only non-ghost entity.

Swapover au:

- Melkior doesn’t have family, at least not anymore. No one knows why he’s hunting down the Black Organisation of his world but he does care for those he trust in his own way.

- Rachel often spars with her Sonoko whose also known as the boxing queen/the princess of kicks. Phantom Magician is both impressed and terrified of her.

- Some swapped characters haven’t had their roles fleshed out yet since swapover is a newer au but I do have some plans.

- Taka’aki haven’t heard from his brother in a while but Scotch still checks up on him to ensure that he remains safe and out of the black organisation’s sight.

- The swapped Akai family is a bit more… complicated so to say.

And now, a teaser for something that’s still in the works:

*Brring!* *Riiing!*

“Hello?”

“Finally, you’ve picked up! I’ve been trying to call you for ages!”

“Well I’m sorry that my life’s constantly busy with murder cases every damn week!”

“And? That’s no reason not to miss movie night!”

“Again?”

“Hey, wasn’t my idea and we all need the breathers after what we went through. We’ll be meeting tomorrow, same spot.”

“Ugh.. fine, I’ll come. But I’m bringing the alcohol. Last loop was hell…”

“Yeah, that’s understandable… I’m still not over it honestly, all the more reason to have this movie night.”

“Do I at least get to pick a movie?”

“We all do, so no worries, you get your chance!”

“So long as we’re not watching another Speed Racer.”

“Oh come on, that’s a classic!”

“For you it is.”

I have had this in my inbox for close to a month now and I'm so sorry for not publishing it till now... I forgot about it, only when I got a notification for a new message did I open my inbox again.

I'm glad that you're thinking of posting it, maybe you can send me a link for it when you do?

I know that you answered a lot already and you don't have to elaborate on this ofc! But I keep wondering what happens if they're haunted by a malevolent spirit, like the spirit of someone you killed or someone who actively wants revenge since the only spirits we see for now are those who wants to protect the living.

Wouldn't it be interesting if Conan is haunted by one of those too??

Also, I don't wanna pressure you ofc but I LOVE the swapover AU so much, because while I do like detco characters, their author rarely ever delve deep into their characterization, I mean, Sonoko is the best friend of the protag but we rarely ever see her outside of her days as being rich, having crushes, and while she has her moments, for someone who's been in the series for so long, I think she deserve more development. We got a few episodes with her being a detective lately which is good! But I can't help but wishing her and other characters gets more episode that doesn't just involve some recycled murder plot ya know.

And swapping their personality and using them as comparison to their original ones can give a new POV of that, if you ever publish it, please send them here aha

ALSO WHAT DO YOU MEAN "last loop"?? Are some of them trapped in this? I need to know AAAAAA. Again, thank you for sending me these.

[neptuniadoesstuff]

ASGD Cast Facts #01

Subject Name: Christian Locke aka the Stargazer guy with the strange diary.

While yes, Chris' body is fragile due his issues (mental & physical), but due to his fast speeds, his albiet very concerning anger problems (bcs he literally stabbed someone with a sleeper agent out of nowhere but again they were speaking racist things-), & the fact he armor created SPECIFICALLY FOR HIM makes him a prompted killing machine (if he chooses to, he doesn't really like killing though unless it's nessary)

While the Diary he has is called "A Stargazer's Diary" he doesn't only use it to talk about the stars she seen in the night (he's a bit nocturnal bcs horrible sleep schedule from the past which stayed with her), He also talks about their life in it & some research things. Luckily, she does have bookmarks for each item in his diary. It's unknown how may pages are in the diary, but it's a pretty long one, so there must be a lot of pages. (Now, before you ask, no, Chris does not show his diary to ANYONE! It's meant to be a diary for a REASON!)

Chris has a set of water-repellent boots that are a part of his work suit. This is bcs in a certain test these boots actually seem to only work with him & not anyone else, so yeh they were upgraded to be for her only & anyone who does wear his suit won't have the water-repellent effects of the boots. (Chris can swim, but since he is weak, physically dood can't really swim for that long).

Chris actually has their own little weapons given to them by the company (Stellowbark Corp). One of these known weapons is the Soulwiper, a one time use gun which can be only used under certain circumstances (primarily in a fight with a very powerful figure). It's often used by Chris as a finisher. How it's used is it uses Primal energy (a rare material which is only common in GodHome) as its main bullet & when it's facing the person it's gonna target (Although weakened bcs that's how it works... at least according to the rules), it turns the target into a pile of dust while a strange colored spark which is actually their soul fly up into the aether. Chris never actually owned this gun first bcs it was highly regarded as a "tool no one should ever use" due to how dangerous it is, but now Chris owns it. (But since he is a good boi, she only uses it when finishing a powerful threat off bcs that's how it was intended to be use) (Spoiler: Yeh he used this to finish the Serpent King off in the royal arena but with the help of SK's eldest son, Tenmore)

Chris never really was able to indulge with his culture at a young age. Yes, he did live with his gramma (who was also Filipino), but she was more westernized (bcs this gramma of his was his dad's mother who was actually born in America). Now he did eat a few foods from his culture, but some tweaks & in some much, much smaller portions bcs clearly due to his pretty thin body at the time.... he couldn't eat much even if he wanted to (trust me, his gramma wanted to feed him alot like a lot of gramma Stereotypically do, but DOOD WAS SO THIN, WHICH ISNT NORMAL FOR A YOUNG KID!) But slowly & steadily he's kinda getting into the spirit of his culture bcs of Stellowbark. (Bcs I don't how to say this, but Stellowbark's food court (which is huge btw) has a lot of ethic foods from different cultures from earth & other planets. He'll they even have often for ppl who have allergies & even have lactose/gluten intolerance.)

He & Konn'a might share the same braincell- no I'm not kidding these 2 will often share a braincell for no reason bcs idk while they are smart they can also be idiots. (& both of them do have problems but if you KNOW Chris... he has more of them-)

Chris's fave food is... Cheesy hot dogs & rice. All bcs he got it hot at a vending machine in the food court which he weirdly enjoyed bcs it was truly the first time he had good good food. (Minus what his gramma & his adopted family made, those were good too but most of his life after his parents divorce yeh he.... he didn't do so well) (Now you gotta add some veggies & a egg & boom, you have longsilog but with cheesy hot dogs instead of the normally small soosages. Not traditional but eh Chris doesn't care about traditional HE ONLY WANTS TO EAT!)

When Chris isn't working (bcs she works part time due to his... pretty serious issues..) he is often cooking, going to the store/going on a slight walk. But for the most part it's either his caretaker doing the going to the store/cooking part bcs Chris can't be up for a few hours or so. (Idk bro might have low iron in her system as well) Also bcs oil scares the ever living frik out Chris (like me-) DO yeh... the only things Chris really does is either stay in his room & write in his diary, hang out in the food court (bcs she likes the vibes there + since it's so huge she can just be whatever she wants by himself) or just being near the only ppl they can literally trust. (Chris also enjoys drawing but is pretty self conscious about it)

Chris can play a kazoo, that's it. No other instruments just K A Z O O ! (Bcs no actual effort is truly needed if yur playing a K A Z O O )

Chris sleeps like if he was a wood plank on the ground. No one knows why she does this, he just do. Like he literally lays ON HIS FACE WITHOUT MOVING A INCH OF HER BODY WITH NO NOISES AT ALL! (This is not how a human should sleep but Chris is obviously unhinged & no, this is not trauma based, this is just one of Chris's extremely weird quirks that no one understands)

So yeh that's all of the facts I have for Chris. (Who's also the protag of ASGD)

[depressopax]

From ABQ with love, Nacho

This is the first chapter/prologue of my LCDP x BCS AU/Nacho spin-off. More info can be found here! || AO3 link TW: Spoiler for Better call Saul, violence, cuss words and mentions of death. Words: 0.6K [Might be a bit OOC, bare with me] English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

Chapter 0

I was walking towards my own death when I met him. 

Life wasn’t easy. Never been, and I’ve given up the hopes of a calm, easy life. 

I’m already a dead man. A walking dead man. Dressed in black, as for my own funeral. There’s a gun in my back pocket. A loaded gun. 

Bullets are ready to fly. But I’m not ready to die.

The Salamancas. Gustavo Fring. I make a list in my head, reminding myself of my enemies.

I also make a list of people I want to avenge, Arturo being one of them.

But the list that makes me keep on walking, that makes me determined to actually allow myself to die, is the list of people to protect. Dad. 

I’ve taken farewell to my dad. I’ve somehow accepted the sorrow that I’ll never see him again. 

Ever. 

Still, every step through the desert feels like hell. My body feels too heavy to carry. My mind is a mess. 

But if I feel, I’ll live. And if I live, I’ll be scared of death. 

So I shut it all off and continue walking. Walking, towards death. 

A black car pulls up. 

“Ignacio Varga?” Although I’ve promised myself to not show fright, I reach for my gun. I stare at the man with big eyes. It feels like they’ll fall out of the sockets. 

But it’s not Gus. Nor his men. It’s not a Salamanca either. 

No… This is..?

The man staring back at me looks smug. Entertained. 

As if my situation -  my beat up face and body, my pain and rage - is funny to him. 

Maybe it is. 

The man has brown hair which is turning gray. His brown eyes stare into my soul. I don’t need to tell him that; Yes. Indeed I am Ignacio Varga. 

He knows. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

“Who sent you?” I hiss and before the man in the fancy suit can react, I grab onto his black tie and put the gun against his temple. 

Silence. 

Then he laughs. 

I feel confused, disgusted, even. I let him go and step back. He looks at my dirty hands with disgust and fixes his tie whilst chuckling.

What a psycho sack of shit. 

“Ignacio… Por favor. We’re friends!” 

“I’m not your anything.” 

“We’re allies, Ignacio.” Another car drives up to us. “Get in the car.” 

He stops laughing and his face turns cold. 

“What?”

“I said, get in the damn car.”

The car that approaches… It’s them. Fuck. It’s them. The people that want me dead.

Before I can react, the man grabs my button-up shirt and drags me into the car. 

The fancy son of a bitch drives away, whilst I protest.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses. He drives beyond speed limits and roars in delight. 

He seriously finds this… Funny? Before I can ask him and draw my gun, I realize it’s missing.

Fuck!

Then, something is held against my face and I fall into a deep, worried sleep. 

One story ends - And another one begins. 

Like I said - this was the end of me. The end of the man who I once was. 

That day I killed Ignacio “Nacho” Varga. He died, the second I left Albuquerque. 

I escaped the rage of the Cartel. I escaped the twisted game that The chicken man forced me to participate in. 

I died, but somehow kept on breathing. 

My story was over, but he had other plans for me.

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗘𝗥𝗣𝗧 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 ☞ 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 (𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗦𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀) 𝗯𝘆 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗲 𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 is releasing 9.17!

#PreOrder today and check out the excerpt below!

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ☞ https://mybook.to/Friction_KA

(The Gravity Series is an unforgettable whirlwind romance chronicling the love of two men over three decades. Friction heats up the scene with passionate alpha males who navigate the often-rocky road to love. Love’s rarely easy, but when it’s true, it’s a battle worth fighting for.)

“What’s your deal, Dasham?” Chae asked. Her tone gave away her dawning speculation. Of course, I knew what Chae implied, but I had a lot to consider before I spoke my truth. “My name means the number ten. I’m my parents’ tenth child. I’m also smart,” I answered absently and grinned down at my Sperry shoes. “I skipped a grade in elementary school and I’m on track to graduate high school a semester early with my associate degree.” I lifted my head enough to wink at Chae, trying to hide my smile. “I’m also sporty. I played Lacrosse for my school’s team but stopped because I’m graduating a semester early.” I shifted my gaze to stare at the silhouette of Beau. My breath shuttered again at the nice-looking view. “You know I work for his grandmother?” Chae asked, garnering all my attention. My head whipped her direction. Screw hiding because my dad’s resort rested on my shoulders. Chae had the answers I needed. “Tell me?” I whispered. “His name is Beau Brooks. He’s hot, obviously. Maybe he’d be interested in you because he’s not interested in any of us,” Chae teased, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder and glancing back to the small circle I’d been sitting with. “Not for a lack of tryin’,” Jessica added. Hope built fast. “His grandparents live here. He comes here every June and July but had to go back home in August for football practice. His dad’s a football coach and a massive jerk. He’s really mean. Nobody likes him.” “Yeah, but he and his mom moved here permanently about a week ago,” Jessica said. “You know exactly how long ago they moved here,” Ginny teased, calling Jessica out. “I bet you’re hidin’ in his bushes at night.” “He quit football. Somethin’ happened. I don’t know what,” Chae explained. “Everybody here hopes Josh can talk him into playin’ again. He’s supposed to be really, really good. I believe he’s a tight end or maybe a receiver. He makes lots of touchdowns but also blocks, so whatever position that is,” Ginny said, and glanced over at me for verification. I only shrugged. How did I know? “Josh is my brother. I overheard him and my dad talking about it. They live for football. I don’t,” Ginny said. My gaze turned laser beam focused, willing Beau to look at me. I understood my overwhelming attraction was my limbic system bolting like a speeding bullet causing my body’s extreme physical response. But when he did finally look my way, breath slowly left my lungs. After a moment’s stare, I decided there was no question that he was looking at me. Words like fate and destiny shouted from every fiber of my being. This was the most significant moment of my life. If souls were real, mine did loops around Beau’s, trying to rope us together.

Read more about Dash in Friction, available 9/17/24. Amazon & Kindle Unlimited for a limited time!

[skygent]

Introducing…

Sylvie Morin

Sylvie Morin was supposed to be impossible.

Automatons were never supposed to develop a consciousness.

They weren't supposed to wonder what it was like to feel the wind in their hair as they ran, or what it would be like to dream.

They were never expected to have an innate connection to what some called The Shimmer.

The second layer of the perceivable universe that could be manipulated by certain individuals to do extraordinary things. From shooting lighting from their hands to moving faster than a speeding bullet. Yet Sylvie had both of these things, and as her sense of self solidified, her adventures in New Cassini led to her being taken in by a recovering alcoholic who was trying to start over. A man who would become the closest thing she had to a father.

The pair bonded quickly, and even started going to church together. While some welcomed Sylvie others shunned her, pointing out that Automatons cannot have souls because they weren’t born. While others were all to quick remind her that she would never be a real girl.

Despite this, Sylvie never stopped going to church. Even as other automatons chastised her for being involved with an organization that says she shouldn’t exist. On the other side of the spectrum, there were those in her congregation who were trying to drive her away for pretending to be something she was not.

The only places she didn’t find herself judged was at home with her dad and alongside her friends and teammates in the Aeronauts. 

Sylvie jumped at the chance to be a hero and took on the name Luna Lazura after her favorite pulp comic heroine. Which was later shortened to Luna by her teammates.

Her earnest desire to help people paired with her laid-back attitude made it easy for her to integrate with the team. She helps Kara with peacekeeping duties and thanks to her super speed, she is often the first one into battle.

Whether zipping around beating up bad guys or dragging her friend and crush Elliot onto the dance floor, Sylvie is learning to be unapologetically herself and wear her labels, however contradictory, with pride.

Species: Automaton Age: 20 Birthplace: New Cassini, The Republic of Columbia  Weapon of Choice: Arm Mounted Retractable Razor Lance Powers: Super Speed Likes: Mag Ball games, windsurfing, card games, The Raven Shack comic book series. Dislikes: Crash’s pessimism, rainy days, and people who don't wear the Fahrenheit's team colors on game day (its bad luck!) Occupation: N/A Favorite song: Now You Know My Name by The Derevolutions Art by incroyabledraws!

[itsupermanti]

I just realized something…We could incorporate some Titans into this!

——

Troia/Pyrrha(looking at her friends and former Titans): Could repeat that, please?

The Flash/Jaune: The League is asking that you help keep an eye on Young Justice.

Green Lantern/Ruby(alongside her husband): We’ve worked with you during our time as the Teen Titans, so we know you can handle it.

Batwoman/Blake(turning to Green Arrow, Blue Beetle and Superwoman): I didn’t know they were friends with Troia.

Green Arrow/Sun(explaining): We were actually in a team together when we first started out, the “Teen Titans”. It was me, Jaune, Ruby, Pyrrha, Penny, Neptune, and Weiss.

Batwoman/Blake(confused): Who are Penny and Neptune?

Blue Beetle/Weiss(explaining): Penny is Red Tornado and Neptune went by Tempest, before becoming Aquaman. We were also watched over and trained by Cyclone(Glynda).

Superwoman/Yang(raising a brow): You never heard of the Titans?

Batwoman/Blake(remembering her travels around the world as part of her training): I was…busy…

Superwoman/Yang(shrugging her shoulders): Whatever, I also worked with them on occasion as Supergirl. Our dad trusted them to help Ruby figure out how to use her ring whenever Ren was off-planet.

Batwoman/Blake(confused): Your dad knew you two were heroes?

Superwoman/Yang: Yeah, he WAS Superman.

Blue Beetle/Weiss(explaining to a stunned Blake): You know, Man of Steel, faster than a speeding bullet…

Green Arrow/Sun(continuing): More powerful than a locomotive…

Superwoman/Yang(finishing up): Able to leap the tallest buildings in a single bound. His semblance made him extremely strong and fast, and his aura made him nearly invulnerable. He doesn’t heat vision, or ice breath, like I do because I got scaled down maiden powers from my mother which my semblance boosts.

Batwoman/Blake(confused): But he can fly to, he caught a plane once.

Green Arrow/Sun(explaining): Apparently Qrow used his magic to give him the power to fly when they were in the Justice Society.

Blue Beetle/Weiss: My sister Winter is also a maiden, so is Pyrrha, and they use their powers to fly as Wonder Woman and Troia as well.

Troia/Pyrrha(nodding her head after hearing her two best friends out): Fine, I’ll watch over them, two of those boys are my nephews after all.

Troia/Pyrrha(lifting up a hand): But I want to Penny to come help me deal with all the tech we’ll need.

Green Lantern/Ruby(shocking her best friend’s hand): Deal!

The Flash/Jaune(crossing his arms with a grin): You’ll do great Pyr, we were our leader after all.

Troia/Pyrrha(under her breath): So I already have experience dealing with impulsive children, it’s a wonder I ever had a crush on you…

Wonder Woman/Winter(hearing her protege agree to watch over Young Justice): This’ll be interesting…

Cyclone/Glynda(smirking): Now she’ll know how it felt having to deal with all of them!

——

Now Pyrrha has been integrated into this AU as Young Justice’s mentor, Troia.

Winter is a Wonder Woman with maiden powers, who taught Pyrrha how to use her own.

I realized that Glynda could use her telekinesis to fly and generate strong gusts of wind like Cyclone, who recently appeared in the Black Adam movie.

I decided to have Tai be a retired Superman who passed his mantle to Yang. His power is akin to first appearance Superman, so no heat-vision, ice-breath or flight. Since Qrow is Constantine, he gave Tai the power to fly, but nothing else.

Neptune and Penny are also mentioned as being Aquaman and Red Tornado. Neptune went by Tempest, before becoming Aquaman, and apparently his canon semblance is “Water Attraction”, which lets him control water with hydrokinesis, despite his fear of water…No I’m not making this up, look up his semblance, it’s true. He overcame this fear while with the Titans.

I decided that Penny could work for Red Tornado, since she’s an android with a soul and had maiden powers at one point, just how Red Tornado is an android who was given his powers, personality and soul by an air elemental(this is also true, look it up).

I figure in this AU, “Maiden” could be a title given to women who’s semblances and aura have grown to a point that they could considered demigods of sorts and thus gain incredible power, which is why Yang is stronger than Tai, and Winter and Pyrrha can nearly much her in power, and Penny is capable of manipulating the weather around her, much like Storm from Marvel who herself is consistently considered a Goddess of Weather by many people.

Your thoughts @howlingday ?

Since I suggested that Ozpin is Dr Fate, I think that he shouldn’t be the only old person in the Justice League within the RWBY DC AU.

I could imagine Dr Oobleck being the Jay Garrick to Jaune’s Barry Allen, Port could be Wildcat, but who do you think would suit Qrow, Winter and Glynda?

Qrow I can see as Constantine. Scruffy look, surly attitude, tragic backstory. Plus a demon slayer with a scythe sounds very fitting.

This is an odd choice, since she's the only one who fits Winter in terms of personality, but I'm thinking Tahlia Al'Ghul. Intelligent, skilled, lethal, sensitive, and sometimes comes off as a major- Well, you get the idea.

Glynda is harder to place somewhere, especially since there aren't many DC characters for her to fulfill the role. I see both numerous poor-fitted qualities at best, either because the personalities clash, or they're a full-on villain, or because they only share a hair's worth in common. So I offer Oracle for her intelligence, Enchantress for her magic, and Black Canary for the hair and body.

In the meantime of harming my brain with this, I thought of a villainous role to be played. Someone who sides herself with powerful men and makes our heroes lives more miserable. Someone who can be outsmarted, but also outsmart you as well.

I suggest Amanda Waller to be played by Caroline Cordovin.

[boldlyvoid]

10 Days

this is for @imagining-in-the-margins father's day fic challenge <3

summary: it's spencer's first father's day and he's extremely emotional about the little love of his life that he's only just met. he spends the day with his baby, Edwin, and his wife, crying and happy about how wonderful new little lives are.

a/n: just a lot of new dad spencer fluff ♥︎ happy father's day everyone

word count: 1.4K

Read on Ao3

10 days.

That’s how long it has been since he became a father. Holding the small gift the love of his life brought into the world, Edwin was so tiny. He slept, swaddled up, resting against Spencer’s knees as he sat up in bed. Y/N asleep on the pillow beside them.

Spencer couldn’t believe how perfect his life had become. Edwin’s small coo’s and grunts as he slept making him smile at the perfect little being they created. All 6lbs, 10oz and 21 inches of pure perfection, joy and love.

He was peaceful, his cute little button nose twitched as he pouted. About to wake up, hungry as the sun rose, like clockwork. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, looking around with his deep brown eyes before he started to wail.

“Shhh,” Spencer soothed him as he brought him to his chest, bouncing him softly as Y/N started to wake up.

She yawned beside him, stretching into a banana shape as she did so. Curling around him slightly before sitting up, keeping her eyes closed as she swallowed a few times and became a person again.

“Good morning,” Spencer spoke over the slight crying.

“Hello,” she replied, opening one eye as she un-clipped her nursing bra, “hand him over.”

Spencer laid him in her arms, watching as she led him towards the nipple. He latched with no problems, she tilted her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes once again. She had become a pro at sleeping while feeding, excited for when he was finally big enough that she could just roll over and feed him while laying down.

Spencer watched as Edwin's little hand found its way out of the swaddle, reaching up to hold the side of her boob. His eyes wide open as he ate, staring up at his mother with amazement.

Spencer always felt a bit emotional when he really looked at them. Seeing all the best qualities of both himself and Y/N in him already, Edwin was the most perfect baby he had ever seen.

He couldn’t believe sometimes that he was his son.

He leaned his head onto Y/N’s shoulder, cuddling into her as he reached out to cup Edwin’s tiny little head. Rubbing his thumb over the soft spot covered in hair. He loved them so much it felt overwhelming.

He kissed her shoulder softly, feeling her smile as her cheek pressed against his head. “Happy Father’s Day,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” he felt the tears well before one slipped out, trailing his cheek before dropping to her shoulder in a small splash.

“Oh Spence,” she started to cry too, laughing into the tears. Making her chest bounce and disturb Edwin’s breakfast.

“I just love you so much, they’re happy tears,” Spencer said softly before he kissed her cheek.

“Seriously, Spence,” she looked at him softly, still all puffy from sleep and the pregnancy. “Making you a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Seeing you become a mom was like, everything just connected and the world made sense,” he explained softly. “The way you just powered through and suddenly you’re helping reach down and bringing this life into the world,” he started crying again. “It was magical, the feeling of becoming a father at that moment, seeing the life we made?” He had to stop to catch his breath as he cried, lifting his shirt up to wipe his tears off his face.

“I know,” she cried in agreement, looking down at her beautiful little boy as he ate away, unaware that his sleep-deprived parents were having a moment.

“I love you,” Spencer laughed, leaning in to kiss her on the lips finally.

There was a knock on their bedroom door then, “come in?” Y/N answered as Spencer sat back against the headboard beside her.

“Good morning,” her mother and Diana cheered softly as they walked in, breakfast for the both of them on trays. “Happy father’s day!”

“Oh my god,” Spence got overwhelmed again, covering his face so he wouldn’t cry in front of them too.

“Thank you guys,” he could hear the smile on Y/N’s face as she spoke. “You didn’t have to do all this?”

“Spencer used to make me breakfast on both Father’s and Mother’s day, I thought I’d repay the favour,” Diana recalled the memory with a soft smile.

“Thank you, mom,” Spencer said as Diana placed the tray on his lap, hugging him softly before she moved back.

“We’ll leave you alone now,” Y/N’s mom added as she placed the other tray on Y/N’s side of the bed. “Call me if you need anything else?”

“Sure thing, thanks nanny,” Y/N replied, using her mother’s new nickname.

It was so nice having both of them visit, they were very helpful. Allowing them to have time to shower and use the bathroom, they cleaned the house and made all the meals while Y/N and Spencer bonded with their little miracle.

It was the best father’s day he could have asked for, with the best wife, the best son and the best family in the whole world.

He was overfilled with joy, bursting at the seams and the tears never stopped. Even as he quietly ate his own breakfast, he was sniffling and wiping the occasional tear. It was overwhelming, he was tired, he was so in love, it was just a lot for him.

When Edwin was done eating, Y/N passed him back to Spencer with a smile. Spencer held him in his arms gently before placing a burp rag in his lap and burping the little guy. Patting his back, he let out a deep burp and then sighed, making Spencer laugh. He was so cute, it was insane.

He held him close, resting Edwin’s tiny little head on his shoulder as he cradled him, bounding slightly to help him fall back to sleep, Y/N called him the baby whisperer. He was amazing, he just had to hold Edwin with his arms crossed and tilt him at an angle, and he'd stop crying. It was like Magic seeing Spencer with a baby, he just knew what he was doing.

He changed Edwin like it was nothing, he talked to him like a big kid already as he changed or bathed him. She’d overhear him in the bathroom, his voice echoing off the tiled walls as he goes on and on in Edwin’s ear about how diapers are made and how they looked for the safest ones for his little bum. It was adorable.

Edwin was wonderful, full of excitement and joy and hope. He looked at everything like it was magic, learning about the world through his brand new eyes as Spencer was gifted with witnessing it all. It was magnificent, he loved colours and belly kisses and he smiled when you poke his cheeks. He was the best thing Spencer’s ever helped make, and he was so completely in love with him. His little baby, the reason he’s a father.

His whole life was in Edwin’s hands now; whatever he wanted, Spencer would be it. Whatever he needed, Spencer would get it. He was wrapped around his finger like his life depended on it, and Spencer was fine with that. He would sell his soul for him, step in front of a bullet or a speeding train, the love he had for this little baby was unspeakably large for how small he was.

He’s wide awake in Spencer’s arms, tilting his head and licking his lips as he stares up at his father. Spencer smiles down at him, amazed by everything going on inside his mind. Thinking about the electrons firing, the memories being made and re-written by the second as he learns and explores, colours erupting in his mind like nebulas.

“Did you know you’re named after Edwin Hubble?” Spencer whispers to him, booping his nose gently, “he’s the reason we can see the stars so well, why people were able to complete their dreams and go to the stars. To see the far off worlds and contemplate what’s out there… to see a greater purpose for us all.”

Edwin had no idea what he was talking about, but he was so content listening. Knowing his dad’s voice very well from all the talking he did to Y/N’s belly over the long 9 months of anticipation to meet him.

“You’re my stars, you’re my greater purpose,” he whispers, bring him closer so he can kiss his tiny little forehead. “I love you.”

[miekasa]

mie!! since u write such beautiful gorgeous astounding breathtaking life-changing tearjerking fics, do YOU have any good fic recs that you personally love 🤔

I do! I have a whole blog of wonderful fics I’ve read (tho I desperately need to update it/reblog the ones in my drafts and tag them) @ackermeun for more if you want because there are many lovely, talented writers; but I’ll list a few of my faves for Levi and Eren below 😌😌

Levi

kiss me more by @vennilavee

Now, I could recommend you anything and everything by Saran and I have no doubt that you would love all of it. There’s not a single thing in her masterlist that I dislike, she even made me okay with the idea of pegging Levi bye. The entire tbah universe (specifically parental moments one) has a special place in my heart, but recently the perpendicular world has been on my mind, and might be coming for number one. Either way, you’re gonna love it. She writes Levi in his slightly bitchy, kinda needy, implicitly affectionate, true to nature form, and I am so grateful for it. Also, Saran is a comedian. 

silver soul by @oi-levi (now posting from @bibblelevi)

I suck at keeping up with series, and, so, naturally, I’m terribly behind on this one, but I’m gonna go ahead and rec the whole thing to you anyway, because I have no doubt that the other chapters are just as great the two I’ve read so far. The way she writes Levi... when I tell you I could wrap myself up in a blanket and binge this whole series, and her entire masterlist, and be very content I mean it; her writing feels warm, that’s the only way I can explain it. 

the art of tea composition by @karikarasuno

I don’t remember how or when I found this fic exactly, probably just scrolling through the tag, but I love it. Domestic fluff with Levi, allowing me to pretend I’m a morning person, and just the right kind of smut to go with it. Simple and very, very effective. I’ve reread it a few times by now, no shame.

where you’re meant to be by @deludedimagines

After you read this, I also suggest just going after the whole masterlist. I cannot express how grateful I am to have found this blog PLEASE. Her characterization of Levi is perfect, and something about her prose feels very clean and simple, but elevated and layered at the same time. This one-shot in particular is one of my favorite canonverse pieces, I’m a sucker for a classic injured lover trope. 

the ones who matter most by @deludedimagines

Yeah... this shouldn’t be a surprise. Fantastic writing, fluff in canonverse has a special place in my heart because I think it can be really hard to pull off well; it’s difficult to balance a sense of softness within the aot universe for the obvious reasons, and getting Levi’s caring nature right can be (unfortunately) so hard to find. Good thing people like Sorcha are here. Enjoy more fluff. Also this fic is particularly fantastic to me not just because of the injured lover trope, but because the 104th babies pay a visit and you all know how much I love a good glimpse of reluctant adoptive dad Levi hehe

bullet by @jean-does-not-have-a-horseface

If you can’t tell by now, I love canonverse fluff, tho this fic isn’t fluff in the traditional sense, but I think that makes it all the much better. Perfect depiction of real life shit that would go down in the aot world paired with Levi’s need to protect his s/o. It’s fantastic. 

the knife by @therealvalkyrie

I didn’t mean to turn this into Mie’s Favorite Canon Fics Showcase, but here we are anyway. As much as I love a good injured lover trope (and this does have that hehe), I love a good kickass reader insert, too. Shoutout to Valkyrie for included both in this fic, and Levi being proud of his s/o... well you can imagine how much I liked that bye

dante’s inferno by @alrightberries

College au + roommates au with Levi... that should be enough for you to read this lmfao, no but actually it’s adorable. Not to mention friends to lovers... if you know me you know how I feel about that, I’ll gobble up every f2l fic until I’m dead and gone. Not to mention there’s a cat and Levi won’t admit he likes it, or he’s jealous of it. Simply cannot go wrong here. 

waves know shores by @onwiings

Bro I don’t even like the idea of public sex and I’m not even a fan of water like that but this fic has me wrapped around it’s pinky lmfaoooo. Some of the best Levi smut I’ve read and you already know how I feel when Levi and reader have cute interactions with the 104th in fics. Really it’s checking every item on my list. 

Eren

speed racer by @emeren

I’m pretty sure I found this fic during my midterms last semester, and when I tell you I’m so grateful for it lmaooo. It’s really just a good au, I think it fits Eren (honestly barking at just the concept) and the writing brings it all to life. 

under the moonlight by @murmikaa

I’d have to be dumb not to recommend this to you. I love reading longer fics, and if you do, then this will 100% satisfy you. The whole story is great and immersive, not just between Eren and the reader; their relationships with the other characters are really what makes this special imo. There’s also beach sex, so. Obviously it’s good. 

untitled.avi by @puredivinity (now @celestidarling)

Naur you must of thought wrong if you thought at least one of Mara’s fics wouldn’t be here. I’m obsessed, I think I’ve read it three times minimum. I read all her Eren fics, and you should too. She writes him in such a dreamy way, almost like he’s right there and too good to be true that you must be hallucinating. Immaculate. 

midnight snacks by @writertitan

Dumb, college-typical antics and fluff with Eren... obviously you know I’m about that. The whole concept is so mundane, but so cute, you can’t help but fall for it because it could be so real!! I love that kinda stuff hehe 

i’m your satellite by @ackerfics

Comparing hand sizes with Eren!! YEAAAAH!! No, okay, but I read the summary and was ready to dive in because... size kink go crazy, but when I tell you I was so blown away to find out that it was not only from Eren’s pov, but that he was being a complete simp and down terrible the whole time. Normalize boyfriends being completely fucking in love with their gfs that simple shit like the size of their hand makes them wanna simp even harder!!!!

eren as an ass man by @hznji

I’m dying on the hill that Eren is an ass guy and you should too because it’s the objective truth. Fluff, Eren being a complete dog as per usual, Eren’s being touchy (I will also die on the hill that he’s touchy as fuck and has no concept of personal space) and just in genral snarky but cute banter. Gotta love that. 

Jean

tears over beers by @appplepii

When I tell you this is my favorite Jean fic, I mean it. Friends to lovers with hopelessly pining Jean + oblivious reader = everything I could have asked for in a fic, AND it’s from Jean’s pov too!!! INCREDIBLE!!! The pining made me yearn, and the smut was so well done, too. 

this drabble by @arlerted

Whatever, whatever, WHATEVER!!! I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT!!! Cal is right, don’t do drugs but... this mf... this imagine.... has been burned into my mind since the first time I fucking read it bye. Callie also writes a bunch of filthy (affectionate <3) fics and drabbles and lewds and you should read them, preferably when you’re alone and with the lights off. 

[shootingstarwritings]

Keepin’ it in the Family

Manfred—Freddy for short—was a young man that spent his life in the shadow of his uncle’s side of the family. Meek, shy, unassuming, and more of an indoors type. “I’m more of a type B kind of fellow,” he would answer whenever someone asked him what kind of person he was. Meanwhile, Daniel Crawford and his son, Alex, were the exact opposite. Tall, strong, and always willing to get down and sweaty in an activity. They often dominated every family gathering and gleefully hogged the spotlight shined on them.

“Did you know Alex got a football scholarship… Daniel bought a second house… oh my gawd, li’l Danny got so buff last year, can’t believe he used to be my younger bro…!” On and on Freddy would hear until he got sick of it.

“Why dontcha join a team or somethin’, squirt?” his cousin Alex teased him while roughly messing up his hair. Although Freddy couldn’t deny his cousin was annoying and far too energetic, he couldn’t bring himself to hate him. There was always an authenticity behind his invites to play football with his friends. He was brutish but kind. That was all.

Freddy’s uncle Daniel was a different story.

On a certain day during a family gathering, Daniel concerned Freddy in a hallway. “Perhaps if you applied yourself more," he once told Freddy, the disdain clear in his voice, "you'd get as far as my boy does in life." The rest of the family was just a few rooms away, but their cheerful voices were worlds away. “But until you do that, I want you to stop spending any time with Alex. Honestly don’t know why he wastes his precious youth on someone like you.”

Freddy didn't respond but nodded while glaring defiantly at the floor. He jumped back as his uncle grabbed him by the throat and forcefully tilted his head upwards. Freddy let out a sharp hiss of pain but prevented himself from screaming.

With a low voice, his uncle Daniel said, “Look at me while I’m speaking, you little shit. Don’t want your mediocrity holding my golden son back. Stay away from him or else.” He punctuated his last words by shoving Freddy to the wall. “Can’t believe you and your father are related to us. Well, guess we know who got the better genes in the family.”

Freddy glared at him as he walked away. It was painful, but he could endure. As long as he lived, he would not let this abuse break him. The day would come when he would prove him wrong.

However, it all came to a head about a week ago, when Freddy announced his plans for a graduation party. Most of the replies in the texts he sent out for his family were some variation of, “Oh, I’m sorry Freddy, but your uncle Danny is planning to celebrate his promotion at work that day. Perhaps you can reschedule.” As always, Freddy remained overshadowed.

“Bastards,” Freddy’s father, a rotund and balding man by the name of Benny, exclaimed as he saw the texts. “Can’t even spare a day for you. It’s always those two pricks.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Freddy muttered, glaring down at the texts on his phone. How often had his family ignored him in favor of those two? How often did his uncle mistreat him to guarantee that his ‘golden child’ Alex would remain as successful as he was? The questions kept echoing in his mind until, finally, he decided to cut this cycle.

“If you want,” his father tried again, “we can spend that weekend just the two of us, son. We can travel and celebrate our way."

“It’s all right, dad. I know exactly what I’m gonna do,” said Freddy as he marched off to his room. He would have to draw up the runes and memorize the incantations before long. By being efficient, he would have the spell all set by dawn’s early light.

However, his father stopped him by placing a firm hand on his shoulder—a rarity. “Hold on son," Benny said in a tender voice. "I understand what you're going through, believe me, I know. I was never the golden child of the family either. Danny made sure of that." There was disdain in Benny's voice that Freddy had never heard from before, but he had little time to dwell on it as his father continued. "But, to me, you'll always be the golden child, Freddy. I just want you to know that." Then, Benny pulled his son in for a hug.

Freddy eagerly returned in, shoving his thoughts of revenge to the back of his mind for the moment. Now, he just wanted to spend time with his father. Dusk came and went, and the two bid each other good night as they settled into their rooms on different floors. With nothing to interrupt Freddy, he set off to work.

It began when he found a book of occult rituals and spells in his father's study. Never had Benny spoken about this to Freddy, and Freddy lacked the courage to confront his father about it. Instead, he took photos of the various pages of spells and tried them out for himself—another reason why he did not want his father to know that he knew. By doing this magic in secret, Freddy could indulge in his fantasies that were now just a spell away. Coaches, classmates, and neighbors all fell to his charms and rituals; fulfilling deviant actions according to his whims.

My father can never know, Freddy thought bitterly to himself as he drew the sigils on his rug with chalk, he’ll never know so he’ll always be proud of me, his pure and hard-working son.

Tonight would be the first time Freddy would attempt the possession spell as well as the first time he broke a rule he had set for himself when he first began to use magic: never involve a family member. Now, he read through the procedure on his phone and prepared to sink into an even deeper level of deviancy. A bit of the text at the bottom of the page was faded, but the instructions were all written out. It’s most likely flavor text, Freddy thought.

This spell would allow the invoker to project his soul towards an unassuming target. From then on, a battle of wills would begin, and the dominant soul would take over the body. The invoker is not guaranteed to be successful. Caution must be exercised, and a strong will is heavily recommended.

It was a frightening thought, but Freddy did not allow that to slow him down. His hands trembled with excitement and his heart raced with pure adrenaline as he pictured his uncle’s sexy yet punchable face.

In the heat of the moment, Freddy cast the spell alongside the rising sun. Once those accursed words left his lips, a sharp and painful sensation spread throughout his body. It was as if his soul was being stretched and twisted, like a rubber band. However, he just gritted his teeth and endured it as he always did. The suffering of a spell or his uncle’s harassment was all the same—nothing he couldn’t handle. However, when the pain continued to grow in magnitude, Freddy was afraid this spell was going to rip his soul in half.

Then came the release—the catharsis. The spell catapulted Freddy’s soul at a speed rivaling that of a bullet train’s. Freddy screamed both in terror and sheer jubilation as his soul traveled through the dawn-dyed sky. Everything, even the sun, was a blurry mess until he arrived at his uncle’s expensive house, where he finally stopped. He was back in control.

Slowly, Freddy glided through the halls of a home that alienated him for most of his life. While searching for his uncle’s room, he stumbled upon his cousin Alex sleeping on top of the covers, clad in just a pair of boxer briefs. Though Freddy intended to keep moving, he remained still and watched his cousin’s chest slowly rise and fall as he slept peacefully.

“You deserve a better father,” Freddy whispered, caressing his cousin’s cheek with his ghostly hand. His voice and touch were nothing more than a chilly breeze on Alex’s bare skin. When Freddy noticed the goosebumps that spread down his cousin’s arms, he drew back and excused himself from the room. His target still needed to be punished.

A few hallways later, Freddy found himself floating above his uncle. Daniel, just like his son, slept above his covers and nearly in the nude to deal with the brutal summer heat. Even so, beads of sweat still glistened in his half-naked, furry body. His breathing was just as peaceful and gentle as Alex's as it passed through his heart-shaped lips. "If only you were as kind as you look while sleeping," Freddy said as he glared down at Daniel. Hatred and lust pushed him forward, and he gleefully enacted his plan.

Having spent quite a long time manipulating the wills of men, Freddy knew that the best way to overwhelm them was to do so post-coitus. “You’ll be my ticket to happiness,” he whispered to his uncle, “you piece of shit asshole.” He began by running his tongue down his uncle’s bare chest, giving the nipple a lick.

The effect was immediate. Daniel’s eyes shot open as he shivered at the paranormal touch. He looked around, perplexed. “What the fuck?” he said.

Freddy snickered at his uncle’s confusion. He pushed his uncle back onto the bed, one hand twirling and playing with his nipples while another teased the bulge hidden by the briefs. “W-Woah, oh shit!” said Daniel, trying to kick his invisible assaulter away to no avail. When the sensation didn’t stop, Daniel attempted to rise only for Freddy to roughly shove him back onto the bed again.

“I’m not done with you!” Freddy roared to his uncle’s terror. The rush of power was intoxicating, and Freddy greedily drank in every pathetic whimper and moan from his uncle. He pulled his underwear off, revealing his uncle’s large hard-on, and threw it to the side. “God, you’re thick,” Freddy moaned as he took his uncle’s cock in his hand. “C’mon, cum for me, old man,” he said as his lips played with the pecs. He continued to mercilessly play with his uncle, humping his body to elicit more of his moans.

“N-No—aahh, mmm! Pl-Please stoooAAAAHH—stop!” said Daniel as he felt his core tighten. Freddy noticed it too and quickly released his uncle from his sexual grasp. “AH! Oh fuck, I’m—ngh!” said Daniel as his abused dick begged for release.

“Not yet, that's gonna be my climax, uncle," Freddy said. To reward his uncle was far more than what the bastard deserved. Instead, Freddy would steal his climax, his body, and his dignity. “You’re mine!” he said, caution be damned as he dove into his uncle’s body.

“F-Fred—OOF!” The sheer force of Freddy’s dive caused his uncle to bounce on the mattress. “Oh FUCK!” Daniel cried out as he felt impossibly full. Two souls occupied the same space, and much like the shifting plates of the ever-changing earth, stress was born of this conflict. Daniel gritted his teeth, even more sweat coating his convulsing body as he attempted to hold onto his consciousness. However, Freddy’s essence continued to spread.

The possession spell operated on a similar concept as ink falling upon a cup of pure water. Slowly, the water would darken as it took on the shade of the ink until it was almost completely indistinguishable from the original ink that tinted—or tainted—it.

Just as the ink colored the water, so too did Freddy’s soul spill and tint his uncle’s very essence—mind, body, and spirit. Daniel, of course, continued to push his nephew’s soul out of him. He kicked at his bed and gripped his sheets so tightly his veins were visible in his arms. Until the very last second, he tried to will his body back under his control. However, he eventually collapsed onto his bed, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and blacked out. His body convulsed for a few more minutes as it took on the last remains of Freddy's essence, before finally quieting down.

Freddy opened his new eyes and immediately put his attention back on his uncle's dick. "Oh god, uncle, you're so sensitive!" he said as he continued stroking himself. “I-I’m CUMMING!” he bellowed as he shot load after load in his new form, seeing white as he fell back onto the sweat-covered sheets. “Oh my god, Danny-boy, I can’t wait to wreck you today.” Freddy would seize the day, and by nightfall, he would make his uncle a shame upon his family.

A few hallways away, Alex had his own visitor.

“S-Stop, uncle!” Alex screamed as the much larger soul of Benny finished entering his younger body. “Y-You can’t—AH! AAAHHH!” He whimpered and moaned just as his father did before collapsing into a mess of convulsing limbs.

Alex blacked out, and his uncle Benny awoke. “God, that felt good,” he said, stretching his new, muscular body. It was pleasurably sore after the workout he gave his unwilling nephew. “Ya got a good lookin’ bod, kid,” he said, grinning as he rubbed his hands down his new form. “But it’s my turn to be the golden child, if only for a day,” he finished, excited to have his hole filled in a day filled with debauchery.

Unbeknownst to father and son, there was more to the spell lost as the ink faded from the page. It read as follows:

Just as the water becomes nearly inseparable from the ink, the souls also become unable to be torn apart. There is no hope for the water to become pure and no hope for the ink to be whole. They are bound together for eternity, as are the souls tainted by the invoker. The invoker’s body will perish upon the spell’s completion, and the invoker will remain in their new body until the possession spell is used again, thus killing the old target.

[dedskul]

Trashbags In Paradise

I have to admit that I am a hoarder, just not in the physical sense.

My home isn't filled to the brim with my belongings or layered chest deep with trash.

I'm an emotional hoarder.

The inside of my head is busting at the seams with memories, emotions, thoughts, and un-answered prayers.

I don't throw anything away, I just keep it all in piles.

Shame, hurt, pain, remorse, guilt, anger, fear.

It's overwhelming, confusing.

There's no organization, just mass piles of raw emotions and memories hasty thrown into black trash bags and scatted around my brain like a landfill.

To some this may seem like a problem, something in need of attention and time.

Clear it all out

Make space for new things

But I can't

I like it here too much to let it go

I love my hazardous waste filled head

I love to creep around the dump in my brain and carefully open up those trash bags.

I'll slowly untie one with my trembling hands and breath in deep as the rotten smell of desperation seeps into my nostrils.

I'll dip my arms inside and welcome the hot, sweaty embrace of anxiety as I dig though the contents.

What do we want to relive tonight?

How about one of the classics?

The night with a gun in my hands

Loading it, unloading it.

Firing it into the air a few times.

Screaming at the top of my lungs for help.

Loading it a final time

Putting it to my head, and pulling the trigger.

I could have sworn the agony I felt that night when that gun jammed was more painful than a bullet going though my skull....

Nah, too overdone.

Doesn't have the same punch it used too.

What about some good ol' abandonment?

Dad throwing his hands in the air and giving up

"I hope you like the color orange cause you're going to end up in jail, or dead."

Mom kicking me in the dead of night

"If you wanna kill yourself so bad go and do it, but you're not going to do it under my roof!"

Spending Christmas day alone, handing over my last dollar for a spring roll with tears in my eyes.

Savoring every bite.

I swear I'd never felt so lonely, so hated, so unwanted...

Nope, that's too sad

Too weak

I need something really painful

Something that will hurt good and deep

Something I can lay down and cover myself in

Something that will make my eyes water, my hand twitch, my heart pump

Something I can replay over and over and over again

Slow it down, speed it up

Pause it and lay in it all night

Until I can't feel anything else

Until I can feel it all

Until I can feel everything and nothing in the same breath

Let it overtake me

Let it trick me into thinking its happening again

Let it sit on top of me until I can barely breathe

Until my ribs feel like they will snap under the pressure if I hold it on top of me for a second more

And then then leave it there for hours

When I finally get up and put whatever vile thing I let grip me all night back where it came from

When I tie the black bag back up and toss it away with the hundreds of others

When I stand on my shaking legs

Literally holding myself together with my arms

I always have the same thought

This isn't good for me

This isn't right

I don't have to torture myself like this

Reliving violence, abandonment, embarrassment, childhood trauma

It's not doing anything but making it worse

But I can't stop

Outside of this trash heap I don't feel anything at all

I'm numb

An all consuming type of numb that gnaws soul and barricades my heart

It sucks everything up and deprives me of even the most basic of emotions

It forces me to open these bags

Because just to feel something, anything else, even if it hurts, is better than the emptiness I'm forced to deal with every day

But it's like an addiction

I can't get enough

Things that used to do the trick and hurt me long and good now only feel like pin pricks

My tolerance is too high

Nowadays I have to dig though 4, 5, or even 6 different bags to feel the pain I need to overtake the numbness

I'm not very nice to myself

I treat myself worse than the people who gave me these bags to begin with

Why do I always have to be the bad guy?

Why can't I look at myself in the mirror and say something nice?

I need a break

I need to let parts of me out that I've punished and berated

Let them breathe

Let them talk

I walk around the trash heap looking for Little April

The small, long-haired tomboy dressed in boy clothes

I come across a structure dimly-lit among the garbage

A fort, built with smaller bags and well worn blankets

I peek inside and see her there

Playing with a GI-Joe action figure cause everyone knows he's way cooler than Barbie

She has headphones on that are way too big

They play a repeat of Jimmy Buffet songs cause she has dreams of living on an island, in a paradise, far far away

I step inside the fort as Little April shivers away

She's scared of us now, I only bring her out to hurt her but this time will be different

“It's okay, I'm not here to hurt you this time. I promise.”

I say as I pull out a stuffed monkey

“Bananas!” Little April lights up as I hand over the stuffed animal

“Bananas didn't come down here with you because I had to keep him.” I explain. “I still like him a lot too.”

Little April smiles as I reach for her hand

“Come on Kiddo, I have a surprise for you.”

The two of us start walking, hand in hand, looking for our missing piece

Eventually, what seems like miles away, I start seeing the signs

Black trash bags covered in dust, ripped open with knifes

Remnants of old, tarnished memories leak out the slices in the bags and gum up the floor

Little April is struggling, her light up Furby shoes can't withstand the muck

I offer a piggyback ride and put her on my back

She's around here somewhere

We have to find her

Further though the messy gunk and overfilled crap I start to hear heavy metal music blaring in the distance

She's close

Little April tenses up and pulls the monkey over her eyes

I don't blame her, Teenage April isn't the best

I clump together bags to give Little April a solid place to stand

She climbs off my back, still scared

“I know Teenage April is scary. But I know something about her that you don't. It's a secret that nobody else knows.” I say, taking a knee.

“What?” Little April whispers

“She likes Jimmy Buffet too. Sing with me.”

“I like mine with lettuce and tomato...” I start

“Heinz 57 and French fried potatoes...” Little April sings

“Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer...” We sing together

Footsteps, the jingle of chains, the smell of cheap, truck stop cigarettes

“Well, good God Almighty which way do I steer?” A voice grumbles from the darkness.

Teenage April dressed in all back, head to toe

I can barely even see her, camouflaged, she blends into the background, just where she likes it

Little April hugs my legs as Teenage April steps closer

Fake chains, handcuffs, and razor-blades garnish her body as accessorizes

Better to scare other people away so they can't get close

“What do you two want?” She spits, angry at our obvious summoning

“We're here too help.” I say, reaching for her perpetually clasped fist

She swats my hand away, she's just as scared as Little April but is better at hiding it

“I don't need help from a child and a freak.” Teenage April says, lighting a menthol between her lips

“What makes you think I'm a freak?” I ask, taken aback by her sudden attack on me

“I've seen you! I've seen you over there, out in the open. You pick up the heaviest bags in here and you bathe in it. You let it smother you! You pile on more and more every-time. You actually like it in here, you fucking freak! She's seen you too, she knows what I'm talking about.”

Little April nods slowly up and down

“It's weird.” She finally says.

“I'm sorry you two had to see that.” I sigh. “But I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm going to get the two of you out of here.”

“Out?” Teenage April asks

“Yes out!”

I look over at Little April

“There is a place outside of here that is like a paradise. You can do whatever you want! You have your own house, your own money, your own car...you can do anything there!” Little April bounces up and down with excitement.

I turn to Teenage April

“It's a place where you're loved. A place people listen to you. A place you share with the girl of your dreams who kisses you goodnight and knows all your favorite songs. Isn't that what you want?”

“I guess....”

“Then let's go! Grab your bag!”

“Which bag?” Teenage April scoffs.

“The heaviest one, the one you came here with.” I say.

“Fine.”

Teenage April leaves and comes back with a well-maintained trash bag. I can tell the weight is a lot, her arms are straining, her knuckles white.

The trio of us walk back though the landfill eventually passing back by Little April's fort.

“Go get your bag too.” I demand

Little April emerges from her fort gripping a tiny bag by the end and pulling it with all her weight trying to get it to move

The two of them look at me with shock as I pick up both bags with the greatest of ease.

“Don't open it!” They both scream in unison

“I'm not. Give me your lighter April.”

Teenage April reluctantly passes me a black Bic lighter

I flick it and hold it to the bags

They light immediately, filling the landfill with smoke

“This place is going to go up in flames real soon. I'm going to burn it to the ground. Even if we do have to come back here, it won't hurt us anymore.” I gather us around the burning bags as we hold each-others hands.

The bags ignite the others around us.

Memories flood the air

The three of us shutter as some of them scream

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!"

"ARPIL YOU'RE HURTING ME!"

"STOP WHINEING!"

Disembodied voices stir around us

I grab a tight hold of the different versions of myself and sing loud enough to distract them

“At night I'd have these wonderful dreams, some kind of sensuous treat, not zucchini fettuccine or Bulgur wheat, but a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat!”

“Cheeseburger in paradise!” The three of us sing together

“Heaven on Earth, with an onion slice. Not too particular, not too precise...”

The flames and voices reach a crescendo as I hug the the two April's as close to me as I can and close my eyes

“I'm just a cheeseburger in paradise.”

I open my eyes

No other April's

No fire

No bags

I'm in my apartment, my safe space, my home

“What was that honey?” My girlfriend asks stepping out of the other room

“Ummmm.... what?” I ask, confused.

“You mumbled something about a cheeseburger? Are you hungry? You wanna go get something to eat?” She asks.

I stand and give her a big kiss.

“Yes.” I say. “That sounds great.”

I grab my car keys as we walk out the door

“You don't mind if we listen to some Jimmy Buffet in the car do you?” I ask.

“I'm in the mood for it today.”

My girlfriend laughs.

“Of course not! Listen to whatever you want.”

I play the song as we pull out the parking lot

“Tried to amend my carnivorous habit, made it nearly 70 days...” The stereo plays

I reach over the arm-rest barrier separating me from the love of my life and place my hand on her leg

I smile the biggest my face will allow and grip the wheel

Tonight, I'm going to eat a cheeseburger in my own paradise.

I feel Little April and Teenage April light up inside of me at the very thought

Who knew being nice to yourself could be this easy?

[drabbles-mc]

Try Again

Kozik x OFC (Tawnie Trager) (ft. Dad!Tig Trager)

Request by Anon: Kozik x female reader, where reader is Tig's first daughter (bit older than the twins, called Tawnie for lols) and no-one knows they're together, until Kozik overhears Gemma question Tawnie about the hickeys - who is like "I'm not sure whether to be mad that they're there, or mad that they're not that good" and then Kozik is pretty much like, 'challenge accepted', and Tig catches them when Kozik tries to leave better ones...?

Prequel can be found Here

Warnings: language, alcohol, slight steam

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I changed it to an OFC because the prompt felt almost a little too specific to keep it as a reader-insert lol. Hope you don’t mind! Also, y’all really like seeing Kozik come within an inch of his life with Dad!Tig lmaoooo love it

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @mijop​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @kkim120​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @mayans-sauce​ @shadow-of-wonder​ (If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!)

She walked into the office with a box of files in her hands. Setting it down on Gemma’s desk, she let out a sigh. Rolling and cracking her neck, she pulled her hair back for a moment to help cool down. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead with her hair down in the middle of summer, but things had gotten a little heated the night before and Kozik had left a scattering of hickeys on the side of her neck. The rule was always to keep it below the collar but they both got a little wrapped up in things. It wasn’t a huge deal when it happened for him—he could blame it on any of the women who hung around the clubhouse. But for her it was a bit of a tougher situation.

Her father had made it clear from the get-go that she and both of her sisters were off-limits to every man in the club. Even men who were friends of the club. No one was to do so much as toss a wink or a potentially flirtatious comment their way. And for as much as she tried to tell her father that he was being ridiculous, that she was a grown woman who could and would make her own decisions, he never budged. After all, Tig had never been known for being a man to compromise.

So it was bad enough that she was sneaking behind her father’s back with someone in the club. What made it even worse was the fact that it was the one person in the MC that he couldn’t stand. She didn’t even remember how her and Kozik fell into the situation that they were in. He was always friendly with her, but he was one of the most cautious around her because he knew that Tig wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in him if he so much as thought Kozik was hitting on his daughter. And yet, somehow that flipped completely around and the two of them were sneaking off whenever the situation allowed for it.

The last few months were playing at hyper-speed in her mind as she let herself breathe for a moment in the privacy of Gemma’s office. She was staring blankly down at the box that she had just brought in, too zoned out to notice the fact that Gemma had walked in behind her.

“Well, well, well,” Gemma chuckled as she walked up behind her, “What’d you get yourself into last night, T?”

Fear shot down her spine and she instantly let her hair go, “What?”

Gemma shook her head, “Too late to hide it now, sweetheart,” she brushed her hair out of the way to get a better look at her neck, “Since you’re busted, you gotta tell me,” she leaned back against the desk, “Who done it, Tawnie?”

She rolled her eyes, “You cannot tell my dad.”

Gemma chuckled, “What Tig doesn’t know won’t hurt him. So,” she nudged Tawnie’s shoulder, “spill the beans, sweetheart.”

Kozik was about to walk in to ask Gemma about something when he heard the two of them talking. He stopped himself, lurking right outside the door. He was curious to see how the conversation was going to go—he wanted to know if Tawnie would actually confide in someone about the two of them. He’d been good, he hadn’t told a single soul about the two of them being together. It was too small of a town and word traveled way too fast. His days were numbered as it was and he didn’t want to shorten his lifespan any more than necessary by having Tig find out that he was hooking up with his daughter.

Tawnie sighed, running her hands down her face, “Kozik.”

Gemma’s eyes went wide, “Honey, why do you want him to get the shit kicked out of him?”

She laughed, “I don’t! I don’t. Please, please don’t tell my dad.”

“I won’t,” Gemma shook her head slightly, “How’d that happen, anyway?”

She shrugged, feeling the heat rise slightly in her cheeks, “I don’t really know. It all sorta just…fell together.”

“How long?”

She paused, not wanting to admit how long they’d been hiding it, “Couple months.”

“A couple months?” Gemma chuckled and shook her head, “You’ve been sneaking around for a couple months and the man still can’t leave a proper hickey?”

She laughed, giving her a playful shove, “Gemma!”

“What? I’m just saying,” she glanced at her neck, “I could leave a better one than that. And your father would be much less pissed off about it.”

“You gonna give him a how-to manual, Gemma?”

She shook her head, “That’s something he’s gotta learn on his own, sweetheart.”

She laughed, “Is that something you’d like updates on?”

Gemma smiled as she fixed Tawnie’s hair, covering back up the marks on her neck, “You won’t need to tell me—I’ll see it for myself.”

There were a few beats of silence before she spoke up again, “Thank you for, y’know, not ratting me out to my dad.”

She smiled, “The girls gotta stick together.”

Taking that as her cue to leave, Tawnie made her way towards the office door. Kozik heard the sound of her footsteps and tried to back off enough so that it wouldn’t seem obvious that he was waiting right outside the door for her. Despite the distance, though, his face gave him away. She could tell from his expression that he was trying to cover for himself, which meant that he had most definitely heard her conversation with Gemma. She felt a little bad, but she also wanted to see what he was going to say.

“Oh, hey,” she smiled, tilting her head slightly, “You good?”

He nodded, “Yea, I’m…I’m good. Is, uh, is Gemma in there?”

So he was going to play it off for the time being. Two could play at that game. She nodded, “Yea, just got in.”

“Alright, cool. Thanks. I’ll see you later?”

She nodded, “Yea of course. You gonna be around tonight for the party?”

“Are you?”

She smiled, “I think so.”

A smirk passed over his face for a moment, “Then I think so too.”

The day went by quickly. She kept herself busy with random things around the garage and the clubhouse. Normally she’d be getting her hands dirty working on whatever needed repairs, but if she couldn’t tie her hair back out of the way, she wasn’t even going to bother. It would’ve been more trouble than it was worth.

She was helping bring in a few cases of beer as people started showing up for the party. It was dark out by that point, music and loud conversations already starting to flow out through the walls of the clubhouse. She smiled and shook her head to herself as she bumped the door open with her hip.

“T,” Jax appeared on the other side of the bar from her and gave his most charming smile, “grab me a beer, please?”

She rolled her eyes but did as he asked. She popped the top off of it before handing it to him, “I’m not a bartender, Teller.”

“If you’re on that side of the bar, you’re a bartender. Those are the rules.”

She laughed and shook her head before grabbing a beer for herself, “Guess you can carry your own shit in next time.”

Making her way back to the side of the bar that wouldn’t land her with more responsibilities, she looked around the clubhouse. Everyone was hanging out having a good time. A few of the guys were playing pool, and some of them already had women draped over their laps. She chuckled as she sat herself down on a stool at the bar. Pressing the beer bottle to her lips, she silently looked for Kozik in the midst of the chaos.

They locked eyes from across the room. He was sitting on the sofa, one of the women from Cara Cara tucked underneath his arm. She almost felt herself getting jealous, but when he smiled at her all of those feelings faded away. They both knew that the price of keeping their relationship a secret was having to allow a certain amount of flirtation from the people around them. He never got too close with any of the women who hung around the clubhouse, but he couldn’t be too cold and dismissive without at least one of the guys giving him shit about it.

Tawnie refused to break eye contact as she took a long drink from her beer bottle. She could see it in his eyes that even though the party had barely started, he already wanted to leave with her. She would’ve been up for that, too, if he asked. But she knew that he wouldn’t. She contented herself with keeping an eye on everyone around her.

Tig walked up, throwing a loving arm around his daughter’s shoulders, “How you doin’, doll?”

She chuckled and leaned against him for a moment, giving him a side-hug, “I’m good, Dad. Enjoying the party?”

“Always,” he laughed, “But are you?”

She chuckled, nodding, “You know me—I’m more than happy to just sit back and watch everyone else get into trouble.”

“Good way to stay out of it.”

“Exactly,” she gave him a playful nudge, “Go keep the boys in line, alright?”

He smiled, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head, “Love you, T.”

“Love you too,” she laughed as he took off into the fray of things.

Once the party had really gotten underway, Kozik made his way over to her. It felt safer to be closer when there was so much else going on around them—they weren’t on anyone’s radar. He leaned in close so that only she could hear him. At first it was just jokes, off-hand comments about what was going on around them. She’d laugh and shake her head, and Kozik could swear that he’d never heard a better sound.

“Think we could sneak out for a bit?” he asked.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh?”

He nodded, “Yea,” he pushed her hair back behind her shoulder, “because apparently I have some work to make up for.”

Heat rushed to her face and she wanted to hide behind her hands. Even though she knew that he had heard the conversation with Gemma, talking about it was an entirely different thing. She looked up at him, a nervous smile on her face.

“I didn’t say—”

“Don’t even,” he laughed and shook his head.

She laughed as well, knowing that there was no trying to soften the blow to his ego. He seemed to be handling it just fine, though. They both looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them before sneaking back towards the dorms.

Once they were in the hall, out of the main cluster of the clubhouse, Kozik instantly had his hands all over her. He walked up behind her, sliding his hands up her sides beneath her top. Without thinking about it, she melted back into him, reaching back with one hand to trail her fingers down the side of his face. His fingers gripped onto her side as he kissed along her shoulder. He spun her around so that her chest was pressed against his, pushing her back against the wall.

He crashed his lips into hers as he pinned her to the wall. She gripped the edges of his kutte and attempted to pull him as close as she possibly could. They knew it was reckless to not even bother waiting to get to his dorm, but she wasn’t in the mood to be telling him to stop. Any and all responsible thoughts left her brain the second he bit down on her bottom lip.

He pulled his lips off of hers, trailing them down along her jaw and peppering her with kisses all along the way. She couldn’t help but to smile as he placed a kiss on her neck, “Gonna give it another shot?”

His laughter vibrated against her skin, “I feel like I have to. Can’t let Gemma disrespect me like that.”

She laughed and was about to make a smart remark when she felt his teeth against the sensitive skin of her neck. Her fingers wound their way into his hair, eyes fluttering shut as his hand slipped up the front of her shirt as he continued to suck a dark mark into the side of her throat. His name was about to fall from her lips in a quiet moan when their moment was interrupted.

“What the fuck is this?” Tig snapped, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

Kozik immediately backpedaled, nearly plastering himself against the opposite wall from Tig’s daughter. Tawnie’s face was flushed, hair and shirt a mess as she tried to look anywhere but into the eyes of her dad. She knew it was their own doing, but she still didn’t want to have to have this conversation with him.

“You’re a dead motherfucker,” within a split second Tig was charging at Kozik,

“Dad!” Tawnie jumped in, barely being able to wedge herself between the two men before serious damage was done, “Dad, stop!” she shoved him backwards with all the strength she could muster.

Tig’s chest was heaving as he looked down at his daughter, “What the fuck, T?”

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see,” she sounded much more confident than she really felt.

“This,” he pointed at Kozik, “is not a good choice, Tawnie.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!”

Kozik’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two Tragers. It wasn’t often that he saw Tawnie get heated and defensive about things. He’d certainly never pictured her speaking like that to her own father. He wanted to step in and say something but he had the feeling that that was only going to make it worse.

“And you,” Tig’s eyes bored into his, “what the fuck are you thinking?!”

It was hard to try and sound tough when Tawnie was the only thing standing between him and getting his ass beat. He still tried, though. He rested his hands protectively on her shoulders and looked directly into Tig’s eyes.

“I’m think that she’s right. That you don’t get to make that decision for us.”

“For us?” Tig stepped in closer, his blood boiling.

“I’m an adult, Dad,” Tawnie was shaking her head, “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you get to criticize who I’m seeing when you were about to bring some random woman back to your dorm,” she cocked one eyebrow.

That got Tig to recoil a bit. He hooked his thumbs onto his belt-loops, trying to figure out what he wanted his next move to be. After a few moments of incredibly tense silence, he looked back at his daughter, “We aren’t done talking about this.”

Before she could try to give any kind of sass in return, Tig turned around and headed back towards the main part of the clubhouse, the woman he was about to whisk away following suit. Tawnie let out a deep sigh of relief as she leaned back against Kozik, taking comfort in the feeling of his arms draped over her shoulders as he kissed the top of her forehead.

“Did you think you were gonna die?” she laughed.

He chuckled, loosely wrapping his arms around her neck as he pulled her back against him, “For a second, yea.”

“My last resort would’ve been telling him that Gemma told you to do it,” she tilted her head back so she could look up at him.

He smiled down at her, “I kinda wish that you did, just so we could see his reaction.”

“He still might’ve killed you.”

“Maybe,” he sighed as he rested his forehead lightly against the back of her head.

“Does this mean you’re going to bail on your redemption plans?”

He slid his hands down so that they were resting on her hips again. Without a word he turned her and began pushing her down the hall in the direction of his dorm. She laughed as she let herself be guided down the row of doors.

“I don’t give up that easy,” he laughed quietly as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

[missanthropicprinciple]

A Tale of Elio and My Fixation with Lovable Androids

TL;DR Feel free to scroll past this unless you’re keen to read my ramblings about androids, Neoclassical art, children’s lit, and bad science fiction movies. 

Since the late 1990s one of my favourite books has been A Tale of Time City (1989) by Diana Wynne Jones. It’s a mildly confusing story but engaging, with memorable characters, including the android Elio, pictured above - my own fan art from a few years ago. Studio Ghibli really needs to make this film if no one does a live-action version, seeing as they brought Jones’ novel Howl’s Moving Castle to life. Here’s a scan of my favourite edition with mesmerizing cover art by Richard Bober.

This book inspired me so much I’ve done research on it. I wasn’t in a class in grad school that allowed me to write about it so I took it on as a casual independent project in 2019. Two days after my dad died of cancer I was scheduled to present my paper on Elio from ATOTC. Needless to say I was not able to finish writing the essay. I told the department coordinator I would likely not attend but I would let him know. He was seriously surprised that I showed up. I must have looked like a ghost - wearing a nice top, skirt, tights, and short heels. I was still in total shock but I thought I might as well press on. My paper’s working tile remains as it was: Elio: Android Autonomy and the Personification of the Sun God. I presented a long bullet point list of working ideas and research done up until that point. My work is still on the broad side because it’s an intersection of young adult fiction, Neoclassic art, and android autonomy; I have some narrowing to do. Here are my main arguments thus far: 

Firstly, the android character Elio’s physical characteristics and personality are inspired by Helios, the Hellenistic Greek god and personification of the sun. Apparently, Elio is a Spanish name meaning sun and also an Italian given name referring to the element helium, originally derived from the Greek name of the sun-god Helios. 

Secondly, Elio and Helios share more than an etymological connection and the comparison of Elio to Helios can be articulated in two distinct ways: the aesthetic comparison, and that Elio possesses some of the qualities Helios is known for. Jones’ work repeatedly associates Elio with sunlight and golden hues, aspects which are exemplified in the 1765 Neoclassical painting Helios as the Personification of Midday by Anton Raphael Mengs. (I vaguely remember translating a couple passages from a large art book written in German when I was studying Neoclassical art.) 

This work is considered an unusual depiction of Helios. Mengs uses a motif of the glowing arrow which is interpreted by François-Xavier Fabre as a symbol of the midday heat and the sun's rays which penetrate and give light to the earth. The representation of the sun in this way is considered unusual for the 18th century because it goes against Classical and Baroque iconography which portrays Helios riding a chariot. Ironically, Jones references this. Elio proclaims his fondness for films, particularly the chariot race from Ben Hur. Elio, like Mengs’ depiction of Helios, lacks a chariot but retains his beauty and powers.

As for Elio possessing some of the qualities of Helios, the god is often referred to as “all seeing” or “Zeus’s eye.” Similarly, Elio has the ability to anticipate problems and see what humans do not, but not because he’s a god, but because he’s a servant. However, this is where his self governing comes into play when he uses his observations to take action beyond any directives he has been given. His physical strength, like Helios, exceeds that of humans. Elio himself says, “my utmost is more than twice that of a born-human” (Jones, 211).

Thirdly, Elio’s self awareness allows him to use both his powers of observation and superior physical strength independent from humans. He does not always wait to be told how to use his power; he wields it. Not only does he play a part equal to that of humans in Jones’ plot, he specifically controls the fates of certain human characters. For example, he doesn’t always utilize his speed when he’s at the beck and call of his master, Sempitern. He makes choices not to fully comply with the demands made of him.

My fourth point, which I can’t quite articulate well, is that the most significant dynamic of this comparison is the body of Elio and how his physicality interacts with his autonomy. Elio acts as an individual who contributes to a wider mythology just as Helios does. Yet, while Elio is superior to humans in many ways, his quasi-humanity allows him to act in ways which align with Helios’ qualities.

For example, Elio makes personal choices and exhibits emotions not necessary for him, as an android, to function. He confesses a desire to harm another android out of annoyance where a passionate opinion would not be expected from an android. This human failing is indicative of the same autonomy which allows him to act as Helios does. Elio has been constructed as a superhuman body in terms of his abilities, however, the human qualities which contribute to his Helios-like powers undermine his intended purpose. 

Ultimately, Elio ascends the usefulness of his “owned” body by acting independently from the humans who utilize him. His human qualities make him vulnerable and therefore he loses some of his godlike powers. Elio, while only an assistant to his human owners, utilizes his own physical and mental powers to maintain his autonomy. Conversely, his god-like qualities make Elio more human rather than affirming his android identity.

This is a very complex subject and I don’t really know where I’m going with it and have possibly made some suppositional errors. TL;DR: What I do know is that Elio presents a paradox: being idealized for his abilities allows him to be autonomous while being autonomous disrupts the servitude of his body.

I am in the process of determining what lens I will use to analyze Elio’s experience and functionality of being an android. I’m thinking about using Alan Turning’s 1950 work Computing Machinery and Intelligence. I’m still navigating the literary theory aspect, or indeed philosophical aspect, of this area of study. 

This brings me to something I came across later that relates to Elio and ATOTC. 

SPOILERS AHEAD

The closest depiction of an android that I’ve seen to Elio other than Data is from a terrible and somewhat forgotten science fiction film from 1989. “Byron”, (played by pre-Jurassic Park-fame Bob Peck) the android in the painfully awful film Slipstream comes very close to Elio in terms of tone, attitude, and characterization. Despite the embarrassingly bad script and dialogue, Peck does a bang-up job, seemingly acting in a wonderful film running parallel to the absolute trash his co-stars were apparently “acting” in. Yes, I rewatched this film just to write this analysis. (The secondhand embarrassment is off the charts and I had it playing at a low volume most of the time Byron was not on the screen.)

When you first see Byron he’s acting out autonomy but you’re not aware he’s an android. The audience is told he’s an escaped fugitive, a murderer, and that’s all we know for over half the film. Yet there are several clues. When you first see him he’s running over rugged terrain in a suit which was kind of a big hint but nothing makes sense in this film so I just thought that it was a weird costume choice. Then he’s literally shot with a grappling hook. He doesn’t seem to be in pain even though he’s shocked by it, and then is pulled down by a bounty hunter named Tasker (Mark Hamill) and hits the ground from a great height and doesn’t die. He just quotes what I think is John Gillespie Magee, Jr.’s "High Flight”: “I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth….and touched the face of God.” Next time you see him, he’s in handcuffs, looking super depressed, and apparently not bleeding out from the now absent grapple hook that’s gone through his forearm. 

He eventually quotes Lord Byron to cryptically indicate his name which is lost on Bill Paxton’s character, Matt. “Byron” essentially means cowshed. It’s ironic because Byron the android is in many ways a receptacle of knowledge. Matt even says sarcastically, “Well aren’t you a walking storeroom of information,” and Byron responds cheerfully, “Yes.” 

Byron breaks out of his handcuffs saying they’d “become rather superfluous.” You think he’s just showing off but once you know he’s an android you know he’s just honest all the time. He then heals a blind child and paraphrases Psalm 127:3. Matt says, “I didn’t know you were a healer.” Apparently Byron can perform cataract surgery in less than five minutes. Along their journey together (Bill is set on collecting the bounty on Byron’s head before Tasker can catch up) they camp out. Byron sleeps with his eyes open. (Even if he is an android wouldn’t his eyes need to be “cleaned” in the same way humans need to close our eyes and blink?) Matt wakes up to find Byron seemingly strangling him. “I was feeling your carotid pulse,” he explains. “I was just checking for arrhythmia and episodes of ventricular tachycardia.” At this point you realize he’s not so much a spiritual healer as a doctor who philosophizes a lot. 

Byron’s miraculous behavior and pontificating is called into question by a nomadic spiritual community which has been torn apart by an attack on their village. As he lays dying, Ben Kingsley’s character calls Byron a “false prophet” but his faith in this stranger is somewhat restored when he says, “all that will be left of me is bits of gold in the sand. You have a soul, do not abandon it in death.” 

Another character says, “The stranger is no mortal man.” Therefore it is clear that Byron likely isn’t human. We don’t find out he’s an android until 46 minutes into the film. Once that’s cleared up, other concepts arise in the script. While not well executed, they are really interesting; emotion both positive and negative, free will, perfection, A.I. slavery, and murder are all addressed throughout the second half of the film. Byron says he doesn’t understand “hate” in context of his “master” to whom he was nurse, brother, father, mentor, and friend, but he admits he was more of a slave than anything else. 

The character Ariel takes an interest in him for a variety of reasons, especially romantically. In one very evocative moment we see Byron in a museum exhibit, a false garden of Eden, full of fake vegetation and taxidermies, full body mounts. So we’ve got an android having an Adam experience. Whether or not he experiences “original sin” with Ariel or if he’s “fully functional” is never acknowledged. Although one woman says, “Amanda slept with a robot?!” (who the f**k is Amanda?!) and a man says to another sitting next to him, “I hear they’re rather mechanical in the saddle.” 

Byron is less concerned with consummation and more excited about love, sleep, and dreaming. When he is with Ariel he doesn’t quite know how to act in terms of sexual play and then apologizes: “I’m not accustomed to being loved.” We see him closing his eyes when he’s cuddled up with Ariel; the next day he is certainly very pleased that he fell asleep with his eyes closed and had a dream. 

In terms of his servitude and autonomy they did not spend an adequate portion of the exposition on it. Matt has a change of heart and says instead of collecting the bounty, he’ll set him free as it’s briefly revealed that Byron killed his “master” upon the man’s request. Naturally, this brings up a lot of confusing feelings for Byron. “Is this what it’s like to be human? I don’t think I’m up to it,” he says. “Can I be trusted with human feelings?” And in a way he cannot. Ariel is brutally shot by Tasker.

Byron is angered over Ariel’s death and follows the bounty hunter to his ship. Instead of taking him in to collect a reward, Tasker tries to run him down with the glider plane. Byron manages to get himself caught in the engine and starts to strangle his assailant. Tasker quotes “touched the face of god” which brings Byron to his senses and he stops killing Luke Skywalker Tasker and tries to save the plane. It looks like he’s going to hot-wire it but then uses the wires like reins (chariot imagery???). They crash into the side of a mountain slope. Tasker dies but Byron survives. Apparently he’s basically indestructible and somewhat godlike. “I’m too dangerous to be human,” Byron tells Matt. In the end, he goes off in search of the place he’d been dreaming about. 

Although in terms of physical appearance the two androids are vastly different, they have so much in common. Here are some basic concepts. 

Character: Both are stoic, formal, intelligent, honest

Indestructible: Byron is injured with a grappling hook, takes a major fall of about 20 or 30 feet without a scratch: he is somewhat godlike or slave-like, meant to withstand destruction and pain. Elio is less indestructible but easily repaired.

Healer: Byron has the skills to heal people with basic surgery. Elio doesn’t take his own injuries seriously and experiences pain for the first time (Jones, 218-9).

Both think they deserve to be punished: Elio states this quite clearly (Jones, 276) and Byron says the same thing about himself with resigned passivity.

Complex relationship with “human emotions”: Both come to terms with violence, anger, and love.

Autonomy: At the end of the film Byron goes off on his own to look for a promised land. Elio decides his own fate by deciding to accompany the children of the story, stating that Vivian is a “particular favorite” of his (278). 

Dreaming and stories: Byron is searching for a place, “where I think I belong,” he says, which is a place he often thinks and dreams about. Dreaming is considered to be a human attribute, a non-essential bi-product to consciousness. Elio enjoys stories and old films (Jones, 180), similarly “human” in nature. 

(Peck, seen here waiting for Bill Paxton to learn how to act. Sorry, I’m salty.)

Disclaimer: This is a work in progress! This project is an intersection of niche subjects that interest no one but myself. 

Anyway, my point is (yes, I did have a point...or rather several) was that if anyone should adapt A Tale of Time City, Byron from Slipstream is the best example of how Elio should be portrayed in terms of characterization. I feel that Slipstream should have been centered around Byron. The film was kind of like, just about the “we’re both fighting over the bounty of this fugitive” sorta thing. It would have made more sense to focus on Byron as he is arguably the most interesting character and represents many of the conflicts within the story. I would like to combine my research on ATOTC and Slipstream one day. In any case, this is a good start. 

Works Cited (WIP) 

Jones, Diana W. A Tale of Time City: Knopf, 1987. Print. Perkowitz, Sidney. Digital People: From Bionic Humans to Androids. Washington, D.C: Joseph Henry Press, 2004. Print.

Roettgen, Steffi, and Anton R. Mengs. Anton Raphael Mengs: 1728-1779 Part 2. München: Hirmer, 1999. Print.

Turing, A. M. “Computing Machinery and Intelligence.” Mind, vol. 59, no. 236, 1950, pp. 433–460. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/2251299. Wilson, Eric. The Melancholy Android: On the Psychology of Sacred Machines. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006. Print