#the kids are not fine and will make the world an actively worse place for the sake of their own self image.

[snekdood]

i think being raised by smartphones, not facing consequences for bullying, and being shit at school has made a lot of gen z genuinely evil

[umbrellacam]

Azrael: Agent of the Bat #56 - No Man's Land Dick: "Scared, kid?" Tim: "Not really. A little nervous, I guess." Tim: "Who am I kidding? I'm scared. I feel like those soldiers must have felt right before D-Day." Dick: "D-Day, as in World War Two? You must stay awake in history class." Tim: "We're only up to the Spanish-American War, but I saw the Spielberg movie. Really bloody." Dick: "I hope it doesn't get that bad." Tim: "It won't, will it?" Tim: "Will it?"

Okay, several things I enjoy about this moment.

1. I'm just being so well-fed in terms of great Dick & Tim interactions in this era. Cataclysm, Brotherhood of the Fist, Road to NML, breaking into NML in Robin #67 with classic annoying-older-brother!Dick and Tim panicking about his safety when Dick does a quick death fake-out (typical, honestly lol)... And now with an introspective moment to themselves in the calm before the storm - in Azrael's book no less, lol! I wonder if this came from Dennis O'Neil as something he wanted to include or if it was collaboratively planned as a building-tension moment by the writing/editing teams plotting NML.

2. Tim confiding in Dick my beloved <3 But also - Tim lying at first that he's not really scared, before deciding to just be honest. He has these moments of such earnestness at times (not only with Dick (also YJ, Bruce, Steph, Cass), but often) and they're even more striking because of how prone he is to lying, secrecy, glossing over things and pretending to be fine, etc. most of the time.

He's still pretty young here, barely 15 if that, and his tendencies definitely get worse over time, but he's already wrestled with lying to his Dad, Ariana, Steph, and his other friends, already pretended to be fine to Dick's face in Contagion and Legacy when he was actively dying or under threat of doing so again, refused to tell his Dad he was ever even sick, lied to Bruce's face about Secret, etc... It just sticks out to me so much whenever he chooses to go - yeah, okay, I'll be open with you right now even if it makes me vulnerable.

3. Dick not answering him!! Is that last panel, where we can't see him over Tim's shoulder even though he's positioned right behind him in the others, implying that Dick straight up vanished in order to avoid having to lie or be vulnerable himself lmfao? (I mean, probably not, but the thought is v. funny.)

On the other hand, Dick's silence as a type of honesty and vulnerability in and of itself... We know that as much as Dick likes teasing Tim, he also likes to comfort him, to be that figure of strength and reassurance to him. For him to be the one asking Tim if he's scared in the first place, and then not be able to scrape up anything more than "yeah, hope it doesn't get as bad as literal D-Day" and foreboding silence when Tim admits that he is scared...

It makes me think of that contrasting moment in Murderer/Fugitive later on, where Dick does tell Tim the comforting lie, that he'll always be safe with Batman and Nightwing, that everything will be okay, and desperately wants Tim to believe it.

No such comforting lies in No Man's Land, apparently.

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Hii, I have a lil request for slasher & child!reader. It’s a little bit personal, sorry haha.

Do you think you could write something with a child reader who has anemia? It’s sometimes literally just called “lack of blood,” so you can get an idea of how crappy it is to have.

It makes it really hard to breathe and makes my heart beat abnormally faster compared to people who don’t have it, and lots of chest pain. It also causes extreme cases of fatigue and headaches, and I have fainted because of it before.

I feel like having anemia would be a big struggle for slashers, (what with having to constantly run, lift thing, being real active) so they’d def feel upset that their kid has it.

There’s a lot more stuff, but you get the idea. Sorry if this one’s a bit more personal

No, no. It's perfectly fine. I hope you're doing well, I'm sorry if I made the condition sound worse than it is. Apologies for my ignorance.

And take care of yourself, anon. 🏹❤‍🔥

Cw:

Relation: platonic.

Slashers in this: Michael, Jason, thomas, bubba (sorry I couldn't write for billy & stu and sinclair twins)

Slashers x anemic! child! reader

Michael

It didn't bother him that much, but it did worry him. He didn't particularly have to worry about running... Well you running because he'd prefer you stay at your parents' house when he does murder but if you don't have any.... Well, he would rather carry you to safety if you're having trouble anyways. He'll survive. With Michael, there's always a home but never a home to stay at though.

he doesn't like standing and observing you whenever he notices you're having trouble breathing and when you clutch your chest in pain. He doesn't know what to do and he wishes he does.

Do you need.. What were those things again? Inhalers? He witnessed a few people use it when their breathing was erratic and rough so he wonders if you need it too. But for now he'll rub your back and hope it helps to support you emotionally that you're not alone and he's here. Whatever you need him to get, tell him and he'll try his best. Supplements? Give him an hour. I think he knows a pharmacy somewhere that he can break into. And don't even try to refuse them, he won't have it.

Since you're a child he worries this might be too hard for you – and he hopes it won't be the end of the world for your life anytime soon.

You're tired? That's fine, sleep on the couch or floor. Anywhere, he doesn't care. Just not on him. (You can convince him if you try hard enough.) He doesn't care if you nap 3 times a day, sleeping is good for you and helps you grow. Or so he heard. He doesn't even sleep that much anyways – your deadly father figure Michael approves. What he doesn't approve of are the headaches you get, the more painful they seem the more frustrated he gets. God dammit, why is your life so difficult? Where are the painkillers again?

Okay so the real panic sets in the first time you passed out in front of him. Fuck, did you die?

He's shaking your body slightly and pressing his ear up your chest, letting out a silent sigh when he hears your faint heartbeat. He gently lifts your body and places it on the couch – he sits beside you, watching you over like a hawk. Michael can't believe it. Never in his life had he thought he'd look after and stress for someone this hard - especially not a child. You must be absolutely insane if you think he's the type to care for one and yet here he is, listening carefully for your breath to hitch and your eyelids to be open.

He sighs, why can't he just murder peacefully? He's questioning everything. But he'll get used to it eventually. Sometimes he acts like you're a burden on his shoulders and a source of meaningless grey hairs but that's not exactly how he feels. It's.. Different.

But never hesitate to trouble him, not even when he comes back after 2 all nighters.

Jason

He is always so scared that one day your body might give up and die. The thing he stresses really hard about is that he can't give you the supplements and things you need. He's in the middle of buttfuck nowhere in the woods but he does know where the end of the woods are and he's kind of willing to step into civilization if it gets really bad, he really doesn't want to see his kid in pain and do nothing about it. He's not going to Manhattan again though. Always extra painstaking when he takes care of you and makes sure you don't need to use your body as much.

Anytime someone enters the camp he's immediately shoving you somewhere safe and deals with whoever trespassed himself. Although he's in immense discomfort when you have your headaches and difficulty in breathing. He's begging for his mom for help in his mind what he can do to ease whatever pain you're growing through.

Although Jason doesn't need to eat, he knows you do. So he searches for fish in nearby lakes (if there are even any) and he gets nuts, whatever is rich in iron. He'll get em for you.

Secretly hopes that people do trespass into camp crystal Lake. Those who happen to carry iron vitamins and supplements that is. He feels extremely relieved after going through the bags of one of the victims he's beheaded and finding a bottle, happily handing it to you and if you don't want to consume it he's very gently shoving it down your throat. Nope, you're going to eat this and that's final. Mama pam says so.

Sighs and lays you down when your chest starts hurting and stays by your side. Why do you have to go through so much? He thinks as he rubs your hair and waits for it to go away so you both can carry on whatever you were doing. Because of this, he doesn't allow you to lift the wood that he's chopped. If you insist it's either he stays stubborn or he allows you to carry the thin ones one at a time. You don't have to help him, and while he appreciates the thought. He would rather you stay inside and be safe.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn't catch on that this act of overprotectiveness and treating you as if you were made of bubble might upset you. Tilting his head to the side slightly as he watches you sulk in the corner in both frustration and feeling of being heavily underestimated. He really doesn't mean any harm. A little confused but Jason's got the spirit.

Panicks really hard every time you faint, his mind always wanders to the worst possible case scenario and assumes you have died. Incredibly frustrated since he's technically dead and a lot of his senses don't work properly. He's losing his touch and things are getting a bit hard to hear. Ear pressed hard against your chest, hoping his eardrums will be met with the thrum of your heartbeat and his fingers checking for your pulse, waiting to feel the throb upon his skin.

Got used to you getting fatigued and actually encourages you to sleep. It's better than following him outside of the cabins and into the woods where you risk getting bear trapped. Strict, very strict.

Thomas

Thomas is already very grateful for his family but he's even more grateful for them right now cause he would have no idea what to do without them. It depends, whether you're blood related or illegally adopted he will get used to it eventually. This ain't the craziest the family has dealt with.

He brushes you off whenever you try to help him carry things, what if you get dizzy and get headaches again? No! He won't have it. He carries you in his arms and sits you down somewhere. You can sit on top of his shoulders if you'd like.

Gets especially anxious when there are people comin in. He knows you won't particularly be targeted nor would the family allow you to exert yourself, but if something goes wrong? You have to run, and then your breathing will get roughed and- he doesn't want to think about it. But it does stay on his mind a lot. He makes sure to reassure you however he can when Hoyt makes you feel like you're a hindrance to the family, he doesn't know what he's talking about, is what Thomas tries his best to tell you. 'He's just scared.' He thinks and pats your head.

Heard from mama mae that meat, dark green vegetables and nuts will help raise your iron. (Assuming that he has been somewhat educated on your condition.) And then from now he will pester you to consume those. You don't wanna eat the meat? Why not? But fine, eat your veggies and nuts then.

Iron supplements? What are those?

Your chances of getting them are pretty low, I'm not sure if there's a pharmacy or clinic nearby but fingers crossed Hoyt might get in that damn truck and drive to get them for you if he feels nice enough. Tommy's not allowed out into the public.

Frowns a little when he cuddles you in his lap for you to fall asleep and feels your hands are cold. Why are they so cold?, hell why are you so cold? It's not even winter yet. Oh but when winter does come he's smothering your body with lots of layers. Will add more layers if you fall sick. And no, that's not up for debate.

When you faint he'll first stare at your unconscious body in shock before picking you up and putting you down on the couch, he puts his hand in front of your nostrils and feels air hitting his fingers. With a relieved sigh he patiently waits for you to wake up. Not too alarmed.

It's a different story when you're in pain, his heart breaks a little when your chest hurts and your head aches. You want water? Give him a break, he's trying his best.

Bubba

Out of this list, he's the one to handle this the worst when one of your more serious side effects takes place. And it really doesn't help that his family kinda don't know what to do either. They can try to help but it probably won't work that much.

It's lowkey over for you.

It also depends. All he knows is that something is wrong with you; you get dizzy, your breathing gets all incorrect, your chest hurts and you (guessing because of the rougher environment) faint a few times too much to what he'd prefer. Absolutely clueless.

Although you do have more of a leverage if you have at least somewhat knowledge about your condition. (Reading books or you were adopted and knew it beforehand way back prior to when bubba killed your parents.) This way Bubba can learn and know what to expect, he's very much happy to learn about you and take care of you to the best of his abilities.

Quite sad actually that you can't properly take part in revving the chainsaw and chainsawing people. Though the times that you can are when the victim is tied down and helpless. It's up to you whether or not you want to partake in it, though you don't have much of a choice. The family's set on tradition and won't understand why if you don't want to; 'you WILL be killing people with this chainsaw! I'm sick of this phase of yours!' 'It's not a phase.'

Seeing you faint will almost send Bubba to tears, hell, maybe it did already. He's just shaking your body while whining and babbling incoherently. After the whole incident he'll rarely ever let you out of his sight, great, now he's dragging you everywhere.

There will be a lot of problems being in the Sawyer family. But at least you're still alive... Right?

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

i cherish you, halcyon days (gojou satoru x reader)

“you’re gonna die, kid. in the worst way possible. but because i like you so much, i’ll let you ask three questions about it.” you’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. you’re 17 when you realize who your killer will be. and you’re a day away from turning 19 when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

tags: gn!reader, annoyance to friends to lovers, you and gojou share a birthday month and you're not amused, it's canon that jujutsu school curriculum last 4 years so don't say nothin' when i mention 4th year students, now a multi-chaptered fic read here

[2005. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ー 1st year]

Do you like Gojou Satoru?

If someone were to ask you that, you would have to answer ‘no’. You’d answer ‘no’ even if no one asked. Gojou Satoru is impossible for you to like from his stupid sunglasses to his shit-eating grins. Even worse is his arrogance. It’s only an additional sprinkle of salt in the wound when you found out later in the year that he was rich, part of some big name clan in the world of jujutsu you yourself were only scouted into.

I don’t like him at all.

You’re the odd man out in your class, though. Despite your less than stellar review of the boy, your classmates, Suguru and Shoko, got along just fine with him.

To spite you even further, it seemed the universe enjoyed pinning the two of you together as well.

It wasn’t enough for the universe to have you both in the same school, year and class. No, you even shared a birthday month.

Gojou’s December 7th to your December 9th.

The week of your shared births, Gojou was especially intolerable. “You’re the baby of the class,” he’d taunt gleefully like he wasn’t only two days older than you. 

To cut on time and effort, your teacher and classmates decided that from 1st year on, December 8th would be the day both of your birthdays were celebrated. And thus, December 8th was 'Satoru and [First] Day'. Your cake was his cake and present unwrapping was a joint activity.

By the gods, I wanna punch him so much.

At the very least, you can rest easy in knowing the fact that the feelings of dislike are mutual.

Gojou Satoru is strong, it’s an irrefutable fact no matter how much you’d like to deny it. He’s strong and in turn, the strong are the only ones Gojou respects. You apparently don’t make the cut.

And that’s fine. Strength came in all sorts of ways. You disliked Gojou Satoru but you could live with the fact that, at the very least, you were going to be stuck together for four years. Because even if he was strong, life sometimes paid you back with small moments of grace where someone put the golden boy of the Gojou Clan in his place.

You thought it was one of those days when you met Takamatsu Akira. It was a week before your birthday when he told you were going to die.

You raise an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name, “who?” It’s lunch at Jujutsu Tech and you’re eating with your classmates when Shoko name dropped a person you never heard of. “Never heard of ‘em.”

“He’s a sorcerer that can see glimpses of a person’s future when he looks at them,” Suguru answers in her stead over a sip of his oi ocha. “He’s apparently at the school today for some sort of meeting.

"Hands off the goods," your eyes widen in amazement as you quickly smack away Gojou’s hand from your lunch. “Really? And it’s all accurate too?”

“He’s a major asshole, though,” the white-haired boy hisses with a pout. You roll your eyes. I’m not sure how reliable your words are if you of all people are calling someone an asshole. Your incredulousness must show on your face because Gojou’s next words are, “seriously! He only tells people he thinks have interesting futures anything about it.”

“And?”

“Satoru’s just mad because apparently his future isn’t interesting,” Suguru smirks, smugly welcoming his best friend’s unamused side eye. “He told me about mine though.”

You bite back a snort when your curiosity to know Suguru's fortune wins. “What did he say about it?”

Suguru touched his chin thoughtfully, recalling back the day he met the seer. “He said that one day I’ll be stuck at a crossroads between two paths and make a life changing decision,” he pauses dramatically and you lean forward in anticipation. “That’s all he told me though.”

Damn it.

The brown-eyed boy chuckles but he shoots you a look of amused sympathy, “he never really tells you too much about it apparently. I was disappointed too.”

“Did he ever tell you anything about your future, Shoko?” You ask your class’ resident slacker.

Shoko shook her head, bob gently moving with her. “I’m one of the boring ones too,” she says with a lazy wave of her hand. “Like Gojou.”

“Don’t worry, my friends,” Suguru places a hand over his chest and bows with far too much grace and humility. “I alone will shoulder the burden of having an interesting future. Unlike Satoru.”

You choke, unable to stop yourself from chortling this time. Whatever Gojou sputters in his self-defense, you don’t hear it over the sound of your own laughter. “Maybe he’ll tell me about my future too,” you sigh when your giggles subside. You sincerely doubt it, but it’s fun to think about the possibilities. I want an interesting life plot twist, like the reveal I’m actually a long-lost member of some royal family he just won’t tell me which one.

“He’ll probably stop by because you’re here,” Shoko rests her chin on her palm. You were the newest in your class, starting a month later than the rest. “He likes seeing if new students will have interesting futures ahead of them.”

“Don’t get too excited, [First],” Gojou quickly rains on your parade with a lot of arrogance for someone whose future is apparently so boring a seer won’t even talk to him about it. “I’m the most interesting person in this place and he won’t even talk to me. So who knows what sort of reaction you’ll get.”

“Oh quit being bitter that your future is gonna be boring, asshole,” before any other quips and gripes can be exchanged, the class door slides open abruptly. You look over with a start, wondering if it’s your teacher when you see it isn’t. The man is a bit younger than Yaga but his hair is already graying and his eyes are a deep green reminiscent of pine trees. You have a feeling you already know who it is and grin. “You wouldn’t happen to be Takamatsu Akira, would you? Gojou here was telling me about his boring future soー” you stop yourself with a shudder when you blinked and realized that man was in front of your face and much too close for comfort.

“Now that is something,” the man blinks owlishly, eyes almost glowing in his amazement.

Your discomfort flies away faster than a seagull with someone else’s lunch, “really?”

The man leans back with a grin and a snap of his fingers, “really, really.”

With that you look at Gojou and stick out your tongue and he sticks his tongue in return. 

[First] 1, Gojou 0. 

Suguru chuckles and Shoko grins and all the while, Gojou Satoru flicks your forehead too quickly for you to react. “Look, hater, it isn’t my fault that your future’s boring, quit trying to rain on my parade,” you snicker, batting your eyelashes. “Mr. Takamatsu, I’d really appreciate it if you could tell me about my future if you don’t mind. Before the naysayers get more butthurt than they already are.”

“You’re gonna die, kid.” 

With four words, your blood freezes and you find yourself blinking once, twice slowly. It’s the matching looks of shock and surprise on your classmates' faces that tells you you heard Takamatsu correctly. Stiffly, you look back at the seer hoping for that revelation to be nothing but a joke, but instead you find yourself looking at a maniacal grin. That grin feels more like a knife in your gut. “In the worst way possible.”

The knife sinks deeper into your flesh, twisting.

“Hey,” out of the four of you, Gojou is the one who finds his voice first.

Takamatsu ignores the boy with snow white hair as if he’s nothing but a minor breeze, “But,” he beams like he’s only told you that he found a discount at the convenience store. “Because I like you so much, I’ll let you ask three questions about it.”

“O-okay,” you stammer almost instinctively. Like a zombie, you find yourself stumbling onto your feet and Takamatsu nods at the door. These answers will be for you and you alone. You aren’t sure what expression you wear on your face as you exit, nor the expressions of your peers. You can't bring yourself to look at them as you follow the future-seeing sorcerer into the halls of your school.

I’m going to die.

I’m going to die.

In the worst way possible.

It’s only once you’re relatively alone that the seer halts his walking in the middle of the hall to look at you. “Feel free to ask your questions,” he tells you. “Your classmates shouldn’t be able to hear, even if they keep looking out the door. So ask away,” he reassures you, waving his hand nonchalantly.

You glance to your left and sure enough there are three heads leaning out of the door, staring straight at you both. You can’t bring yourself to smile reassuringly before you return your gaze to the sorcerer in front of you.

Three questions.

Your first question can only be so obvious. “Howー how do I die?”

Takamatsu’s amusement is sapped from his face at that question. “Really?” He yawns with a shake of his head. “That’s what you’re going to ask? That’s quite boring.”

Boring? Boring?! It’s my life! “Yeah but-”

“You know what, fine,” Takamatsu sighs, crossing his arms. He recalls his vision in his mind for a moment before he opens his lips. “You’re going to be killed by someone precious to you. Ask me something more… riveting this time.”

You blink slowly.

You’re going to be killed by someone you care about.

When do I die?

Was it an accident?

On purpose?

Why would they want to kill me?

You don’t think those are questions Takamatsu will find intriguing in the slightest. In a panic, you ask the most original question that enters your brain. “Do I die… angry at them?” No. Fucking. Shit, me. “Wait, that was dumb don’t answer th-”

“Nope, it counts,” Takamatsu clicks his tongue. Maybe it’s payback for your first question being so predictable and unoriginal. “And my answer for that is no. Your heart will surprisingly bear no anger towards the person who kills you.” A revelation that shakes you to the core. “Well, one question left to go, kid. No more mess ups, I’ll take it even if it’s something as a dumb as a repeat question.”

“Okay, okay,” you exhale nervously, biting your lip. I need to think.

You know yourself.

You’re selfish at times, who isn’t? If it really came down to it though, you know you’d always put someone else’s life over your own. You can talk big, you can snort when you watch a movie and say ‘yeah sorry, they’d be stuck on their own. I’m not dying in a situation like that, I’d wanna go home’. But you know yourself enough to know that despite thinking it, your feet would inevitably turn towards the other person. Maybe you’d die in the end but you know you’d try your damnedest to get them out.

Why else would you put yourself on the line fighting curses?

But I’d like to think that in a life or death fight where it’s me or them, I’d choose me. You shake your head pushing the thought to the side. You almost forgot the most important detail. Your killer will be someone who matters to you. But I won’t be mad about it. If it was life or death, I’d choose me. I know that. Stranger on the street or a lifelong sworn enemy. And I know if I was killed by someone, I’d definitely be bitter about it. I’m not that forgiving.

Future you isn’t in agreement. Your eyes turn to the ground.

Is it a life or death fight situation or an accident? You open your mouth briefly before closing it again.

They’re precious to me.

They’re someone I care about.

But I won’t be angry.

I mustn’t have been trying that hard then, you wet your lips as a light bulb flickers deeply in the recesses of your mind. You couldn’t have been. How else could your future self’s lack of anger be justified? One day, there will be someone you care for so greatly that even in a life or death battle, you’d still choose them.

You raise your head to look into dark green eyes dancing with amusement, a grin accompanying them. The grin morphs from clear to distorted at the welling of tears in your eyes. I wasn’t trying. “I must really love this person, don’t I?”

Takamatsu's grin grows even wider, eyes flashing in pleasant surprise. “Yeah,” he leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “It seems like you do.”

Tears roll down your cheeks like streams into a river yet your arms hang loosely at your side. “That’s three questions then,” you murmur, throat constricting. You inhale slowly, hold your breath and release before wiping your eyes. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Takamatsu. Lunch is gonna be over soon, so I’m gonna go finish eating now.”

You bow before turning on your heel back to your class, your classmates are still there. You don’t really care to receive their pity or empathy.

“I’m gonna die, it’s gonna suck and that’s all he really told me,” you say before anyone can ask. You bite into your egg harshly.

.

It’s hours after classes have ended for the day and you’re cooking in the communal kitchen when you see Gojou again. 

“Hey,” Gojou says and his tone is so serious it startles you. You set your knife down on the cutting board before looking at him. His face doesn’t seem right to you and it dawns on you a second later it’s because he’s frowning and it’s not the usual childish frown you’re used to seeing. “Don’t take what that guy said seriously. Like I said, he’s an asshole. He was probably saying all of that to freak you out.” There’s a pause and Gojou scratches the back of his head, looking uncomfortable in his skin. “So don’t, like, cry about it. Takamatsu’s a prick.”

“Are you,” you squint, looking Gojou over suspiciously. “Trying to make me feel better or something in your own weird Gojou way?”

“Someone has to make sure the class baby isn’t drowning in their sorrows,” Gojou returns to his usual brand of cocky, with a grin. His sunglasses slide down, revealing playful eyes.

“I don’t want the comfort then,” you roll your eyes and return to chopping your vegetables. “Besides, I don’t need it anyways, I’m strong”

“Eeeeh.”

Asshole.

“There’s different kinds of strong, you jackass,” you argue for argument’s sake. You vaguely notice that in spite of your annoyance, your shoulders aren’t stiff and your jaw is loose. Apparently Gojou is good for something, after all. “Strong looks different for different people. A kid is strong when they act tough after tripping. A grown man crying and being open with his emotions is strong,” you recount some of the ways you’ve seen people be strong in your life. You’ve witnessed strength in various ways in your 15 years of living. “... Even just living despite how hard it can be is strong.”

Save for the sound of you cutting green celery and the light simmer of the pan, silence falls over the two of you.

“What did you guys talk about when he said you could ask him questions?”

“... nothing important.”

[2006. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ー 2nd year]

You’re 16 and you’re still alive and kicking.

You’re an upperclassman now, not that it means anything when there are still two whole grades of jujutsu schooling ahead of you. Still, you welcome the newfound responsibilities and admiration you receive in going up a level. At least, one of your underclassmen seems to admire you. Haibara Yuu does, though you’re pretty sure he adores Suguru even more. Nanami Kento is nice though, albeit a bit reserved.

The three of them are like you, individuals scouted into the world of curses and sorcerers rather than born into it. It’s nice to know you’re not alone in that sense.

Even if they weren’t, however, you’re sure that Gojou’s presence would find a way to override any sort of 'being alone'. You can’t be alone when he’s around even if you want to.

Gojou is just as annoying as he was when you were first years, but he’s surprisingly more tolerable.

He still bothers you whenever he has the chance and he still refers to you as the ‘class baby’. You’d also be lying to yourself if you said his hubris has gone down since you first met. He’s just as smug as he’s always been but it’s a bit easier seeing the charm in it in your second year compared to your first.

So maybe ー in the absolute loosest sense of the word ー the two of you have become friends. Something like it at least.

This is why you don’t mind it when the boy plops his ass on your desk when you’re trying to read the recent volume of Fruits Basket to tell you about his newest feats he accomplished on his most recent mission. Nor do you mind it much when he follows you to the dorms to continue telling you what feels like an exaggerated tale, but you know Gojou’s abilities enough to know that 99% percent of it is true.

“So yeah,” he finishes with an air of satisfaction, nose pointing towards the sky with pride. “You could say that Suguru really didn’t even need to come, I pretty much crushed it by myself.”

You’re pretty sure if Suguru was here, Gojou would be in a headlock. “Better not let your bestie catch you saying that,” you warn playfully.

“Come on, [First],” Gojou beams broadly with no care in the world. “Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to praise me?”

You shake your head in bemusement, smiling lightly. “I can admit it, I’m impressed,” your words are genuine. With all the blessings he has in the world, being strong is the standard for your classmate. He’s a natural talent to boot. Yet for all his nonchalance, you can give credit where credit is due. The guy works hard to perfect his techniques and he’s a perpetual motion machine when it comes to improvement. “Good job, Gojou, you’ve worked really hard. I’m happy you’re seeing the payoff.”

It takes you a second to realize that you’re walking by yourself and you turn around, eyebrow quirked. “What’s up?” Gojou doesn’t respond immediately and you have no idea what his eyes look like beneath the sunglasses. “Hey are you alright?”

The boy comes to at your prodding, sauntering after you lazily, “nothing, nothing,” Gojou replies smoothly with a grin. “I am pretty great, huh?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Gojou,” you give him a light shove that barely moves him an inch. Geez he’s a giant, you won’t be surprised if in the future he’s taller than even Yaga.

“Since I’m working so hard, do you think you could make me a congratulatory lunch tomorrow?” You’re pretty sure he isn’t serious. Or at the very least you’re sure Gojou expects your answer to be negative. You never cook for him, the closest he ever gets is pilfering samples of it before you chase him out of the kitchen. “Just ki-”

“Sure, what do you want?”

With near comedic timing, Gojou’s shades slide down the bridge of his nose and his eyes are wide in astonishment. “Seriously?”

Your grin widens, “I can change my mind if you-”

“No, no, no! No take backs allowed, [First]!” Gojou covers your mouth with a large palm. “I’m putting in my special requests!”

You move his hand from your mouth with a sage nod, “then please make your requests, young pupil, I’ll prepare you a feast of feasts!” Gojou opens his mouth promptly, giddy. “Within reason.”

You snicker when he whines about the unfairness of your new stipulations.

It takes a week before lunch becomes dinner too.

Gojou’s nice sometimes, you can admit.

And maybe you can also admit that you are ー in more than the loosest sense of the word ー actually friends. A friend whose status as a special grade sorcerer is something  you can be proud of rather than annoyed by. He’s reckless and sometimes that recklessness gets him in trouble, but still you enjoy his company when you have it. Even if sometimes he gets you in trouble because of his shenanigans. Or even when he is annoying Utahime whom he is presently taunting in favor of saying her partner for this mission is stronger than she is.

“Mei Mei,” you wave your fingers daintily at the strong partner in question. “Finally gonna let me take you out some time?” You’re mostly joking. 5% at least. Beautiful as she is, Mei Mei isn’t really your type.

The blue-haired sorcerer laughs lightly, crossing her arms, “I’ll have to warn you that my dinners aren’t cheap.”

“Worry not, I’m an amazing cook,” you’re barely able to wink in the money-loving sorcerer’s direction when Gojou’s lanky arm is thrown over your shoulder and he saunters over to a distressed Utahime. “What the heck!”

“Check out how the path Utahime walked on is falling apart,” Gojou snickers.

“Oh shut up,” Suguru looks far too pleased to actually mean his words though.

For Utahime’s sake, you fight back the urge to giggle at their tomfoolery. You like Utahime, you bonded in your first year over finding Gojou Satoru’s presence an annoyance. You’ve sadly, however, become a bit of a traitor to your Hating Gojou Alliance, much to her dismay when you confessed months prior that you and Gojou had become chill.

“By the way,” Mei Mei brings the conversation back to a reasonable plane. “Where’s the veil?”

Gojou’s nice sometimes, you can admit. And maybe you can also admit that you are ー in more than the loosest sense of the word ー actually friends. A friend you can be proud of. A friend whose company you enjoy even if sometimes he gets you in trouble because of his shenanigans.

Like the fact you somehow forgot to put up the veil?! How the hell do you forget to put up the veil?! Nevermind the fact you technically forgot too, Gojou was the one who said he’d put it up. That’s why you have no problem pointing in his direction when Yaga sternly asks who was the Forget Futaba in your band.

“Is a veil that necessary in the first place,” Gojou whines in the gym later in the afternoon. “It’s not like it matters if normies see or not, right? They can’t see cursed spirits or cursed techniques anyway.”

“Pretty sure it’s for the best that normal people don’t start seeing spontaneously exploding buildings on the regular, Gojou,” you watch with an impressed whistle at how your classmate tosses a basketball effortlessly to a hoop. You’re sure if Suguru hadn’t stopped it, the ball would have been a perfect three pointer.

“Of course it’s not good for them to see,” Suguru affirms your words resolutely. “The strongest deterrent against the outbreak of cursed spirits is the mental calm of the populace.” It becomes a battle of the philosophies when Gojou steals the ball back with finesse.

“Looking out for the weak is so exhausting, honestly,” Gojou sighs and Suguru shoots back with narrowed eyes 'Survival of the Weakest'. “Assigning reasons and responsibility to strength is what those who are weak do.”

Should we…? You glance at Shoko.

Yeah, we probably should. The brunette glances back.

“Time to dip,” Shoko sprints out of the gymnasium faster than you’ve ever seen her.

“I’ve got a pretty wild date with Battle Royale right now,” you skip after her in a hurry right as Suguru summons one of his cursed spirits like it's a pokemon.

The next time you see Gojou, he knocks and enters your room when you go ‘huh?’ “Yo, I’ve got a mission.”

“Already?” You raise an eyebrow. “We just got back from the Mei Mei and Utahime thing.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “ Teach says we have to protect the star plasma vessel.”

“That information got leaked?”

“Wait, you know what the star plasma vessel is?”

“Tengen stuff is, like, the bare minimum of stuff we should have learned about in first year, Gojou.”

“... anyways, Suguru and I are heading out early tomorrow,” he says, like what you told him moments prior wasn’t anything important.

You smile with pride, “well, that’s a pretty big mission for a couple of students to have,” it really is, honestly. If anything, that’s something you think the adults should have. It’s pretty cool that two of your classmates were chosen for it. “That’s cool. You should be really proud of yourself, Gojou.”

Your words get his lips to morph into a smile a bit more authentic and veritable than his usual smug grins and confident jeers. “I am pretty cool, huh?”

You roll your eyes in good fun before looking at your book again. Your favorite character's dead but you at least wanna see who gets off this shitty island. “Y’all not still fighting about earlier are you?”

“Nah, we’re over it,” Gojou sits at a chair by your bedside desk, swirling in it. “It’s whatever in the end. Suguru can believe whatever he wants.” A silence somewhere between comfortable but hesitant falls over you briefly before Gojou asks, “you believe that stuff he was saying too?”

“Dunno, you’re probably asking the wrong person,” you turn the page with a shrug. It’s been nearly a year since you met Takamatsu Akira. Nearly a year since you were told someone you loved would kill you in the worst way possible and yet you’d have no anger in your heart about it. The future is technically always changing. It’s never stagnant. If you wanted, you could take what the seer said to heart and run with your tail between your legs. Yet here you were, laid on your stomach reading Battle Royale in your room located in Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College instead of elsewhere; living in perpetual paranoia about any relationship you have. “The weak’s the majority, they need protection. It should be the duty of the strong to protect them. But… I can also get the exhaustion. If you’re the strongest, who’s gonna protect you then?”

You close your mouth and purse your lips thoughtfully and vaguely you find it a bit amazing that Gojou hasn’t made any sort of quip yet.

“But… I guess I probably align myself more with Suguru’s line of thinking,” you decide after a heartbeat. “I’m the one who’s gonna die in the most horrible way possible, remember? But here I am, still kickin’ it here with you guys. I should probably run while I have the chance, huh?”

“I already told you not to listen to that crap,” you look away from your book, surprised at the harshness in Gojou’s tone. Your eyes look into angry azure and you glance away just as quickly. “That guy’s a prick. There’s no point in listening to him. So quit worrying your pretty little head about that. You’re supposed to be strong, right?”

Your eyes skim over your book, not sure what else to settle your eyes on. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m pretty strong, I guess.”

That appears to be the right answer. “Exactly, so stop giving that stuff he said the time of day.”

You chuckle, “yeah you’re right, sorry,” ‘I’m always right’ Gojou says flippantly and you find your head shaking with a warmth settling in your chest. “Grab me a souvenir or two while you’re gone, Mr. Special Grade.”

“I’m not leaving Tokyo, you know,” Gojou tosses a crumpled piece of paper at your head. 

“So?” You toss the paper back, watching as it bounced off his infinity. Cheater. “Grab me something extra nice anyways! I deserve it as payback for cooking for you all the time, you eat like a horse.”

The mission goes horribly wrong.

Shoko tells you over a phone call that the mission went horribly wrong in all the worst ways. Suguru was injured. Gojou was dead.

Parts of campus look like it was hit by a tornado when you get there, out of breath, lungs screaming but you still push through it to get Suguru’s room banging on the door. “Su-”

“Satoru’s okay,” is the first thing out of his mouth when he opens the door and your knees almost buckle in your relief. “He’s alive. He was injured but he’s alive. He’s in his room, right now.”

He’s okay.

He’s okay.

Your breath is shaky as you let your friend’s words permeate through your entire being. “That,” you lick your lips, holding yourself. “That’s good.” It’s all you can say although it doesn’t encompass even a tenth of the emotion you feel. “I’m glad you’re both alright.” The quiet is almost deafening; what do you say to ease the hurt when the mission went wrong in every way it could have? “I’m gonna start cooking in an hour or two. I’ll bring you something to eat later, any requests?”

“It’s okay,” Suguru’s smile is small but polite. “I’m not that hungry. Maybe Satoru’ll eat something.” The door closes promptly before you can ask if your friend is sure he doesn’t want anything. I’ll check on you again later, I promise.

Your nerves are frazzled when your eyes sweep over to the door that leads to Gojou’s room, hardly able to make yourself move towards it.

“He was injured but he’s alive.”

How injured is injured?

Has he gone to see Shoko?

“Gojou?” Your knock is barely audible.

You knock once more with a soft confidence.

“Satoru?” Your voice falters, just above being a whisper. “Hey, it’s me. I know you probably don’t want to talk right now but I just want you to know I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. If you wanna talk, I’m just down the hall, okay?” You pause, ears straining to hear anything on the other side of the door. You’re met with silence. “Get some rest. I’ll bring you dinner later, alright?”

With a sigh, you turn around to go to your room only for your heart to leap out of your chest when you realize someone is already in it. You jump, clutching your chest when you realize it’s Satoru, sitting on your bed with his back slumped against the wall.

He looks like hell and impossibly small wrapped in your blanket. Russet stains his white locks that are even messier than usual and his eyes have a chilling emptiness to them. He doesn’t meet your eyes, you aren’t sure if he has the will to. You don’t have the will to say anything despite the thoughts running through your head.

Wordlessly, Satoru raises the blanket in an invitation. Like he’s welcoming you through a barrier.

So wordlessly, you sit on your bed and nestle beside him. You don’t mind the scent of sweat, blood and dirt. Nor do you mind when the tall and lanky teen slumps against your side, resting his head atop yours. You simply find his hand and brush your fingers together, feeling the roughness of his callouses, before twining your fingers with his.

You clutch each other’s hands almost painfully.

[2007. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ー 3rd year]

It’s you, isn’t it?

You realize that one day Satoru is going to kill you on a rainy night in December in your room laying on your bed. The two of you had taken to sharing a space on nights you felt lonely since you were 16 and the star plasma vessel mission went wrong in every way possible. Last week, you both turned 18.

Another year has past and you're still alive and kicking.

You’re facing each other, your head resting on your hand with your elbow angled to keep your head up.

“You won’t leave too, right?” Satoru asks softly, fingers messing with a stray string on your shirt.

Suguru’s gone. So is Haibara.

Both are gone in different ways.

Death is what took Haibara, leaving Nanami Jujutsu Tech’s sole second year.

Suguru was swallowed in madness and disillusionment, defecting to accomplish a new goal of creating a world with only jujutsu sorcerers.

It stings, but you know Satoru is hurt the most.

“It’s unfortunate to tell you but you’re pretty much stuck with me, Satoru,” you give him a weak nudge with your free hand.

“Even though Takamatsu said you’re going to die?”

“We’re all gonna die someday,” you tell him easily. It’s you. You aren’t sure how you’re able to smile like you aren’t having the worst realization in the world but you smile. “Besides, you’re the one who said not to worry about that, right? Because I’m strong.”

“Yeah,” Satoru whispers. “You’re strong.”

“And you’re the strongest sorcerer in the world,” you remind him unnecessarily. It is an inherent fact of the world. Gojou Satoru, born only two days before you came into this world, shook the entire world when he was born.

“And because you’re the strongest, that’s why I have to stay with you,” you run your fingers through his hair gently. When is he going to do it? When is everything going to go wrong? You want to remember every feature he has before you one day have no choice but to leave them behind. “Who’s going to protect you otherwise?”

Satoru smiles for the first time that night, looking up at you almost dreamily from where he lays. “You’re gonna protect me?”

“Yeah,” you vow sincerely.

[2008. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College ー 4th year]

“Happy birthday to us, happy birthday to us,” Satoru sings crudely while you roll your eyes. It’s technically neither of your birthdays. It’s the 8th, the one day mid-point between your birthdays. The Official ‘Satoru-[First]’ Birthday Bash Celebration. Contrast to your first year as a student at Jujutsu Tech, you find yourself in a more pleasant mood about it. “Happy birthday to the both of us, happy birthday to us!”

“Isn’t it a bit too early to sing,” you shake your head with a chuckle. 

“Early shmurly,” Satoru shrugs off your nonchalant concern like water off a duck’s back. You can’t bring yourself to scold him. “They throw us a surprise party every year. It’s not even a surprise if we know it’s coming. They always make us wait all day in class or tell us to leave campus though.”

“It’s part of the atmosphere, Satoru. Tradition!” You grin, giving his leg a light flick as he plops his ass right on top of your desk. “We gotta wait and act completely oblivious to everything until someone tells us to head to the dorms.”

It’s nice to see him smiling. It’s his second birthday without his best friend. A fact that will always resonate through your reality like ripples through the water.

“You’ll like my gift the best by the way,” you tell him with a self-assured confidence. 

“Funny, I was about to say that to you,” Satoru winks, leg swinging lazily. He’s not wearing his sunglasses for onceー they’re off to the side resting on the teacher’s podium. “Of course, my gifts are always the best.”

A comfortable silence fills the room and you close your eyes.

Tomorrow you turn 19 and you’re still alive and kicking.

Moments like this make it hard to believe that one day you won’t be. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you told Satoru the truth of everything Takamatsu told you that day. You consider telling him this very moment, eyes resting on his face. He's smiling gently to himself, thinking about something unknown to you.

He’s so beautiful it makes you want to cry.

“Hey,” you can barely hear yourself.

“Hmm?” Satoru looks at you, lips upturned in a mellow, peaceful expression.

“We should get married.”

One second passes,

two seconds.

“Yeah, we should,” Satoru nods, seemingly enchanted.

You blink dumbly, “what?”

“Let’s do it,” Satoru repeats himself purposefully. “Let’s get married.”

“... Satoru, I was 60% joking when I said that,” you don’t even know why that’s what came out of your mouth.

In spite of your attempt to brush him off, Satoru stands to his feet all the more determined. His large hands cup yours gently as he pulls you into standing with him. “And I’m being 100% serious,” he means it, you can see it in his eyes. They’re more clear than any lake you’ve seen. “Let’s get married. We can go after your birthday.”

“Satoru, we’re high schoolers,” you try reasoning.

“We’re old enough to get married in this country.”

Despite that fact, you shake your head again, “we’re not getting married in high school.”

“Then we can tie the knot after we graduate,” Satoru decides like that’s the only issue at present.

“Fresh out of high school?”

“Fresh out of high school,” he affirms. “We can have a big wedding just like in the movies. Whatever you want. We’ve already got the headstart on the kids with that Zenin kid and his sister.”

You find yourself laughing unexpectedly at the absurdity, at the certainty. “Satoru.”

“[First].”

“Your clan is not gonna be happy with you marrying some jujutsu nobody,” you tell him.

“Like I care what a bunch of old farts think.”

“I’m pretty sure your parents aren’t gonna like me.”

“I’ll love you enough to make up for it,” Satoru rests his forehead on yours. That motion alone damn near breaks your heart. “I wanna marry you, [First].”

“Yeah,” you sniff. This boy who is quickly becoming a man in front of your very eyes is beautiful enough to make you cry. “Let’s get married.”

For a smile so small, it beams like a thousand suns, “Right after we graduate?”

“Right after we graduate.”

“Even if you think my parents aren’t gonna like you?”

“Screw ‘em. I’ll love you more than enough to make up for it.”

One day Gojou Satoru is going to kill you.

You don’t know what will lead you down the path of finding yourself on the opposing side of the boy you’ve grown to love. You don’t know whether it will be a death that’s accidental or as intentional as Suguru’s defection from your organization.

So many unknowns, yet the fact remains the sameー one day you’re going to die and it’s going to be Satoru that sends you to the other side. You let him kiss you despite that fact.

It’s you.

You know it in your heart.

Because if someone were to ask you if Gojou Satoru was precious enough to you that you wouldn’t bear any anger towards him for killing you, you knew what your answer would be in a heartbeat.

Yes, you kiss him tenderly, holding his face in your hands while your heart cupped the precious memories you shared. Memories you would never allow yourself to forget. The halcyon days of past, present and future. He is.

[20xx. kuzuivencdcsusahduvtaydr ー ???? oayn]

It’s snowing in Tokyo, a lot of it.

That’s not common for the area of Japan you live in.

Maybe Tokyo will see one or two days of light snowfall, but it’s almost never enough to cloak the city like this. That’s why it’s a perfect day for a snowball fight and it is perfect, save for the fact that Satoru is definitely cheating.

His tosses may be light but the jerk still has on his infinity, your snow dissipating in powdery puffs whenever it hits the barrier keeping him perpetually safe.

You can’t stop yourself from giggling though, even as he pelts you with an unfair barrage of snow.

The laugh is barreling from your form even more when Satoru rushes you out of nowhere, the largest snowball you’ve ever seen in his hands laughing like he’s five. Your fall is softened by the snow underneath you, barely even much of a drop, and Satoru’s on top of you with his legs on either side of your torso.

He’s merciful enough not to slam dunk his snowball of fury into your face though.

“Okay, okay, you win!” You laugh good naturedly. “Please, Gojou Satoru, I yield!” Despite your words, your hand is working quickly on the side to form a snowball. He’s touching you, you can feel the warmth of his legs on either side of you. His infinity’s down then. You open your eyes mischievously, bracing yourself for a toss when you feel something warm fall onto your face.

One drop,

two drops.

Your breath falters.

“Why are you crying, Satoru?” 

It occurs to you then in all your years of knowing him, you’ve never seen Satoru cry. Yet there he is, right atop you, holding the world’s largest snowball in his trembling arms. All the while, tears are running down his face, flowing from those beautiful eyes of his. Those eyes filled with a greater sadness than you’ve ever seen as he looks at you.

The snowball you were clutching drops from your hand immediately in your concern, “hey what’s wrong?”

Satoru doesn’t answer you. Instead, the strongest sorcerer in the world drapes himself over you with body-wracking sobs. The snowball he was holding has disappeared to who knows where, his hands now clutching the front of your jacket tightly. Satoru’s only response is his body-wracking sobs, his knuckles painfully white. He sobs, sobs and sobs like you’ve never seen before.

Slowly, you bring your arms up to hug him and nuzzle the top of his hair that matches the snow around you. “It’s okay,” you whisper to the boy crying in your arms. You smile softly and you close your eyes once more. “It’s okay,” you tell him again. “I'll protect you.”

i was inspired by chainsaw man with the idea of a future devil sorcerer and a reader who shares the same fate as aki

*bonus note: also in japan, the legal age marrying age for women is 16 and men is 18, i heard from a prof they're working on changing that but at least during the setting the time of the fic that is still the same so hence why you'd both be of marrying age despite still being students

*final note: i am a huge final fantasy nerd and the final chapter is written in al bhed, a language from final fantasy x. feel free to use this translator

[weirdfreakshow]

Can I just say I love your bully Joel AU? HOLY SHIT the thought of Etho raping him and basically isolating him from everyone because "he's an irredeemable asshole, nobody would want to be close to him ever, right? Etho is the only person willing to talk to him at all" and manipulating Joel to make him dependent on Etho because Etho himself has become addicted.

Joel lashes out and rebells, just for Etho to put him in his place again and again. At first Etho just did it to shut him the fuck up, but goddamn if that brat wasn't the cutest ass he's ever had. At some point he just started manipulating him and making him have sex with Etho whenever (whether he wanted to or not) as a form of "retribution" and it's this fucked up toxic relationship but Etho doesn't care at all. All his friends praise him for always protecting them from Joel's bullying but little do they know Etho is doing something wayyy worse himself behind the scenes.

I also like to think about how Joel would cope. Like at first he'd cry a lot because it hurt like shit, but then why tf is his body reacting like this?? Why is it responding to Etho? Is there really something wrong with him? I imagine it makes him angry and defensive which causes him to get into even more trouble than before, which leads to Etho abusing him more, which leads to even more lashing out, and the loop just spirals until he's either miserable but still entirely dependent on Etho, or he starts liking it and actively seeks punishment (he never stops crying tho, Ethos likes it when he cries anyway).

Anyway can you tell I'm going insane??? Good food.

Oh my goddddd this. this is everything. I still very much cherish the Bully Joel au, it's SO good

And yeah! You got the looping spiral perfectly, that's kind of the drive for the the whole au to keep going and getting worser. Joel gets a bit shaken at first by it, obviously thrown off by being pushed out of his weird power play he had with everyone, being reminded of his place in the world as "prey", but once he recovers from it a bit he goes right back at lashing out. He's violent, mean, annoying. That's what he does! Lash out at everyone!

Add Etho into the mix and it all becomes a mess, because Etho makes him feel small and scared again, and that makes him want to appear scary, makes him be crueler with the pranks and his words, makes him want to occupy more space and let everyone know he's NOT prey, he's just not, he's not the little red riding hood, he's the wolf. Totally! It makes him hate bdubs, he knows he can't hurt Etho but he can hurt his precious "Bubs" instead. But oh well, that just gets him raped again! Joel is so fucking stupid sometimes!

And oh, when he actually is raped, speared on Etho's hard cock. It's just like he's a kid again, scared and shaking but cumming sooo hard all the same. He hates himself so much, what the fuck is wrong with him? He'll catch himself getting hard from having Etho's gross rapist dick down his throat. Slobbering all over it, taking it all in like a little fleshlight even if it bulges his throat a bit. He doesn't know what's worse, keeping his eyes open and having to look at Etho's lustful eyes or closing them and remembering other things that happened in the past. It's like there's no escape. He doesn't get to dissociate because he's just so horny his whole body burns, and a normal person would wish they were home instead of having to face this horrible situation, but Joel knows being there wouldn't be any better, so he braces for it. Tries to fight back sometimes, yes, but it's pointless. He's small and stupid and I guess his body WAS actually just made for being raped.

All their friends praising Etho is just so good. So . fucking . good . Joel knows not to mess with Gem, avoids Bdubs most of the time, doesn't even bother Tango even though he fucking hates that guy too. It's just fun, Etho says it's truly nuthin', its fine. Oh, always so humble, the guy. What a guy.

Joel already doesn't have THAT many friends, or if he did he doesn't seem to hang out so much with them anymore, especially Grian. Ever since he got a boyfriend they kinda broke apart, so getting Joel alone isn't a hard task. Joel usually ends up sitting alone somewhere hidden, like under the bleachers where he goes to smoke his older brother's stolen cigarettes. Hurting him and getting to his little head isn't hard either, after all he's all bark, secretly a sensitive kid inside

[whochromatic]

I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must not read chapter 109 and wait for the chapters to pile up.. I must...

*reads it anyways*

Why did I do that. Damnit, I should've known that reading that chapter would have re-activated my need for more. I was way better off ignoring anything related to Yohaji and just went about my day, not thinking about Yohaji every minute of the hour of the day of the week. But the damage has been done. Now I have to read the whole manga all over again just to satisfy myself once again. But no. That's not enough. I searched every corner to hunt every single content of Yohaji. Tumblr. Twitter. Youtube. Tiktok. Ao3. Our lord and savior Canada's account. The giver of reason in life, one who resurrects the dead, the sailor uniform to my life, Tanamai-sensei's account. I know that the Yohaji content in this world is not enough and will NEVER be. The moment I discovered this manga, I knew that it would be my life. The fact that it had only reached me last year, ber month is unforgivable. Why did it not have content as many as the amount of numbers there are to exist so that it could reach me at the start of it's existence? It should have been Yohaji. Not BNHA! Nothing against that anime by the way. Well, I am grateful that I stumbled upon Yohaji while it had 100+ chapters though. And the fandom being small enough to only have nice and cool people in it. But those fics in ao3 though? Why- I mean, I don't really care or pay attention to them but the fact that the amount of nsfw fanfics is probably (I'm saying probably because they might just be more) equal to the amount of sfw fanfics in there is- I swear, WHY ARE THERE SO LITTLE FANFICS OF YOHAJI?! 3 PAGES?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? There might be more in other places but I only read in ao3 and Tumblr if I find some there. I'm so thankful for the translators though!!! I love y'all. I love the fandom. I love the characters. I love Yohaji. I love the creator. God- sorry I forgot I can't use sensei's name in vain. I'm telling y'all, Tanamai is the GOAT. A GENIUS!! Your brain is beautiful. What goes on in head yours? Tell and everyone might gain more braincells. What's with you? What's with your humor?? What's with your lore?! WHAT'S WITH YOUR ART??? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?! SENSEI WHEN I CATCH YOU OHH WHEN I CATCH YOU. But of course, it's not your fault that I'm starving for more Yohaji chapters. One month is nothing to me- IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CREATE THIS WONDERFUL AND HEAVENLY HOOK THAT CAUGHT ME EVEN ONLY WITH IT'S TITLE AND ART?? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!?! Senseiiiiii*sob* waaaaaahh... Still, I'm sooo happy this is getting an anime this year!! I've been waiting for this ever since I found out it existed along with other Yohaji fans. I knew it would happen soon enough because it's the law. It's a crime to not make an adaption of amazing yet weird yet amazing manga like no other. Death row. DEATH ROW!! It's fine even if it's low quality. As long as it exists, I can finally pass on peacefully- when it airs it better be as good as the manga and look immaculate, I'm telling you. Haha, just kidding. Or am I..? I cannot wait until April or whatever how long it takes for the anime to air just please. Please even the trailer only. But I'm sure everyone is already working hard to make the anime for it. Do your best!! You're doing the right thing! And.... uhm.. 24 episodes... please..? AHHH HARUAKI'S SMILEEE!!! IT'S INVADING MY MIND!! GET OUT! PLEASE GET OUT!!! THIS LOWLY UNGRATEFUL UNDESERVING WORSE THAN DUST BUZZ BUZZ KILLABLE STUPID MORTAL ABOMINATION CAN'T HANDLE OR DESERVE SOMETHING LIKE THAT!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! I can't do this. More. More. More Yohaji. I NEED IT. IF AIR AND SAILOR UNIFORM IS LIFE THEN SO IS YOHAJI!! RAAAAAAAHHH

Also I accidentally deleted a longer version of this and rewrote it with my memory. Thanks for wasting your time on this like I did.

[miraculouslyfine]

spiderwebs and dust

Summary: Miles and Y/n have had a long couple of weeks. Like all couples, they need some alone time with each other. A date is long awaited, but, will it go as planned?

(word count: 2k :])

They've been exchanging messages all night, deciding on tomorrow's plans. Both of them were extremely tired, though no one wanted to say goodbye that early into the night. This was the first time after a while that both of them could relax and enjoy each other's company, even if they weren't physically together.  

The past few weeks have been tough on them. The teachers at Brooklyn Visions Academy have been giving out so much homework, making every single student anxious. All it took was some "sloppy work” and some missing assignments and they'd be done for.  

Aside from the pile of schoolwork, Miles had other things to worry about as well. There seemed to be an epidemic of rising criminal activity in New York and there is only so much the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can do.  

Of course, it was nothing he couldn’t handle; most of the time they were hardly just some villains of the week. However, this lifestyle was tiring him out. All he wanted to do was spend time doing the things he loves with the person he loves the most, Y/n.  

This turned out to be quite the challenge as spidey duties don't exactly have stable hours.  

He loved doing this, helping New York's citizens, making his dad's job a tad easier-even if he didn't necessarily appreciate Spider-Man's "help” (he'd come around eventually)-, being idolized by the smaller kids (sometimes the adults too), etc., etc. Most of all, he was thankful he could make sure the people closest to his heart were safe. Being Spider-Man had its perks.  

Being Spider-Man had some disadvantages as well. Having to sneak out every day, lie to his parents and girlfriend about his whereabouts, miss important days/special occasions, run late on dates-if he even managed to show up in the first place- and many more.  

He just needed a break, some time to relax. To forget about his responsibilities and enjoy life with her.  

Oh, how he loves it when it's just the two of them. Not a single thing on his mind, except from her. Everything is so blissful and calm, almost magical. It’s just him and his girl in his arms... until some rando decides he wants to become Spider-Man's archenemy (he really hates those guys; so pretentious and full of themselves. Most of the time they’re not even half decent at being bad).  

He knew this wasn't fair to her. His parents usually attributed his "concerning” behavior to adolescence and whatnot. “It's fine, he'll grow out of it” they usually tell each other and try not to worry too much about their son’s well-being.  

But with Y/n, things were...different. He knows the excuses he gives her are lame. Like, seriously lame. Sometimes, he'll even disappear without giving her a single explanation. That's messed up and he knows it. Hell, he'd break up with himself.  

There is not a single thing in the entire world he wants more than to come clean and tell her the truth about everything. About his sneaking out, about the injuries that he attains from fighting bad guys, not from his furniture because he's clumsy, that he doesn't enjoy leaving her, everything. Okay maybe he'd love to start a band, but that’s beside the point-he had an interesting dream once-.  

But he can't. He knows he shouldn't. That's how every superhero movie goes: the hero reveals their identity to their loved one, bad guys somehow get hold of this information, they kidnap said loved one, the superhero turns up to save them, something goes terribly wrong and the loved one either gets injured bad or worse...  

He doesn't even want to think about it.  

And now that more and more villains get their hands on some really advanced technology, which makes the fights all the more challenging, Miles doesn't want to risk it. He needs her to be safe and he'll do everything in his power to ensure that nothing bad happens to her, ever. And that's a promise he is not willing to break.  

- You sure you'll be able to make it? I don't wanna be there on my own :/  

- when have I ever stood you up?  

-Do you really want to start this conversation :/?  

- ...not really...no </3  

-nah I promise you i'll be there and we'll have a great time too  

-Sureee.. I believe you  

- good😃  

- Anyways,,,, I think i'll go now  

-If I stay some more I'll definitely sleep thru it  

- Goodnight :]  

-goodnight cat-lady  

-You have to drop that nickname  

-never😤  

- I love you Miles  

-I love you Y/n  

-sweet dreams  

The smile on his face quickly faded as he put his phone down. And just like that, Miles is left alone with his thoughts once more. Tired of twisting and turning in his bed, he decides to put on some music to block out the thoughts that are racing through his head and help him relax. He eventually falls asleep.  

----  

He's supposed to meet her at 5 p.m. outside her house. Thankfully, there was no sight of any villain and even if there was, he'd have to leave it to the officers. Today was about her and her alone. No superhero stuff for the day.  

He was by her house fifteen minutes early, just in case. He really didn't want to mess it up. He had everything planned. They'd do all of her favorite activities, visit all her favorite spots, eat all her favorite foods. Everything would be perfect.  

And of course, it started raining.  

For a split second, Miles thought about throwing himself off the Brooklyn Tower but ultimately chose against it. And thank God for that, or else he would have missed all these amazing experiences with his favorite person.  

The minute they stepped outside it began raining cats and dogs but not for a single second did they think to get back.  

They started running toward potential shelters. They were soaked but they were having a blast. There wasn't a moment their laughter couldn't be heard. They went inside every single store that permitted them entry, given their clothes were dripping all over the place.  

After all that window shopping, they decided to go eat at the cheapest diner possible and share the fries as they always do. They were having the time of their life. They realized just how much they missed the person across them.  

The people surrounding them also took notice. It was so evident how much in love the two of them are. Only a blind person could miss the loving way they looked at each other, smiling and laughing at the dumbest things, their foreheads and noses bumping and their lips occasionally meeting and them melting into the kiss.  

----  

The hours passed quicker than they realized. It was almost midnight, and they were at their final stop for today, the terrace of Y/n's apartment building.  

It was a quite romantic night. The building was pretty tall, so they had a nice view of the city. It was fairly quiet too, especially for a busy neighborhood like theirs. Everything was perfect. They had the person they loved most in their arms, and nothing could ruin this moment. It was almost too perfect.  

After seeming in deep thought, Miles finally breaks the comforting silence by taking a deep breath.  

“Y/n...I have to tell you something” he says, an expression of seriousness suddenly taking over his previously content face. He had thought about it thoroughly, he had weighed his options and had come to a conclusion; this was what was best.  

She looked at him, completely puzzled and clueless as to what caused the unexpected change of tone. A look of worry washed over her features as she adjusted her position so she could properly look at him.  

“Is everything okay? Has something happened?” Her mind was racing, coming up with thousand scenarios as to what he was about to tell her.  

“Yeah, no everything's fine. It’s just... I've been thinking and uhm...You know what? I'll just get it over with” He takes a deep breath once again.  

“What is it, Miles? You're kinda scaring me-”  

“We should break up”  

Well, she definitely did not expect that. A wave of shock rushes through her body. After a moment of silence, she burst into laughter.  

“Fuck, man you almost got me” she says between laughs, as she tried to compose herself. “You've gotten really good at this” She looked up at him, smiling, fully expecting him to be bent over, laughing at her shocked face, mimicking and making fun of her like he always does.  

The sight she was met with was not the one she was expecting and hoped for at all.  

He didn't try to meet her eyes; apparently, the spiderweb and some dust that no one had the courtesy to clean were of much more importance; he was looking at everything but her.  

“Miles? Cut it out, it's not funny anymore” Her eyes were frantically moving, trying to catch his gaze. She was desperately trying to get him to give her any attention, or some sort of explanation. She was convinced this was just one of Miles’ many uncalled-for jokes, one that he took too far for her liking.  

A minute had passed but to them, it felt like they had been stuck in that position for an eternity. No one was moving or talking, and it seemed like they were holding their breaths for what felt like hours.  

“...Miles?” her eyes were glossy at this point; tears were threatening to spill.  

His eyes finally met her own. Seeing her like that broke him, he could swear he felt his heart shutter right then and there. *How can she be this pretty even when crying? This is going to be a lot harder than I thought*  

He thought about dropping the matter. He could pretend this was actually a joke. She'd probably slap him and run straight into his arms saying that that he's an asshole and that she hates him *No, you don't, he'd say kissing her hair*No, I don't, she'd repeat defeated, I love you*.  

But that's not how it went.  

“MILES” she exclaimed angrily “TALK TO ME DAMN IT” She was hysterical, yelling, crying, begging him to say something, to say anything, to acknowledge her.  

“Y/n...” his voice breaks at the sound of her name leaving his lips *What am I doing? *  

He says her name once more just to make sure she's listening to him. This time it's slow but steady as if he was afraid that saying it any louder would break her. He was trying not to make things worse.  

He quickly collected himself and if he had any doubts about how the girl across him felt, well, after this, there wasn't any uncertainty. She was devastated and it was all thanks to him. HE made her feel like this, it was all his fault.  

The look on her face made him wish he could take everything back, for all of this to never had happened. But it was too late for that.  

“I mean it. We're done. It's for the best”

[imtrashraccoon]

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day

Day 5: Showing Off

Something smelled really good, like a comfortable, warm blanket for your nostrils kind of good. It slowly stirred you from the depths of sleep and for a moment, you were reminded of a cartoon character floating along the wonderful vapours.

Your eyes finally flickered open and while it took a moment to adjust to the light, you suddenly realized Frisk was gone. Ever since the first night you'd spent at the brother's home, you'd slept in such a way to basically shield them with your body. You laid on the couch with your back to the room, having Frisk situated between yourself and the back of the couch.

While Frisk wasn't always a cuddler, ever since you'd both fallen down here, they'd started practically clinging to you like a koala, especially while sleeping. Although, in the short time you two had been staying with the brothers, Frisk had grown more comfortable in general and you noticed they weren't sticking as close to you lately. Still, if they wanted to stop sleeping so close to you, they hadn't expressed as much, which was perfectly fine by you.

You hadn't told the brothers yet as you hadn't seen a reason to, but Frisk wasn't actually your kid. Sure, you had been looking after them on and off for the better part of a year by this point, but they still technically lived with their parents. Although, it had started to feel like they spent more time at your place instead, which only compounded further now that you hadn't been apart for a few weeks.

You'd always treated them more like a younger sibling than your own child. In fact, you'd barely ever given having children of your own much thought. You weren't blind though, you knew that Frisk's real parents barely acknowledged them back when you first met them, which only got worse the more time they spent with you instead.

You were the one who learned sign language to communicate with them, something their parents couldn't seem to be bothered to do. You were the one who comforted them when the neighborhood kids picked on them for being different. You were the one who made sure they ate right and made it to after school activities they were interested in.

You'd been distant at first but Frisk wormed their way into your heart until you couldn't afford not to care about them. Sure, you'd spoken with their parents many times about your concerns, but they never listened to you. The responsible thing after that probably would've been to report them to CPS but you couldn't bear the thought of Frisk being put into the foster system.

So that was how they'd become your friend. You took time out of your busy schedule to do fun things together like watch movies, play board games, and go to the local park to name a few. While you acknowledged that you could never fill the parental role for them, you knew you could at least make a small difference in their life.

So naturally, you'd become rather protective of them. You didn't think you were overbearing, but anyone would understandably be if they suddenly found themselves in a world where everyone wanted to kill them and their kid. The fact that Frisk had disappeared was enough to strike fear in your soul that the worst had finally happened.

You got up quickly, although the sudden motion caused you to feel rather lightheaded, but once you'd recovered, you scanned the living room for Frisk. Your ears then picked up the sound of Papyrus' voice in the kitchen and the familiar clatter of cooking utensils. Upon checking though, relief flooded over you, smothering the initial panic you'd felt.

Of course, Papyrus was there, but sitting on the counter close by was Frisk. They seemed to be holding a pleasant conversation, although Frisk was communicating solely through sign language but Papyrus seemed to have no issues understanding them, which was slightly surprising. They hadn't interacted much before now so you hadn't realized Papyrus knew sign language.

You smiled at the sight and walked into the kitchen as casually as you could. "Good morning," you said when they noticed you. Well, you hoped it was still morning and you hadn't overslept at least.

Frisk waved at you as soon as they spotted you. "I'm helping make breakfast!" they signed excitedly.

"Oh? It seems like you're being a big help then," you responded teasingly.

Papyrus chuckled and turned the element down slightly. "They Are Actually." He looked over at you again and added, "I Do Not Usually Cook With Anyone But They Know More Than I Expected."

"I remembered how to make scrambled eggs, just like you showed me." Frisk grinned and planted their hands on their hips proudly.

You felt your heart melt and you moved over to the counter, giving them a big hug. Frisk struggled in your grip until they could free their arms and hug you back. You were very proud of them that was for sure.

Hearing Papyrus chuckle again, you released your grip on Frisk and looked over at him. You made eye contact briefly before he turned his attention back to the frying pan with the eggs. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was rather pleased right now.

"I Did Not Mind Letting Them Help By The Way," he said. "They Said They Wanted To Do Something Nice For You, So I Mostly Supervised So They Would Not Hurt Themselves."

"I appreciate it, thank you. I've taught them how to do a few things but they're still a little young to use the stove in my opinion."

Frisk grumbled and lightly bumped their head against your collarbone. When you glanced at them, they signed, "I wouldn't start a fire!"

"Maybe not, but you could burn yourself by accident," you gently chided and ruffled their fluffy hair.

They crossed their arms and pouted, although they couldn't stay annoyed for longer than ten seconds. With a small sigh, they finally nodded, "I know..."

"Thank you for thinking of me though. I feel so special," you said with a smile and gave them another hug for good measure.

(Edit: Just tagging @scrambledmeggys since I didn't earlier. Apologies, but you might get a couple more of these today...) (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

[shoechoe]

On the subject of people insisting that Trish is Doppio's daughter instead of Diavolo's, I think the main reason that bothers me isn't because it's just incorrect, but because people use that to try and twist the narrative into "Diavolo is the evil monster that ruined poor Doppio's relationship and if only he was never there, Doppio could've stayed with Donatella and been a good father to Trish and none of this would've ever happened!"

You guys… Doppio actively helped Diavolo kill Trish. The point isn't that Diavolo is a horrible monster for getting in the way of Doppio's happy domestic life or whatever- the point is that Diavolo's paranoia and attempts to erase his past became a self-fulfilling prophecy as his own past actions finally caught up to him and led to his defeat.

As Diavolo became increasingly power-hungry, he lost his humanity in order to become completely untouchable by the outside world. He sabotaged his own life (including Doppio by extension) to sever all of his ties from the rest of humanity. He was willing to burn down his hometown, abandon his girlfriend, and eventually try to kill his kid because of his paranoia and lack of care for anyone but himself. His own daughter, a person he's supposed to care about, was instead a painful living reminder of his past that he wanted to dispose of at any cost.

That’s the moral of his character; when all you seek is power, you lose your humanity and sight of what’s really important, which, in this case, was his child. This “Diavolo is the evil split personality getting in the way of Doppio being a good father” narrative totally defeats the point (not to mention echoes the tiresome “sweet, innocent alter with an evil violent alter” character trope that has been used to stigmatize people with Dissociative Identity Disorder for decades).

I feel the same way about the constant insistence that Doppio is the "real/original" of the two and that Diavolo is the "fake" one, whatever that means (if anything, it would be the reverse since the manga repeatedly calls Diavolo the "true form" and their "true nature"- though this entire idea of one being "fake" and one being "real" doesn't really make sense), the "Diavolo is actually a demon possessing Doppio" theories, and the constant babying of Doppio's character. It's all geared to favor Doppio and frame him as the pure victim and Diavolo as the practically inhuman monster, resulting in squashing out the depth in both of them (and honestly detracting attention from the real innocent victim, which is Trish.)

And it’s not like Doppio needs any of this mischaracterization to be interesting; there’s genuine tragedy to his character as well. Diavolo’s obsession with self-isolation ends up dragging Doppio around with him as he’s used as a human vessel, even though Doppio does not desire this isolation for himself. As a result, he’s incredibly lonely and unhappy, depending on his Boss for companionship and instruction, never realizing that the one responsible for his loneliness in the first place is his Boss- who is also the other side of their fractured identity. In the end, he’s forcefully separated from Diavolo and ends up dying alone, deliriously begging for his Boss to call him despite Diavolo not even being there to hear him, never getting to discover the truth about himself. It reflects not only how brutally Diavolo treats others to achieve ultimate power, but also how he treats himself.

Character favoritism is fine- after all, Doppio is the more likable one, so it was inevitable- but I think it's leading people to make these two into worse characters, and that bothers me. You don’t need to spout misconceptions, fall back on overdone mental illness tropes (really, canon is already bad enough as it is), and change the whole moral of their characters to make them interesting.

[ask-icancraft-it]

Missing You

(( Hey, its another hurt/comfort fic! Learning that “Fix-It” Senior has passed away, best friend in the whole wide world Ralph drops everything to be there for a grieving Felix. Honestly, this has been chipped on for quite a while now, and has mostly been something that’s helped me with my own grief in a similar family situation. But I hope this can bring a little something to other’s as well. Enjoy. )) ---

Ralph’s brows furrowed slightly when he looked at the caller ID on his phone. He rarely, if ever, got calls from Felix’s secretary. Quickly finding a somewhat quiet place in the active construction site around him, he flipped open his phone and answered.

“Mary?”

“Hello Ralph, dear,” the woman replied as sweetly as ever, though he could tell that something was off. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Has–has Felix called you at all this past week or so?”

“No…” Ralph’s mind started racing. “Why?”

The woman sighed on the other end of the line.

“Well, I am sorry that you’re finding out from me but…Felix Senior has passed away.”

“What?” Ralph’s heart skipped a beat.

“I know, it’s a terrible thing,” Mary lamented. “The doctors say it was a heart attack…It all happened so quickly.”

“Oh my God,” Ralph couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Felix hadn’t told him anything. “How–how is Felix taking all this?”

“Well that’s partly why I called you, dear,” Mary’s voice trembled. “He won’t leave the house… Folks have come by with food and sympathy cards and it’s all just piling up by the door…”

Ralph's heart sank as she went on. Felix was struggling, and he wasn’t there.

“Oh Ralph, I managed to get him to open the door for me briefly and he looked like he’d lost weight…I don’t think he’s eating.”

“Shit…” he knew Felix didn’t grieve well, but this was far worse than he’d ever imagined.

“You two have always been so close,” Mary said tearfully. “I thought maybe if you call him, he’ll answer. He just needs to talk to somebody– Oh, I don’t know what to do…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ralph reassured her. “Thank you for telling me, I’ll try and get in touch with him right now, okay?”

“Okay,” the woman sniffed. “Thank you.”

Mary hung up, and immediately Ralph dialed Felix’s cellphone, which went straight to voicemail.

“Come on…” Ralph bit his lower lip as he tried the house phone. It rang, and rang until the voicemail picked up. A lump caught in his throat as Felix Sr. prompted him to leave a message.

“Hey…” he said solemnly after the beep. “I–uh…I just got the news that your dad passed away. I’m so sorry, I wish I was there…”

Ralph gulped, finding the next words to stay. He held onto the hope that Felix was listening.

“Felix, please…Please call me back when you can. I’m worried about you. Love you, bud…”

Those last words hung heavy in his throat as he disconnected and closed his phone. Steadying himself, he took in a couple calming breaths. This was a problem, and the solution was clear. Strengthening his resolve, Ralph removed and tossed aside his hard hat as he turned to leave.

Vanellope jumped as she heard someone unlock and burst through the hotel room door. Craning her neck, she saw Ralph in the entryway, removing his reflector vest.

“Uhh, hi–” she said, turning off the gangster movie she’d been watching. “You’re back early.”

“Pack your things, we gotta go,” he replied, grabbing his duffel and shoving his clothes inside.

“Why?” the girl tilted her head. “Did you get fired again?”

“No, I–uh…I resigned. Sort of.”

“What’s going on?” Vanellope asked nervously, noticing her guardian’s flustered state.

Ralph paused what he was doing, and let out a sigh. Dropping his bag, he knelt in front of the girl as she sat on the edge of her mattress.

“Kid…” he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Senior passed away.”

Vanellope’s eyes went wide, and in a rare occurrence, she was at a loss for words. It didn’t make any sense; he seemed just fine when they’d left.

“Oh, kid,” Ralph hugged the girl as tears began to surface. “I know, it’s sad…” Getting misty-eyed himself, he let her cry things out.

“Wh–what about Felix?” she asked between hitched breaths. “Is he o-okay?”

“He’s taking it really hard…That’s why we’re leaving; so we can go be with him. I think that’d be good for all of us, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the girl nodded, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

“You good?”

“Mhm,” Vanellope hopped off the bed and packed her things between sniffles.

A long night-shift included, it took the pair roughly a day and a half to get back home to their small hometown of Niceland. Ralph had tried calling Felix periodically throughout the trip, without any luck.

The large man sighed, nervously gripping the steering wheel with both hands. He looked down at Vanellope sleeping soundly in the passenger’s seat as he turned to park in front of the tiny office building of ‘“Fix-It” Felix Handy Repairs.’ Leaving the girl briefly, Ralph tried the front door. A small bell jingled as he opened it.

“Ralph!” a short, middle-aged woman gasped as she peered over her desktop computer.

“Hey, Mary,” he gave her a tired smile. “Surprise!”

“Oh my word!” she couldn’t help but get emotional. Rounding the desk, Mary gave him a hug. “When I called you, I didn’t expect you to come back all this way…Oh I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“No, no, it’s all good,” Ralph wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands, resigning to an awkward pat on the woman’s back. “I couldn’t get a hold of Felix either so I figured this would be best. Is…is it alright if you watch Vanellope while I go check on him? I just–I don’t know what I’m about to walk into.”

“Oh of course, of course!” Mary nodded emphatically. “Anything you need!”

Ralph gently brought the sleeping girl inside and placed her on the couch across from Mary’s desk, thanking her before leaving. --

Taking a deep breath, Ralph parked parallel to the curb of the Felix residence. Stepping up to the porch, he saw what Mary had been talking about. Dried up flowers and various bags and containers of food sat neglected on the handyman’s doorstep, along with a quilt of various sympathy cards laying across the welcome mat.

Pushing the items aside, Ralph pulled out his copy of the house key and cautiously opened the door.

“Felix?” he called out, stepping into a quiet living room. Peering into the kitchen, he spotted piles of old dishes sitting on the counter and overwhelming the sink.

Nervous, Ralph called out again. Stepping into the hallway, he took notice of the partially opened door to Senior’s room.

“Felix?” Ralph questioned as he entered. His eyes went straight to the bed, a lump lying underneath the blankets.

He walked over to the far side of the bed frame, and leaned over to find Felix nestled among the pillows and sheets, staring into space.

Gently, Ralph moved to sit on the edge of the mattress, extending a hand and placing it on the handyman’s side.

“Hey,” he said softly.

As if broken from a trance, Felix’s eyes met his.

“Ralph?” he rasped, sitting up. His eyes grew wide with realization. “W-what are you doing here?”

As the smaller man unfurled himself from the bed linens, Ralph’s eyes darted around his petite frame. He was pale, and his white undershirt hung more loosely on his torso than usual.

“I uh–” Ralph cleared his throat. “Mary told me what happened…”

The handyman flinched, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. But despite his efforts, Felix completely fell apart. Clinging to Ralph, he sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I should have told you what was going on…I just…I couldn’t—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ralph wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him tightly. “It’s okay…”

“It all happened so fast…”

“I know.”

Ralph had only been gone a month for the new construction job he got the next state over. It was humbling, being reminded how quickly things can change. Which was why he was so glad he’d dropped everything to be here, right now, holding his grieving friend tight.

When Felix calmed down, Ralph slowly pulled away, brushing his fingers along the handyman’s thin arms.

“Have you eaten lately?” he asked without judgment; nodding slowly when his friend didn’t answer.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty hungry,” Ralph encouraged Felix to stand up. “Let’s see what we can scrounge up.”

In truth, he wasn’t hungry at all, but he knew the handyman would respond better to fulfilling someone else's needs other than his own. With some gentle coaxing, they moved into the dining area attached to the kitchen.

“Here,” the larger man pulled a chair out and sat the small man down. He was too frail at the moment to stand for long periods of time. “Sit here, I’ll see what we’ve got to work with.”

As Felix sat with a glass of water, Ralph took a closer look at the state of things. The fridge had a scant few items inside, some of which were now expired. In the cupboards were some canned goods, and moldy bread. Ralph grabbed a fresh packet of pasta atop one of the pantry shelves and said a little prayer as he stepped into the adjacent room to look in the chest freezer, where batch meals and ice creams were generally stocked.

With a smile, he located and pulled out a container of the ‘Fix-It’ family’s homemade spaghetti sauce. Senior had always made sure to keep at least a batch of it frozen at any time, “just in case.”

Placing the tupperware in the microwave, Ralph set it to defrost before rolling up his sleeves to tackle the pile of dishes in the sink. Occasionally, he looked from the sudsy water in front of him to Felix, who simply sat, staring at the empty placemat in front of him.

When the microwave beeped, the large man dried his hands, grabbing a couple of clean pots and filling the larger one with water. Soon enough, he had the sauce simmering on one burner, and a handful of pasta boiling on the other.

Having finished with the dishes, Ralph kneeled beside Felix’s chair.

“It’ll be about 15 more minutes,” he said, not even sure the handyman was listening. “Do you want to try and take a shower before we eat?”

Felix nodded subtly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, acknowledging everything that Ralph was doing for him.

“No problem, bud. Come on,” he helped the handyman to the bathroom, supplying him with fresh towels and clothes.

“Don’t lock the door. If I don’t hear from you by time dinner’s ready, I am coming in,” Ralph instructed, giving his friend fair warning.

“Okay,” Felix mumbled, closing the door, leaving it open just a smidge.

Ralph had just put Senior’s bed linens in the wash when Felix returned to the dining room, refreshed. He shuffled into the kitchen to grab some clean silverware, pausing in the middle of his task.

“Where’s Vanellope?” the handyman asked.

“Mary’s watching her,” Ralph said, relieved that the fog clouding his friend’s mind was beginning to clear. “We’ll save her some and pick her up later.”

Felix nodded, and a sudden bout of dizziness struck him. One of his hands reached out to the counter for support, and Ralph caught on quickly, wrapping an arm around the handyman’s waist as he stumbled.

“Hey, you need to sit down,” Ralph held the smaller man steady as he moved him back in his seat. “You can set our places from here.”

“S-sorry…” Felix said tearily, ashamed that he’d let his health slip this far.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ralph reassured just before the kitchen timer buzzed. Within a few minutes, he was back at the table, steaming plates of spaghetti in hand.

“Dig in,” he said, sitting down and grabbing his fork. In the amount of time it took to make dinner, Ralph had worked up an appetite. He only hoped his friend would be just as receptive to the meal placed in front of him.

Felix took a few laborious bites, eyes brimming with tears as he chewed. Ralph looked on with sympathy, reaching a hand out when the handyman stopped completely.

“I know it’s hard,” He smoothed a thumb over his friend’s wrist. “Keep trying.”

With a bit more effort, Felix managed to eat at least half of his portion before stopping again, placing a hand over his mouth as he leaned on his elbow, looking away.

“Why don’t we save this and go pick up the kid,” Ralph suggested, taking the handyman’s bowl.

Vanellope must have seen or heard the truck pulling up to the office, as she had thrown open its front door by the time Ralph put it in park. And in seeing her, Felix had grown frantic, fumbling with his seat belt.

Ralph undid the buckle for him, and reached over to open the door. The handyman spilled out of the vehicle, kneeling on the curbside just in time to wrap the girl running to him in a tight embrace. “Felix!”

“Oh princess…” The handyman sobbed. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Vanellope mirrored his emotions. “I’m—I’m sorry about your dad.”

Mary stood in the office doorway, quickly pulling out a handkerchief to dry her own face. Even Ralph’s eyes were wetted by the pair's tearful reunion.

--

The day had been long for the three of them, Felix and Vanellope succumbing to slumber early in the evening, however, the handyman awoke in the middle of the night with a start.

Sitting up in bed, he tried to get rid of the dryness in his mouth, grabbing for the glass of water on the nightstand. Downing the last couple of sips left, the handyman sighed, fighting against the fatigue to pull himself up to get some more.

Felix was halfway down the hall when a small whimper met his ear, followed by a sniffle. Peering into the living room, he spotted Ralph’s silhouette perched on the couch, bathed in moonlight. The large man’s slumped shoulders quivered as he held his face, more soft sobs piercing the otherwise quiet atmosphere.

The handyman slowly approached, startling his friend when he was spotted just beyond the coffee table. Ralph looked up at him, cheeks wet with tears he quickly began wiping away. Silently, Felix closed the distance, climbing onto the couch to lean on his friend and hold his large hand.

“I’m sorry,” the handyman whispered. “You were being strong for Vanellope and I today. That must have been hard… I know how much he meant to you.”

Try as he might, there was no stopping the gentle flow that poured from the corners of his eyes. Senior was the closest thing Ralph ever had to a father figure. In a town full of people who judged him for his upbringing, or for the way that he looked; when he became friends with Felix, Senior showered him with love and compassion from day one. In their home, Ralph always felt welcome; like he belonged.

“I wish I was here…” he sobbed. “I wish I never took that stupid construction job.Then maybe…Maybe—”

“Ralph, there’s nothing you could have done.”

“But at least I would have been here for you sooner. I hate thinking of you being alone in his house, for days, while I was off helping some rich assholes put up another shitty shopping mall.”

“Language, Ralphie,” Felix smiled, recounting those two words as something his father would have to say very often. Despite his emotions, Ralph couldn’t help but laugh.

“God,” the large man sniffled as another wave of sadness washed over him. “I’m going to miss that.”

“There’s a lot of things to miss about dad,” Felix nodded. “And I don’t know if this makes any sense, but now that you and Vanellope are here…he doesn’t feel so far away.

Ralph smiled, squeezing his friend's hand, understanding what he meant. He felt it too.

“I am sorry you quit your job though. You were being paid well.”

“I’ll find something else,” Ralph shrugged. “You know me, I always manage to get by. Right now, I just wanna be home…”

Felix leaned his head on the larger man’s shoulder, feeling blessed to have a friend like Ralph for times like this. Someone to lean on, to grieve with, to listen. There were many ways in which “Fix-It” Senior lived on in him; in all of them. Subtle, yet unmistakable ways that only they would know and perceive. His was a presence that would be missed, but never be truly gone; as long as they were together.

“Home…”

[mommalosthermind]

There’s a special kind of grief, for me, that I can’t really distill enough for other people to understand.

There’s something about the mythical promises of the ‘90s, and the reality of what we actually inherited, that’s just… How do you explain that? How do you explain the raw exhaustion, the dissonance between “You can be anything,” and then having to look at my kids. My kids, who are not told they can be anything. My kids, who are told instead, “find your joy and fight for it.” My kids, who aren’t told, “the world will open up for you,” because it won’t. They’re told, “Be kind, but be fierce.”

We were not well off when I was a kid. We lived all over the place, none of them nice, and I’d go literal days without seeing the supposed adult in the house because she worked three jobs. But I was told, over and over and o v e r: it’ll get better.

Go to college. You’ll make bank. You’ll never have to worry again. Just make it to adulthood, and everything will be perfect. The world will open up before you. You can do anything.

Except I went to college. I did all the right things. We’re still not doing okay—just better than when I was a kid. And honestly, thats mostly because my parental figure was a fucking teenager who didn’t even go to high school, and definitely didn’t realize how badly she was getting raked over the coals, and Still Is Bad With Money. Also still thinks unions are the reason she got fired from the one good job she had, without realizing that a union would have protected her.

We’re doing all the right things.

My partner’s got like five degrees. He works two jobs, because the national guard is the only reason he managed to get those degrees. He’s had a retirement fund going since he was fourteen years old— last year we got a notice saying the fund LOST SEVEN GRAND, because *the company* didn’t make enough for the year. We shouldn’t be worrying about retirement. We’re in out 30s. I don’t know that we’ll get to retire.

You can do anything! You can grow up and be whatever you want! Pick something you love because you’ll do it every single day!

And now I have to look at my kids and go: you have to find that fine line. You have to survive. You have to find something that doesn’t actively make you want to die when you wake up but will still let you fucking eat. You’ll have to fight every day. You’ll have to find your people. You’ll have to root your happiness like a dandelion in the cracks of the sidewalk and it’s going to be the hardest thing you’ll ever do.

We did everything we were told we should do, and the world is worse every time I look up.

I can’t tell my kids ‘you can do anything you want.’

I have to tell them, “don’t let the world kill you.” I have to tell them, “Find your joy and hold onto it no matter how much the world tries to break you for it.”

There’s that quote I can’t remember right, something about I studied war so my child can study art. Well. I studied education so my kids can learn. I studied, and the world regressed, and now I’m fighting so you can sleep better than I do at night.

I don’t know, man.

We talk about it sometimes, my partner and I. How if we’d known, if we’d fucking known, we wouldn’t have even had kids, because they deserve better. They didn’t ask for this. They shouldn’t have to deal with it. But 14-15 years ago, the world seemed like it was maybe going places. Like we might make that progress. Like if we could just hold on for a little while longer, things would hit that magic Better we’d been promised.

Or maybe I just didn’t know better, and I thought I’d already lived through the worst of it.

“Try not to think about it too much,” the so-called anxiety specialist recommends during our once a month meet-ups. “You’ve got happy kids, that’s all that matters. You can’t do anything about the rest of the world.”

And like. She’s right. I can’t. I CAN’T. And that’s the crux of it, I think. I suffered, and they should not fucking have to. I clawed up my way up, and they should not have to. I’m terrified, and they should not fucking know what that’s like. Cramming in some yoga or meditation or focusing on learning new skills isn’t going to un-fuck the world I’m in. But I’m angry about it.

Because I DO have happy kids, and I know that’s a fucking privilege. But holy fuck, I’d like them to have the ability to be happy adults.

I’m tired. And I’m so fucking full of grief I don’t know where to put because it never ends.

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

The Bellamy house was alive with activity and noise. Three pottery wheels churned loudly as their users struggled to master the motions needed to control the clay. Only the oldest Bellamys were trying their best to make plates out of clay lumps. The twins were with their father and Saturnia was visiting her grandmother to give Roman and Abe some bonding time with their young teenager. Abe Jr was down for a nap, allowing the Bellamys to get started on their craft without interruption.

“This was my mother’s favourite medium to work with,” Roman said to no one in particular. Abe already knew about Kamalani’s art work and Theo wasn’t paying attention to anything but the whirling wheel before him. “I donated some of her pieces to the Strangetown Art Gallery once I figured out that she was semi-famous there. I think they’re even more popular now that she’s dead.”

Well, somewhat dead anyway. Mostly dead. Dead enough to never return...I hope.

While his father pondered the status of his deity angering mother, Theo gave up on his plate and turned his wheel off. This was boring and pointless. Roman was clearly trying to prove some point to his son, though about what, Theo had no idea. His other father was focused intensely on his project, trying to force the clay to follow his design with minimal results. This little craft exercise had failed. Neither one of his parents were interacting with Theo, aside from Roman’s ramblings, and whatever bonding they’d been hoping for with their son was never going to happen.

They meant well, which had to count for something. Some of his friends' parents barely saw them or never tried to spend time with them and here Theo's parents were, trying their best to bond with him. Theo had better things to do than sitting around watching a wheel turn while his parents pretended that their relationship was still fine. He could hang out with his friends or study for his latest potion exam on a day like this. He wasn't a baby anymore. His parents had a new baby now to occupy their time with anyway. 

It took only seconds to dial the number he'd had memorized since grade school. While Theo had a dedicated circle of friends, there was one person he wanted to see more than anyone else.

"Hello, Adam? Are you busy? Do you want to hang out this afternoon? My parents are being weird again. Yeah, some craft that my crazy grandma sold a lot of back in the day. I know, right? It's insane. Oh, you're hanging out with Medora? Well come to Arkhelios and we'll all hang out at the usual place."

Theo listened intently to Adam's reply, staring at his little brother playing loudly in the hall. His parents had Abe to focus on now, so surely they wouldn't mind if he left for a few hours. They might even prefer his absence, so they could continue to talk out their various problems without their kids nearby to overhear. They would definitely welcome the space to talk amongst themselves, Theo just knew it. By hanging out with Adam and Medora, he'd be doing his parents a favour.

After hanging up with Adam, Theo sent a quick text to his father's phone and vanished into thin air once it had sent. It truly was easier to beg for forgiveness than ask permission.

Roman looked at his phone, hearing it buzz faintly over the turning of his wheel. After reading it, he angrily turned to where he had assumed Theo was and saw only a mess where his son should be.

"Dammit!" he swore, alerting Abe from his own project. "Abe, your son has abandoned father-son time to 'hang out with his friends'. It's not like he lives with those friends at school and sees them everyday or anything. We only see him for a brief time in a month and now he's leaving us again."

"At least he's letting us know where he is," Abe pointed out, looking as disappointed as his husband. “I never want to relive that time he ran away from home. Who knows if we'd ever find him again. He knows a lot more about the world now and could get into so much worse trouble."

"You're afraid of the same thing I am?" Roman asked, looking curious despite his efforts to hide his fear. "That he'll follow our example? That he's going to throw away his future on a boy?"

"Of course," Abe confirmed, looking disappointed that Roman even had to ask. "Why wouldn't I? I don't know why you think that you're on your own, Roman. He's our son; we're in this together. We're on the same team."

"Yeah?"

For an instant, Roman forgot his worry over his teenage son and allowed himself to feel hope like he'd forgotten how to.

"Yeah."

Roman's heart fluttered like he was the teenager in the household. Abe was saying all the things he wanted to hear, all the things he thought he'd never hear again from his husband. He and Abe had a rocky history with trust and teamwork, but maybe things were starting to get better between them. Maybe they worked better when they were under pressure or in danger and had a common enemy to fight. They were both stubborn and convinced they each had the right idea for every problem, but when it counted, Abe and Roman stuck together.

From the very second Abe learned he was pregnant at sixteen to the time he sat next to an unresponsive Roman who had just been shot, Abe had vowed to never leave Roman's side and Roman had done the same. Sure, neither one of them had been great at upholding that vow over the years, but they had made it just the same and confirmed it again when they married. It wasn't a demonic contract anymore, but despite everything that had happened between them, Abe knew that he would always treat it like it was. For better or worse, his fate was tied to Roman Bellamy and no demon, teenager or affair could ever change that. He’d never let it.

[ina-nis]

I feel like the essence of this torment is that I only ever felt loneliness, from the moment I was born, even.

I have learned that I could not trust people to take care of me, so I had to learn how to take care of myself. And it's not possible to heal this relationship between myself and other people on my own, nor is it possible to do so relying on temporary and conditional connections - these have taught me yet another thing: that I cannot rely on others, because they will go away, or I will leave, or some unforeseen circumstance will drive us apart.

I've been told this is "normal" and that I ought get used to it, while having my trauma dismissed and invalidated (even if indirectly).

I can be the most healed person in the planet, with the biggest self-esteem, and those wounds will never really close, the scars will never really stop hurting me because I've been doing it all on my own and, now I can see it, obviously, it only make matters worse...

Even if I treat my trauma and become virtually asymptomatic, I still have my triggers and they'll still be activated in the exact same ways. The only difference is my response to them - usually, you just brush it off and "it's no big deal," you continue living and it's not the end of the world. Alright. Nothing is addressed at all. Just how you react to a problem changes. You haven't solved it.

How can I solve emotional neglect, stemming from dysfunctional or nonexistent social links? How can I address these trust issues and fears, without having people who I can actually trust and feel safe around? Among other things.

Because, so far, I have reached a very good place where you could say this is "remission" and I have several relationships and connections with several different people, where I feel safe and secure...

...While, at the same time, I'm ready to be dropped from the face of Earth, because I literally cannot trust any of these relationships on a foundational level - the level that pertains to those old wounds and my trauma.

So, in some twisted ways, I'm happy I have lots of internet friends and people I talk to regularly, and I also believe a day might come when all these relationships will disappear from my life (again) and it will be fine, too. I was expecting it.

I never really had any hope they would be something long-lasting or safe for me anyway.

Obviously, it's nobody's fault. This is just how things are for me at the moment and I have not had success in addressing the root of the issue, because I feel, essentially, alone.

This is not because I want to, or because I don't try to address it. It's because it requires other people, it requires their effort and them showing up for me too, it requires responsibilities on their end towards me, it requires a level of commitment and intimacy that I will never be able to experience through my communities or friends, not even my closest ones.

I have a few close friends and even now I do not see them as "family," it's likely I never will.

These relationships being virtual is part of the reason. The other part probably has to do with these abandonment issues of mine... but anyways, I put "family" and "romantic partners" in my innermost circle of connections and that circle is empty. It has been for a while now.

I understand looking at relationships "hierarchically" like that is probably more counterproductive than it is helpful but, in my mind, it makes sense because it is all a matter of priorities (this is why I have a very hard time understanding relationship anarchy and how people don't see hierarchy in their own relationships): the further away from your inner circle people are, the less time and energy you'll spend on them. This is why people will dedicate their times to spouses and kids, while best friends and acquaintances might take on a more secondary role; similarly, your relationship with a broader community and the people in it will never be on the same degree of closeness as your relationship with your childhood friends.

Those are not bad things per se, I don't think, It's just that we only have so much capacity to do so much without completely burning out. I would personally prefer to nurture a few (or even one) very close relationships, than spreading my energy around trying to befriend everyone - which is the thing I've been doing for the last couple of months, which would explain why I'm so exhausted, huh?

But I guess I don't have a choice, do I? Deep inside, I'm hoping some close relationship might come out of these, and not only hoping, actually saying so to people, too. But I have had no success so far. Big deal, right? Well, it kind of is... considering it's really draining me.

I need a family, a romantic partner. Anything else will not suffice, and will only cause frustration, but there's no other way to find family and partners than going through this discomfort I guess... (and meanwhile, I try to pretend dating apps don't exist so it's not even something that crosses my mind anymore).

Just because I need that, doesn't mean I'll get it, so this is where all that acceptance part comes into play: how to become able to live in discomfort over unmet needs? What can be done to alleviate that pain and those emotions? And so many other questions...

I guess it feels... good? To finally be able to admit that this is a need of mine, and there's no shame in it - it's scientifically backed too, so I'm not talking nonsense here... Unfortunately, this is one of the many things that's out of one's control so I can only do my best to mitigate the issues. I try to.

I also hope I'll eventually feel less tired. So I'm able to enjoy life fully and do lots of things I want to do. I'm working hard for that and it's only a matter of time.

[96percentdone]

When I was a kid we had a neighbor our age who was also autistic and he would kiss us even if we hated it no matter how much we asked him to stop. We were all kids. So we'd just yell "stop! Go away!" And slam the door etc etc etc even if we were fine hanging out up until that point, and we'd be fine again tomorrow.

Turns out I'm also autistic. And one of the ways it manifests for me is an inability to understand what anyone is saying unless they are being extremely explicit about what they mean, how they mean it, and what they're referring to. Otherwise I just guess what people mean. I often guess wrong. This usually makes things worse. The allistic world has no idea how much goes implicitly understood when they speak; they just hope I can keep up.

Obviously, on some level, he should have stopped and asked what we meant, right? We were too upset to be clear about it. But i can't help but wonder if maybe it was a language issue, in the same way I have. Would that have helped? Would that have changed anything? Was he deliberately overriding our boundaries or did he not understand what the problem was in the first place?

None of this makes it better an experience for me, but does it not matter? How do we decide someone's disability is malicious intent?

Sometimes I think you guys would throw me to the slaughter and call it activism

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I’ve said before that I really like Succession, I think it’s a great show, but it can’t become one of my favourites because I’m not emotionally invested in it. I don’t care what happens. And I was thinking today that the problem that keeps me from getting emotionally invested is built into a show about billionaires, nothing the writers could do would change that.

The problem is that any one of these people, at any time, could choose to stop being part of it. To stop working in that company and actively ruining the world, and just take all their money and live in luxury somewhere else for the rest of their life. That would still be unethical and everything, living off money they didn’t earn but someone else obtained by exploiting and ruining the world, but at least they wouldn’t be an active participant. They’d just take enough for themselves, which is a drop in the bucket, hardly enough to matter, and they could live easily forever. The Roy kids could definitely do that. But even the top-level employees could probably be fine, if they took that golden parachute people keep referencing. They’ve worked at the very lucrative company long enough so between pension plans and stock holdings, they have the option of getting out and living well. They’re all choosing to stay there, in a job where they make the world worse, just because they want to.

That’s even what some of them were doing when the show started. Connor was living on a ranch, hanging out with the woman he bought, and ignoring everyone else. Siobhan was working in politics just because I guess she enjoyed the adrenaline of it, but she didn’t need to. They all chose to get back involved in ruining the world with their family, they could easily have just stayed away.

I think of my favourite workplace sitcoms – off the top of my head, The Thick of It, 30 Rock, Parks and Rec. All of those have significant stakes, because if the main characters fuck up badly enough, they get fired, and then they won’t be able to pay their rent/mortgage. Also, in at least two of the three, the main characters are working to make the world a better place in some small way, and if they fuck up the world is worse off, so we care about them getting it right. That might not quite apply to 30 Rock – I think the show makes it clear that the world would be fine without TGS – but at the very least they’re providing livelihoods for all the employees. Succession has aspects in common with the other Jesse Armstrong thing The Thick of It, like the biting dialogue and everything, but it has none of the stakes because everyone could just stop doing this stuff and they’d be fine. While in Peep Show, those guys are one fuckup away from homelessness.

Succession just doesn’t have that, and can’t have that, because of the premise of the show. So I can enjoy watching it, but I’m never going to feel concerned on a character’s behalf, because even if everything goes as wrong as possible, the consequences are living in luxury forever. They created a few characters to whom that doesn’t apply, I guess specifically to make it so the stakes matter for someone, like Greg. But Greg’s such a dick that no one wants him to do well anyway.

Also, Succession writers, you can make all your characters unequivocally terrible people who actively choose to ruin the world because living off ill-gotten gains without actively participating in making things even worse isn’t enough for them, or you can have me feel sympathy for them when their dad dies. You can’t have both.

They threw one line into the first episode of season 4 to try to create some stakes, having Kendall say he needs to remain immersed in the high-octane world of corporate jockeying or else he’ll turn to drugs due to lack of stimulation. But, come on, he could take his millions and use them to buy stimulation elsewhere. Take up bungee jumping.

It’s a very good show. It has amazingly good writing and acting and directing and cinematography and things like that. It’s fun to watch. I just don’t care what happens, beyond vaguely wanting everyone in it to have their company dissolved, their assets seized and redistributed, and then go to jail.

[minebentobox]

no one’s talking about being an expert, posing, or quizzing ppl. these points always come up when ppl defend themselves

it’s about about doing the bare minimum. fanfic and fan art are like any other form of writing and art, open to critique, and the valid critique is that maybe study dali if ur gonna paint a surrealist painting? maybe read the communist manifesto before you write on the history of marxism?

this isn’t a dig at u all, or a quiz or an attack on character, it’s just a diff perspective.

But it IS about quizzing and criticizing how others experience and interact with media. That’s the POINT - the same cultural phenomenon that made the boys say “oh you listen to x band? Name five songs” - is the same mentality that creates the “im mad the fan made media is not to my liking”.

Surrealism can be created in a vaccume without you seeing surrealist artist so THAT is a super bad example. It’s not someone trying to copy Dali to create something that feels in that world. I don’t think anyone would really put Junji Ito and Dali in same genre in an art history text book BUT Ito’s art is surrealism as well. You don’t need to have seen either to be interested in creating art that has an element of revulsion to it. I have seen kids create surrealism with their soul intent being to gross others out. “Look I drew the teacher but her head is a butt” Art never needs to be fine art or high brow to still be art. It’s self expression.

If you are researching Marxism you probably WILL have read the communist manifesto- just because. But that is not the entirety of Marxism or communism and your essay may focus on something completely different because that is more relevant to your thesis. Does not mean just because you ignored it that your essay or thesis statement was without a point.

And that is the point - it’s FINE to like more canon fan media. It’s also fine to make what you enjoy. Most fandom artist and writers ARE familiar with the original works they just like the fandom created AU more. If they want canon they can open that comic, it’s easy to get. But if you want to see omega Superman mpreg you gotta make that yourself (I kid but you know what I mean) . And it makes an easy non serious entry point for newbies and new fans are born.

A lot of gait kept fandoms DONT create that space and figuratively stick up their nose at newbies. So they cling closer to the more friendly community that is off their rockers - but at least they KNOW they are and are having fun with it. The more canon fans want you to somehow “earn your place” The gait keeping Elitism is what BREEDS the lack of more canon media. And the cycle continues and gets worse.

Basically - create what you want to see. Ignore what you don’t. And expect the same of others.

Don’t expect or demand others to create what YOU want unless you plan on paying artist to create what you want to see. And like that’s always a great idea anyway. If you WANT canon accurate content you have to create it yourself or pay others to not demand other people give up what they enjoy making just because it’s not what you want to consume.

There is not a bare minimum- you can go as far down and dig deeper and that does not take away from it being art. Criticism is one thing, but that’s not what “this is not canon” is. OBVIOUSLY it’s not canon… obviously they took liberties. That’s not a critique. That’s just an observation.

Fan media content is leisure activity- it’s rarely for profit. It does not NEED to be canon accurate at all. It is exactly as the creators intended warts and all.