#this is canon and you can't take it away from me

[vivwritesfics]

Smooth Is The Descent

All your father did was talk of rest, but the emperors didn't take that well. Punishing your father didn't do much, so you were punished instead. It's a shame the champion gladiator they gave you too has no interest in being anything but sweet to you

Lucius Verus x reader (general Acacius's daughter)

Warnings: sa (not explicitly written but heavily implied), Canon typical violence, use of the name whore (let me know if I've forgotten anything)

You were never supposed to bear the weight of his words. You hadn't been the one to say them, to let such blasphemies leave your lips. Yet here you were, facing the punishment for them. 

"No!" Your father cried when Geta turned his attention to you. "Emperor Geta, please! The words were mine! Do not punish my daughter for them!" 

But the general was ignored and you were taken away. 

For such punishment, you would have thought it treason your father had spoken. But no, he only spoke of rest, of spending some time at home with his wife and his daughter. His wife, Lucilla. She was not your mother, but you respected her still. The woman your father had chosen to marry after your mother's tragic end. 

No more details of your punishment were given to General Acacius. The twin emperors, with sickening smiles on their painted faces, sent your father away before you could utter a word to him, before you could assure him that you would be okay, that you were strong. 

Of course, if he knew the true nature of your punishment, he would have stormed the Palace to get you back. He would have taken on every man that stood between him and the twin emperors, slain them then and there. 

Whatever your fate was, you knew no harm would befall you. Well, no lasting damage, nothing that would send you to the afterlife. For the moment your hand was placed in Death and you allowed her to lead you to a forever slumber, their control over your father would have been lost. 

But it was still a punishment. 

With your wrists shackled together, you were led away. Emperor Geta had controlled his men with nothing but the flick of his wrist and you realised that your punishment had been preplanned, prepared for the moment your father stepped out of line. 

You had no idea what awaited you. Lashings, beatings. Maybe Caracalla would have you dance for them, for their entire court, the senate, and your father, wearing nothing. That had happened before. Your face had burned with humiliation and your father had been unable to look at you. 

Instead, you were taken from the Palace. The control the twin emperors had over your father was no secret, the reason why their hold over him was so strong was no secret.  

You. It was all because of you. 

"Feed her to the barbarians," the man pushing you out of the Palace had said once you'd made it to the Colosseum. 

Feed her to the barbarians.

Suddenly, you struggled. "No!" You cried as you tried to twist out of their hold. "No, you can't!" Barbarians. Once slaves from conquered nations, now gladiators, fighting for their freedom. 

Your father had been the one to conquer their lands, the one to take them prisoner. There was no telling what would happen once they found out who you were. 

"Please," you cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. "Please, they'll kill me! Once they find out who I am, they'll kill me." Clutching the soldiers armours, you dropped to your knees, still sobbing. "Please," you cried. "Please." 

He kicked you away, his sandal hitting your chest. It knocked the very wind from your lungs, left you struggling for breath as you tried to get up. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut," he spat. 

The men outside of the Colosseum, the ones that had watched you pathetically sob, grabbed you and hauled you to your feet. You couldn't help they way you cried, your feet dragging and the gravel digging into your skin. 

They carried you into the darkness, the only light source being the flicking lanterns along the walls. When you were far enough into the labyrinth beneath the Colosseum, they let you go and pushed you to your knees. The dirt and the gravel bit into your palms as you were pushed forward. 

"Come and get your fill," one of the men that had dragged you called, but they weren't talking to you. 

One hulking gladiator stepped forward. The very ground shook with every step he took towards you. He crouched in front of you, fingers beneath your chin forcing you to look at him, to look into your eyes. He took in the finery of your clothing, the gold atop your head and the bracelets around your wrists. A girl of status, that was clear. 

When he smiled, you saw mostly gums. The smile was ghastly, twisted and evil. The sort of smile you had only seen the twin emperors wear. "She'll do," he said and dragged you to your feet. 

"No!" You cried again, screaming in his face as your struggled against your grip. But he pulled you against his chest, arms wrapping around you as he dragged you away. 

A night of torture. That was what it was, nothing more. Torture that never seemed to end. Gladiators that never grew weary, gladiators that kept your torture going through the night. Torture that kept you from the reprieve of sleep. 

The sun might has risen, but you weren't to know. It was only when soldiers came to fetch you, threw you a cloak to hide your tattered clothing and your broken state, that you allowed yourself to breathe. 

Breathe without the foul scent of gladiator surrounding you. Breathe without tasting death. 

Your body ached as you were again shackled and taken back to the twin emperors. Geta and Caracalla revelled in pain and torture, this you knew. Even as General Acacius's daughter, you were not exempt. 

You were dragged before the twin emperors, cloak pulled from your body. Geta grinned at the sight of you, at the bruises marring your skin, at the way your legs trembled in exhaustion. At the way your clothing hung in tatters, showing too much of you. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, again down to your punishment. 

"A fitting reminder to your father of what will happen should he dare to question me again,"  Geta said and held out his hand. You couldn't help but tremble as you took it and kissed his ring. 

He pushed you away with a demand to clean up before the games. They were in your father's honour, after all. Sick and barbaric games, all for the pleasure of the emperors. Games meant to be in your father's honour, yes, but you knew how much he hated this. 

Your horse walked slowly, as if he was aware of just how much pain your body was in. Your patted his neck in appreciation as you rode towards your home. The gates opened as you approached and you rode through. You were slow as you jumped from his back and handed his reins off to your groom. 

Holding your cloak closer to your body, you headed inside. As much as you didn't want your father seeing you like this, as much as you wanted to run to the baths before your father or Lucilla could catch sight of you, you couldn't avoid it. 

There your father was, dressed all in white. Ready for the games, you realised. He wore concern on his face when he took in your appearance. "Oh, my daughter." General Acacius couldn't hide the sadness from his voice as he strode towards you. "I swear they'll pay for this." When his hands touched you, touched the bruises you were trying to keep hidden, you hissed and pulled away from him. 

"Do not speak such things, father," you said as you stepped away from him. "I will be ready for the games shortly."

You bathed as quickly as you could, desperate not to make your father late. God, you could only imagine the anger on Geta and Caracalla if you made him late, could only imagine the punishment that would be placed onto you. Lucillas staff helped you to dress, helped replace the jewellery the gladiators had stolen from you and helped you to fix your hair. 

Gathering your skirts, you joined your father and Lucilla. Things were quiet, you refusing to speak on your way to the games. Games, what a silly word for it. What a silly word for men fighting each other for the pleasure and amusement of other men. 

You sat silently, head bowed as you rode towards the games. Your father said nothing, you said nothing to him. It was better that way, better if you didn't talk about it. The less he knew, the better. The better for the both of you. 

At the Colosseum, you were led to your seats. Led to the Emperors box. Geta and Caracalla stood, observing the crowd as the games announcer announced your father. The crowd roared as your father stepped towards them at the request of Emperor Geta. A request he answered when Geta looked to you in silent threat. They cheered his name and clapped their hands. 

"Speak to them," said Emperor Geta as your father turned to return to you and Lucilla. Another request your father couldn't deny, another silent threat made towards you. 

It was hard to listen to your father as the Colosseum surrounded you. Mere hours before, you had been here, you had been tortured beneath her walls. The men that would come and fight in the name of your father had been your tormentors through the night. Your eyes stung with fresh, hot tears, but you didn't let them fall.

You were all too aware of the man sitting behind you. Macrinus, the gladiator king. The title did not come from his ability to fight, you knew, but his ability to choose. Choose the best fighters, the one that would win him the most coin. These were his fighters, you realised as your father finished speaking. He came and took his seat between yourself and Lucilla. The crowd was still cheering his name, showing him more love and loyalty than they showed their emperors. 

The barbarians from Numidia. That was what the games announcer had called them. You watched, none of their faces those of your tormentors, they they strode into the middle of the Colosseum. Their armour was minimal, some carrying swords, some carrying a sword and shield. Some pointed at the crowd tried to get their attention, tried to elicit cheers, and the rest were more concerned with what was to come. 

And one looked towards the Emperors. At least, you thought he was looking towards the Emperors. But Lucilla stilled, and polite smile dropping from her face. "What is it, my love?" Your father asked her, but she could not bring herself to answer. 

The rhino and its rider. You knew the face of it's rider, the face of the man that had taken you first the night before. Your blood ran cold as you watched. For the first time, your support when to the barbarians, to Macrinus. 

The rider pulled a weapon, something sharp and deadly. The crowd around you cheered for him. Your focus was for the Numidian front and centre, instructing the other gladiators. Unable to hear what he was saying, you sat forward in your seat. 

The rhino charged and the gladiators broke, running for the wall. The Beast kicked up sand, preventing you a clear picture of what was happening. "Do not watch the brutality, my daughter," your father whispered, but you couldn't help yourself. 

Violence and death didn't fascinate you like it did men. But to see the rider of the rhino brought to his knees? You weren't looking away for one second. 

But there was a reason he was undefeated. 

You watched the Numidian pick up the gravel and sand in his hands. The rider was focused on him, you realised. He charged but the gladiator stood there, unyielding. He was going to get himself killed. 

At the last moment, he threw the sand and it spread out around him, blocking him from view. The rhino still blindly charged, but the Numidian man leapt out of the way. Suddenly, hope soared within you. If anybody could bring down the rider...

With its horn smashed and its rider no longer on its back, the rhino sat in pain. But the two gladiators were on their feet, racing towards the sword. You held your breath as the Numidian grabbed it first, repeatedly used its hilt to hit your tormentor in the head. 

But then your tormentor twisted in his hold and grabbed the sword. He kicked the Numidian until he was on the floor and then roared to the crowd. 

No.

"The gates of hell are open night and day," Geta said with a grin as he looked down at the Numidian man. "Smooth is the..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to remember the rest of it. 

"Sooth of the descent, easy is the way." 

You tore your eyes away from the Numidian man as Lucilla stood. 

But the fight was still happening and you were entranced by it. The Numidian was given a shield to aid in his fight. You couldn't help but watch him, eyes roaming over every inch of muscle as he fought back. He was strong, but so was the rider. An even match, the end result came down to skill. 

But the Numidian was on the floor and the crowd was chanting. "Mercy! Mercy!" You heard them chant again and again. 

"Blood," Caracalla said to his brother wearing a twisted grin. Caracalla always wanted blood. 

Geta turned his attention to you. "What shall we do? Shall we show the barbarian Mercy?" No matter your answer, Geta was going to do what he liked. 

"Mercy," Lucilla said suddenly, before you could give your own answer. 

Geta brought his hand down, channelling the Gods. It was a farce, your God's wouldn't allow this. He clenched his fist, his thumb sticking out. As he did so, the crowd fell silent, waiting with trepidation. 

His thumb raised. Mercy. The Numidian man was to stay living, and so was your tormentor. Your breath caught in your throat from the unfairness, the injustice. If the Gods were out there, how could they le this happen?

"No mercy!" The Numidian man shouted as he got to his feet.

"Your life has been spared by the Gods-" 

"I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy!" The Numidian shouted, interrupting Emperor Geta. Foolish, foolish man. 

But the fight resumed. The Numidian man dodged out of the way. He picked up his own sword, and the fight truly began. 

It wasn't long until his blade went through the stomach of the rider. Undefeated, yet all it took was a man from another land to end his life. As he sat there, on his knees, the Numidian man took his head from his body with a mighty shout. 

He was dead. The man that had taken you so forcefully last night was dead. Many of your tormentors were still alive down there, but not for much longer, not with this barbarian around. 

You released a choked sob as the barbarian gladiator walked away. 

Emperor Caracalla turned to you, still wearing a sick smile. "Perhaps we should give our new champion a prize," he said, lounging back in his seat. "An insensitive to keep winning." 

"You know, brother? I think you are right," Geta agreed and looked back to you. "A fitting prize for our new champion, wouldn't you say?" 

Hands gripped your arms and pulled you from your seat. "No!" Your father cried. "Emperors, please! You have no reason to punish her! We have done nothing wrong!" 

Emperor Geta levelled your father with a vicious, horrible look in his eye. "If you care about her life, Acacius, you will stay quiet." Geta snapped his fingers and you were dragged away, unable to look your father in the eye. If there were Gods, why weren't they helping you?

They dragged you to the baths and pushed you inside. You fell to your knees in front of the baths and the guards backed away from you, locking you inside. 

There he was, already in the water. His eyes tracked you as you stood up and brushed the dirt from your clothes. If you could stand to look at him, you would have seen just how beautiful those eyes were. 

"You don't belong down here," he said, 

You held your hands in fists by your sides as you watched him, waiting for him to move in some way. But he was completely still, watching you. Waiting for you to move, just as you were waiting for him. 

"You're right," you said, holding your chin up high. "I don't belong down here." 

He stood, water dripping from his skin as he stepped out of the baths. You looked at your sandals, unable to properly gaze upon, to see how much of a man he really was.

The gladiator laughed when you averted your gaze. But he got dressed, bothering with everything but his shirt. That you could look upon. The defined muscles of his chest, his thick arms. He was beautiful, you realised.

"You don't belong down here, yet you are here. Why?" He asked as he stood before you. You couldn't help but shrink under his gaze as he took another step.

You couldn't press yourself any closer to the wall. But you raised your chin, as if in defiance. "I am here as punishment."

His fingers touched your chin, face close to yours. Even after his bath, he still smelt like the Colosseum. "What did a little thing like you do to deserve punishment?"

Finally, you tore your eyes away from his intense, blue stare. "My father spoke of rest," you spat as you stepped away from him, arms crossed over your chest. "Rome is hungry, she must be fed."

The gladiator released a laugh, bitter and sad all at the same time. "Tell your emperors I don't want the general's whore." He walked away, leaving you in the baths.

Again, you were alone in the Colosseum. If last night was any indicator, it wouldn't be for long. You released a sob as you sat there and desperately wiped at your eyes. 'The general's whore.' The gladiator had no idea who he was talking to. Good.

Footsteps, sandals against the stone floor of the baths. You looked up, your eyed looking into the stormy blue of the handsome gladiator. "Come on," he offered you his hand.

Swallowing, trying to act like you hadn't just been crying, you placed your hand in his. His arm settled around your shoulders, holding you against him as he walked you through the Colosseum. The other gladiators stared at you, their eyes hungry. But you looked away, kept your focus on the gladiator holding you. "Why are you doing this?" You whispered.

"You wouldn't survive a night wandering around down here," he murmured as the door to his cell was pulled open.

You swallowed as you walked in. The door was shut behind you as the gladiator walked in. "Sit," he said and gestured to the bed.

You did what you were best at and obeyed. Sitting on the bed, you looked as he sat before you, his hands clasped together. He wouldn't touch you, not in the way the emperors intended for him to. That much was clear.

"What is your name, gladiator?"

He stared at you, unspeaking for a good long moment. It was unnerving, the way he just stared. His stormy eyes focused on you. "Hanno," he answered and turned away from you. "I was taken from my home by the general whose bed you warm."

"I do not warm his bed!" You shouted, suddenly on your feet. The notion had bile ready to rise in your throat.

Hanno laughed. "Yet you enjoy his company. You sit with him while you watch us, get sick pleasure from watching us maim each other.”

"I was there by order of Emperor Geta!" You challenged, standing up. "You act as if I have a choice, as if I want to sit there and watch men get slaughtered. No, I hate it! I don't see why you have to fight!"

He stood, too, towering over you once again. "I fight for my freedom." His voice was so low, dangerous, even. "I fight because my home was taken from me by your general. My home, my wife, taken from me because, what? Because Rome was hungry. Do not lecture me on choice."

You sat back down, tears in your eyes. You knew what your father did, but being told such details was something else. "I'm sorry," you sobbed as you pulled your knees up to your chest. "On behalf of Rome, of the general, I truly am sorry."

A sigh left his lips as he sat beside you. "It's not your place to apologise for what the general has done," he said and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Rome has been a corrupt place, long before you came along."

You blinked up at him, tears resting on your lashes. "What was your home like?" You asked and turned your head towards him.

He told you everything, told you about his wife, his home. The chickens he chased away from the crops and the harvest. The conversation always steered back to his wife.

You didn't ask what happened, didn't force him to relive the trauma so soon. But you couldn't hide your yawns, or the way your eyes were drooping. "Rest now," he said as he stood from his cot. "I will not disturb you."

You laid down, but you didn't sleep, not immediately. Your eyes were shut, but you weren't asleep. Every time Hanno moved, you opened your eyes to watch him, to make sure he wasn't going to use you. Not that you could stop him. But he didn't. He never laid a hand on you.

Eventually, you drifted off, eyes shut and breathing steady. Hanno watched you for a moment. It wasn’t your fault, what Rome had done to his land, to his home. It wasn’t your fault, what the general had done, and he wouldn't take it out on you.

a/n: definitely more parts to come! I won't lie I didn't mean to find Paul hot but his charms have bewitched me

[mono-dot-jpeg]

inextricably bound - viktor, jayce

summary; stuck in a plane above all else but at least you're together

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, bad jokes?, a dash of angst?, czech viktor, jayvik are canon fuck whatever christian linke was saying, just two bros being soulmates in every timeline and they're each others everything (but not in a gay way am i right chat /j), god forbid two dudes be canonically gay in every timeline, sorry im pissed off, im coping with jayvik being gone, OOC jayvik??, i dont know how to write for jayce well, jayvikreader poly sloppy toppy (jk), it's like implied that reader just got pulled in and doesn't know the dramatic moment they had n the astral plane before finally making up., headcanon that the astral plane is almost like being in limbo for death or reincarnation

[reader's gender not specified or mentioned]

word count; 808

a/n; can you tell im mad that there are jayvik non believers? like hate them all you want, but you can't just say that they were just bros and im glad most of the fandom can understand that. am i absolutely greedy for viktor? yes, but im not taking him away from his literal soulmate/twin flame/whatever the fuck gay shit they got going. also i feel like this isnt my best work but anyways enjoy :)

empty.

that's what being in the astral plane feels like. but it's calm. most of your body is engulfed the stars that you once looked up to. now you were part of that. not as a star but as a being. your face is illuminated a white gold shimmer.

"love?" a voice echoes and before you know it, two familiar faces are close to yours.

"vik? jayce?" your voice echoes in the listless space. and it's only then do you register how.. normal they look again.

despite the stars that cover their body and shimmering light of the ethereal, they look like themselves. it was the viktor and jayce you knew. your hands move, your body floating as you hold viktor's face.

"it's you. viktor.." the mentioned male looks at you, guilt and love in his eyes. jayce's hand rests on the small of his back, a silent encouragement for the shorter man. "it's you.." your voice trembles. viktor can't look you in the eye until jayce's hand gently nudges him, and it's only then that he sees the absolute love pouring from your eyes. "i should be more concerned that we're stuck here, but fuck.. i missed seeing you."

you can't exactly cry in the astral plane. your tears end up sparkling and twinkling away and become part of the galaxy you've been pulled into.

"miláček.." you don't even realize how much you've missed his normal voice until now. even if it did have that ethereal echo, it was still him. your viktor. your forehead presses against his for just a moment.

"you... i have a lot to say, but let me be happy for just a moment." viktor tenses at your words, but he relaxes in your touch. you pull away to give jayce the love you missed giving him.

"jayce.. you did so well. more than well. i don't know everything of what you experienced, but you never gave up. didn't know i could be more thankful for you." jayce smiles brightly at your words as you hold his face between his hands in appreciation.

he looks at you with that look he used to give you and viktor when things we once normal. that silly lovesick grin on his face, but you know he can't express how thankful he is for you and him. "i missed you so much, too. you have no idea." he said softly.

"now, with that out of the way, what exactly happened?" the two men look at each other before slowly explaining how everything started and ended with them. and they definitely ended it, seeing as they were taken here by the crystal that jayce held so dear to him. "but why am i here then? i mean, it makes sense for you two to be here. you're basically soulmates."

"don't say that, miláček. we love you too. whether you're in this timeline or not." viktor said gently, floating to you and holding you in his arms. "we won't allow you to think so lowly like that. especially when jayce is around. and especially because that line of thinking does not seem to do well for us. my insecurities blinded me to want to fix everything to a dangerous degree.." he confesses.

"you’re ours whether you like it or not. and it's not like we can find a way to leave here." jayce smiled softly, his large arms wrapped around yours and viktor's shoulders. he hugs you two close, not missing a moment to hold you both in his arms.

"i guess it was really meant to be when i said you're both stuck with me forever." you joked, kissing them on the cheek. "but we're really stuck here?"

after your kisses, viktor starts giving his share of kisses. "it would seem so. not that i'm complaining." jayce joins in on the sweet kissing session, making sure to give as much as he could before you or viktor start telling him to stop. echoing laughter rings out in the empty void. the cold of the astral plane could never make you shiver when you were with the men who did nothing but give you warmth.

"maybe we'll just reincarnate. do you believe in reincarnation?" you asked between kisses. they pause for a moment, contemplating your words.

"eh.. well, i'm sure it wouldn't be crazy to believe in reincarnation." viktor said with the slight tilt of his head, his look silently conveying his uncertainty but uncaring of it.

"if we do get reincarnated, i'll make sure to find you two before anything else." jayce whispered, his face firm with determination and love.

"that's so sweet. and sappy." you laughed lightheartedly.

the two men can't help but join in with their own laughter and just for a moment, the stars twinkle a little brighter as if joining in on the joy.

[scumsketches]

I've read like all 4 docs on ao3 about SY and SJ sharing a body, and I'm soooo not normal about this concept oh my God. So, it's time to ramble about my take on the concept, of course.

Most things I have read have SY transmigrate at his usual date, but... What if he didn't? What if he transmigrated when SJ was a child on the streets?

For the purposes of this, the person who has the most control of the body is based around soul strength, willpower, and collaboration between souls.

In the beginning, SY has very low soul strength, since he just straight up died, but being a child, SJ's is not much better. They both have obscene amounts of willpower, see canon. And at the beginning? Oh, SJ does NOT want to collaborate.

SY hasn't really gotten the whole "baby scum villain" thing yet, and thinks his soul has been glued to a particularly annoying street kid, so he tries to be patient with SJ, but it's not easy! Holy shit, this kid is a turbo brat who hates him! He is constantly threatening to exorcize SY! Like, kid, you can't exorcize me, you're eight. But SY does end up being useful at times, pointing out danger, reading signs that SJ can't, using his adult knowledge to help him as best he can. By the time they get to the Qiu manor, SJ grudgingly trusts and is maybe attached to his weird ghost hanger-on.

And then the Qiu manor hits. It's... Bad. Really bad. Qi-Ge is gone, hopefully to come back to them someday, but someday is not now, and they need to survive the day. Shen Yuan can't get over the fact that this is just a kid, that all of this is happening to a child. He is an adult, maybe he's not the most responsible adult, or the best person to handle this situation, but damn it SY has to do something.

The first time Shen Yuan takes over completely, it's during a beating in the first week. Before, even if SY had some control of the body, SJ was usually able to yank it back at least partially when he wanted to. He was aware of what was going on. But this time, Shen Jiu feels the first few strikes hit his back before Shen Yuan bubbles up, wrapping around him and pulling him down into blissful oblivion.

When Shen Jiu wakes up, it's over, and Shen Yuan is using some meager supplies he got from god knows where to tend to their wounds. Shen Jiu is scared, he didn't know Shen Yuan could take over that completely, but he's also... Relieved. And confused.

"Why did you take over then? If you really could steal my body, why didn't you do it earlier?"

"You didn't deserve that, Shen Jiu. I- how could I see that and not try and help? Not try and protect you?"

Shen Jiu froze. And then, slowly, started crying. Almost immediately SY starts fussing, asking if their wounds hurt too badly, if he needs him to dull the pain more. SJ sniffles, wiping his eyes, and asks; "More?"

Shen Yuan never explains that, but as SJ goes through the Qiu manor, he realizes that he is absolutely not in as much pain as he really should be. It's easier to bear when the pain is shared between the two of them.

The first time that Qiu Jianluo realizes something is off is during one of his lessons. As the brush is placed in Shen Jiu's hands, the angry, venomous child behind a mask of fear fades away, and he is instead facing calm indifference. The characters are perfect, every one of them, even the ones which there is no possible way Shen Jiu should have been able to know.

This pattern continues. Shen Jiu knows things he shouldn't. He is abnormally good at talking circles around guards and other servants, confusing and manipulating them enough to evade Qiu Jianluos summons in ways that couldn't possibly be his fault, orchestrating many of their confrontations with Qiu Haitang around as protection.

Shen Jiu is a good actor, he's smart, he's quick, but he isn't a fully grown adult master poser like our Shen Yuan is. Shen Yuan, number one rules lawyer and actor, is incredibly good at driving Qiu Jianluo up the wall without him being able to retaliate, and when he does manage to get in a beating, SJ/SY is not nearly as responsive to the pain as he should be, and heals faster than he should.

This is because the lovely new flowers that Qiu Haitang has planted in the garden at SJs kind suggestion are a PIDW plant that provides accelerated healing.

Eventually, it's too much, and Qiu Jianluo KNOWS something is up. He calls a rogue cultivator by the name of Wu Yanzi in to investigate the problem, and Wu Yanzi finds, and exorcises it. Shen Jiu is terrified and panicked, and Wu Yanzi, who had seen Shen Jiu's high spiritual potential, places Shen Yuan into a spirit trapping pouch and tells Shen Jiu to burn the Qiu manor to the ground and bring him as much money and jewelry as possible if he wants his little ghost back.

So the Qiu Manor burns, and Shen Jiu joins Wu Yanzi, significantly less willingly this time. Qi-Ge is nowhere to be seen, and Shen Yuan isn't there to save him anymore.

Shen Jiu supposes he will have to save himself.

[jennelikejennay]

Why Star Trek: Strange New Worlds is a (very good) fanfic

I like SNW, for the most part. I enjoy the characters and it's nice to see largely episodic Trek again. But the idea that it fits into the existing canon is pretty easy to debunk.

Honestly, Paramount is promoting an illusion when it presents canon as a singular thing which runs from series to series as an unbroken continuity. It's not just a matter of minor glitches; those happen within episodes. It's that each show is written by different people with a different idea of how the universe even works.

Memory Alpha is partly to blame for this. Instead of actually recording what happens in the show, they construct timelines and smooth over inconsistencies to give the impression that the number of moons Vulcan does or doesn't have is a matter of simple canonical record, which it isn't. (This is an attitude that bugs me in Bible scholarship too. We can't just say "John says Jesus was crucified sometime after noon and the synoptics say nine am," oh no. They fiddle with it and explain it away and then tell us Jesus was on the cross from noon to three like that is an established historical fact.)

Anyway, if we approach Star Trek like atheist scripture scholars, we should be taking each series as a separate account with its own slightly different worldview. This was obvious by the time Enterprise came out. TOS takes place in a time not long after the invention of the warp drive, where the Enterprise is one of only twelve starships and sent on a long-range mission far beyond where humans had traveled before. Their technology is new and clunky and there's an obvious frontier feel. You really gonna tell me the NX-01 had virtually all the same tech and the warp drive a hundred years earlier?

No, and if we want to play it Watsonianly (as I prefer to) we should say that all the time travel monkeyed irreparably with the timeline, such that the Eugenics Wars happened in the 90s but then, after many different time travel events, it has been moved back to the 2040s or so. First Contact moved earlier, maybe WWIII won't happen at all. And so on.

Therefore, when you're dealing with TOS there shouldn't be this pressure to try to fit SNW events into it. You shouldn't feel the need to make Spock a guy with a long heterosexual history in a TOS fic—you can simply read him as the gay or ace guy he is clearly written as.

This is clear from the very first episode of SNW, where T'Pring proposes to Spock. In TOS they've been more than betrothed since the age of seven. There's never any sign that those two had an actual relationship. If they did, why is the only picture Spock has of her, of her as a child? That would be pretty weird!

"Charades" made this even more obvious as T'Pring's mother objects to their relationship. She set it up! In arranged marriage cultures, you don't have to impress your mother-in-law, you have to impress your betrothed!

The Chapel thing, too, is an issue. First off, her reason for being on the Enterprise in TOS is to search for her fiance, Roger Korby. If she'd been on the Enterprise before, under Pike, that would be a really odd thing to say.

But her relationship with Spock is of course the really odd part. The creators were trying to make a reason for why she pines after him in TOS. But she doesn't pine for him like an ex, she pines for him like she's curious. It's very apparent that she hasn't had sex with him before:

CHAPEL: Mister Spock.

SPOCK: What is it, Nurse?

CHAPEL: Mister Spock, (takes his hand) the men from Vulcan treat their women strangely. At least, people say that, but you're part human too. I know you don't, you couldn't, hurt me, would you? I'm in love with you, Mister Spock. You, the human Mister Spock, the Vulcan Mister Spock.

SPOCK: Nurse, you should—

CHAPEL: Christine, please. I see things, how honest you are. I know how you feel. You hide it, but you do have feeling. Oh, how we must hurt you, torture you.

SPOCK: I'm in control of my emotions.

CHAPEL: The others believe that. I don't. I love you. I don't know why, but I love you. I do love you just as you are. Oh, I love you.

SPOCK: I'm sorry.

These two straight up haven't dated before.

Taking points like this, it's clear that we don't really need to worry about the fact that Spock's character is a little bit off. They're not rewriting his character; they can't, his character is a finished project between Nimoy and the TOS writers. They are writing their version of his character, which is different from mine. I daresay mine is a little more consistent with the source material than theirs, but not all fics are trying to be exact, and they're riffing off the idea in their own way.

As a fanfic writer, my conclusion is this: when I write a TOS fic, it uses TOS canon. Anything I steal from SNW is simply because it's cool, the way I borrow from other fics or from the novels. I needn't feel obliged to put Michael in every single fic about his childhood. I can write him as a virgin before Kirk if I want to.

Meanwhile I can also write an SNW fic where he leans into his human side and experiments with women and waxes his chest if I want to. And if I push his characterization more toward what I think it should be rather than what is on the screen, well, that's my business!

I hope I do not see a trend in fic toward so much respect for paramount's official universe canon that everyone feels like they have to stay consistent with SNW all the time. TOS isn't so why should your TOS fic be?

[icarusredwings]

Hmhmm I agree it would be interesting to see what would happen if Wade just kinda suddenly regressed really young, maybe something ends up suddenly triggering it and they both have to deal with the aftermath?

Can't really think of anything doing that in their lil home, it could be something that happens while they're out and about-maybe someone says something, maybe they witness something, it just... happens. Could be a positive or negative trigger, either way I'm sure Logan will certainly have A Time and will totally not burst a blood vessel!

The man in the hat.

A truama induced little Wade fix it fic.

Tw: Canon usual blood, violence, murder and cursing, mentions of past child abuse, shutting down.

It didn't usually end up like this. Ussually he would be chasing his husband down by now and yelling at him that he can't commit murder in broad daylight, followed by the lines of "fuckin watch me!" But this time was different.

Why they kept sending these poor guys out near their block every year was a mystery because since Logan's moved in, every single one of them has "disappeared" one way or another. It wasn't rocket science to figure out who's blood was on his clothes when he came home. Let's just leave it at that.

For some reason, here again was another scout leader handing out flyers and collecting donations only 2 blocks from their house, standing outside on the corner of their Bodgea. So, it's not too terrible. They could just go around the other way, it wouldn't be a problem.

"Hey bub, I think I wanna take the other way. See that big fluffy dog you like." He says, but it was too late. Wade had already planted his feet on the concrete, becoming an obstacle to the foot traffic.

"Oi! Move it!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Logan would growl at them, now holding his wrist a bit tighter, tugging.

"Wade? Come on, sweetheart. Do you remember? That big dog?"

He said nothing. Only.. stared. Logan could hear his heart rate quicken, how suddenly nervous and scared he smelt, but... something was different.

Whimpering, he shuts down, balling up right then and there, pulling his legs up to his chest as he clung to Logan's leg.

The scuffy man blinks a few times before realizing "Ooh for fucks sake, right now? You're doing this here!? Out of all the times that you-"

Wade was crying, starting to shake and had his nails dug into his jeans.

"Okay, okay. Come'ere I got you, he wont- aww fuck.." The idiot was walking towards them.

Letting out a little scream, Logan quickly picked him up, holding him tight and shushing him. "Shh, shhh, I won't let him. I promise. You're okay. I got you." He says to him, but mentally, he was panicking. Why was he coming over here!?

Did he WANT stabbed???

As a matter of fact, It seemed that Wade was far too small to even remember his knives, just clinging to him as if the man would take him away.. hurt him.. and hold him down. It's part of the reasons Logan couldn't hold him still when like this, or else he panicked and kicked or stabbed him in the balls.

Mother fucker.. If he was still alive he'd tie him up and let small Wade kill him all over again. He'd stand by, encouraging him to do it and everything. Logans never wanted to do something like that before. Maybe it was the X-men in him. The goody two shoes rule of "No killing" but fuck that. If a grown man could hurt a little kid like that, the kid should get to stab them a couple of times. It was only fair, right?

Through the overwhelming amount of people, the man getting closer, and the fact that Wade was clawing at him as if trying to get as far away as possible, he growled, holding him tight as he walked forward.

"Hi! Would you like to-"

Grabbing him by the collar, he pulled him up off the ground, pulling him close to his face, gritting his teeth. Wade screams again, now sobbing loudly into his shoulder, wrapping his legs around his waist as he shook, utterly petrified.

"If you EVER touch him or ANY fucking kid ever again, I will personally gut you and watch as the buzzards pluck out your inners one by one, you understand!?" Logan snarls, baring those fangs of his.

Quickly the man nods, his hands up. "I-i understand!" Before Logan tosses him to the ground, stomping off with a huff.

"I got him, kid. Don't worry. He won't ever talk to you ever again. Kitty got him." Logan says to soothe him, Hearing his heart still pound, but now Wade was looking at the man scramble to pick up his hat and run away.

Logan could almost hear the moment of clairity when Wade's mind went quiet, trying to process what just happened.

"G-.. got'em?"

"Yeah. Kitty Got'em. Don't worry." He repeats.

The whole way home, Wade stayed like this, Alert and stayed over Logan's shoulder, keeping watch.

"He's not gonna come back, bub. Swear. And if he does, Kitty will kill him."

"....." the silence that follows was that of a curious wonder. ".. pinky palmise?"

"Pinky promise." Locking his pinky to his, Wade settles down, shifting to lay his chin on Logan's shoulder, but still watching.

____

"What are you doing, kid?"

"...." There was no response from wade, who was now looking- scratch that- STARING out the window with such big yellow eyes. Waiting.

Logan sighs, closing the curtian only for Wade to go underneth of it, hands on the windowsill.

"Wade.. I got him. He's gone."

"......"

"Sweetheart, he's not coming back. Pinky promise, remember? Now come on. Eat your food its bedtime soon."

But still Wade didn't move. At least he was off of Logan now, but now he was on the back of the couch, staring like a gaurd dog, watching for the man in the hat.

"......"

"Wade? ... Wade??" Shaking his shoulder a little, Wade jumps, looking at him with scared teary eyes.

He sighs. "... you really aren't going to go to bed, are you? Alright.." With a groan, Logan goes to the door. "I'll be back, don't stay up too late."

Staying up at the window, Wade watched.. and watched.. and watched until finally he saw Logan coming back, bloody and red.

"There. No more man in the hat. Now can you please go to bed?"

From the windowsill, Wade pauses, looking over him.

".......Kitty got'em..?"

"Kitty Got'em." He confirms.

Wade jumps up, running to him only to hug him tightly. Giggling, Wade nuzzles into his chest, thanking him for taking care of it for him.

"Hey.. there you are.. I told you not to worry about it. I said I would protect you, and I did. Now go on. Off to bed with you." He says, squeezing back then patting him. "Go on, shoo. Kitty got'em, and I've got you. You're safe."

Watching Wade run off and close the door, he made his way to the bathroom, beginning to wash off his hands.

'Thank god for red paint..'

[glitter-stained]

Ngl I feel bad -like genuinely- for people who can't enjoy characters or ships because of a canon OOC writing. And that's not in an "I pity you" sort of way, really. That almost happened to me: when I first got into the fandom, one of the first comics I read was Lost Days, which was unfortunately my introduction to Talia. Fortunately, I was very new to the fandom and her character and my perception of her was soon rectified when I found out quickly that this was OOC racist writing and I didn't really get the time to develop any discomfort with her character before my view was corrected (thank you, tumblr dc fandom who people like to denigrate) but I could have not been so lucky. First impressions are important, and I totally understand not being able to get past your introduction to a character. What if the first thing I first read about Dick was his time as a cop, or Steph doing blackface in a white saviour-ish run, or Tim being violently misogynistic? (pretty sure all of those are because of Chuck Dixon, fuck you Chuck Dixon). What if the first thing I read about Jason was one of so many of his terrible runs, he's my favourite blorbo and I could have been like "who tf is this 40 years old mf shooting children in the chest" don't think my image of him would have ever fully recovered. Same with ships I understand the frustration of liking a character and being so disappointed by their portrayal in a team-up that it disgusts you from the ship. People who hate Jayroy/Joyfire because of Lobdell's writing, who can't deal with StephCass after Batgirls 2022, etc I get it. And I'm sorry those writers took away the joy and pleasure you could have had in exploring those characters and the dynamics between them. And it could still happen! With any new character/relationship there's that risk. And I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty scared of giving the writers that power over me. Like yeah, I get it that's the point of writing, but who decides to give Morrison's Talia more power over Barr's Talia: dc editorial? The chronology upon which you stumble upon a comic? Sheer coincidence?

Absolutely terrifying. So many of these characters and ships have so much potential, and I think that's why I cling so much to the version of them that exists in my head like no, leave my Talia alone, you won't touch my Stephcass, get your grubby paws away from my Jayroy. It's like an everyday mantra "they can't take the sapphics from me, they can't take the sapphics from me, they can't..." Anyway, cheers to fanfic and AUs and the handful of mutuals that enjoy my personal brand of characterization cherry-picked from the quality comics I enjoy.

(But also it goes both way. Your introduction to the character/ship is very different from mine and mine is very different from yours, and you don't get to police shipping or even just shit on the ship just because it isn't for you. I'm weary of this mentality I've been seeing of "you shouldn't ship that because they don't interact in canon"/"their only canon interactions are ooc" because like, yeah? The point of shipping is not just to explore preexisting dynamics it's also often "i think those would complete/oppose eachother in an interesting way", that's the point. Don't yuck eachother's yums because of Scott Lobdell, do you really wanna give him that much power over your life?).

[thecluelessdoctor]

Welcome to the After Falls AU (MASTERPOST!)

I've been meaning to make this for a while, but here we are! The After Falls AU OFFICIAL masterpost! I thought, if I wanna be for real and take this au seriously, I might as well make a pinned masterpost!

Intro Animatic

Summary of story;

It's been about 20 years since Dipper and Mabel's first summer in gravity falls, the both of them going on separate paths. Mabel ended up being very successful in the engineering field. It was basically arts and crafts with more math, and a bit more danger, that's all! Dipper though, found himself making his own research in gravity falls. He knows there is much more to discover than what he had found previously. Mabel's back there for nostalgia, and Dipper is there for research. How fun.

On the side of the family that ISNT pines, the parents of Ratch and Rod Elk, cousins once removed to the twins, find out there is family spending the summer in a little town away from everything, their parents don't hesitate to send them off. At first, it seems boring. But when the elk twins uncover one of the many secrets of their family, they find themselves to believe this summer to much more interesting than it seems, with many of these secrets connecting back to their summer guardians, and somehow, even farther back in the family than them.

Intro fanfiction

CANON MASTERLIST:

Dipper and Mabel CURRENT designs.

Gideon and Brody gleeful design sketches

WIP, will be updated as we go along.

PLOT POINT CONCEPT MASTERLIST (in attempted story order)

queers

stan possession and confrontation

What have you Done

What have you done part two

A world I never could have imagined

Bill's deal concepts

Don't you know how it feels

WIP, will be updated as we go along

And that's the end!! I don't expect this au to get very big or far, but just in case I'll put some rules under the cut :3

Dos:

-fanart!! I love ya see it!! Feel free to tag me as well!!!

-adding OCs PLEASE. Have fun bro. Again, tag me akjahd

-shipping! If it's legal, I kinda don't care. No family x family though, or child x adult.

Don'ts:

-nsfw publicly! I can't stop you from drawing it, but I am a minor, and I'm guessing a good handful of my audience are minors as well.

-proshipping/comshipping. Again I can't stop you, but c'mon man :(

-no using my AU to promote hate??

-please don't glorify any of the darker subject matter in the au. This is more older audience leaning than the original show, and I want to embrace darker themes, so they will be more explicitly shown or more implied.

[ferrocyan]

choke the messenger

(hi i know i joked about honey b. lovely and her canon-typical dubcon before, but this is going into noncon territory, so. be warned ;3)

"—i'm sorry."

i'm sorry. honey knows those words. not asking for forgiveness, but offering sympathy. she's heard them from movies and reads, the ones about the times of the war and calamity. condolences for lost family and friends. that stuff's fantasy, and she shouldn't have to hear it. so she says, "shut up."

oh, it occurs to her, maybe they still say that, the people who don't wear regulators. it's not like i would know, honey reasons. because she does, and she's lost everyone. her parents are gone, her old friends, her not-quite-lovers—she's lost them all. so now there shouldn't be anyone else for her to lose, and no condolences either. that can't be right! so quit it, "i don't want your sympathy."

all honey has now is her position in the arcadion. and it's funny. she never thought it possible to lose honey b. lovely.

"...i understand." tart speaks slowly when he wants to convey his words correctly. especially when apologizing. honey wishes she doesn't have to look up to look him in the eye.

what. what could you possibly understand? you don't wear a regulator. you don't use feral souls. what you said about, what, eating souls is bullshit, isn't it. don't tell me you get it, you fucking don't. this isn't supposed to happen to me. not to me! not me! why don't you just shut the fuck up right now?!"

they aren't sitting, but too close to the sofa for her liking, so honey pushes him beyond the living room. she grabs onto tart's forearm and pulls him, "down," and he complies hesitantly.

honey smiles. she's learned a lot from souleater about how to take down opponents bigger than yourself. the key is to use gravity to her advantage. just like how he used his red flashes to bounce off the walls of the arena, leaping over honey b. lovely to bring his heavy axe down on her. now honey stands over the kneeling tart, puts her right palm over his mouth and brings her full weight to bear.

his scream is muffled. too bad, though, he's strong enough to keep from falling over, so he has a free hand to pull off honey's grip. "wait—" he opens his mouth.

jackpot. honey pushes her fingers in, pressing down hard on his tongue. "ghhk—ngrrh!" his eyes water as his mouth is filled, the red glow of her regulator reflected in them. honey pays the noises no mind. he's good at swallowing.

the effects of her venom differs for some people, but broadly there are three stages. on a small dose people get giddy. give them more and they become agitated: some affectionate, some aggressive. but make them drink enough, and they become downright pliable. my obedient little bees. honey feels her rage melt away as tart starts to bend. delighted, even. souleater can resist her charm but tart cannot, and it's fun to watch him lose himself to her.

he drops onto his back. honey winces at the painful thud of his head hitting the floor, walks around the fallen body to check. tart's eyelids flutter closed. "oh, no, you don't," tuts honey, lifting him by the shoulder onto her lap. she lets herself drink in the giddiness. "don't go to sleep. you can talk, but only what i tell you to say," she giggles.

"nnh," is all he manages. tart reaches for her hand, brings it closer to his lips. honey pokes at his cheek in return.

"hey," she asks, "you don't really feel bad for me, do you?" her fingers tease at his face. "you feel as— bummed, about this, as i do. isn't that so?"

he answers when she touches him. "yes..." he nods slightly. "with feral souls, you guys can be—hhk, my match... have, equals again. i w's so... happy. but, no more." he wrenches his eyes shut. "'s not fair. why does it... always kill you... not me...?"

honey exhales a laugh. "see? you weren't sympathizing with me. you're just... you're sad, for your own reasons. it wasn't about me after all." she feels her eyes grow hot. "you don't get any of it. do you even care? you don't do you?"

she pinches him a little, making him groan. "yes, your... majesty." a drop of gold splatters just to the left of his nose. then another two, on the right and left cheek.

"huh," honey thinks, her eyes hurt. "aa–aahhh!" the heat now feels like burning. she screws them shut, rubs at the eyelids. that lifts the pain, for a moment, but she realizes she's made things worse. they're stuck. she can't open her eyes at all. clawing at her eyes is no use. shit! shit!!

she drops tart from her hold and scrambles backwards. reaches for a wall and feels her way through. the first floor bathroom is just to the right. the sink by the door. she finds the faucet by touch and turns it on, rinses her eyes with the cold water.

it doesn't help. her eyes clear up, but soon fills up again with--fucking hell. it's honey, her own venom, isn't it? this can't be happening. this isn't supposed to happen! but it does. again and again and again.

she has no clue how long she's been hunched over the sink. if every beat of her heart is one second then it must be hours. the hair around her face has gotten wet. she hates it. she grits her teeth, hearing her own breath wheezing over the water flow. why won't you stop? she demands. like that's ever worked. her fingers are sore, starting to go numb.

"—miss honey." she jumps out of her skin. her eyesight hasn't returned, but she turns around to face tart anyway. shit, you've been out of it for so long that c'astarhte sobered up. he comes closer, reaches for the faucet, turns it off. "should be enough, no," he asks.

"what... are you—"

"what happens to the venom you spill?" his hand takes hold over honey's left forearm. she freezes in place. "it dissolves, into nothing. leaves no stains, right? you'll be fine. just calm down." his voice is level, he waits for her to relax and let him lead her out.

they're probably just in the hallway by the bathroom door. "sit," tart tells her, and honey finds herself sat between his spread legs. for a second she feels him hold her closer, but seems to think twice about it, leaning away against the wall. but he doesn't leave. honey relishes the chance to make him regret staying. she lets herself fall back onto his chest. his hands still right by hers, she laces their fingers together.

tart lets her be. it hurts worse than being slapped or shoved away.

her tearducts fit to burst, honey walks her thoughts back to their conversation earlier—this, this is what happens to the arcadion's feral soulshifters. their souls corrupt. honey knows it well herself. when was it—a month, a few weeks after she won 2nd place at last year's lightheavyweight division? she'd started to notice her feral soul activate on its own.

so i've been dying since then. "heh–hehehehe, ahahahahahaha!" her laughter seems to have startled tart, who shifts uncomfortably beneath her. "oh, what?" demands honey. "it's not like i can cry about it, so what else is there to do but laugh? isn't it funny that i'm this far along without having topped the division even once? at least miss eutrope was set to become the fucking champion!" she can't contain herself, shaking as more giggles escape her.

the only warning she hears is a faint growl. tart lifts his right hand in her hold and places it right below her chest, then his left hand moves too fast for her to register—taking off her regulator.

"no!" honey shrieks, "gi–give it back!" she tries to rise to snatch it, but his arm on her stomach keeps her down. she's watched it too many times—that clip of souleater breaking his regulator. "don't, please, please—"

"you can," tart tells her, "cry about it."

he gets up from his seat, goes over and sets the regulator down before honey's outstretched legs. just beyond her reach. her vision is glued to it. without the blue or red glow the metal case gives off nothing but white.

she can barely hear when tart speaks. "thank you," he clears his throat before continuing, "appreciate you caring about my thoughts. just... i just wish, you would let me say it."

honey inhales, trembling. she doesn't need to see to know that he's crying. without the strength to even lift her head, it's all she can do to whisper, "you should just leave me alone."

yesterday, an hour ago, he would've found a reason to stay. tart leaves her without a word.

[sweetshelluvaau]

My copy and pasted post of a convostation I had with a firend about Mastermind.

Spoilers under the cut

Also the more I think about this episode the more stupid it is and how I hate it:

what does Andre gain for putting IMP on trial? Outside of three dead imps and a hellhound? It would make more sense to have Stolas on trial than Blitzo because he can use that as a power play

why wasn't Stolas not there to begin with? He's the 'victim' having his book stolen to begin with they would want his testimony. The only reason why they did it the way they did was for Stolas can see the execution on TV to come in like the big hero he is and save the man he loves gag me with a spoon please

it wouldn't make sense for Blitz to hire Striker because my God he's an imp don't they have little power to begin with? Plus Blitzo is also an assassin as he said he could do it himself. Wouldn't some of the Sins have some brains to figure out how stupid that sounds.

let's talk about Striker for a second. Why was he there? It was so ooc for him to even speak for a noble, let alone bullshit that they'd take his word over someone like Stella or idk fucking Stolas!?

Dude even Ozzie would call out bullshit right away too because Stolas told him about how Stolas wanted to set Blitzo 'free' and he has the crystal now so he can do his job legality. Of course you could have Mammon go 'of course the imp fucker would defend an imp' and that's what caused the drama to begin with suppose to whatever happened in the show. Stolas didn't give Ozzie the full story but still that's testimony enough. More than whatever bullshit Striker pulled out of his ass. Also: isn't Blitzo now under his jurisdiction anyways that could be used in their defense.

Stolas didn't take accountability for shit he kept singing about him being the 'Mastermind' but Mastermind of what you stupid cunt?! Yes it is his fault but not because he 'planned' this whole thing. He wanted to get sex out of Blitzo so he used his book as leverage to force that out of Blitzo but of course we can't have that now that would make Stolas look bad.

God the whole court plot was so stupid and poorly put together. I didn't care for the song it was shit minus for Satan because Patrick Page's voice is mmmm

Speaking of Satan: I like both his character and his voice which I knew was going to be the case anyways because um...Patrick Page but I wished they gave him a more regal outfit because otherwise I don't mind the design. Belph's design is cute but doesn't scream 'A Sin' to me. I don't like Levi's design it's kinda lackluster but I do like the idea of the two heads because 'two faced' I do think that was clever but not sure If that was Viv's intention or just ended up working out that way.

Stoltiz is canon, which means it's only gonna even more down hill from here.

But yeah those are my thoughts on Mastermind. Will I watch Sinmas? Nah most likely not but I think I had my fill of this show because there's so much horrible written melodrama I can stomach before it becomes too much. I only really watched Mastermind for Satan anyways.

[dotthings]

Relevant — the dialogue in the episode.

Dean: “I don't know what to do here, Lis. I mean, if I knew for sure what the safest thing was, then I'd do it. Stay here and look after you guys or get as far away as I possibly can, but I don't know. And I get what I've been doing lately, you know, what with the yelling and the acting like a prison guard. It's just, that's not me. You tell yourself you're not gonna be something, you know? But my dad was exactly like this. All the time. It's scaring the hell out of me.” (bolding mine)

It’s John as the shadow. The potentiality of not being able to break the cycle, but it’s not who Dean is, it’s not that he is becoming John.

Throughout the series we see Dean pushing back against John, against the ideas Dean grew up in where he idolized his father, but in the run of the series—which covers Dean’s adulthood—he is pushing back and again and again, and right up through the final seasons, the story keeps showing how he’s not like John.

Lisa accuses Dean of not wanting to be there, with them, and Dean says “Yes I do” — because Dean does want to be, and he also misses hunting. It can be both.

Lisa: “Okay. Okay, but you also want to be there. I get it. You're white-knuckling it living like this. Like what you are is some bad, awful thing. But you're not. But I'm not going to have this discussion every time you leave. And this is just going to keep happening, so I need you to go.”

If only Dean could see himself how those who love him see him.

And this next bit gets overlooked a whole lot:

DEAN: I can't just lose you and Ben.

LISA: That's not what I'm saying.

DEAN: You're saying hit the road.

LISA: Dean, if there's some rule that says this all has to be either/or, how about we break it? Me and Ben will be here, and you come when you can. Just come in one piece, okay?

Hunting isn’t why things fell apart. Why did Lisa actually kick him out? When Dean was a VAMPIRE, not himself, he shoved Ben, to protect Ben from vampire Dean. Lisa didn’t know, so it’s understandable she tells Dean to leave and not come back. But Dean, as himself, is not the problem.

And he lets them go in the end not because it would be impossible to make it work, but Dean, full of heartbreaking good intentions, believes he is poison and it’s all his fault and they are better off away from him.

Fandom often takes Dean’s self perceptions and fears as an objective Truth, for its own various agendas I’m not going to get into.

Even though the Braedens wound up out of the picture due to the plot, that doesn’t change that it’s fanon, not canon, to paint Deanas so toxic and angry and so terrible at parenting and doesn’t belong there and he’s such an ~abuser. Fanon says that. Not canon.

6x02 - Two and a Half Men

it's been in my drafts for a while i still don't know how to explain my thoughts. MY POINT. this scene says it's unusual for dean to yell at ben. like ben is shaken by it, and dean is very aware he crossed a line. which implies that for the whole year, even tho dean was depressed and drunk and all, he still wasn't acting like john. later in the ep when he goes "acting like a prison guard" and "lately" bc!!! he wasn't like that!!! FOR A WHOLE YEAR. AT A LOW POINT. s6 dean was capable of being a good father actually and then he gets convinced/convinced himself that he wasn't and could never be because in his blood he's a killer. i'm going to walk in the ocean.

[epickiya722]

Izuku rejecting an offer to work together with Katsuki, turning his back to him and RUNNING to go after Ochako and her getting literally pushed towards him by the ghost of Toga.

I'm sorry, but, no way i'm reading it wrong. Like. Seriously. They really were just devices for the underdeveloped het ship.

I'm still waiting for the whole chapter to make sense of it, but that is painful.

However, just me, but I do feel like this epilogue is just an amalgamation of fanfic tropes that the team are well aware that people like.

I saw someone say that BakuDeku shippers are wrong about thinking that Horikoshi is pushing IzuOcha for dudebros, but let's be real.

He ain't stupid. I don't know Horikoshi personally, but I know the man ain't stupid or don't have the marketing team telling him what fans are into.

"If that's the case why BakuDeku isn't canon?" Hello, still a Shonen. And also, BakuDeku has already been catered to. Literally, most of the manga is BakuDeku fuel.

Now, I personally don't even think this chapter is a IzuOcha one. At least, not romantically.

Just because Izuku and Ochako agree to see each other more doesn't mean it's romantic. I said it into another post, but I think people forgotten that the class didn't have time to see each other often.

Going back and rereading the manga, I note that Izuku and Ochako barely do have time to actually have a conversation between each other. They have better relationships with other people. Most of the time, Ochako was with Tsu. Right now, they even rocking the same bangs.

Despite all the shipping material, romance ain't the genre I don't think Horikoshi is into writing for. No matter the gender of the characters.

He wasn't expecting MHA to get so popular and to keep it up, he probably decided to play into what the fans want at the advice of his editors.

After 430, certain people made it very clear they were butthurt. So to appease them, here's this epilogue. But it still doesn't mean much because their relationship, in a romantic sense, is underdeveloped. I wouldn't call that a win.

Now I know everyone and their mom is mad at Izuku for rejecting Katsuki's offer to join his agency, but I say this with love... that's ridiculous.

Oh, I know hurtful that Katsuki got rejected like that but when did Izuku or Katsuki ever voiced wanting to have an agency together? I just thought they wanted to be Heroes.

And Izuku just became a Pro Hero. He needs time, hello? To spring that on him, I would reject the offer, too. Izuku has to sit down and work on his schedule between being a teacher and a Pro Hero.

People are acting as if Izuku can't change his mind in the future. Katsuki is great and all, that's my boom boom gremlin right there. But he is not that special that people should expect Izuku to always fall at his feet. At the end of the day, their relationship did get better. They still see each other and who says they need to be in the same agency to fight together?

Are you fucking with me right now?

There's also the fact that Izuku may feel like Katsuki already has done too much for him. The suit is already enough for him. He's not ungrateful.

Izuku is the type of person who finds it hard to accept anything from anybody because he would feel he's taking too much away from someone. You can give him a shirt and he would think it's too much.

And people are hating him for that?

Alright, okay. I never thought Izuku Midoriya would be the most misunderstood protagonist in the year of 2024. Wait, no, why am I surprised? I shouldn't be.

Bakudeku shippers don't get him. IzuOcha shippers don't get him. Izuku fans don't get him. Izuku haters don't get him.

It's like only a selective few do. Which I feel are like two or three people. Within 24 hours, I have unfollowed and blocked people I didn't think I would have to, but here we are.

[engel-hageshii]

I went back a bit and took more screenshots! the hallway towards the daycare is really pretty and I had to take pictures!

you know, I thought there wasn't enought representation of Moon in the game (since parents complained about their kid having nightmares) but...

if the colors of that board are meant for themed parties...then the blue ones are for Moon themed parties?

Red would be for Freddy, Green for Monty, Purple'd be Roxanne...then blue has to be for Moon! they'd have used pink for Chika! not to mention the balloons all over the place!

THERE WERE THEMED PARTIES OF HIM!!

KIDS LIKED HIM!!!!

THIS WEIRD LOOKING CAT HAD LITTLE FANS THAT WANTED HIM IN THEIR PARTIES!!

NOT FREDDY, NOT MONTY, NOT SUNNY, THEY WANTED HIM!!!

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HAPPY THIS MAKES ME!!!

[share-the-damn-bed]

joyce reacting to finding out jonathan is dating nancy would be so funny

“is she smart??? is she pretty??? is- is it nancy.”

Oh Anon, this is my favorite topic to explore via fanfic. It's ripe with so many good scenarios! Did she notice anything between them during season one, did she notice anything during season 2? (she was quite stressed and busy during these times, so I'd wager no).

Did she make little observations that led her to a big realization or did jancy hit her over the head with it once they'd been revealed? Idk, but it is so fun because we KNOW Joyce loves Nancy and loves that she loves Jonathan and doesn't even mind when she catches Nancy spending the night. Like Jonathan and Nancy are not subtle, season 3 taught us that.

It's the best. And I'm glad we don't have a definite answer on how she found out because now we get to play around with it for all eternity.

...I am partial, though, to the idea that Joyce comes home from work one day soon after the events of season 2 to find Nancy on her couch. At first she's confused but after watching them interact for a moment, it all clicks and she goes:

Oh.

She then invites Nancy to stay for dinner and the rest is history.

[crownedwille]

.

[spacedace]

Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

-

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.

[quackle]

s2 ep 7 spoilers under cut:

"acting! :D" so can we all agree damien got acting lessons from nichelle before she quit. can we all agree on that at least.