#this was completely self indugent

[the-scungles-of-crungles]

Honestly I'm not even sorry anymore I need a man with sharp claws and pointy teeth and maybe magical powers

[circinuus]

"Do I need it?"

The room smells of sunshine, golden rays of the early morning peeks through the slightly parted curtains.

"Am I under control?"

Your reflection stares back at you menacingly.

"Mm. Maybe a cup of self-control."

Right now, you're practicing your best smile, not too taut, not too loose, auditioning to give your long-standing crush the best valentine's experience.

Ah. Yes. Valentine. Even the deepest, darkest corner of Yokohama must be singing about love now.

"I can make you feel alive♪~"

"I know!" your smile answers the song playing idly on the radio. "But do I really need love to survive?"

The silver, now shiny pan—having served its purpose as a breakfast maker and your makeshift mirror—is back to its rack.

'Probably not necessarily.' Your fingers begin to play with the ribbons of the carefully wrapped chocolate sitting on the countertop—just beside the rack.

'But it must be lonely living without love.'

"(Name)?"

"Whoa!"

"Whoa?"

Here comes the man! He's as beautiful as you remember. His locks are of a beautiful, darker shade of the Riesling that knocked you out on your first sip; his eyes the color of the mesmerizing, vast sky that made you run to a pole; his confused expression.. a confused expression any other man can make. But you are sure he is the prettiest. You never doubted that.

"My love, I have something important to say." Chuuya looks nonplussed when you get down on one knee, presenting the delicately packaged chocolate box.

"My beloved, my soul," you take his hand. "I have completely and utterly fallen for you-"

"Get up."

...Huh?

'I can't believe.' Has your love been denied?

He reaches for you, hands encircling your waist as he raises you to your feet, holding you close.

And oh! When you peer at him, his eyes start to color with fond amusement. After an incredulous chuckle, he presses a loving kiss to your temple and says:

"Darling, we've been livin' together for two years."

"Ah."

song: coffee by jack stauber; it has nothing to do with romance, but will that stop me from self-indugent fics? absolutely not

♡ @ashthemadwriter

[wolf-tail]

The fact that I loved the movie Pixels so much as a kid, and the fact that it ever got produced at all, is that wishfulfilling, self gratifying, power fantasy bullshit can be enjoyed by other people than you, you just have to find the right audience.

Pixels sucks in the way that most movies in that vein suck, It's an Adam Sandler movie after all, but there are things to like about it. There's a sort of charm to the fact that it feels so clearly like it was written by twelve year old boys.

"My best friend is the president and we use our video game powers to save the world, hot girls like us, and the asshole who cheated at donkey kong and bullies me acknowledges that im better" could actually be a fairly solid movie, if the characters were more funny and charismatic, and the hot babe love interests are treated more like complete characters than prizes to be won that trip over themselves at the sight of the first complete loser they see.

The movie also somehow manages to have the most boomer ass take on video games and still be thoroughly pro video game. It essentially has the vibe that all video games made after 1990 are kiddy trash, the only real gamers are the people who poured a thousand quarters into an arcade cabinet in the years before the Soviet Union collapsed. This is worse than boomer bullshit, it's Gen X bullshit.

There's a good movie hidden somewhere underneath all the sexist and unfunny Adam Sandler stank of Pixels. The movie is pure nostalgia bait to a very specific audience, so perhaps better writers would zero in on that feeling of childhood whimsy, and the benefits of maintaining it into adulthood.

You all know me as a person who is generally pro self indugent power fantasy, but I also know that power fantasy can be bad in more ways than just being pure self gratification. Mary Sue media that is made to appeal to pretty much men and men alone, or whatever malformed caricature of the average man imagined by a depraved filmmaker that assumes all men must just be mindless, masculinity obsessed sex pests with dicks for brains like he is (looking at you Michael Bay), tends to reek of misogyny, the kinds that imagine that women don't have inner lives that don't revolve entirely around men and reproduction. This is what people talk about when they talk about the male gaze in media.

This is the kind of media like isekai anime where half naked teenage girls have the camera angle focused on their chests every three seconds and only exist to be the harem for the most boring man to ever exist.

This doesn't mean that all power fantasy made by and for primarily men is just going to be like that by default, this kind of media is just a symptom of societal misogyny in general, and typically made by men who have done little to no work in unlearning it. If a man has done the work to check his own sexism, the power fantasies that he dreams of and writes into movies, books, games and shows probably aren't going to be sexist.

To make a long story short, Pixels could've been good If the people who made it weren't sexist old crustbags with no comedy skill.

[the-hidden-soulbond]

Introduction

About me ⫸Hi! I'm Aurora (she/her) ⫸ Adult™ (30yo) ⫸ Soulbonder ⫸ This is my self-indugent selfshipping and soulbonding blog. I don't really consider myself part of the Community, I'm just chilling in my little corner of the Internet.

My Soulbond / F/O ⫸ None other than Jim Moriarty — the brilliant and dangerous consulting criminal from BBC Sherlock. Moriarty isn’t just a fictional character to me; he’s someone with whom I’ve formed a deep connection through soulbonding. This bond goes back to a decade already—Moriarty feels like a part of me, even when he's silent - and there have been long periods of silence in the past. ⫸ Sebastian Moran (platonic F/O) ⫸ I don't share. Jim is completely off-limits, Sebastian less so. If you selfship with Jim, kindly block me.

About this blog and BYF ⫸ Expect reblogs about selfship, soubonding as well as original musings and the occasional piece of selfship art. ⫸ Jim is 48 and I'm 30, which means some of my posts or posts I reblog could be suggestive, downright nsft or otherwise inappropriate to minors. ⫸Jim and I are in a BDSM dynamic and we both have a long list of kinks so consider this blog kink-friendly. ⫸ In a similar vein, Jim's personality is what it is and I feel very uncomfortable censoring him, which means things can get dark or potentially uncomfortable for some. ⫸ The DNI rule is simple: I block liberally if I see something I don't like or condone.

[pep-rambles]

This was just complete self indugence but if anyone is interested in a Helluverse D&D/Magic School/ College AU you can check it out.

[goblin-scribe]

Something traumatic happened to me

The title I’ve chosen for this blog post gives me a knee-jerk feeling of being self-indugent and dramatizing what happened. There’s a discomfort that arises for me in acknowledging that past experiences have hurt and affected me. I guess it’s admitting that I have vulnerable, soft places where jabs will hurt, and my armour is not complete.

Simultaneously, there’s something powerful I find in using the past tense; ‘happened’. In that implication that the event has passed, and I have come through it, however scathed. I think I’ve yet to dive into how much damage has been done, as I’m reluctant to touch upon those painful, bruised places, stirring up memories and flashbacks to the incident I’ve worked hard to put behind me.

Initially I did feel that I was ‘dealing’ well with what had happened. I was most touched by the shock and hurt of it, but I managed as much vulnerability as I could muster and let friends and family take care of me and allowed myself to let them in – for a time. For as long as I felt it socially acceptable to be grieving and hurt. But as soon as I could, I was hurtling towards new experiences, towards bigger and wilder things that would surely lead to success, no matter how little thought had been put into the plans, and of course such new endeavours quickly fizzled out and left me feeling disappointed and hungry for my next feat.

Never time to rest. Never time to sit with what had happened and reflect upon it, heal from it. And now I find myself washed up on the shores of a life that is safe, comfortable, and surrounded by good people who care for me and love me, barely understanding how I’ve got here. Grateful that fate saw fit to put me on this rollercoaster of a year that somehow didn’t go horribly wrong. And yet at the bottom of my haversack, crumpled up and forgotten, I’m still carrying around this trauma of what happened, and it’s as big as ever, no matter how I try to ignore it.

I can’t fathom the ways in which it might be touching my life, damaging the work I’ve put into having this love, my successes, my resilience. But I feel that I owe it to myself for my strength and resourcefulness in how I picked up the pieces of my broken life and forged something sustainable and beautiful, to address this. To chip away at that trauma and to stop allowing it to tinge my blessed life with anxiety, distrust, cynicism, despair, self-doubt. I want to strive for more for myself and to believe that I deserve that.

The first thing that has come to mind, a tactic I’ve seen applied to infinite situations and which I have a gut-feeling may suit mine very well, is to write a letter to the person who traumatised me, and tell them what they’ve done, how it’s affected me and continues to, what that means to me, ask my questions: and then never send it.

To my ex-boyfriend, I’m certain we both know without a doubt the inciting event for what transpired between us. A shocking day, on my part at least. Sometimes I wonder whether you were really so careless as to let that information fall into my hands through simple error (and if so, how long would you have let the facade of commitment persist?), or if it was a calculated move on your part; a cowardly gesture to let me discover the truth for myself so that you wouldn’t have to go through the effort of having a sincere conversation with me. On one hand, I doubt your intelligence too much to believe that you could formulate such a plan. On the other hand, I know you were a cowardly person and that you would do most anything to avoid conflict or difficult conversations; those are so ugly, it makes you look like a villain when you acknowledge your own mistakes and fess up to what you could have done better, right? It’s something I knew about you from the early days, but I ignored it as I’m sure I ignored many of your worse traits, because I was in love with you and dedicated to you. I still hold a lot of anger towards you (if you haven’t picked up on that yet, I’d be rather surprised). I think what you did to me was outrageous and I hope that is the worst thing you will ever do in your life, because if you’re capable of worse, that idea of a good, loving person that I once had of you really is just an idea. The double-edged sword: your reaction to being found out…embarrassing, huh? Why were you the one crying? In a way, I’m glad you prostrated yourself and made yourself so undeniably unattractive and pitiful to me, because it meant there was no way I could ever retrace my steps back into your lying arms. But really, why did you let the situation go so far as to necessitate that whole scene? That’s the thing; if you hadn’t been such a coward and given me the respect of having a serious conversation with me where you treated me like an equal, I truly doubt I would be in the state I was and am today. This was avoidable. And that hurts me even more deeply than the situation itself. I don’t credit you with an iota of the fulfilling, beautiful life I’ve built for myself today, but I thank God that I am not continuing in that shallow existence at your side. I thank God I’m where I’m supposed to be right now. I feel sad for you, that somebody like you can exist; someone who can go to Christmas dinner with their girlfriend’s family, look everybody in the face, accept hospitality and gifts from her family members, all while being unfaithful. And the same goes for the way you took advantage of my friends. You took advantage of me and everyone in my life who showed you kindness, and that is dispicable and one of the worst aspects of it all to me. Thank God you leant into this villainy almost to stageplay levels of misbehaviour, because it meant that I would never take you back, want you back, or look back on our time together with an envy to have it once more. I go back and forth; why did it have to be so terrible; it’s a good thing that it was this bad and painful. But at the end of the day, it was wrong of you to do that to me, and I live with the effects of what you did to me everyday.

[dgcatanisiri]

Okay, so, serious answer, there are any number of good starting points for Trek, but there's also reasons to not pick one immediately either, so let me take these roughly by release date.

Also, this guide is useful for anyone attempting to get in to Star Trek, not just OP.

Original Series - Where it all began. Genuinely good, but if you're not comfortable with the acting styles of the 1960s (to say nothing of the aesthetics of the time, which were basically limited by a budget of about... two), it may not be your cup of tea. You'll see a lot of various floating details with regards to names and terminology and even dates, but the core storytelling is there. Some of these episodes are timeless. Some are best used for drinking game fodder. If you're not clicking with any given episode, you can always leave it for now and come back later - almost entirely episodic (occasional callbacks and one two-parter that repurposes the footage of the original pilot episode with an almost completely different cast).

The Animated Series - Basically TOS season four/five, just animated and crammed into a half hour runtime. Generally runs in to an issue of how in the 1970s, animation was seen as a "lesser" form of media, only really suitable for kids, so while the writing aspires to the heyday of TOS, the animation is budgeted worse than the design of TOS. That said, they take advantage of the medium to an effect you'll only really see matched today in terms of scenery and alien design with CGI. Probably not for beginners, but if you've gone through TOS, you might as well finish it out here.

The Motion Picture - Honestly, not that bad. In many ways, it's the pilot episode for a series that never happened (one of those ways being that's exactly how it started). As a result of that, it's a little slow in a lot of parts, basically any character other than Kirk and Spock (and maybe McCoy) are just kinda THERE, rather than genuinely contributing to the story, and the big epic panning reveal of the Enterprise is honestly done more for the benefit of the fans who kept Star Trek alive long enough to get a motion picture release, so even if it's long and self-indugent, I can't blame it. Enjoyable, but probably more so if you've already seen TOS.

The Wrath of Khan - One of the movies that people who don't like Star Trek has seen, although it's a sequel to a TOS episode, you get enough context from the film proper that seeing it is not necessary - you'll understand everything you need to by watching the film. Definitely recommended as a good entry point.

The Search for Spock - A direct sequel to Wrath of Khan, so you definitely are better off seeing that first. It's not strictly necessary, but it will hit different with the emotional context.

The Voyage Home - Technically the follow-up to both of the previous movies, but at this point, the studio wanted a lighter and softer, more general audience friendly film, so you don't really need those two to enjoy it. This is The One With The Whales, and it also serves as a good entry point. This is Trek having gotten itself figured out enough to relax and have fun with itself.

(Note: The next two movies came out during the course of TNG, but for organizational purposes, I'm grouping them with the rest of the TOS movies.)

The Final Frontier - This movie gets a lot of flak, and it's not undeserved, even if it's probably gotten so memetic that it's more likely to evoke "it's not THAT bad" reactions. Not recommended to start with, but worth seeing at some point.

The Undiscovered Country - This is meant as the grand finale for the TOS cast and crew. It's still a solid movie in its own right (it was honestly my personal introduction to the TOS cast, growing up as I did as a TNG/DS9/Voyager kid), but probably better serves as the wrap up it was meant to be.

The Next Generation - Back to the TV series, TNG takes a while to find its footing. If you are struggling with the first season or two, feel free to jump ahead to season three. Once it gets good, it's pretty solid, only starting to get wobbly again by the final season, but still ending on a high note. Like TOS, it's heavily episodic, though there are a handful of loosely connected arcs - you don't HAVE to see the episodes that came before, but the context helps. Definitely a good choice for your starting point.

Deep Space Nine - My jam, a high point of the franchise. If the flavor of the other Treks of the time are a little too squeaky clean for you, this is Star Trek getting its hands dirty. It gets more serialized as it goes, but still has an episodic element (having twenty-six episodes a season, they kinda have to keep that). Strong characters, ongoing stories, this is some of my favorite Trek that stands on its own. Not to everyone's taste, but a good story-driven series that digs deep into its characters. Good choice to start with, but it might spoil you for the rest of the franchise, because it does things that weren't done with others.

Voyager - Voyager is a heavily episodic series, often to its own detriment. You have a good spectrum of storytelling, of characters, and just general Trek shenanigans, but if you're looking for things that carry on between episodes, you're not going to be satisfied. Still, it's worth watching, and is probably also a good starting point, especially if you're looking for a starting point that doesn't demand that you watch every episode.

Generations - The first TNG movie, it follows the series and the TOS movies, so you're going to get the best context after that point. Meant to be a "meeting of the generations," your mileage may vary. Not good to start at.

First Contact - Much like Wrath of Khan, First Contact is a follow up to an episode of TNG, but you get enough context in the film to understand and follow along. In effect, it's a combination of the spirit of Wrath of Khan and Voyage Home, with the TNG cast instead of the TOS crew. If you want to start with a relatively low stakes introduction into the franchise, in terms of how much you as a viewer need to know going in, while still be reflective of what Star Trek is in the modern era, I'd probably start here.

Insurrection/Nemesis - Grouping both of these movies together because my brief summation is going to be roughly the same. These movies are probably some of the weaker entries in the listing. I only really recommend them if you're already committed to the franchise.

Enterprise - It tries, it really does, and it's probably better than its reputation has made it out as. Enterprise is a prequel series, so it's trying to be about the early days of the Star Trek universe, about a century before TOS. The problem is that its early days are fully of episodes written by people running on fumes from their time in the prior series, and by the time that it really starts getting its footing, it's abruptly cancelled before it can really deliver on its promises and hopes. Not a bad starting point, but there are stronger entries.

The Abrams Trilogy - Also grouping Trek 09, Into Darkness, and Beyond together, I do recommend Trek 09 and Beyond. Into Darkness, though, is honestly a problem for me, since it basically wants to do Wrath of Khan all over again. But 09 is effectively the origin story of a new branch of the TOS crew (for good and for ill), and Beyond made for a 50th anniversary special that showed the characters all getting their moments. If you only pick one of the three, go with Beyond.

Discovery - Discovery is a bit of a mixed bag. Basically, every season has been a serialized story that is in many ways retooling the series each season. If you don't quite connect with a story one season, the next season might be more to your tastes. Still, I would call it a good starting point, since it knew itself enough to know that it was the return to TV for Star Trek after over a decade of dormancy.

Picard - Sequel series to TNG and Voyager, for best results, watch those first. Not recommended as a starting point, you really want that context to get the context.

Lower Decks - You get the best out of this by knowing your Trek history, but a lot of the references and callbacks tend to be more offhanded, at least at first. A lot of people may judge it for the initial humor and portrayals, but the characters DO see growth and development, and there's a genuine sense that even the jokes about Star Trek in it it are 100% with love. Not a bad place to start, just will be prone to a lot of references to other Treks.

Prodigy - WATCH. THIS. SERIES. To pick one entry point, this is it, the highest recommendation. It'll be on Netflix as of Christmas Day, and it deserves all the love it can get, because it is genuinely about characters who are learning what Starfleet - and, by extension, what Star Trek itself - is. It is technically a sequel series to Voyager, but you don't need to have seen it to understand what's going on, those connections are more about giving you a launch point into what the rest of the franchise can offer.

Strange New Worlds - Direct spinoff of Discovery's first two seasons, and dealing with a lot of the aftermath of that point, SNW keeps to an episodic format, while having ongoing character threads. Good entry point in its own right, but you do appreciate some extra context offered by the first two seasons of Discovery.

In conclusion, Star Trek as a franchise is versatile, giving many places to enter (and, as a lifelong Trekkie, in my view, few exits :P). For my money, Prodigy is a good starting point (The first season is available in physical media and, again, will be on Netflix come Christmas), because it really asks the least of the audience first coming in, and follow that with any or all of TNG/DS9/Voyager, and mixing and matching from there.

[solarwriting]

high

a blurb on getting high with alex alvarez

y/n texted him in the middle of the afternoon saying that her family went out of town while she played sick. he told his mom that he was staying with dylan and he had him cover for him.

he laughed when he entered her room (the two being so used to this dynamic and him being comfortable enough to walk in on his own) because he saw her watching tangled.

"hey, i'm more of a frozen guy myself but tangled is cool too." he shrugged as he sat on her bed, his shoes long forgotten on her bedroom floor.

y/n giggled as she handed him the pipe and lighter, telling him he needed to catch up because she had a head start. he smiled at her before lighting the lighter, inhaling deeply before breathing out a puff of smoke. he sighed, he didn't get to do this, he had to be careful because his mother would kill him and his abuelita would be so disappointed if they found out.

he handed y/n the pipe and lighter where she repeated his actions, inhaling deeply and blowing out a small cloud of smoke and laying back, relaxation falling over her and making her body heavy. the pipe now discarded on ber bedside table after alex took another hit, alex laid next to her as he felt relaxation weigh him down as well.

"i love you." y/n mused with a giggle, turning her head so she was facing him. "love you, too." he said, his speech obviously affected. y/n rolled so she was on her side and laid her head on his chest, "does your family think you're at dylan's?"

"yeah." y/n felt his chest vibrate as he spoke. she tilted her head up and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

"so, you're staying?" y/n asked, pressing another kiss to his jaw. alex nodded, kissing y/n on the head before she pushed herself up and properly kissed him. y/n was was propped up on her elbows as she hovered above alex, their lips locked. alex's hands moves to cup her face before he pulled her and himself up so they were sitting. he pulled away from her with hesitation.

their foreheads touching the two stared at each other with heavy lids and puffy eyes. y/n's hands were planted in either side of his neck and alex's were on her waist. y/n wasn't sure how long they had been staring (probably only a couple of seconds) before she burst out laughing. alex smiled as y/n threw her head back her hands still on his neck.

"what's so funny?" he asked as he began laughing with her.

y/n continued to laugh before she stopped for a moment to think, 'what was so funny?' she froze, "i don't know." she answered before bursting into laughing again.

she stopped laughing abruptly to gasp, "we should watch frozen!" she didn't let Alex reply before she jumped off her bed and ran into her kitchen to find movie snacks.

alex knew the drill and moved the blankets and pillows so they would be comfortable. he grabbed y/n's laptop and got the movie ready just as y/n ran in with an armful of snacks.

later, alex was holding the laptop as y/n rested her head on his shoulder, ready to drift off. the two never really paid attention to the movie, they were too high and they'd both rather talk but as the hour passed and it got later all the couple wanted to do was sleep, so they did.

[owl630]

Monster Support Group

(It's been months and Jon still hasn't gotten a hug or been to a single therapy session so I'm taking matters into my own hands. Also you can tear the idea that Annabelle Cane is a therapist from my cold dead hands)

Being a therapist had been the right career path for Annabelle, and she was usually quite happy with her decision to become one. It had her pulling the strings and being in the center of the action when it came to her patients, and for the most part she considered herself to be an effective one. After all, if she already knew how to manipulate her patients to do something then it wasn't much of a stretch to work backwards and figure out the root of their problem. She had created quite the web of connections, and besides, it was a good hobby to have.

Or at least she had thought it was. The being currently waiting in her office might just be the thing to make her change her mind.

Her spiders had informed her that the being formerly known as Michael was now going by Helen as of around a year ago. She hadn't had to deal with an avatar of The Distortion in years, although to be fair Helen wasn't exactly an avatar as much as a personification. And yet the headache that always came when interacting with them was still going strong. She silently promised herself she'd get herself something from the bakery down the street if she got through this without making any enemies (bribery was such an old method of manipulation) and pulled the strings for Helen to come in.

She did so with a twisted degree of grace, and settled onto the couch. Her limbs seemed to stretch and wrap around the room in an almost web like in a way.

"Weaver! It's lovely to meet you officially!" She said, with a too wide smile that seemed to split her face in half. However Annabelle couldn't pick up on any hints of forced joy in seeing her. She returned the smile with a practiced one of her own, pleasantly surprised.

"Hello there Spiral, or may I call you Helen? I've heard it's what you're going by now."

"You may. Names are confusing, as are coporial forms, but I quite like being Helen these days." Helen replied with an even wider grin.

"Lovely. Now, if you don't mind too very much, may I ask why you're in my office?" She remembered that Melanie King had a connection to Helen, however King was simply a side project she spoke to her therapist contacts about, and a way to keep an agent in The Archives. There was no reason she could think of as to why Helen would want to meet with her.

"I'd like to talk with you about assisting a mutual friend of ours." Helen responded, her form seeming to become even more distorted, as if she was a bit distressed.

"Melanie King?" Annabelle asked curiously, even going so far as to raise an eyebrow.

"No, The Archivist. He's having a bit of a problem with accepting his nature."

She nodded. "Jon did stop by Hilltop road the other day. He seemed distressed." Jonathan Sims was another project of hers, one The Web herself also had an interest in. This conversation was proving to be quite enlightening, especially if through Helen she was able to find a better way of getting The Archivist to be a bit less reckless.

"Yes, he's not doing very well, I'm afraid. He's been refusing to hunt."

"What? I told him it was in his nature, why isn't he listening?" She was irritated and a bit concerned. After all, Jon Sims was important to The Web, it wouldn't do for him to keel over from malnutrition.

"I'm not sure, but I've had an idea." Helen said brightly. "We have both talked to him about this individually, but together we could get him to take some degree of care of himself."

"You're proposing an Alliance." The Spiral and The Web weren't enemies by any means, but neither had they ever been on the same side.

"Exactly!" Said Helen, clearly pleased Annabelle had understood her meaning.

She nodded. "Well in that case, I'll make sure he takes care of himself. A simple nudge should do it."

"Oh, you misunderstand." Helen said brightly. "I don't need you to manipulate him. I need you to be his therapist. I've heard such good things about therapy from Melanie, and The Archivist even mentioned wanting to see a therapist himself. I assumed you would be a wonderful candidate."

"Oh." That was a bit unexpected, but a fair ask nevertheless, "Well, I could certainly try and schedule an appointment."

"Lovely, what time would work for you?"

She felt a faint tug from one of her spiders. It was the one from the archives. Something was happening.

"Now would be best I'd imagine." She said, pulling her coat towards her. "Your corridors would be an excellent means of getting back, wouldn't you agree?"

The nice thing about Helen was that she didn't take much manipulation to convince.

The trip was jarring, but at least it was over quickly. She debated leaving a spider in the corridors briefly, but honestly thought that anything in there for longer than a day would die. Helen eventually stopped by a seemingly random door and opened it.

The Archivist's office was a mess. Papers were strewn about, file boxes knocked over, and in the center of the chaos was Jonathan Sims. His head was lying on the desk, buried in his arms. Blood was splattered across the desk, and pooled near his face

"Oh dear." Said Annabelle quietly. "This is certainly something."

Jon looked up and winced as he saw them. "Not today Helen." He said, his voice ragged. "And you must be Annabelle. If this is some sort of intervention I'm really not in the mood."

"You tried to cut out your eyes." Helen said softly, her bright tone fading slightly. "That was foolish."

He let out a raspy laugh. "Apparently I'm in far too deep to quit. I just... I just thought there was still hope."

Annabelle sighed and sat down in the chair across from him. She had been hired to do this job and was going to make the most of the opportunity. And if her plans involved actually helping Jon then she wasn't about to complain.

"Jon. I'm going to be frank with you. Not as a medical professional, but as an avatar. You cannot continue to do this to yourself."

"I can do whatever I damn well want." He spat. "I'm fine! I'm completely fine. I'm doing perfectly well just with the written-"

"Not that." She said quietly. "You need to be honest with yourself. You're one of us Jon, and you need to hunt just like we do. You may not be able to be human again by taking your eyes out, but you can make the most of things while you're a monster."

"What do you mean?" He managed to ask, his eyes starting to focus.

The compulsion washed over her, feeling almost like her webs. She smiled, The Web chose her servants well. Then she began to speak.

"Well Jon, here's the thing," She began slipping into her role as a Therapist, "You're struggling with the moral aspects of your new powers, but your morality is currently causing you to starve. So therefore, you need to figure out how to reconcile that fact with your own ideals of morality. Thus you should figure out how to use those powers for 'good'." She finished.

Jon blinked, looking a bit stunned. "What?" He asked in utter confusion. In her peripheral vision she could see Helen grin.

"Think of it this way." Annabelle continued, begining to mentally twist the threads of the problem together. "You see nothing morally wrong with using your powers against avatars that threaten you, and yet also see something morally wrong with doing the same to normal people. Am I correct?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes but I don't haunt the nightmares of other monsters."

"Very true." She said with a nod. "However when using those powers you're aware that you're using them against something that is trying to cause harm to yourself or others."

"I guess."

"Excellent. Therefore, I propose you resume hunting, but narrow it down to those who you see as being morally reprehensible."

He stared at her. "I'm not going to be some sort of monster vigilante!"

"Why ever not?" Helen asked.

"Because I'm still going to be a- a monster!" He spluttered.

"Well Jon the way I see it, if you're going to be a monster one way or another you may as well choose to do something useful with it." Annabelle pointed out politely, almost enjoying how his eyes widened as the thought ran through his head.

"Think of it this way," She continued, tugging just a bit more at this line of thinking, "Plenty of bad people interact with our patrons every day and keep their humanity, however immoral it may be. They just need a nudge to see the error of their ways."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are eternal nightmares a fair trade for it?"

Annabelle let herself grin. "I don't know Jon, but I think that you do."

He stared at her for a moment, then started to laugh. It was a broken sounding echo of a real one, interspersed with bits of static. He slumped forward and put his head in his hands. "You're very good at manipulating me into believing I can change."

"I may be manipulating you, but it'll be alright Jon." She said gently.

He shook his head. "You know that I'll be dead the minute my fri- the others find out about this, right?"

Helen stepped over, her limbs elongating, and wrapped herself around Jon in what could almost be classified as a hug. He stiffened then went limp, hugging back tightly as tears rolled down his scarred cheeks.

"I'll be here if they try anything." Helen said, sounding surprisingly sincere. "Just knock."

Annabelle put a hand on his shoulder in a somewhat comforting way, and tugged slightly on the webs around the institute to make sure the archives staff would be busy.

"Same time next week?" She asked her new patient.

[purrrplezo]

Upon further motives i have decided to ignore the COA III lore to declare that Vile Blossom and Netherwalker are in a happy and healthy relationship with the same vibes as Morticia and Gomez Addams

They also work together as two little menaces to the rest of the COA III team misfortune

[pocketramblr]

(Bnha) What change would you make to the start of the series? To a single arc to make ut better (even if just better for you)? How would you end it?

To the start: someone says “Hey can we get the kids who just had terrifying near death experiences some therapy???”

To a single arc: every time i remember that the ‘main’ four guy students got big arcs and moments in the overhaul arc while the three ‘main’ girls were completely shafted im filled with some dreadful feeling. like please at the very least treat Nejire equal to her other big three compadres and give her a meaningful hero name

how would i end it hm now thats a tough one. My absolute ideal, totally self indugent ending, would be Eri at fifteen, (not a ua student) meeting her friends Kouta, Katsuma, and Satsuki outside of their school. (they are ua students.) They go to a cafe for treats, Shoto is a retired pro and runs it. They drink boba and watch the hero rankings on the tv on the wall. the program includes a recognition and donation to the iida charity for disabled folks. Mirio, the first quirkless hero makes it into the rankings. Izuku takes Miruko’s spot as Number One (and is also an activist for quirkless and negative quirk rights). The big three, Ochako, and Katsuki are also within the top ten. There’s a huge celebration later. Toshinori gives Izuku a hug, later takes him out with Gran to visit Nana’s gravestone, happily catching up together. Sir and Jin’s graves are also shown, well kept.

message me three questions you want to know about me

[roguelioness]

Love Yourself Challenge

Tagged by @idrelle-miocovani and @galadrieljones - thank you! ♥

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

In no particular order:

1. A Whole New World

This is the first ever longfic that I started writing... three years ago (!!!) and I’m honestly both surprised and a little proud that I’m still working on it. It’s not done yet, and it looks like it’s going to be a series (sigh!) but considering this was my breaking out of my creative rut when I was in the middle of a seriously major depression, I’m rather proud of it. 

2.  The Inquisition Job

Full disclaimer: this is complete, but I haven’t posted all the chapters (yet). That being said... look, I’m a Solasmancer. That egg has me firmly in his strong, elegant grip. TIJ is my attempt at breaking out of the mold, both in terms of romance (it’s a Cullenmance) as well as writing styles. I’ve done quite a bit of experimentation within this fic, and it’s been interesting and challenging.

3. DAI: NPC Ficlets

A series that started with me roaming around going, “I wonder what all the NPCs think of the Inquisitor/Inquisition?” This is definitely a self-indulgent thing - it doesn’t garner much interest, but it’s so much fun to write, to put myself in the shoes of a random NPC and attempt to think like they do. They differ from my other works in that they’re short, and are in the form of an interview... but I’m pleased with myself for coming up with it.

4. Resurrection

Another entirely self-indugent short story. I was trying to break out of a writing rut, and this came up. It took a lot of strange turns when I was writing it; it was meant to be a reconciliation piece, but it had a mind of its own :) I’m not usually good at writing emotions, but I think I did okay with this one.

5. What Could Have Been

This was my most recent short story, which started off as a funny exchange between @ma-sulevin and me. I knew I wanted to write something about it, and it was going to be humorous... but as is so often the case, it veered sharply away from what I originally had in mind. As I mentioned before, I struggle with writing and depicting emotions and emotional struggle, so working on this one was both challenging and strangely cathartic (it was a nice break from Solavellan hell, for sure!)

Tagging @kagetsukai, @sarenkascrawls, @novamm66, @lechatrouge673, @wickedwitchofthewilds, @laraslandlockedblues, @rawrzimon, @thevikingwoman, @bearly-tolerable, @iarollane and anyone else who wants to do it!

[tallemy]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: South Park Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick Characters: Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick Additional Tags: something more melancholic, Established Relationship, K2 week, k2 week 2019, Etrian Odyssey AU Series: Part 3 of Tales Around the World Tree Summary:

A story about how everyone wanted to find their own happiness, but eventually what you need and what you have to do might be the complete opposite of each other.

A/N: A self-indugent fic about marriages, weddings and what they mean to them. Also this is part of the EO series, although it is completely undestandable/readable without those. 

[fabulouspotatosister]

harana

filipino (n.) - seranade

summary: hi! so i wrote this fic kind of for me, because i love being self indugent, but i also wrote it for the all the filipino thirteen stans out there. if you're out there, kumusta.  i hope you enjoy this really self-indulgent mess of a fic. this is kind of a prequel to another fic i'll be writing!

filipino words used:

tita - aunt anak - child 'te/ate - big sis/older woman inday - little sis/younger woman

Asking the Doctor for favors is complicated.

It's complicated because there are favors that aren't hard to grant and favors that are. The problem is figuring out which is which, because in the Doctor's mind, those vary wildly. How does going to see a life threatening event in alien history that could probably get everyone killed count as an "easy favor"? Why does going to a shop on the day it was selling something limited edition count as a "hard favor"? You're probably never going to know.

Not to mention the fact that looking the Doctor in the eyes has been really tricky for some reason. Just a little thing.

Which makes this favor a little tricky.

"Doctor," you begin, carefully, "can I ask you something?"

The Doctor's peering at a little thingy on the TARDIS console, her face scrunched up the way it does when she's really focused and her blonde hair messy and falling over her eyes. She doesn't look up at you, lost in her examination, but her voice is gentle - "Always."

Always. The word is a nice reminder.

The Doctor - an incredible, unfathomable, indescribable alien with a wealth of memories, responding to little human requests with "always". She was here to help, after all.

"I was thinking of going home," you say slowly, not taking your eyes off the Doctor. Not that that wasn't hard.

The Doctor looks up at you, her eyes crinkling - you don't bother to pinpoint their color anymore, as they could go from an already beautiful hazel to looking like the universe. "To Sheffield?"

"No, not there." You fight the urge to smile when the Doctor blinks in confusion. "I meant where my family is. The rest of my family, I mean. If that's alright with you."

You pause. The Doctor stands up and wipes her hands on her coat, her expression totally unreadable (as it usually is) - and then beams at you.

Okay. You were expecting rejection but you know what? This is good. Her smiling at you makes it ten times better. Scratch that, make it a hundred.

"It's definitely alright with me," she says through a grin, already starting to fiddle with the various switches and levers on the console. "The Philippines in 2019 - I haven't visted since the Spanish occupation! I always did love Rizal's work. Did you know he's an absolute riot at parties? Apple throwing and everything!"

"I hope you're not saying apple bobbing," Yaz's voice rings out, and you turn to find her walking into the room. "That brings up some bad memories."

"I love apple bobbing," the Doctor gasps, echoing herself. "And not all of it was bad! We did get to defeat an intergalactic criminal. Apple bobbing's not the worst of it."

Yaz just smiles, shaking her head. "Are we heading somewhere?"

"You fancy a trip to where I lived as a kid?" you ask, nudging her with your elbow. Yaz blinks at you, confused, before her smile breaks into a wide grin.

"You're joking."

"Nope! I thought it would be a nice change of pace from all the adrenaline-fueled trips we go on." You look at the Doctor and shrug. "Not that I don't enjoy those. No offense."

"None taken," the Doctor replies. She holds your gaze for a little while before breathing out and whipping around. Her hand rests on a lever - the "launch lever" as you liked to call it, because it's the lever she pulls before you take off.

You lock eyes with the Doctor, seeing her eyes shift colors in the dim light of the console room. Another mesmerizing thing about her to put on your list, unfortunately.

"Right. Let's get a shift on, then?"

You open the TARDIS doors to the smell of grass - and not cut grass, just plain old grass. Long stalks tickle your ankles as you step out, the air growing more humid than the TARDIS interior. The sun casts a warm glow on everything, bathing everything in gold.

"I can already say this is gonna be much better than our last trip." Behind you, Graham spoke. "Another one off the bucket list."

"How long is your bucket list?" You hear Ryan ask, only to get an annoyed "oi" from his grandfather.

"Yes! Perfect landing. Thank you." The Doctor walks out of the TARDIS. "That was a perfect landing, right? Tell me that was."

You don't speak for a little bit. It's weird, being home after such a long time. The warmth of the air is warmer than you remember, but you remember it, and it's enough to make you feel at ease.

"Yeah," you manage, still tranfixed. "Thank you."

The Doctor moves to stand next to you. Her very presence is both a reminder of how you've been gone and how you came back. And you're incredibly grateful. "You're welcome," is all she says, but there's so much behind her words.

(The Doctor enjoys seeing you enjoy home, more than she should anyway.)

"It's getting dark," Yaz says. "Why don't we get to your home?"

The walk doesn't take long. The Doctor was right about it being a perfect landing, as the TARDIS had parked just behind a hill that stood in front of a highway, which was the highway where your family's ancestral house stood. It stood tall, its walls old and wooden and laden with history.

It was good to be back.

You take that back very quickly though, when a family member catches your eye, turns to the inside of the house, yells your name, and suddenly you're caught up in a wave of relatives. Yaz sends a look your way that reads "family, am I right?" while you get bombarded with questions.

"Sit down, sit down," your aunt - a lovely lady you call Tita Grace gushes, leading the team to sit down on an old sofa set. Yaz seems right at home in a single armchair, completely understanding the enthusiastic family reunion, while the rest of the team sit down a bit awkwardly on a longer chair. You decide to keep standing.

Tita Grace sighs at you, but it's more of a "oh my goodness anak look how much you've grown" sigh rather than a disappointed sigh. "Look at you! Back home just in time to see everyone together. We haven't seen you in months, and you didn't even tell us you were coming home!"

"Yeah, well," you tell her, glancing at the Doctor, who gives you a supportive nod, "I've been busy."

Very busy travelling the universe, getting our lives threatened, nearly dying, and enjoying this beyond normal comprehension with four of my favorite people, is what you don't say, although you know that doesn't exactly make for great reunion talk.

"Busy, huh," Tita Grace teases, the corners of her very pink lips lifting. She looks at the rest of team TARDIS, and they all smile politely at her in unison. "Who are these friends you've brought along?"

Graham begins, introducing himself and Ryan as his grandson; Yaz goes next, saying her name and dropping the fact that she's a police officer; the Doctor, on the other hand, stands and takes Tita Grace's hand.

"I'm the Doctor," she says, grinning politely. "Can I just say, your niece is a wonderful person. She's been a great companion on our travels so far."

Ding! Plus one point for being called a "wonderful person" by the Doctor. Of course, this Doctor wasn't shy to give out encouragement and praise when necessary. That didn't mean it didn't feel great when she gave it out. Plus one point, as well, for acting a little bit like a lover asking for familial permission, which was… nice, for some reason. More on that later?

Also, our travels, not her travels. That was nice.

"That's great. And a Doctor of what, may I ask?"

"Oh, of a lot of things," the Doctor replies, "Legos, for one."

You laugh, not noticing the glance she throws your way.

Tita Grace turns back to you. You didn't know a person could smile so wide. "Making so many friends already. Actually - " she says to the rest of your group - "I'd like a word with my niece, privately - would it be okay for you to wait a little bit out here?"

It's pretty much a unanimous "sure", and you look helplessly at your friends before your aunt pulls you into the kitchen.

"You didn't have to drag me away, Tita Grace," you complain, rubbing your arm. "They pretty much know everything about me anyway."

"But this is a private matter, anak." Tita Grace holds your shoulders.

Oh my God. This was going to be a very, very long night.

"It's about your love life," Tita Grace continues (oh my God it was definitely going to be the longest night of your life, why do all families ask questions like this). "Are you seeing anyone?"

Your "no" is a well-worn answer that Tita Grace isn't satisfied with. She prods a little more.

"Any of those three? Graham?"

"He was married!"

"What about the boy?"

"Ryan? Oh, uh, he wouldn't be interested in me."

"Yaz? What about Yaz? She's pretty."

"She is, but no."

"Okay, what about the blonde one? That Doctor lady?"

The question knocks the air out of your lungs for some reason. It's a little hard breathing after that. "I'm sorry - excuse me?"

"What? Are you?"

"I'm not." The answer comes out a little too forcefully. Why are you so defensive? And why do you sound like a schoolgirl with a crush - "I'm not seeing anyone."

Or do you wish you were? says the nagging voice in the back of your brain you begrudgingly refer to as your conscience. Why do you keep thinking about the Doctor anyway? And why did you even bring her with you to meet you family, no less?

Shut up, you tell your conscience.

It doesn't, to no one's surprise, and snarks back with what a telenovela cliche before you squash it to finally get some words out. "And what about it?"

"Sorry, but I'm looking for the - "

Graham pokes his head through the thin cloth that divides the living room and the kitchen, and you feel like this is it. You're ready to die now. You give him a suffering look, and he cringes.

"Bad time? I was just looking for the toilet," Graham stammers, gesturing back to where he just came from. Friendly conversation filters through, and you catch the Doctor talking with some of your relatives.

"No, not at all." You purse your lips, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach has probably dropped to the floor more times than you can count, your heart doesn't feel like it's in your chest, and that your face feels like a sun going supernova. "I just got held up. You know, the usual family talk."

Tita Grace gives the most sickening smile you've ever seen and looks at Graham. "Would you mind helping us with something?"

You hope to God that it's over.

It's not over.

When night falls, Tita Grace drags you outside the house, and asks you to sit down next to a balete tree that you're pretty sure is actually haunted and then runs away at the speed of light.

Okay. You're just outside, there's nothing to worry about, surely your family would never do anything do embarrass you in front of the person that you're most likely attracted to, right? Right?

You look up to find that you're standing in front of a balcony, Romeo - style.

Not right, then.

The Doctor's voice rings faintly from inside the house. "Where are you lot taking me?"

"It's a surprise, Doctor," says Ryan. He sounds like he's having the time of his life.

A few young men walk up to you - you recognize them as your uncle's friends - hauling some things behind them. You squint, and then find that they're holding a few guitars, a beatbox, and a small amplifier.

You sigh. "What has Tita Grace made you do?"

"'Te - " One of the young men raises his hands in mock surrender, while the rest of his friends set up the impromptu band. "Don't be embarrassed. If you like her, you can't go wrong with a good old serenade."

"I don't - " You pinch the bridge of your nose, ignoring the weird feelig that seems to settle right in the center of your chest. "There's no changing your minds, is there?"

"Living abroad's made you grumpy, inday," another young man says. He slings the guitar strap over his shoulder and strums a few notes. "Lighten up, have a little fun with this."

Impromptu band assembled, the group of young men all look at you expectantly.

"What - you want me to sing?"

"That's the point, isn't it?" Another well-played strum to a song you faintly recognize. "Look, she's coming."

You look up to see the Doctor being practically pushed onto the balcony, the rest of Team TARDIS trailing along. You give them another suffering look before deciding to focus on the Doctor, who smiles and gives you a wave.

"Hello! What are you doing down there?" she brightly asks, and you give her a pained grin. It comes out more like a grimace. Her gaze flicks upwards, to the massive tree that you're sitting under, and her entire face lights up. "Oh, look at that tree! Well, it's not really a tree, more of a vine really, called a strangler fig."

The wonder in her voice - the Doctor was like a prism. She took ordinary things, things that you saw everyday, and just through her sheer enthusiasm, made them extraordinarily beautiful.

"You guys couldn't stay here without experiencing a traditional Filipino tradition," a young man begins. He says it with a flourish. "Elsewhere, you'd call it a serenade. Here, we call it the harana."

The Doctor looks at you, and the rest of the world seems to disappear.

And so you sing.

Hindi masabi ang nararamdaman Di makalapit, sadyang nangingining na lang Mga kamay na sabik sa piling mo Ang iyong matang walang mintis sa pagtigil ng aking mundo

"I can't say how I feel - I can't get close, I just tremble. My hands long to touch you; your gaze that doesn't hesitate to stop the world."

(Yaz manages to tear her eyes away from you and to the Doctor - maybe, Yaz thinks, this is the first time in so long that she's been truly speechless. The Doctor was normally a bouncing ball of energy, but this - this was different, this was new. The Doctor wasn't looking at anything else. The Doctor was looking at you.)

Ako'y alipin ng pag-ibig mo Handang ibigin ang isang tulad mo Hangga't ang puso mo'y sa akin lang Hindi ka na malilinlang

"I'm a slave to your love, ready to love someone like you. Until your heart is mine, you won't be decieved - "

(The Doctor - to put it simply? She's floored. She's been sung to before, she's sure she's got songs about her, but this isn't the same.)

Ikaw ang ilaw sa dilim At ang liwanag ng mga bituin

"You are the light in the dark and the brightness of the stars."

You look at the Doctor - she looks so intruigued, so endeared, something dancing behind those bright eyes of hers, the barest hint of a smile on her lips - and you're sure she feels loved.

The song is over before you know it, and the rest of the world comes back into focus. You hear the band make teasing noises and the everyone else cheering, but it all sounds like you're underwater.

You feel… satisfied, somehow, in a way that only you can understand.

The Doctor's still smiling, but she's smiling at you, and that makes all the difference.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, you think to yourself, still basking in the light of the Doctor's smile.

[nekoplusdanshi]

Morty/Enki 01

Wordcount: ~ 1,500 words

Fandom, Pairings: Pokémon, Morty/OC

Warnings: bit of an age gap, foster siblings to lovers, total AU with me making everything up

A/N: A self-indugent fic with an edgy OC I ended up caring about way too much. Mostly about interactions with spirits and ghost pokemon. Enjoy.

-

Morty is fourteen when he meets Enki, and all he can think as he looks at the younger boy is that he looks so very, very tired. Enki is skinny, and pale, and trembles a little as he holds a Pokémon Morty’s never seen before in his lap. His lower lip looks bruised and swollen, as if he was biting it, trying not to cry. Morty has become quite stoic in recent years, training very hard to get his feelings under control and tune out the white noise that results from his psychic abilities, but when he looks at Enki then, he feels a surge of unexpected emotion; pity, or something close to it.

His father and Enki’s are speaking in hushed tones, and out of curiosity, Morty listens in;

“I understand. We’ll do everything in our power to assist you.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly…”

“It may take some time. This sort of thing is never easy…”

He can’t make it all out from where he’s peeking through the crack in the sliding door, but after a moment his father turns and sighs, looking directly at him with infinite patience. “Morty,” he calls. “Come here if you’re going to eavesdrop anyway. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Morty has the decency to look a little sheepish at least, pushing the door back and stepping into the tatami-floored room. The Pokémon looks at him, or at least Morty thinks it does—it’s difficult to tell with the way its eyes are covered by fluffy, green fur. It’s owner, however, doesn’t react—doesn’t even so much as glance in Morty’s direction. His eyes are fixed on some indistinguishable point in the shadows of one corner of the room. Morty follows his gaze and notices a flicker of energy, a spirit of someone long-since passed. Ah, he thinks then, like a lightbulb going off in his head. So, he can see them, too.

He mumbles a greeting and sits down seiza next to his father, hands placed neatly on his thighs. “This is my son, Morty.” His father places a hand on his shoulder, a heavy and familiar weight. “He’s training as a spiritualist himself, and is to one day succeed me as the leader of Ecruteak Gym. Morty,” he says, and gestures towards the fragile boy in front of him. “This is Enki. His family has traveled a very long way from the Hoenn region, seeking our counsel.”

Morty notes the plural; our counsel.

“He’s going to be staying with us for a while. I hope you’ll help him feel at home here.”

Morty thinks for a moment that he should be offended; the boy—Enki—is being spoken about, and yet hasn’t so much as even turned his head to look at him. But there’s something in the shadows under his eyes and the way his hands tremble that makes Morty let it go. He holds out his hand so it hovers square in Enki’s field of vision and smiles, patiently. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then, eyes flickering to the corner of the room again, adds, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise.”

And there isn’t. The spirit there is weak, and quite benign; one of his own distant relatives, Morty guesses, lingering in the old family home long after death. He’s seen spirits like this time and time again. What is there to be afraid of?

Enki jolts a little. His eyes skitter over to meet Morty’s, and Morty notices for the first time that they’re nearly pitch black. He doesn’t move for a moment, as if he didn’t hear what Morty said, but then the Pokémon in his lap makes a soft, imploring sound, as if saying something only Enki can understand. Enki swallows, and finally extends a small hand to clasp Morty’s own. His palm is damp with sweat, but cold to the touch.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replies softly. “Morty.”

…

He realizes why Enki is here quickly enough.

It’s obvious from the way the boy shudders and trembles whenever a spirit is around that he’s affected by them, strongly. It goes beyond normal sensitivity. Where Morty sees shadows—weak spirits that hardly have the energy to even stay in the world of the living—Enki sees apparitions. Where Morty feels a strong presence—a weight on his chest and perhaps, when the spirit is particularly strong, an uneasiness—Enki feels more, pressured to the point he can barely breathe. Morty has been told time and time again that he’s inherited a great power, the sensitivity of the Matsuba line that’s passed down through generations. But when he meets Enki, he thinks that surely, these people must’ve been joking.

His power is nothing compared to this.

And as a result, the burden he’s carried since birth suddenly seems a million times lighter.

Enki isn’t like him though, not entirely. His spiritual sensitivity is incredible, but he lacks the psychic power needed to deal with it. This, Morty realizes quickly, is where his Pokémon comes in, and also why he’s come to Ecruteak city in the first place.

Morty had thought it odd at first to see a child so young with a Pokémon to call his own, but discovers after a while that it’s by some sort of special permission. The Pokémon—called Ralts, Morty finds out soon enough—helps Enki control his own emotions and also wards off unwelcome spirits that would otherwise overwhelm the boy. It’s an interesting condition, to be honest, and Morty is sure there’s plenty of people out there who would be eager to study Enki, his sensitivity to the paranormal, the subsequent effect both psychic and ghost type Pokémon have on him.

But that isn’t what Enki or his family wants. They make it very clear to Morty’s father that all they want is for Enki to be able to live a normal life.

Enki wants to be normal.

…

“He’ll be training with us,” Morty’s father explains to him one morning, as they both hover in the kitchen drinking coffee, minds occupied with thoughts of the boy sleeping upstairs. “He needs to learn how to live with ghost Pokémon and deal with the spirits of the dead.” He father takes a long sip from his mug and then brings a hand up to his chin in thought. “He needs psychic training as well. There’s no running from something like this, and he can’t rely on his ralts forever.”

Morty tilts his head, crossing his arms and leaning back against the countertop. “Why, though?” he asks, genuinely confused. “Why not rely on his ralts as much as he needs to? Psychic training won’t be easy. He’s a complete novice.” And he wasn’t naturally gifted in clairvoyance or psychic warding like the Matsuba family was. Frankly, Morty doesn’t see the point.

His father shakes his head though, frowning. “No Pokémon will ever be able to alleviate his mental burden entirely. He needs to learn how to block out all this energy on his own. Right now, the spirits scare him; not just the evil ones—all spirits terrify him, because he can’t tell which are dangerous and which are… well, just scary to look at. He feels so much of the dead’s emotions that he can hardly tell them apart from his own.”

Morty furrows his brow a bit, trying to understand. “So he’s a medium?” he asks. “Feeling the spirits’ emotions…”

“No,” his father cuts in. “Rather, he shouldn’t be. He’d be too susceptible to possession. And I don’t mean just channeling or communicating with the dead—I mean true possession. The type that’s hard to come back from.”

For his part, Morty isn’t sure what to say—isn’t even sure how he feels about the whole situation. There’s a part of him that thinks maybe he should feel a bit jealous, or put out about the fact that he now has to share his father’s precious tutelage with another. Many came to the Matsuba family’s gates hoping to be taken in as disciples only to be turned away. But then, for his father to accept this boy into their household… That in itself spoke to the gravity of his situation.

And Morty, despite his own inexperience, had been able to sense it as well—the desperation from Enki’s parents, and the tumult of emotions that hovered around Enki himself, dark and stifling. That was no way to live.

Though it goes unsaid between them, both Morty and his father are thinking the same thing, as shadows creep in a little closer from the corners of their house and silvery entities slither unseen along the floors; Enki wasn’t only oversensitive to the presence of spirits… He attracted them, as well.

“Well,” Morty says finally, and downs the rest of his coffee in one go. “It seems we have our work cut out for us.

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

[Skam Italia] Ficlet: ... e pace all’anima

A totally self-indugent piece, written as my coping mechanism during an anxiety filled day. Now I definitely feel a bit better, which is all that matters :) Despite the title, IT’S IN ENGLISH.

He finds him in the kitchen, washing up all those pans and dishes they were too lazy to care about last night. The floors are sparkling, the clothes have been all been ironed and folded up and he's pretty sure the furniture has been rearranged. He is singing under his breath, it's a barely audible tune but Martino knows which are Niccolò's comfort songs. Lyrics that seems to fit his melancholy to a T - too many, all too somber for Marti's liking - or tunes that soothe him, bring him back to his childhood, to easier times when all he used to worry about was finding the last stickers to complete his album. He doesn't ask if everything is okay, when it's clearly isn't. Niccolò probably doesn't know himself what got him on the verge of hyperventilating, made him feel like ants were crawling up his skin. It can't be the disagreement they had last night that triggered this, can it? They have always known they have totally different tastes in.... Well, pretty much everything. Martino believes Wes Anderson's movies to be quite boring and pretentious, can't really get into Earl Sweatshirt's music no matter how hard he tries and doesn't understand half of the things Niccolò talks about. And while, yeah, finding out that whom you love isn't dying to watch the latest season of Stranger Things, or listening to Apparat over and over again, can be a bit disheartening... It shouldn't matter. It doesn't. If anything. being with Niccolò broadens his horizons. Most of the time he won't like what his boyfriend does, but every now and then he does. And he would have never found out about The Good Place if he hadn't stepped out of his comfort zone. And take Eleanor and Chidi: they couldn't be more different one to the other if they tried... But does that stop them? Make them run away from their own feelings? Nope: they love each other, everything else can fork off. So... No, it can't be that. “Dalla mia testa come uva matura gocciola il folle vino delle chiome... Voglio essere una gialla velatura, gonfia verso un paese senza nome,” drawn own out in the softest way - he would clearly belt it out, wasn't he afraid of waking up his boyfriend -  is followed by “Alla fiera dell'est, per due soldi, un topolino mio padre comprò”  and it's such a familiar melody that he can't help but join in. Niccolò stops singing then, looking sheepish. "I... " ‘I didn't mean to bother you. I'm so sorry if I woke you up, I should have been more careful, I...’ Martino kisses him before he can apologise, a quick and tender peck to his lips that makes Niccolò forget what he was about to say. He leans back against the counter, careful not to overstep his boundaries. He wants to hold him close, lull him back to sleep with that very same song, as he tenderly threads his fingers through Nico's curls. He doesn't know if that's what Ni needs, now... All he can do is try. Take it slow. Little by little. Step by step. Minute by minute. "I never actually sang that all the way to the last chorus, you know? I always stopped when the butcher kills the bull..." As most do, really. His little finger reaches out to brush against Niccolò's, and he's met with a little stroke back, before Niccolò brings his hand up to his lips. Lays a kiss on each of his knuckles. On the pad of his fingers, and then his wrist. "Well, you're more than welcome to join in." He whispers against his skin, before he lets his hand go and starts drying off the plates. Martino wishes he could do more, that he could chase away whatever is plaguing Niccolò... Well, at least he can make sure that he will never have to face it alone. And that's still something, isn't it?

----------------------------------- A/N: Rocco singing Branduardi? Yes, please. And yeah, I do imagine that both would LOVE The Good Place <3 (Martino roots for Eleanor, Nico has a soft spot for Chidi and they both see a bit of Luchino in Jason X°D... Awww <3 )