#ultimately it’s her trying to make sure I don’t deal with abuse for her hosting a controversial figure

[dykeonysus]

Today in “working for a university is weird” my boss publicly asked a room full of people not to suicide bait me over email saying “she’s a gentle soul, and you should not do this not only because she does not deserve the trauma but because it will come back to all of us” like hold me up by the scruff of my neck Nancy so they can see my wet pathetic eyes why don’t you

[jayeray-hq]

Twin Kittens (Part 1)

Hey everyone! This is my part for the Paws and Claws Collab that was with @katslutski The theme of the collab was hybrids (puppy/kitty/bunny etc) so if you’re interested check it out!

Unfortunately as usual I got excessively wordy, so this is going to be split into three parts. This part alone is about 20K words and we're only about a third of the way through! so it definitely had to be split up.

If you like this feel free to check out my Atsumu or my Osamu masterlists!

While there is no smut in this part there will be in the future thus this story is 18+ minors DNI please!

TW: Previous mentions of past abuse, gaslighting, verbal, death threats, hybrids have been treated like slaves before

This story is Fem Reader x Atsumu x Osamu but there will be no actual incest. While there will be a threesome at the end the boys won't ever touch one another sexually.

“Are you alright?” your neighbor Ojirou asked, a concerned look on his face as he watched you listlessly stir your drink with the straw, playing with the melting ice in the glass.

The two of you were actually good friends, having lived peacefully side by side for over five years now. You’d met on the very first day when you moved in, you’d been struggling to open the door with a large box in your arms and he’d rushed to the rescue. He and his hybrids diligent Kita, the blue merle border collie, and sly, sleek Suna the Siamese cat, had all pitched in to help you get moved in and settled. You’d been good friends with all three of them ever since.

It was his turn to host your traditional Friday night dinner, so you’d gone over to his apartment determined to enjoy yourself. However, something must’ve given away the rough day you’d had, because all three of them had been casting you concerned looks all night and trading glances when they thought you couldn’t see.

It was apparently Aran’s job to confront you about it, though both hybrids were looking at you expectantly. Well, Kita was looking at you expectantly, Suna was pretending not to pay attention, his phone in his hands, but you could see him watching out of the corner of his eye.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” you asked determined to at least give it a try.

The stern look you got from Kita and the sympathetic smile from Ojiro told you how ultimately fruitless the effort had been, so you caved in with a sigh, pushing your glass away so you could slump face down on the table burying your head in your arms. You’d tell them, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be necessarily looking them in the eye when you did.

“You know how I went to that thing with some of my girl friends today?” you asked tiredly.

There were acknowledging hums all around even from Suna who you saw from the corner of your eye was no longer pretending to look at his phone and instead watching you like some rare breed of animal in a zoo doing something particularly fascinating.

“Well it was fun, great even,” you told them with a small quirk of your lips, “Right up until we started talking about significant others. Apparently two of them are getting married soon, one has a baby on the way, and the rest are in steady loving relationships or have openly declared they aren’t interested in that kind of thing. So guess who was the only sad single there?”

“Ah,” Ojirou acknowledged a well of sympathy in his voice.

“And of course once they found out, they were like ‘oh I think my husband has a brother’ or ‘oh I have this great friend from work you’d just love,” you ranted, earning a quiet snicker from Suna, which prompted you to lift your head up so you could dig back at the cat hybrid who looked to be having far too much fun at your expense.

“They even asked me why I didn’t date my nice neighbor, the one I’m always hanging out with,” you added on ruthlessly, ignoring Ojirou’s shocked sputters, “But I told them he was in a committed relationship. They were skeptical at first, but then I told them that I was sure because someone is extremely loud, enough that I’m forced to use headphones to drown out the yowling.”

Poor Ojirou was coughing, clearly dying of embarrassment, and even Kita had the faintest red tinge to his cheeks. Unfortunately, Suna, unbothered as ever, simply smirked at you, which confirmed some of your suspicions that he’d been doing it on purpose, the brat.

Heaving another forlorn sigh you decided to give up and give poor Ojirou a break, making a mental note to make it up to him somehow. The poor guy really didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire between you and Suna.

“So, I spent the time being relentlessly hounded until it was time to leave,” you continued on, pretending not to notice Kita patting Ojirou’s back sympathetically, “I tried to explain to them that I just don’t have the time and energy it takes to go out and start dating people, that work was taking up too much of my time, but they weren’t having any of it.”

“It sounds like a rough time,” Ojirou told you, with genuine sympathy, the man too kind even after you’d embarrassed the hell out of him, “like when I go home and baa-chan asks when I’m going to settle down and get married.”

Suna let out an involuntary hiss at that, and Kita’s shoulders stiffened up a bit. Even though hybrid-human relationships were accepted and even almost expected between them and their owners these days, it didn’t mean that everyone accepted them as ‘true’ relationships. There were a good chunk of people, mostly conservatives and the older generation who believed that human/human relationships were the only valid ones.

This was no doubt because of the fact that most hybrid children, once they hit eighteen chose to go to hybrid adoption centers rather than staying with their parents. This was partly because it was one of the few good ways to get out from under your parents roof.

Hybrid rights had come a long way from when they’d first been implemented a few decades ago, back when they were considered something of a toy and a pet, not better than a slave. However, they technically still required a human ‘owner’ to do things like go to school, find a job, or even be out in public unsupervised.

There were people working to change that of course, and you’d donated heavily to the cause and actively supported it, but change was slow going, so for now it was what it was. It didn’t help that there were a good deal of people around like Ojirou’s grandma who viewed hybrids as less than human, and would probably never acknowledge his relationship or any children they had, especially if the children were hybrids too.

It was something you’d listened to him vent about more than once, happy to lend him a listening ear, especially since he’d done the same for you plenty of times over the years.

“It wasn’t quite that bad,” you admitted, giving him your own sympathetic smile, “but it was rather depressing.”

“Do ya even want a companion like that?” Kita asked her reasonably, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya talk about wantin’ a relationship other than rantin’ about a few failed dates here and there. If ya don’t I don’t see why it should be a problem, and not any of their business either.”

“Except I think I kind of do,” you admitted with a grimace, to the practical dog-hybrid who always gave solid, dependable advice, “I never planned to spend the rest of my life alone you know? I just always put my career first figuring relationships could come later, when I had more time, but now I’m starting to wonder if later will ever come.”

“And ya don’t want to date?” Kita asked with a slight frown, “I’m sure ya could make time if ya really wanted to, we could change our dinners around fer a while maybe?”

“No way,” you protested immediately, “Dinners with you guys are my only bastion of sanity. Plus I’m not even sure I want to go out and meet people, frankly at this point I’m not even sure I know how. It just… gets a little lonely coming home to an empty apartment sometimes you know?”

“So why don’t you get a hybrid?” Ojirou asked, his tone eminently reasonable despite the shock of what he’d said.

“A hybrid?” you repeated a little dumbfounded, “Me?!”

“Well why not?” he defended, stroking his recently grown goatee with his thumb and forefinger, “You’re wealthy enough to afford one, it would solve your companionship issue, and you wouldn’t have to date anyone, just go to a hybrid adoption center and find someone you’re compatible with.”

When he put it like that it did sound reasonable, even if it wasn’t an idea that had ever occurred to you. A lot of your friends, not just Ojirou, had hybrid companions, one of the weddings discussed earlier that day was even to a hybrid even if it wouldn’t be official until they could get proper legislature passed. You just had never really considered it an option for yourself.

“Do you think I could?” you asked with a light frown, turning the idea over in your mind, the question directed more at Kita than anyone else, both because he was always the most reasonable of the three and because as a hybrid you thought he’d probably be more qualified to answer whether you were a fit ‘owner’.

However to your surprise it wasn’t Kita, but Suna who answered first informing you in his normal lazy drawl, “You’d do well with a hybrid I think, probably something lower energy, like a cat, and we’re pretty self-sufficient as you know, so you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving it home alone like you would a pet.”

“He’s right,” Kita agreed, after a thoughtful pause, “Personally I believe ya would do well with a hybrid, ya get along with us well enough. Plus if yer worried we can help ya look after them. Suna needs a playmate anyway, he’s been getting’ up ta too much mischief lately when Aran and I ain’t here.”

Suna didn’t even bother to protest, just shrugged, completely unbothered by the accusation. Figuring you might as well take advantage of the situation you asked a few more questions, all of which were answered by your friends who all had a lot of input on what kind of hybrid you should get.

You left that night with your head stuffed full of information, after telling them you needed time to think it over. Getting a hybrid was a lifechanging thing and you didn’t want to run off half-cocked. It had gotten you an approving nod from Kita and a supportive pat on the shoulder from Ojirou. Suna had simply given you a knowing smirk, as if the smug cat hybrid already knew exactly what you were going to do as you walked out the door.

You stared up at the hybrid adoption center, not quite sure how you’d ended up here. For the last week or so, ever since Ojirou had brought it up you’d had hybrids on the brain. You’d found your eyes wandering to look at them when they passed you in the street and idly daydreaming in your down time what it might be like to have one waiting when you came home and fantasizing about what kind you might get.

Normally you were very focused and productive at work, but somehow, you’d found yourself scrolling through different sites, putting in research into what kind of facility you should visit and what you’d need to do. It had gotten bad enough that some of your coworkers had noticed your distraction, which was the final nail in the coffin.

You’d already known which center Ojirou had used to choose Kita and Suna, and so at the end of a particularly long day, quietly dreading heading home to your empty apartment you’d instead found yourself driving over to the center.

It was on the smaller side when it came to hybrid adoption centers, privately run and owned by Azumane Industries, a fashion line that created clothes that specifically catered to hybrids. Ojirou had, had nothing but good things to say, and so gathering your courage you left your car to head resolutely inside.

The lobby was rather quiet, only one other patron and two people manning the desks, both of whom looked up when you entered. You were a bit surprised to see the only two workers in sight were hybrids, one a silver cat of some type and the other clearly a German shepherd.

In hindsight it made a lot of sense to have hybrids be in charge of the adoption of other hybrids as they would likely know best how to match people up. However, you rarely saw that kind of practicality when it came to hybrids especially because you knew there was a lot of prejudice out there.

You offered the cat a hesitant smile, stepping up to the desk, the smile he gave back one that was both kind and welcoming as he introduced, “Welcome to Azumane Industries Hybrid Adoption Center. My name is Sugawara, how can I help you today?”

“I’m looking to adopt,” you admitted, unsure what else to say you tacked on, “My friend recommended this place to me, so here I am.”

“Well, we’ll take good care of you,” he assured you calmly, “Usually we do this by appointment, but you’re lucky. It’s a slow day and we have an opening, so I’d be happy to start the process with you if you’re willing.”

“Great,” you told him with a quiet sigh of relief, glad that he could fit you in. Honestly you should’ve known that a place like this would require a call ahead at least. It would’ve served you right for being so impulsive if they hadn’t been able to squeeze you in, “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Sugawara offered you a sly grin, one that reminded you of Suna as he promptly pushed a large stack of paperwork in your direction and handed you a pen. You grimaced at the sight of it but set to work, quietly filling out the forms one by one and handing each of them to Sugawara after so he could log them into his computer.

The forms reminded you of a loan or job application in a lot of ways, asking after your health, your income, your living situation, if you had a criminal record, any previous experience with hybrids etc. It took you quite a while to fill them all out, and by the end of it your wrist was sore and you’d signed your name more times than you cared to remember. However, since Sugawara had been filling in as you went you didn’t have to wait long to move on to the next step.

“Congratulations,” he told you with an amused smile, watching as you massaged your wrist, “You’ve been approved to adopt from our center, which means we now get to the fun part.”

“Fun part?” you questioned a little warily, having learned from Suna that a cat hybrid smiling at you didn’t necessarily mean good things for your sanity.

“Tell me about what kind of hybrid you’d like,” he told you leaning forward, elbows braced on the desk as he watched you intently, “Do you have any preferences? I’ve read all your information as we’ve gone along so I have some ideas, but I’d like to hear from you what you think you want.”

“I’m not sure where to start,” you admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“That’s alright,” he assured you, “That’s what I’m here for. Let’s start with species, that’s always good and will narrow things down a bit.”

“I know I want a cat or dog hybrid,” you told him immediately glad to have some kind of answer for him, “Rabbit and rodent hybrids have heats and ruts too often for me to handle given how busy work keeps me.”

Heats and ruts were one of the big things that separated hybrids from humans and were part of the reason it was hard for them to find and hold down jobs. There were two kinds of hybrid within each species, alphas and omegas.

Alphas were usually more aggressive, stubborn, and willful. You needed to have a more dominant personality to have an alpha hybrid otherwise they’d walk all over you. Alphas also had a period called a rut, where their hormones skyrocketed and made them want to breed with anything and everything. It was a really uncomfortable time for them, and made them even more aggressive.

Omegas were generally more passive, quiet and compliant. They tended to be favored over Alpha hybrids as companions because of their more docile nature. They had periods called heats, which were similar to an Alphas rut, the only difference being they wanted to be bred rather than to breed. It made them needy and clingy the entire time.

Both heats and ruts lasted anywhere from a couple of days to a week depending on the species of hybrid. Dogs and cats had week long heats, but they only happened two to three times a year, whereas rabbit and rodent hybrids only lasted a few days, but happened every week and a half to two weeks.

You knew it wasn’t necessarily expected for a hybrid owner to stay home when their hybrid was in heat or rut, but you also knew it was those times that hybrids tended to be more reckless. Most of the research you did advised that you should if you could, even if you weren’t the one who was going to be sexually intimate with your hybrid. There were of course hybrid heat centers, where hybrids could go to find willing partners and get their needs taken care of, but you’d heard horror stories about places like that and didn’t want to use one unless you absolutely had to.

“There are medications to manage heats and ruts,” Sugawara pointed out reasonably, a slight frown on his face.

“I know,” you agreed, “But I did some research and it looks like most hybrids don’t like to take them because they have nasty side effects, like potential infertility, mood drops, and weight gain. If there’s a rodent or rabbit hybrid that wants to voluntarily take the medication then that could be fine, but I’ve heard only a few ever want to risk it.”

Sugawara looked surprised for a moment, then slowly nodded, “It’s good you’ve looked into things, and it’s nice to see someone who’s come prepared. I’ve heard a bit of that too, so no rabbits or rodents. Do you have any preference Alpha versus Omega?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a helpless shrug, feeling a little bad for not being able to narrow down the criteria for him, “I’m pretty open so long as they can fit into my lifestyle, are a little more independent, and think they’ll get along with me.”

“Well you’ll at least have lots of options,” Sugwara assured you, with a smile that told you he wasn’t off put by the fact that you didn’t know exactly what you wanted either, “Does that mean you don’t have a preference for breed either?”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a firm nod, “I just want someone who’s going to be compatible with me, everything else is secondary.”

“Okay,” he told you cheerfully, “I’m sure we can do that! Though it might take us a little bit to narrow things down. Since you aren’t picky you might as well come with me to start looking. Daichi can you manage the desk on your own?”

“Sure,” the german shepherd hybrid agreed, from where he’d been sitting quietly, keeping watch over the two of you and typing away on his computer, since there was literally no one else in the lobby, “Just keep a radio on you so I can call you back up here if it gets busy Suga.”

Your soon to be guide agreed with a smile, plucking one of the aforementioned radios up and attaching it to his belt, before standing up from the desk. He stretched in a very feline manner, then ushered you towards a door that led toward the back of the building, tail swishing peacefully behind him.

“Each species of hybrid has its own floor,” Sugawara explained as he led you through the hall, “Bunnies are on the top floor, rodents underneath them, cats on the second floor and dogs here on the first. Each floor has four separate wings, separated into categories depending on whether the hybrid in question is male or female, alpha or omega. These wings have private rooms in them and are connected by a shared space.”

“We’ll be going into the shared space,” he explained pausing outside one of the doors, “It’s where hybrids come both to hang out, and to meet people. If a hybrid isn’t interested in being adopted by a specific human they’ll simply return to their rooms until the human leaves. This way we ensure that no one gets coerced into adoption. We also keep a close eye on things with security cameras in the shared space, for both the safety of humans and hybrids. Before we enter the room, I need you to give me verbal consent to allow yourself to be filmed.”

“That’s fine,” you told him, more than a bit impressed with how thorough and organized the whole thing was, along with the lengths they went to, to ensure everyone’s comfort.

“Alright then, let’s introduce you to the dogs,” he teased, with a confident smile.

The minute the door opened, almost every head turned in your direction, making you feel a bit awkward and unsure. Some of the hybrids were in their human forms, ears and tails the only hint of their non-human status, while others were lounging around in their secondary animal form.

The animal form of a hybrid was indistinguishable from a normal animal of the same breed. The only thing that might give it away was the high level of intelligence. Your research told you that hybrids tended to act more on their instincts when in animal form, which could be both a good thing and a bad thing.

Case in point, the minute you entered with Sugawara one enormous grey and white speckled dog came bounding over barking his head off. He was absolutely huge, and only the madly wagging tail kept you from cringing back as he charged over, his barking immediately setting off a few of the others.

You got the wind knocked out of you a bit as he collided with you, though thankfully the door was behind you, and kept you from being knocked off your feet as he placed enormous paws on your shoulders, burying his face in your hair and sniffing enthusiastically. You froze, unsure exactly what to do in this situation, and more than a bit uncomfortable.

Luckily Sugawara immediately came to your rescue, shoving the big dog off as he scolded, “Bokuto! What have I told you about jumping up on our guests!”

The big dog immediately began to whine, tail tucked between his legs, and you wanted to feel bad for him, except you were still a bit unnerved.

“Sorry about him,” Sugawara apologized with a sigh, “He’s harmless I promise, just incredibly enthusiastic about new people.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hesitantly reaching out to Bokuto palms first to see if he might be interested, only to have him turn away. Unsure what to do you glanced at Sugawara, whose tail was swishing in clear agitation.

“Ignore him,” the silver haired cat hybrid told you, “He’s just sulking because he got scolded. In fact, better yet ignore all of them, since they can’t stop being rude and barking.”

This last bit, along with the fierce glare that accompanied it was leveled at the room in general, earning some sheepish looks from a couple of the dog hybrids who were in human form, and managing to quiet several of the barking ones who were in animal form.

“Come on,” he urged with one last flick of his tail, “I should’ve started you with the cats anyway. You seem like a cat person to me, and I assure you they’ll have much better manners. If you don’t find what you’re looking for there, we’ll come back, but let’s explore the cat option first and give them time to recall their manners.”

You allowed him to usher you out of the room and toward the elevator, trusting his judgment. It was funny that he’d said you were a cat person, as he was actually the third cat hybrid to have told you so, Suna being one and the Siamese hybrid of one of your coworkers being the other.

It took you less than a minute to get up to the next floor, and when Sugawara ushered you into the cat hybrid room you could immediately feel the difference. There was no noise for one, just a bunch of curious eyes turned in your direction, but it didn’t feel hostile at all.

Sugawara quickly introduced you to the cat hybrids, telling them you’d come to adopt and had ‘just been slobbered all over by the dog hybrids’ so if they could all ‘mind their manners’ that would be great. You were a little amused at the exasperated hybrid’s antics, and you weren’t the only one, if the quiet snickering from a hybrid with particularly messy hair was any indication. However you were also grateful to him for being so diligent as he introduced you to everyone.

Slowly, several cat hybrids meandered up to you, some in human form, some in cat form, though some also stayed in place clearly observing everything. You chatted lightly with the ones in human form, while letting the ones in cat form do as they pleased, answering their questions and asking a few of your own.

It was a much more relaxed experience, something you were infinitely grateful for after the sudden chaos of the dog hybrid room, and you had to wonder if the cat hybrids who’d pegged you as a cat person hadn’t been right after all. You were in the middle of quietly talking to a lovely female alpha hybrid named Shimizu when Sugawara’s radio blared to life. Apparently, the front had gotten rather busy and Daichi desperately needed his help.

“Will you be alright if I leave you here?” Sugawara asked you seriously, “This shouldn’t take too long, and Shimizu is more than capable of looking after you.”

“Sure,” you agreed, after a quick glance at the hybrid in question, who gave an acknowledging nod of her head, “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” he agreed with a bright grin, before rounding on the rest of the room, “And all the rest of you better behave or I’ll hear why!”

With one last warning glare around the room he turned on his heel and left, leaving you in Shimizu’s capable hands. The two of you continued to talk amiably as several cat hybrids came by in one form or another to sniff at you or listen in on the conversation from nearby. A number of them only came over for a few minutes, lingered a bit and then left, spreading back out to the room or going into the hallways that led to their private rooms, however a good chunk of them stayed nearby as well.

Chatting lightly with Shimizu and a few of the others you found you really liked the poised and graceful cat hybrid and might’ve looked into adopting her. Unfortunately, Shimizu quickly made it clear that she had some plans of her own, that included getting herself and her young and adorable munchkin kitten hybrid Yachi adopted by one of their frequent visitors.

She was however, more than happy to give her own opinion on some of the other hybrids around, most of whom seemed to respect both her and her opinion a lot. You were listening to Shimizu tell you a bit more about Yachi, who was watching from a safe distance, clearly anxious, but also unwilling to leave, when you felt something paw at your leg.

A quick glance down revealed a long haired fluffy looking cat, in shades of silver and white who was staring up at you expectantly. None of the other cat hybrids had actually dared to touch you, a few coming close, but none making actual moves to greet you.

A little intrigued you crouched down so you’d be closer to his eye level, and extended your hands for him the same way you did for Suna when he was in his cat form, giving him a choice about whether he wanted to be touched or not. The cat hybrid eyed your hands thoughtfully for a minute, before sauntering within reach, nudging his head against your palm.

Taking your cue you allowed yourself to pet him, gently rubbing at his silky ears and enjoying the feeling of his thick, plush coat. His back arched pressing closer into your hands, eyelids lowering in contentment as you carefully massaged your fingers through his fur in a way you knew Suna enjoyed.

A rumbling purr escaped his throat and you couldn’t help the pleased smile that crossed your lips at the sound as he pressed his way closer to your torso, entering the circle of your arms and keeping himself there. You were caught up in petting him for a moment and didn’t immediately notice, but after a few seconds you realized the room had gotten very quiet.

It had been quiet before, as cat hybrids didn’t make a lot of noise in general, but now it was almost deathly still outside the small purring sounds from the cat under your hands. You immediately froze and glanced up at Kiyoko who was watching the two of you with wide eyes.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, more than a bit concerned.

“You pet him,” Shimizu murmured, more to herself than to you.

“Should I not have?” you asked worriedly, moving to pull your hands away, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize. I pet my neighbor’s cat hybrid all the time when he’s in the mood for it.”

The cat hybrid under your hands made a noise of protest as you pulled your hands away, giving Shimizu what you assumed to be a rather annoyed look based on her baffled and slightly contrite expression.

“No,” she assured you quickly, “We like to be pet, physical affection is important to hybrids. It’s just that particular one doesn’t usually allow anyone to touch him.”

“Do you mind?” you asked the hybrid in question, holding out your hands again.

He gave an agreeing mew and pressed his head to your palm, which you assumed meant you could resume petting. The fur under your fingers was clearly well taken care of, soft and plush and you truly wouldn’t have minded continuing to pet him until he got sick of you.

However, you were interrupted by a furious yowling sound that immediately made you jump, your head snapping up to search for the source of the noise. It turned out to be another long haired fluffy cat, this one in shades of gold and white who came charging out of the halls and ran straight at you.

You didn’t even have a second to react as the cat that had been in your arms darted around to hide behind you. Not that it stopped the oncoming golden one who didn’t even bother to go around and instead went right over you, claws digging into your arm as he attempted to get at the silver one.

You let out a yelp of surprise and pain, as he launched himself off your shoulder at the silver cat behind you who immediately darted out of reach, running around you in dizzying circles with the golden one fast on his heels both of them yowling, hissing and spitting, clearly having some kind of argument.

It only took a moment for you to regain your bearings and decide you needed to put an end to whatever this was, since poor Shimizu didn’t look at all ready to step in, an utterly appalled look on her face. Luckily you had quick reflexes and managed to snag both cats around the middle and stand up quickly, the abrupt shift immediately silencing both, no doubt shocked by your interruption.

“I think that’s quite enough of that,” you scolded firmly, as you hefted the two carefully, keeping them firmly separated. They were a bit heavier than they looked but certainly not too much for you to keep aloft.

“You,” you scolded the golden one, gently shaking him, who had turned to stare up at you with wide copper colored eyes, “I don’t know what he did to you or why, but I’m sure whatever it was could’ve been resolved without the ruckus. I also don’t appreciate being climbed on or used as a spring board.

“And you,” you gently shook the silver one in turn, who looked equally surprised to be addressed, “I’m not sure if he deserved whatever you did or not, but you shouldn’t have been causing a ruckus either, and I don’t appreciate you using me as a shield.”

“From what I understand, in order to be here you have to be considered adults,” you continued firmly, “So I suggest you act like it, and figure this out between yourselves without dragging innocent bystanders into your mess!”

With that you loosened your grip, fully expecting both of them to jump to the floor. However, both continued to simply hang limply in your grasp, watching you with curious eyes that you realized rather abruptly were almost completely identical.

“Siblings huh?” you asked no one in particular, nodding to yourself, “I suppose that explains a lot.”

“Are you alright?” Shimizu asked you worriedly, “You’re bleeding.”

A quick glance at your arm showed you were indeed bleeding, small pinpricks of blood welling up from where the golden cat had dug his claws into you. It stung a bit, but you didn’t think it was too bad.

“I’m alright,” you assured her, kneeling down and releasing both cats, since they seemed disinclined to continue fighting, and you wanted your hands free, “Though I’d appreciate some disinfectant and some band aids if you’ve got them.”

“Of course,” Shimizu assured you with a quick nod, “Just let me get them and I’ll be right back.”

The elegant hybrid moved with enviable grace and speed as she exited the room, leaving you alone. A quick look around the room showed that almost every eye was now on you, and you heaved a sigh, not exactly pleased to be the center of attention, especially since none of them did anything but stare, none of them bothering to approach, just look.

You glanced down in surprise when you felt something touching your leg, only to find the golden cat headbutting your shin, rubbing his face against your calf affectionately as he twined his way through your legs.

“Does that mean you’re sorry,” you asked, crouching back down and offering your hands to the pretty, fluffy cat.

He immediately rubbed his face against your hands too, which you took as permission to continue your petting, rubbing your hand affectionately over his head and earning a happy purr from the feline who arched happily into your hands.

You were distracted from your petting by a paw, which came to rest on one of your wrists, the silver cat watching with obvious envy in his pretty copper colored eyes. Luckily for both of you, you had two hands, and you reached out to pet him too after assuring it was okay. The golden cat clearly wasn’t too happy about his brother’s presence, but didn’t kick up a fuss, instead pressing himself closer and becoming more insistent as he purred ever louder. The silver cat didn’t seemed to pay him any attention though, simply soaking up your attention and affection.

“Here,” Shimizu offered as she came back, first aid kit in hand, “Do you need any help getting bandaged up?”

You were about to accept her offer, as attempting to bandage your dominant arm was always a pain, when you felt something strange under your hand. You turned your attention back to the cat hybrids you’d been petting just in time to see the silver one shift, form becoming large, limbs extending, body lengthening and bulking up until he stood in front of you in human form.

You blinked, utterly startled as you stared up at him, taking in his appearance. He was incredibly handsome in his human form, with the same silvery grey hair as his fur in cat form in an undercut and bright bronze eyes that peered out at you from under heavy lids. He had a strong, slightly square jaw and thick eyebrows, with blunt cheekbones and cupids bow lips.

He was also surprisingly big, at least six feet tall, and maybe a bit more than that, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his chest, showing off the definition of his muscles. To top it all off he had two cat ears poking out from his silvery hair and a fluffy tail that was slowly waving back and forth as he looked at you.

“I’ll do it,” he told the two of you, his voice pleasant and lightly accented, his hand held out to Kiyoko gesturing for her to pass him the first aid kit, “I’ll bandage ya up. It’s only fair since the moron who scratched ya is too busy bein’ pampered.”

That earned a hiss from the golden cat, who immediately began to shift under your hands. You watched in surprise and no small amount of awe as he turned into a carbon copy of the other man who’d appeared, only with golden hair, ears and tail. You’d realized the two were related, but you hadn’t realized they were identical twins. Twins were really rare for hybrids, even more rare than human twins. As such they were usually snapped up for adoption right away, so it was rare to see them in any sort of center.

“If ya hadn’t stolen my puddin’ I wouldn’t have chased ya and scratched her in the first place,” the golden cat hybrid hissed at his brother.

“Well if ya hadn’t eaten my onigiri, maybe I wouldn’t have had to eat yer puddin’” the silver haired one retorted, his tone and expression both flatter compared to his sibling who looked like he might lunge at his twin at any moment.

Not wanting to get in the middle of a literal cat fight you held your own hand out to Kiyoko, who gratefully placed the first aid kit in your hands, then plopped down to sit cross legged on the floor. Your sudden movement startled both cat hybrids who turned to look at you, but you pointedly ignored them as you worked on opening the kit, and pulling out the things you’d need.

“Here I got it,” the golden haired one told you, plopping down beside you, “That scrub ain’t right about a lot of things, but he is right about this. I scratched ya, and I should fix ya.”

You gratefully held your arm out to him, and watched as he gently dabbed the scratches with disinfectant, grimacing slightly at the sting. You were distracted enough by his careful movements that you almost didn’t notice the other twin, right up until he gently smeared Neosporin over the scratches, placing small bandages over the deeper punctures.

“Thank you,” you told them both when they finished, automatically reaching up to pet their heads, but then pausing as you realized the gesture might not be as welcome in their human form.

Your worries were quickly allayed through as the golden one practically fell into your palm, soft, happy purring noises leaving his mouth as you gently scratched the base of his ears. His twin however didn’t immediately move for you, and you turned concerned eyes on him, worried he might be offended. The minute he saw you looking though he immediately leaned forward, pressing his head to your palm, his own soft purrs leaving his throat as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I’m back,” a familiar voice sang, the door to the room sliding open to reveal Sugawara, with a cheerful grin on his face, a grin that was immediately replaced by wide eyed shock as he saw you and the two hybrids who were nearly in your lap with how close they were pressing towards you.

However, shock melted into fury as his eyes saw the open first aid kit and the bandages on your arm, his words nearly a hiss as he demanded, “What happened?!”

Both hybrids immediately stiffened under your hands, drawing closer to you, either looking to protect you or looking for protection you weren’t sure. Either way you allowed it, rubbing your hands over the backs of their necks in a way that always seemed to sooth Suna as you answered, “We just had a bit of a mishap is all, but we’ve cleared it up.”

“Are you sure?” Sugawara demanded anxiously, “We were told when they were brought in that they’d had a bit of trouble before, but they never mentioned that they might attack humans.”

The golden-haired twin seemed to bristle, and if he were in cat form you were sure all his fur would be puffed out as he glared at Sugawara. His twin didn’t look nearly as bothered on the surface, but close as you were, you could see how tight the muscles in his neck and shoulders were as if he was about to spring forward at any moment.

Instinctively you pulled the golden twin toward you, tipping him over into your lap. Despite his size it wasn’t all that difficult given he’d been practically leaning all his weight on you. He let out a yelp of surprise, but stayed still as you buried your fingers in his hair, keeping his cheek pillowed on your thigh. Your other hand gently squeezed the back of the silver twin’s neck, both holding him still and reminding him of your presence.

“It wasn’t an attack, simply an accident,” you assured Sugawara, as you soothed your thumb over the tense muscles of the silver one’s neck, hoping to get him to relax, “A bit like what happened with the dog hybrid earlier.”

“If you’re sure,” Sugawara told you, watching your pet the twins with wide eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, “Does that mean you’ve decided to take them then? I know you were a little worried about adopting one hybrid so I never imagined you’d want two at once.”

“What?” you asked, a little overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information, and the assumption he’d made.

“You’d have to take both of them,” Sugawara explained gently, “Admittedly sometimes twins are separated, but we don’t do that unless they want to be separated, and in this case both of them have stated they want to stay together.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed, with a smile. It was good that the center accommodated things like that, and you made a mental note to thank Ojirou for directing you to such an upstanding place.

“Should I get paperwork started?” Sugawara asked, with an answering smile, “If you’re taking the twins it will take a bit more work than usual, so I’d like to get started right away. No pressure though, you don’t have to make a decision today if you don’t want to.”

“I hadn’t really thought about adopting them,” you admitted, and felt both twins stiffen under your hands, so hurried to reassure them, “We haven’t had a chance to chat much yet. I’d like to talk to them a little bit first before we make any decisions.”

“Of course,” the kindly hybrid agreed with an understanding nod, “We’ll give the three of you some space and let you get to know one another a bit better.”

“Thank you,” you told him politely, waiting until he’d ushered Kiyoko a little bit away, clearly trying to give you some sense of privacy despite the fact that they were still well within earshot for hybrids, and likely interrogate the elegant female about what exactly had happened while he was gone.

“Do ya not want us,” the golden haired one asked you, once the two were gone, rolling over in your lap to peer up at you with wide copper eyes, the hint of a pout on his lips, and a little bit of hurt in his eyes.

“I don’t know yet,” you told him honestly, gently stroking his golden hair away from his eyes, “We don’t know each other, yet do we? Do you even know if you want to come with me?”

The two cat hybrids glanced at each other, clearly communicating silently with each other for a moment before turning back to you. The golden haired one had apparently been elected spokesperson because he was the one to admit, “We wouldn’t mind goin’ home with ya.”

“But you don’t even know my name, do you? And I don’t know yours either,” you pointed out, utterly baffled that they’d apparently already decided.

“I heard mister pleasant over there when he introduced ya,” the silver haired one told you with a shrug, “But if it matters so much to ya, I’m Miya Osamu and he’s Atsumu.”

“I can introduce myself ya know,” the golden haired on hissed, doing his best to glare at his brother, though you were sure the effect was entirely lost considering he was apparently refusing to move from your lap and was upside down, “And I didn’t get to hear yer name.”

“That’s because ya were sulkin’ in our room,” Osamu pointed out.

“And whose fault is that huh?” Atsumu demanded with a grimace.

“Yer own,” Osamu countered, looking utterly bored as he peered down at his brother. Atsumu made to lunge out of your lap, but was stopped by your hand pressed firmly to his forehead holding him in place. You took advantage of his moment of distraction to introduce yourself, gently rubbing behind his ears until he started purring again.

“And ya wonder why we want to go with ya,” Osamu told you sardonically, watching the two of you, “I ain’t ever seen anybody who could get ahold of Tsumu like that.”

“Do the two of you always squabble like that?” you asked, a little amused and a little concerned, “If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought one of you was a dog hybrid with how well you’re getting along right now.”

“It ain’t always so bad,” Osamu told you, turning his face away though you thought you saw the faintest hint of pink to his cheeks, “We’re just a little restless is all. We haven’t been here long so it’s just new, not as much freedom as we’re used to either bein’ cooped up for most of the day.”

“Surely they let you out if you want out,” you questioned, a little appalled that the center might be keeping hybrids like prisoners.

“Well sure,” Osamu answered turning back to you, his head tilted to the side as he studied you, “But there are only so many places a hybrid is allowed without an owner ya know.”

You winced slightly at the blunt statement, but couldn’t refute it. The law stated that all hybrids had to have a registered owner, and it was then up to that owner to set limits on the hybrid, about where they could go and what they could do. This was because if the hybrid caused any trouble, it was always on its owner to take responsibility which made things quite limited for them at times. There were lobbyists working to change that of course, as it was viewed as inhumane, but for now the law was the law.

“Did you have more freedom before here then?” you asked curiously, “I’ve heard this place is pretty good.”

“It’s not bad,” Atsumu piped in, his voice content and rumbly as he turned languid eyes in your direction, clearly not wanting to be left out of the conversation, “Better than the first center we were at when we first went up for adoption.”

“So you’ve been adopted before? Or did you just get moved from one of the other centers?” you asked curiously, only to have Atsumu go absolutely rigid under your hands as Osamu hissed at him, clearly angry with his brother, who’d apparently revealed something he shouldn’t if the way he shrank away instead of hissing back said anything.

You glanced between the two of them warily, unsure what to do as Atsumu pulled himself out of your lap so he could look at Osamu. The two of them were clearly communicating, both their tails swishing back and forth in clear agitation.

“We had an owner,” Osamu admitted at last, his words clearly careful as he peered at you from underneath the fringe of his hair, “But we didn’t get along with him so he surrendered us ta the shelter again and they sent us here.”

A part of you really wanted to ask why exactly they hadn’t gotten along with their old owner, but given the way Atsumu was refusing to meet your eyes, his nails practically digging into his thighs where he sat next to you, you got the feeling it would be kinder not to. Instead you carefully redirected the conversation back on topic and asked, “And what makes you think you’ll get along better with me than your previous owner?”

“Yer nothin’ like him,” Osamu told you bluntly, effectively shutting that avenue of conversation down.

“If you say so,” you told him calmly, holding his gaze until he glanced away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

It was clearly a sensitive topic, and you didn’t want to push. You’d just met the two of them today after all, you certainly wouldn’t have liked it if they tried to pry into your past, fair was fair after all.

“What do you picture yourselves doing all day?” you asked instead, figuring you might as well.

“Doing?” Atsumu repeated confused, tilting his head in a manner that you couldn’t help but find rather adorable.

“I’ll be at work most of the day during the week,” you explained patiently, “Which means you’ll be by yourselves for quite a bit of time. You’d be more than welcome to laze around if you really wanted to, but I figured I’d ask.”

“What kind of things are we allowed to do?” Osamu asked slowly, a strange look on his face that you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Anything within reason,” you told him with a helpless shrug, “I have money, it’s not an issue, so long as it’s legal, and doesn’t have the potential to hurt me, you or anyone else then I see no reason to place restrictions. My neighbor has a dog-hybrid who works a small rice farm that Ojirou bought him, but his cat-hybrid Suna spends most of his time either lounging around their apartment or playing sports with some of the other hybrids who live in the neighborhood.”

“Which sport?” Atsumu asked, eyes bright, all hesitation forgotten in the face of this new information.

“Volleyball I think,” you told him with a shrug, “Ojirou and I have gone to watch a few games, though I don’t think it’s just volleyball either.”

If Atsumu had been a dog-hybrid you were sure his tail would’ve been wagging a hundred miles an hour with how eager he looked, copper eyes bright in his face as he told you, “I like volleyball. Do you think he’d let me play?”

“You’d have to take it up with Suna, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” you admitted cautiously, earning a happy smile from the hybrid.

“What about you Osamu?” you prompted gently, “Do you play too, or is there something else you’re interested in?”

The silver furred hybrid looked startled to be addressed, but then slowly admitted, “I like to cook.”

“That’s amazing,” you praised, “I live on take out a lot of the time, unless I’m headed over to Ojirou’s or Kita, his dog-hybrid makes an extra bento for me. I really should cook more, but I tend to be on the go a lot and don’t want to dedicate the time.”

“It’s a bit of a shame though,” you admitted, feeling more than a bit sheepish, “One of the best features of my apartment is the kitchen and I hardly ever use it.”

You continued to chat lightly with the twins learning quite a bit about the two of them in the process. Atsumu was definitely the louder twin, always eager and a bit blunt with his words, always saying the first thing that came to mind. Osamu was quieter than his twin, letting his golden furred brother do most of the talking for the two of them. He wasn’t necessarily shy per se, and would answer when spoken to, but he seemed content for the most part to quietly observe before adding his two cents in.

The two of them together were utterly charming, which made you wonder just how they hadn’t been adopted yet. You were fairly sure it must have something to do with the reason they’d been returned to their adoption center, though for the life of you, you couldn’t guess what that reason might’ve been.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sugawara cut in gently, interrupting Atsumu telling you all about the last volleyball game he’d played in, “But the center is closing to visitors in a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized immediately, hurriedly scrambling to your feet, feeling more than a bit guilty, “I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.”

“That’s alright,” Sugawara assured you with a kind smile, “It sounds like the three of you are getting along well.”

“I think so,” you admitted, glancing at the twins who’d both risen to their feet as well, both of them far more graceful than you could ever hope to be.

Both of them were watching you, Atsumu with tentative hope clear on his face, and Osamu completely unreadable except for the agitated twitch of his tail which told you he wasn’t pleased your conversation had been interrupted.

“I’m glad,” Sugawara told you, “Do we have any kind of decision made?”

“I…” you started glancing between the twins, who were both looking at you. Gut instinct meant you wanted to say yes. You’d gotten along well and you thought you might continue to enjoy one another’s company. They seemed like they’d slot into your life pretty easily. However you were still a bit hesitant. Adopting one hybrid had seemed like a big deal, but adopting two?

Plus you’d only met them today. Maybe you were being overly cautious but a single day didn’t seem like nearly enough time to get to know someone before inviting them to live with you, no matter how much your heart urged you to say yes.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter,” Sugawara interrupted, an apologetic expression on his face, pulling you from your thoughts as he explained, “We wouldn’t have time to finish the paperwork before it’s time to close, so you wouldn’t be able to take them home with you anyway, not today at least.”

“But…!” Atsumu tried to protest, but quelled as Sugawara shot him a stern look.

“I think that it will be good for all of you to sleep on your decision,” the cat-hybrid told all three of you firmly, gently beginning to usher you from the room, before telling you, “You can come back tomorrow if you like. We’re open at the same times then.”

“Alright,” you agreed, following after him without a fuss, only to pause in your tracks at a heartbreaking mewling sound.

You turned around to see Atsumu staring after you with devastation written all over his handsome features, his hand outstretched like he was trying to reach out and physically stop you from leaving. Before you’d really thought about it your feet had carried you back, and you’d pulled the hybrid into your arms.

Atsumu clutched you tightly, burying his face in your neck and rubbing his cheek against yours in a move you recognized as scenting. You let him do as he pleased without protest, gently running your fingers through his soft golden hair. However, you were conscious of Sugawara waiting for you, so you gently extracted yourself after a few minutes.

Turning you saw Osamu watching you with an unreadable expression on his face, but you stepped toward him, offering your open arms anyway, waiting patiently. You were rewarded for that patience as he stepped into your hold, nuzzling at you the same way his twin had on the opposite side.

“I’ll come back,” you found yourself promising, “I have work tomorrow, but after I’ll be here.”

Osamu drew back and peered into your face, copper eyes boring into your own, clearly searching for something before nodding, “We’ll hold ya to that.”

You let Sugawara usher you out after that, but found yourself tearing up a bit as you followed after him. You desperately didn’t want to leave the twins behind. Somehow, someway you’d gotten terribly attached to them in just a few short hours.

Your sniffling apparently caught Sugawara’s attention, because he turned around and hurriedly fumbled a packet of tissues from one of his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” he told you apologetically, “I thought maybe you wanted more time to think things over. We can still do paperwork tonight if you want I don’t mind staying a bit late.”

You looked at him, startled that he’d apparently picked up on your hesitation as you gratefully accepted the tissues, dabbing at your eyes and blowing your nose before replying, “No, no you’re right. It’s not a decision I should make impulsively. I do want to think it over I just…”

You trailed off helplessly, unsure what to say or how to explain that you’d gotten incredibly attached and were currently having a crisis as your head and heart were at war with each other. However, Sugawara apparently understood as he nodded in clear sympathy.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, “That’s completely understandable, adopting a hybrid is no small thing. Those troublesome twins will still be here waiting for you tomorrow, so take all the time you need to think it over.”

“I will,” you told him, then tacked on sincerely, “Thank you, for all your help today. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he told you with a bright, pleased smile as he walked you to the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” you agreed with a smile, letting yourself out and heading back for your car.

The drive home your thoughts were absolutely full of the twins, and what it might be like to have them with you. Your heart and your mind were at war with one another, your heart desperate to run back to the center as soon as it opened in the morning for the cat hybrids, and your head worrying about what it might mean to have both of them and why they’d been returned to the center by their previous owner.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice Suna as you walked passed Ojirou’s door, headed to your own.

“What is that?” Suna demanded, his voice making you pause in your tracks.

“What is what?” you asked him baffled as he strode toward you nose in the air, clearly picking up something.

“You smell like hybrid,” he informed you his tone accusatory, watching you with narrowed golden eyes.

“Do I?” you asked mildly.

“You do,” he affirmed, “Doesn’t she Kita?”

“Doesn’t she what?” the collie hybrid asked, emerging from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“Smell like hybrid,” Suna explained, his tail twitching languidly behind him and eyes alight with interest.

“You do,” Kita agreed, after carefully scenting the air, “Two of them actually.”

“Really?” Suna asked, clearly surprised, moving closer to sniff at you again, “You sure?”

You held still, too used to his behavior to be bothered by it, partly amused and partly annoyed at the cat hybrid who was clearly digging for information.

“Yes I’m sure,” Kita told him calmly, “They’re very similar, but there.”

“They’re identical twins,” you explained, figuring the jig was up anyway, and hoping maybe Ojirou or Kita would have some advice that might help you with your quandary.

“Ho?” Suna asked a purr of interest in his voice as he inhaled and nodded to himself, then asked slyly, “And what were you doing with these twins to have their scent on you so thoroughly?”

“Is Ojirou home?” you asked Kita, completely ignoring Suna’s question, earning a chuckle of amusement from the Siamese.

“He’s here,” Kita agreed, “Did you need to speak with him?”

“Both of you, if you have a minute?” you questioned hopefully.

“For you? Always,” Kita assured you kindly ushering you in.

“Oya, I think I’m hurt,” Suna told you as he followed along behind, a feline smirk on his face, “What about me? Don’t you want my advice too? After all they’re cat hybrids aren’t they?”

“They are,” you agreed with a huff as you plopped into your normal chair, “But are you going to give me good advice, or are you going to say whatever you think will be most amusing for you?”

“What’s this about cat-hybrids?” Ojirou asked, emerging from the hallway, where Kita had gone to fetch him.

“She’s thinking about adopting twin cat-hybrids,” Suna informed him before you had the chance to speak up, smug as the cat who got the canary.

“Are you really?” Ojirou questioned with a grin, taking his own seat.

“Yes,” you agreed, shooting the smug Siamese a look for interrupting and stealing your thunder, “I went to that adoption center you recommended today.”

“That’s great,” Ojirou told you, leaning forward in his chair eagerly, “How did it go?”

You explained your meeting with the twins, happily accepting the drink Kita pressed into your hands, which was your favorite, as the collie hybrid got everyone settled and then settled in himself to listen. You talked about how much you liked them, but your wariness about getting not one but two hybrids, and the strange issue with them having a previous owner and being so cagey about it.

“I can see why you’re wary about used goods,” Suna noted.

“Don’t call them that,” you snapped, despite the fact that you could hear the tinge of sarcasm in his voice and knew he didn’t really mean it, unable to help yourself, “people aren’t like items, and shouldn’t be treated like them.”

“She’s right,” Kita told the Siamese sternly, “Even as a joke, that was a rude way to refer to them.”

Suna slouched in his seat, looking thoroughly chastised as he admitted, “I know you don’t see them like that. You’ve always treated us just like normal people.”

“That’s because you are just like normal people,” you told him, stroking your fingers through his hair to let him know you forgave him, “Just with enhanced senses and a different set of instincts at times.”

“I don’t know why you think you need our advice,” Ojirou pointed out reasonably, “It sounds like you’ve pretty much already made up your mind, you clearly adore them already.”

“It’s just a lot,” you admitted, “Do you think I can handle twin hybrids? Especially since I’ve never even had one before? I mean, I’m not like you, none of my family ever had one growing up, and the only ones I really know are Kita, Suna, and a couple that come into the office with Tendou from time to time.”

“We’re not exactly children,” Kita reasoned, logically, “We don’t actually require all that much care outside of the basics, which I know you’re monetarily able to provide, and companionship, which is the whole reason you decided to seek out a hybrid in the first place. One or two, does it really matter? It might even be better as they’ll be able to keep each other company if they get lonely when you’re gone, and I see no reason we can’t help you look after them too.”

“You’d do that?” you asked the collie hybrid, surprised.

“Of course,” he agreed with a tiny smile, “We’re friends are we not?”

You smiled at him, touched, and extremely reassured by his ever cool logic. It did make sense, and quelled some of your worries, plus knowing the extremely reliable hybrid would help you out if you needed it was incredibly comforting.

“I wouldn’t worry about them being returned to their center,” Suna told you, surprisingly serious, “Hybrids get returned for all sorts of reasons, but most of the time its owner incompatibility rather than behavioral issues. Plus that center wouldn’t let you adopt them if they thought they’d give you trouble.”

“But Sugawara did say they’d heard the twins gave someone trouble,” you admitted, recalling the conversation with the worried cat-hybrid.

“Yes, but they didn’t give you trouble,” Suna pointed out, “We cat hybrids tend to make up our minds pretty quickly about people. It sounds like they decided they liked you, and unless something really terrible happens they’ll keep liking you, we’re terribly stubborn that way.”

“If you’re really worried you can always ask the center about it,” Ojirou told you, “They keep records, and would probably tell you, especially if it’s a concern about their adoptability.”

“I don’t want to pry into something and lose their trust,” you admitted, even as part of you was incredibly tempted to do just that.

“Then maybe try asking if the center if they think whatever the issue was, will be an issue with you,” Suna reasoned, “And if they say no then let it lie and adopt them, and if they say maybe or yes, then tell the twins you can’t accept them if they can’t tell you what the issue was.”

“That seems fair to me,” Kita agreed with a nod, “Just make sure you’re honest and tell them you asked, just in case.”

“Okay,” you agreed, letting out a relieved breath, “Okay that sounds really reasonable to me. It’s just… do you think I’m rushing into this too fast? I mean going to the center today was an impulse.”

“I don’t think so,” Ojirou assured her thoughtfully, “You’ve been thinking about it for a while, haven’t you?”

“She’s put so much thought into it she’s actually over thought it,” Suna interjected wryly before you had a chance to answer.

You made a face at him but couldn’t actually argue. He might have a point about overthinking it. Reassured you spent a good couple hours talking with your neighbor and the two hybrids as they answered more of your questions, and you told them about the twins.

Eventually however you headed home, determined now to get at least a little bit prepared for the arrival of your two new housemates tomorrow. Luckily it wasn’t dirty, but running a load of laundry and doing a little vacuuming never hurt anyone. You didn’t have a whole lot for them and didn’t know what kind of things they might have or need, but hopefully your office with pull out futon and guest bedroom would suffice for now until you could take them shopping.

Falling into bed that night you let yourself feel your excitement for the first time. You were adopting a hybrid, not just one but adorable twin hybrids. You couldn’t wait to bring them home and maybe put an end to your loneliness once and for all.

Osamu glanced slowly around the room, trying not to look at his twin, the clock, or the doors to the main area of the shared living space the way Atsumu was. Yesterday had been a bit of a revelation. He’d never actually expected to approach the woman who’d shown up looking to adopt. After what happened with their last owner he’d never expected to ever actually want to be adopted again. However, somehow he’d found himself entranced by her, and he had no one but himself to blame.

When he’d initially strolled over, it was because he’d known via his bond to his older twin that he’d finally realized that Osamu had snagged his pudding for himself and was throwing a fit about it. He’d thought that his twin wouldn’t dare make a fuss if he was with a potential owner.

The rules of this place were pretty lax compared to the first center they’d lived in. It allowed them a lot more freedoms. It let them come and go from their rooms as they pleased rather than on a regimented schedule, and allowed them to turn down any potential adopter that they didn’t like, which had felt utterly shocking and unprecedented when he’d first been told about it. They gave them a small allowance they could spend or save as they chose, and even let them deal with their heats and ruts in whatever way they chose, including with other tenants so long as birth control was used.

It honestly felt like heaven compared to the first center they’d been at, and maybe even better than living with their previous owner even before everything had gone to shit. He wasn’t sure he’d even ever wanted to leave, which he’d been assured by several other tenants was also an option if he so desired.

However, the one rule that was the same between both centers was that they weren’t allowed to cause trouble with the humans that came looking to adopt. This was only good sense considering how much the law favored humans in cases of hybrid vs human issues. However, unlike the first center they’d lived, this one at least didn’t threaten to put them down if they misbehaved.

They’d been young back then, everyone in that center was, all of them below the age of twenty-one, because anyone who reached their twenty-second birthday disappeared and was never seen again. Thus he hadn’t known it was actually against the law to kill hybrids, none of them had known and the caretakers had perpetuated the rumor that those who reached twenty-two were killed instead of shipped off to other centers in order to make them that much more desperate to be adopted.

It had made him more than a bit bitter once he’d been with their new owner long enough to learn more about what was and wasn’t allowed when it came to human hybrid interactions. The man had actually found their previous beliefs amusing and had laughed at them more than once for being so naïve.

It was positively galling, and had made his hackles rise more than once. However he’d known better than to lash out and had better impulse control than Atsumu who’d been punished by their previous owner more than once for acting aggressively. Fortunately, Osamu had never liked being made fun of, and spite was a powerful motivator, meaning he’d practically memorized any and all of the laws that had to do with hybrids.

It meant the few times their owner had toed the line with Atsumu’s punishments that he’d been able to cite the law to pull him back, right up until their owner had decided he no longer cared and pushed too far, leading to them being removed from his home and put back up for adoption at this new center.

They had been here for just over a month and while several people had been interested in adopting the ‘rare gold and silver hybrid twins’ he had absolutely refused to engage with any of them. It was probably why that female alpha hybrid had been so shocked when he’d first approached.

He’d fully intended to just use the human to keep Atsumu at bay, right up until she’d crouched down and offered her hands to him and he’d gotten a whiff of her scent. He’d known from the few lessons their ma had bothered to teach them that hybrids relied a lot more on their sense of smell than humans did, and that scent was the basis of the instinct that told them who would be a good mate and who wouldn’t.

He’d originally thought compatibility could only be found with other hybrids, after all he’d met plenty of humans before both when he’d lived in the adoption centers and with his previous owner and never once had he gotten a hint of compatibility with any of them. He thought he could be forgiven for completely losing his head and giving over to his instincts as he caught the scent of the most compatible person he’d ever met.

Her scent was honestly indescribable, and his instincts had him purring within seconds as he tried to rub her scent all over himself. She’d obliged, petting him with fingers that had felt magical, her touch kind and soothing and perfect as she rubbed his ears, carded fingers through his fur and rubbed her hand along his back.

He’d been lost in a dizzy haze of touch and scent and probably would’ve remained that way if not for the fury of his brother, which had jolted him out of it. It had been like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head pulling him from his happy haze and reminding him of the whole reason he’d come up to the human in the first place.

He probably should’ve run off, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to move very far, instead darting around to hide behind her. He’d thought that once Atsumu saw her he’d stop and at least hold off attempting to get vengeance until later, but he’d overestimated his brother again, who was apparently more incensed than he’d guessed about the lost pudding.

Instinct had kicked in and before he’d really thought about it he was running away from his brother, darting around her legs in a game of chase that was both amusing and a bit annoying, especially when he could tell how much it was pissing his brother off, his sibling’s annoyance pulsing down their bond in waves of sparks.

He wasn’t sure how long it would’ve continued, as they’d actually run around like this until someone got tired before, usually Atsumu as he got fed up and didn’t have the patience to keep going. However, he’d suddenly found himself plucked right up into the air.

He’d been amused when she’d scolded Atsumu, though the amusement had faded a bit when she’d decided to scold him too, leaving him feeling properly chastised. He’d been more than a bit pissed off with his brother when he’d realized the nice smelling woman was bleeding because of him, though there’d also been a small frisson of fear, wondering what the consequences would be.

However, to his surprise she hadn’t actually seemed all that angry with either of them. Instead she’d immediately accepted Atsumu’s apologies as his brother, who’d managed to get a lungful of her scent had cuddled up to her. He could feel Atsumu’s deep interest in the human. His brother clearly also scented compatibility with her, which wasn’t surprising given they’d shared almost everything else in their lives.

He’d found himself more than a little bit jealous as he’d watched his brother soak up her attention. It had always been like that to an extent. Atsumu had always been the more outgoing one, the one who attracted attention, who wore his heart on his sleeve and somehow managed to win people over despite his often crass personality. Osamu had always kind of faded into the background as he was much quieter and had better control over his emotions, the silver to his gold, the shadow to his light.

Normally he didn’t mind, but this time being forgotten had stung. They’d always competed with each other, but most of the time he’d been humoring his brother, or simply hadn’t wanted Atsumu to win rather than wanting the prize of winning himself. This time though it had felt like more than that. No way was he going to let his brother steal her all to himself.

Before he’d really thought about it he’d reached out a paw, and to her credit she’d immediately offered him a sweet smile and resumed her wonderful petting. Atsumu hadn’t been pleased, but he hadn’t cared a bit.

It hadn’t surprised him at all that when Shimizu had come back with the first aid kit that Atsumu had insisted on taking over when he’d been the one to offer first. The two of them had continued to quietly compete over her attention as they fixed up her scratches, though he could at least feel his brother’s guilt for inflicting them on her in the first place, which did help sooth some of his annoyance with his older twin.

It was utterly gratifying that even when she had Atsumu literally in the palm of her hand, she’d still looked for him too. He’d tried to shove the feeling down and away, trying to remind himself that neither he nor his brother actually wanted another owner, but found it wasn’t working well. The combination of her scent and her fingers as she massaged her fingers through his hair enough to make him want to curl up in her lap and never leave.

He’d thought they might get in trouble when Sugawara returned. His fellow silver cat-hybrid belonged to the owner of the center, and took his job very seriously. He wouldn’t allow any of them to make trouble, and while he respected him, and admittedly envied him a bit for the clear trusting and loving relationship he had with his owner it didn’t stop him from wanting to claw his eyes out for bringing up their past in front of her.

Right when he was considering attempting to verbally eviscerate the other hybrid and damn the consequences his brother’s shock had pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see her pull his twin into her lap. The feel of her hand gently squeezing his neck from behind practically made him limp with pleasure as Atsumu’s own bliss at being so close to her combined with his own to thoroughly distract the two of them, though not so much he didn’t notice her excusing their behavior and ensuring they didn’t get in trouble.

However, both of them had snapped to attention when the other hybrid had asked her if she wanted to adopt the two of them. He’d been able to feel his twin’s building hope, his impulsive brother apparently forgetting all about not wanting another owner, already clearly more than half in love with her despite not even knowing her for a day.

It was a trait he both hated and envied in his twin, the ability to be so impulsive, to move on so quickly and let go of past hurts. It wasn’t something he was capable of. He knew he was a grudge holder and far slower to trust than his brother was. He liked to think it served him well and kept him from being as naïve as Atsumu could be, though there were times it made things difficult too.

He’d been unsure whether he wanted her to state her intention to adopt them or not, right up until she’d said she hadn’t even considered it. It stung more than he’d expected, his own small hurt amplified by his brother’s though both of them had been somewhat soothed by her explanation that she wanted to know them better.

It was extremely reasonable and made him like her all the more, knowing she was the cautious type, more like him than like Atsumu, even if he simultaneously wished she’d been a little more impulsive just this one time and said yes instead. Though he found himself heartened by her honesty. That she’d actually asked them if they wanted to go with her rather than making any sort of assumption had settled things for him.

He hadn’t needed Atsumu’s silent pleading to forget their original plans to agree that maybe they should give this human a chance, though it did make it easier in the end to agree as he wasn’t the only one who wanted it.

They’d both tried to win her over, and though they’d accidentally fallen into squabbling more than once she’d handled it like a champ, not at all put off and even amused by it if the smile was any indication. However, despite the fact that they were the ones trying to win her over, it seemed every word she spoke was actually meant to win them over instead.

She was nothing like their previous owner, who’d been strict with his rules and harsh with his punishments. In fact she didn’t speak about punishments at all. He wasn’t naïve enough to think there wouldn’t be any if they misbehaved, but the freedoms she was offering in turn more than made up for anything she might throw their way.

The biggest hiccup had been when Atsumu mentioned their previous owner. The horror and guilt he’d felt from his twin was the only reason he’d managed to keep himself from doing more than hiss at him. His stomach had sunk when she’d gently pressed them for answers, but he knew they had to give her something.

He’d tried to give her as little as possible unwilling to volunteer the information, both because he hated even thinking about their time with their previous owner and because he was afraid she might somehow decide she didn’t want them because of it. In the end she’d changed the subject herself, and not brought it up again, but as she’d walked away from them with Sugawara, leaving them behind he’d wondered rather despairingly if that hadn’t been a mistake.

It didn’t matter that she’d turned around to comfort them when Atsumu had been unable to keep his heartbreak quiet. He’d known the minute she walked out the doors the chances of her coming back were slim to none. That was the other thing that remained consistent between this shelter and the last. Once a potential owner walked away claiming they needed to ‘think on it’ they never came back.

Still he hadn’t been able to turn away from her embrace, or to stop himself from scent marking the opposite side of your neck from the one his twin had claimed, laying his own personal stamp with the faint hope it would remind you to come back for them. However, no matter what you’d said, he couldn’t bring himself to hope. He knew hoping would only lead to more disappointment, and he wasn’t like Atsumu he wouldn’t be able to bounce back from it.

Not that his twin was making it easy on him. His brother’s hope was so fierce it was almost painful and he could feel the slightly desperate edge to it. He’d gotten attached to her, not that he could blame him, he was more attached than he wanted to be too. However unlike him, Atsumu had fill faith you were coming back, so much so he’d actually packed up his room into the bags they’d brought from his old place and was ready to go.

Nothing Osamu or any of the others, who also seemed to understand how small the chance was that she’d come back for them, said could sway him. The moment it had passed three o’clock Atsumu had brought hjs bags out to the shared living area and began to sit vigil, waiting for her to come back.

Stubborn as ever his twin had ignored all the pitying looks sent his way and the fact that slowly but surely time had slipped by, leaving just half an hour until they were supposed to close. Though his face was resolute, his brother wasn’t actually stupid and Osamu knew it was only stubborn pride keeping him in place. He could feel the slow onset of his twin’s hurt and despair as each minute ticked down.

He’d contemplated leaving him, going to his own room to wallow, but he knew he could never abandon his twin. They’d been through everything together, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave him now.

He was trying to figure out if he could coax his brother into leaving his post when the door swung open, revealing Sugawara, who had a wide beaming smile on his face. His fellow silver hybrid cast a quick glance behind him before ushering his follower into the room.

He barely caught a glimpse of her before his brother practically launched himself at her, but it was enough to freeze him in his place, because it was her. She’d actually come back after all.

His brother had wrapped himself around her, burying his face in her neck and clinging to her like favorite a stuffed toy, not that she seemed to mind, if the hands she was running over his hair and back meant anything. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, the words too quiet to hear over the sudden near painful hope and the rapid beat of his own heart at the thought that she’d come for them.

Atsumu’s joy was practically burning through him, combined with his restored faith and smug satisfaction that he’d been right all along about her coming back for them. It probably should’ve annoyed him, but he found that all he could really feel was a bone deep sort of relief.

“Where’s your brother?” she asked, as she finally managed to gently extract herself a bit from his twin’s embrace, though he noticed he didn’t let go entirely, one of his hands laced firmly with hers.

He immediately stood, letting himself fall back into his more human skin as he made his way toward them, not waiting for his brother to out him. She seemed to spot him immediately and the relieved smile on her face was enough to make his traitorous heart skip a beat.

“Osamu,” she greeted warmly, more warmly than he thought he’d ever been greeted by anyone before as she opened her free arm in an inviting gesture. It was maybe a little pathetic how readily he accepted that embrace, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, as he fell into her hold, face automatically nuzzling against the side of her neck that Atsumu had left unclaimed. A rumbling purr left his lips as he felt her press her face against his affectionately, as he allowed himself to cling to her for a bit.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she murmured to him quietly, her arm squeezing affectionately around his waist, genuine regret in her tone, “My boss made me stay a little longer than usual, and then there was an accident on the freeway. I called ahead though and Sugawara has almost all the paperwork done. I just need to collect the two of you, do some signing and we’ll go home okay?”

“Really? Yer takin’ us home?” he almost didn’t recognize his own voice given how weak it sounded, the quaver in it making him feel utterly ridiculous and overly emotional, something that was supposed to be his twin’s job, and frustrated him enough that he bit his lip nearly hard enough to bleed as he wrestled with himself, trying to get back in control of his emotions.

“Yeah, as long as you want to come, then I’ll gladly take you,” she offered with a gentle smile that made his heart squeeze nearly painfully in his chest, “Though there’s something I need to admit to first.”

He froze a little at that, staring at her anxiously as Atsumu also looked on, his blabbermouth brother finally silent and clearly wary. She carefully released him, though she still reached for his hand, peering between the two of them, anxious but also obviously determined. He allowed her to grasp her fingers, squeezing them automatically, anxiety making his heartrate skyrocket and bile rise in his throat.

“I asked the center about your previous owner,” she confessed, the words automatically making his heart drop, as he wondered numbly what they could’ve told her. Had she asked for the details? Was she afraid now? Had she changed her mind or decided to add some stipulations to their adoption?”

“I didn’t ask for details,” she clarified, her voice managing to cut through the haze of panic that had been rising in his chest, “All I asked was if they thought whatever had happened with your previous owner would cause trouble for me, or put any of us in any sort of danger.”

That didn’t actually sound so bad, and was even fairly reasonable the storm of hurt and anger that had been building behind his anxiety slowly dispersing the more he thought about it. He noticed that his grip on her hand had loosened a bit, and he retightened his hold, hoping the center had responded in a way that reassured her. Given that she was here, talking to them, he thought it wasn’t unreasonable to be hopeful.

“They said none of us would be in any danger, otherwise they never would’ve offered to take you both in, in the first place, and that they were sure you’d be alright with me,” she explained, her hand gently squeezing his in return.

He wasn’t sure if the bone deep relief he felt was his or his brother’s but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too caught up in the surging hope that followed it as she asked, “So, even knowing that I asked that, are the two of you still willing to come home with me?”

“O course we want to go with ya, right Samu?” his brother replied instantly, nuzzling into her neck insistently, clearly begging for attention, attention she seemed more than willing to give if the affectionate smile on her face was any indication. When she looked at him for confirmation all he could do was nod in agreement, unable to find the words for how very much he did want it and unwilling to sound ridiculous again.

The next half hour passed in a strange almost dream like haze, as he packed himself up, his smug brother clinging to her and gloating over how he was already finished, soaking up her attention as he made a mental note to get back at his annoying twin later. Once he finished packing all there really was, was a couple of signatures before he found himself in a nice car that was speeding along the highway.

Atsumu was chatting away in the front seat, practically bouncing as he asked their amused new owner anything that popped into his head as he tried to digest what had happened. Somehow, someway, they had an owner again.

You smiled to yourself as you listened to Atsumu babble away happily in the seat next to you. The golden furred twin hadn’t stopped bouncing since you’d showed up at the shelter, clearly over the moon that you’d come back for him. Osamu was quiet in the back seat, and you might’ve been worried he was happy to come with you if not for the way he’d scent marked you, almost frantically his hand clutched tightly to yours as you’d signed the paperwork to take them home.

It was pretty clear both twins had thought you weren’t coming back for them, and it had broken your heart a bit, and made you even more resolute that you’d done the right thing for all of you. You’d been anxious the whole day to get back to them, not nearly as focused on work as you probably should’ve been, which had been part of the reason for your delay in the first place.

You’d panicked more than a bit when you’d encountered the accident on the way there, afraid that you’d break your promise to the twins. It had only been Sugawara’s kind voice, assuring you that he’d start the paperwork while you drove and even stay open late if necessary for you to get there, that had kept your guilt and panic at bay.

Now that you had them with you weren’t quite sure how you felt. Dazed that it was actually happening, excited for what the future might bring, and a little anxious about all the changes you’d have to make in your life even as you looked forward to those changes more than anything.

However, before you headed for home there were a couple things you needed to do first. Luckily you would hopefully find everything you needed in one place, at least for today. You wanted to give them time to settle in a bit, more shopping could come later when they’d decided what they needed.

“Where’s this?” Atsumu asked, pausing in his excited babble to look at you with confusion, as you pulled into the large parking lot, “Ya don’t live here do ya?”

“Don’t be stupid,” his brother huffed from the backseat, “Yer gonna make her think we’re some kind of bumpkins, ya know what a mall is Tsumu.”

“O course I know what a mall is,” Atsumu blustered, twisting around in his seat to glare at his twin, “I just thought maybe she had an apartment nearby is all. Who knows how rich people live?”

You huffed in amusement, reaching out without thought to ruffle his ears affectionately. The golden haired hybrid froze for a minute under your touch, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, freezing as well, before a rumbling purr left his chest as he pressed his head further into your hand.

“You’re too cute,” you murmured almost to yourself as you gently scratched his ears and stroked your hand over his face and neck, unable to keep the smile from your lips.

“We’re only stopped here for a quick couple errands,” you explained to both twins, reluctantly pulling away from Atsumu who offered a pout but didn’t protest, “I noticed you don’t have as much as I thought you would, and I want to get you more comfortable collars to wear when we’re in public.”

Both twins hands immediately flew to the simple brown leather bands around their necks. All hybrids were required to wear collars in public to identify them as belonging to someone. The collars had a tag on them, which was essentially a small chip that had all their owner’s information in it, that when scanned would tell someone how to get in contact with their owner. It was to ensure they behaved and that if they didn’t their owner could be forced to take responsibility for their actions. Any hybrid who walked around without a collar immediately had the police called and was brought in and held until they could figure out why they were without.

You’d heard horror stories about the way such hybrids were treated, innocent hybrids who’d accidentally lost a collar somewhere and been so traumatized when they were finally returned to their owners that they were never the same again. Which of course was why you were determined it was never going to happen to your twins, even if a part of you balked at the idea of putting a symbol of ownership on another sentient being. Judging from the looks on their faces, Atsumu’s much easier to read than Osamu’s they’d heard stories too, and neither of them bothered to protest.

“Come on,” you urged gently, climbing out of the car yourself, “The sooner we get the unpleasant stuff done the sooner we get to the good stuff. I’ve got a couple things in mind I’d like to get you both as welcome home presents, but if there’s anything else you think you want or need feel free to ask.”

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding out of the car.

“That’s right,” you agreed with a small laugh, watching him sulk a bit as he realized his brother had beaten him in securing your free hand, Osamu’s fingers laced with your own and a smug smirk on the silver hybrid’s face, “So keep close and let’s get going okay?”

Luckily the mall wasn’t too crowded, and while the twins got more then their fair share of admiring looks, doubtless both because of how good looking they were and how rare twin hybrids in general were, no one actually dared to approach your group, even as Atsumu practically bounced around glancing around the mall in fascination and reminding you more of an eager puppy than a supposedly slightly older cat hybrid.

Osamu was much more dignified and kept close to your side, though judging from his wide-eyed look that he couldn’t quite hide behind his stoic façade he was just as in awe as his brother. You were starting to get an impression of their previous owner and it was far from good.

You’d known that some owners kept their hybrids close to home, either because they were overly protective or possessive, and it had always rubbed you the wrong way. Ojirou had always allowed Kita and Suna to do as they pleased for the most part, treating them as capable adults and equals, more like roommates than the pets some treated their hybrids as and his was the example you were going to strive to follow.

It was why your errands today were so important, because while you would happily have let your twin hybrids run around as they pleased dressed however they pleased a collar was unfortunately the one thing they couldn’t be without, especially if they were going to go outside without you.

Luckily the mall was outfitted with several hybrid specialty stores and it didn’t take you long to find one dedicated entirely to collars. Both twins were a little wide eyed at the selection, and neither seemed to know quite what to say as you roamed through the aisles together looking at the selection.

Several of them made you grimace in outright distaste, the collars boasting accessories like inward facing spikes or tracking devices that would alert the owner if the hybrid tried to leave their home. It made you feel a little sick to your stomach, so you instead turned to the less intrusive ones.

“Do you see anything you like?” you asked the twins, squeezing Osamu’s hand affectionately, “You don’t have to wear collars in the house if you don’t want to, but you’re going to need them if you want to leave when I’m not home, which means you’ll probably be wearing them a lot, so make sure to pick something you like. You can even pick a couple if you want it to match your outfit for the day or whatever I don’t mind spending a little more to get a handful of chips programmed.”

Both twins blinked at you owlishly clearly startled by the offer, which made your heart hurt for them, even as they hesitantly turned back toward the displays, looking more closely than they had before.

“Do ya have any restrictions?” Osamu asked bluntly, not quite looking at you as he eyed a display of thick leather ones that didn’t look comfortable in the slightest.

“No,” you assured him, “I’m not the one who has to wear it.”

Osamu nodded slowly, and seemed to be taking his time as he perused the collars. You let him do as he liked, allowing him to lead. You’d only loosened your hold on him once, thinking he may like to wander the store like his brother and not have to tow you along with him, but the way his hand had reflexively tightened on yours in response had put paid to that assumption and you’d immediately re-laced your fingers together.

In the end Atsumu approached you first, holding a collar out to you hopefully. It actually looked like it was meant more for a dog hybrid, thick black leather with steel spikes on it, making it look fairly fierce. Personally you thought it was gaudy and was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you tried not to let your distaste show, after all you’d said anything they wanted and you’d meant it. Luckily in the end you didn’t need to say anything.

“What the hell is that?” Osamu demanded when he caught sight of the collar in his brother’s hands, the disgusted look on his face letting you know his feelings quite clearly.

“It’s a collar scrub, what else would it be?” Atsumu replied with a sneer for his twin you were beginning to think was automatic.

“I’m not the scrub you are,” the silver twin sneered, “Because only a scrub would wear somethin’ like that.”

“Oy,” Atsumu interjected, with a fierce glare, “She said we could have what we wanted.”

“Yeah but she probably thought ya had some sort of taste, she doesn’t know you well enough to know how scrubby ya are scrub,” Osamu hissed back.

“Alright guys,” you interjected gently, squeezing Osamu’s hand and reaching out to gently ruffle Atsumu’s ears, aware of the eyes of the cashier which had definitely turned in your direction given the twins were getting louder and louder by the second, “Let’s try to keep it to polite volume levels in public hmm?”

“Sorry,” both twins grumbled, identical pouts on their faces that made you giggle.

“It’s alright,” you assured them fondly, “Just try to be good okay?”

They nodded though Osamu clearly needed to get the last word in as he turned to you with pleading eyes, “Ya think it’s an abomination too don’t ya?”

“I said you could have whatever you wanted,” you told him diplomatically, “If this is what Atsumu likes, then of course he can have it.”

“Ha, see!” Osamu demanded of his twin, clearly seeing right through your attempt at diplomacy, “She thinks it’s ugly too!”

“Do ya really think it’s ugly?” Atsumu asked you sulkily eyeing the collar in his hands.

You’d known before that you were weak to pleading eyes, but it turned out you were even more weak to the pleading copper eyes of your hybrid, the thought that he might be sad tugging at your heartstrings.

“I just worry you’ll be uncomfortable,” you assured him, letting go of Osamu’s hand and gently cupping his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks affectionately, the same way you did for one of the hybrids that occasionally came to your office to sulk when his owner brought him to work but didn’t pay attention to him.

Atsumu immediately leaned into your palms, heavy lidded eyes half-shut with bliss as you explained, “It’s summer right now, and there’s no padding so it will be hot, heavy and probably chafe. Plus didn’t you say you wanted to play volleyball? Won’t it get in the way? I can definitely get it for you if you like it, but maybe pick something else too, okay?”

“Kay,” your golden twin agreed, sounding completely and utterly content as he nuzzled into your hands, making your heart melt in your chest.

“What about this one?” Osamu offered, pulling your attention away from his brother.

He was holding a collar in his hands, one that actually looked more like a necklace a thin but sturdy looking cord of leather fastened with a silver chain in the front that clasped on both ends to a silver hoop that suspended a solid silver disc in the middle that on close inspection revealed that it housed the chip needed for identification.

“That looks really nice,” you praised, letting out a breath of relief at his choice. You weren’t a big fan of the collars in general, but seeing it look more like a necklace made it seem far more tolerable. Plus it was black and silver and thus would probably go with just about anything he chose to wear.

Letting go of Atsumu to take the collar from his twin, you completely missed the smug smirk directed over your shoulder by Osamu as you inspected it, though Atsumu certainly didn’t, giving his twin an annoyed glare above your head.

In the end, while Atsumu sulked and complained about it, he did actually put the original collar he’d offered back and go with Osamu’s choice, even though you offered to get him both. He refused, sulking slightly all the while, but remained insistent that he only needed the one, even though you ended up buying four collars total, so you could have two back-ups. Though he did insist on holding your hand to make up for the disappointment.

Luckily the manager didn’t seem to mind having to program all four collars, tapping away at the computer, while Atsumu sulked a bit by your side and Osamu somehow managed to all but radiate smug superiority. The cashier carefully ringing up your purchases for you as you pulled your wallet out.

“A word of advice?” the cashier offered as you waited for the programmed collars, surprising you with his forwardness.

“You’re too indulgent with them,” he continued on, not giving you the chance to refute the need for him to speak, “Hybrid’s need a firm hand. You’ll spoil them if you let them get away with raising their voices in public and causing a scene. Don’t ever let them forget their place.”

You felt more than saw both twins bristle on either side of you, and gently squeezed Atsumu’s hand, before laying your hand over the back of Osamu’s neck. You wouldn’t care a bit if they wanted to verbally eviscerate the man who was eying them with clear distaste, a distaste you were almost sure stemmed from jealousy given the lascivious looks he probably thought you hadn’t noticed levelled in your direction. Unfortunately, you also didn’t want them to get into trouble, and weren’t quite sure what the law said about how hybrids were allowed to defend themselves from humans, something you planned to rectify as soon as possible.

For now however you weren’t about to let the twins get in trouble and cut in your tone as cold as you could make it, “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, nor do I care about what you think in the least. I’ll treat them how I want to treat them, which means I’ll spoil and pamper them as much as I like. I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself in the future if you want to keep this business running. As it is I’ll be sending my complaint to your superiors. Let’s go guys, we can find other collars elsewhere. It’s not like they’re hard to find.”

“Wait! The chips are already programmed and you haven’t paid,” the manager protested, standing up from the computer looking utterly appalled.

“Should’ve thought of that before your employee opened his mouth, and decided to spew his unwanted bile everywhere,” you countered with a shrug, “I’d consider finding better employees in the future if I were you, or at least teach them to keep their mouths shut.”

“But the chips can’t be removed from these collars, they’ll be completely ruined,” the manager put in, sounding more than a bit despairing.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, feeling genuinely bad for the woman, after all it wasn’t her fault the other employee was an ass, “But that’s not my problem. I refuse to support any sort of business that would treat its customers like this.”

The glare she leveled on her fellow employee was utterly ferocious and had him cowering back in his seat. Not that you could blame her for being upset, each collar was about three hundred USD so the sale they were losing out on was enormous.

“I can offer you a discount?” she tried hopefully, “Fifty percent off?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, but didn’t reply instead turning to look at the twins who’d clearly been more than ready to follow you out of the store, “What do you think?”

“Us?” Atsumu asked, clearly baffled.

“Yes, you,” you told him with a fond smile, “You’re the ones who got insulted, not me, and they’re your collars. I’m happy to buy you whatever you like from wherever you want it, whether that’s here or somewhere else.”

“Seventy-five percent off,” Osamu bargained from her other side, taking you by surprise. You turned to see him watching the manager with shrewd eyes, and when it looked like she would protest he added in, “Seventy-five percent off and we won’t leave bad reviews on every site we can or send letters of complaint to upper management.”

“Agreed,” the manager huffed, shooting another vicious look at her employee, one that clearly read that it would be coming out of his salary.

You huffed, amused at Osamu’s bargaining, gently massaging your thumb against the base of his neck affectionately before releasing both twins and moving to pay, only spending a quarter of what you’d originally planned.

“Nice work,” you praised the silver hybrid once the three of you were out of the store and out of earshot.

Osamu shot you a sly smirk, looking exceedingly pleased with himself as he walked beside you. Atsumu had claimed your hand this time, so he was carrying the bags, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“Now that, that’s taken care of, let’s go grab your gifts,” you told the twins, tugging them along to the PineApple store.

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding along beside you, your intertwined hands swinging back and forth between you.

Laughing you simply pulled him with you into the store. Both twins were wide-eyed as you browsed through, clearly unused to the cutting edge technology on display, both of them exceedingly cautious with the expensive looking tech. It took some gentle urging, but eventually you managed to get phones and laptops picked out for each of them.

“Isn’t this too much,” Osamu asked you in an undertone, clearly worried as an employee walked Atsumu through getting his laptop set up. It turned out that of the twins Osamu was definitely more technically savvy and loved his new laptop, though Atsumu had already managed to download several apps and games on to his phone and was thoroughly enjoying them as well, “It’s expensive.”

“I have the money,” you assured him gently, “And besides, everyone has a phone these days. I want you guys to have them in case you get in trouble when I’m not home and need to reach me, like if you got lost or hurt or simply need a human to ensure you’re treated fairly. I’d feel awful if you needed me and I didn’t know.”

“The laptops are so you don’t get too bored at home, though I hope you’ll find things to enjoy outside the apartment too,” you continued, absently stroking your hand up and down his back.

“Will you be wanting hybrid trackers in the new phones?” the employee asked, her voice professional as she began to ring up your purchases.

You hesitated. On one hand you hated the idea of invading the twins privacy, and on the other you knew that you fully intended to let them roam as they pleased so wouldn’t it be better to have the tracker just in case? A quick glance showed that Osamu was impassive as ever, and even Atsumu just looked bored, not paying any attention whatsoever, instead tapping away at his new phone.

“What do you think?” you asked them, more than willing to hear their opinions on the matter.

“You’re the owner,” Osamu told her, apparently speaking for both of them as he gave an unconcerned shrug, which wasn’t helpful in the least.

You grimaced a bit trying to think of a compromise before finally pulling out your own phone and asking the employee, “Is there anyway to ensure all three of the phones will track each other?”

“Let me go ask,” she told you politely, turning away to go grab someone more knowledgeable.

“That’s fair right?” you asked hesitantly, “This way you know where I am too and can come find me if you need me.”

“Yeah,” Osamu agreed, giving you a look that you thought might be something as close to awe as you’d seen on the silver haired hybrid, “Yeah that’s fair.”

The employee quickly returned and confirmed they could indeed make all three phones track one another, and in the span of a few minutes managed to get your purchases complete. Feeling like that was probably enough for now, you led them back towards the car.

It was starting to get pretty late, and the minute you’d exited the mall Osamu’s stomach had given a loud rumbling growl. Atsumu had made fun of him for all of a minute, before his own stomach betrayed him. You’d shaken your head at their antics, but allowed a surprisingly eager Osamu to order whatever he wanted for carryout from the Chinese place near your apartment.

One quick stop for the food, and you finally managed to bring your new hybrids home. Both of them were a little quiet as you led them up to your apartment, staring around and clearly taking everything in. Either Ojirou, Kita and Suna weren’t home, or they’d decided to give you time to settle with the twins as they didn’t emerge from their apartment as you arrived in the hallway and fumbled the door open.

“Here we are,” you told them, hitting the lights, “Home sweet home.”

Both twins were laden with things, carrying their purchases, the food, and their things from the adoption center. Still looking at them was enough to make your heart clench. It had only taken one trip to bring everything up, but despite hybrids being stronger than normal humans it still made your heart clench to see how very little the twins actually had. Each of them only had a medium sized suitcase of things, and Atsumu had a worn volleyball but that was it aside from the things you’d bought them. It was something you were determined to fix for the future, but for now you’d make do.

“I know you’re hungry, so unless you want to settle in for a bit first we can eat and then I’ll show you around,” you offered.

The twins exchanged looks, but nodded in clear agreement. You pointed out the bathroom just in case, but then brought them to the kitchen, trying to show them where everything was as you pulled utensils from the drawers. Osamu clearly paid much more attention to her explanations than Atsumu did, though both diligently helped her set the table.

The food was really good, and thankfully sparked more conversation, even if it was more subdued than earlier, all of them worn out from the long day they’d had. Osamu was clearly very interested in food, and not just in eating it the way his brother was. You managed to coax out that he’d cooked for their previous owner from time to time, and told him that as long as he was careful he was more than free to use her kitchen and anything in it for whatever he wanted earning what felt like her first real smile from the silver haired twin.

Despite how tired they clearly were, both twins helped you clean up. For the first time since you’d first discovered the lovely little Chinese restaurant there weren’t actually any leftovers, the twins having consumed everything you said you didn’t want. As they worked you noted it really was kind of nice, even if things were quiet, to have the company as they went about their tasks.

“Alright, so I wasn’t sure if you’d want your own rooms or if you’d want to share,” you told them, gesturing for them to follow, “We’re going to have to do some shopping either way, since they’re your rooms and I want you to be able to personalize them any way you want, but I think they’re pretty equal in size.”

The twins stared at you, clearly surprised, glancing at each other, to the rooms you’d offered, to you, and back again, the gesture making her more than a bit nervous. You’d thought there was plenty of space for the two of them, but maybe they didn’t see it that way?

“We get our own rooms?” Atsumu asked at last, finally breaking the silence, his voice quiet and disbelieving, copper eyes huge in his face.

“If you want them, then of course they’re yours,” you assured him, concerned, “I still have to clean out my study, but I didn’t want to delay adopting you and I don’t think it will take too long. There’s a pull out futon in there, though you’re more than free to share if you want a bed, or I can take the futon and one of you can have my bed for now. I’ve certainly slept on the futon before and I don’t mind.”

“You’d give up your bed?” Osamu repeated, looking like you’d just smacked him over the head with a fish, more surprise on his face then you’d thought him capable of showing.

“Just until we find something for you,” you told him, a little puzzled at his surprise but with the sinking feeling that your suspicions about their former owner were correct.

“But, why?” Atsumu asked you, wide eyed and a little teary.

“Because, you’re mine now,” you assured him, unable to quite find the words you wanted to say, but hoping you were conveying your feelings at the very least, “And I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe and happy.”

The sad mewling sound he made in response to your words was enough to break your heart, as he pitched forward squeezing you into his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. You pressed your cheek to his hair, rubbing his back soothingly with one arm even as you automatically opened the other one for his twin, a gesture that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to you.

Osamu didn’t sob the way his twin did, but the way he squeezed you tight let you know he was just as moved as Atsumu even if he was quieter about it. Seeing their genuine gratitude for what you felt was common courtesy broke your heart, but even as it ached and you did your best to soothe them you swore to yourself, to love and care for your new hybrids so they’d never want for anything ever again to be the best owner it was possible to be after all they deserved nothing less.

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[squishneedsahero]

Oh Yeah, I Remember Now

It’s Who I Am Part 4

Word Count: 2555

Warning: I didn’t go into much detail but there is mentions of abuse and other things which the reader went through during their time with HYDRA

How would The Falcon and The Winter Soldier have played out if you, the younger daughter of Howard Stark got involved? You had been kidnapped by HYDRA at a young age, your mind taken from you as they forced you to work towards creating new weapons for them and when HYDRA had fallen you had gotten free with your scattered memories for you to slowly piece together.

You'd had a relatively good childhood, sure your father was a dirtbag to both you and Tony but your mom was good. She tried to protect the both of you, Tony had done his best to protect you as well. But you'd always lived in their shadow. It was always, "oh you're Howard's daughter? I didn't know he had a daughter," or "aww what a cutie, you must help your mom take such god care of your father and brother." All of this made you sick. None of it was Tony's fault it was all misogyny and your father's sexism.

The next thing you remember is a science fair. It's third grade and you've made a tiny drone, which you can fly around and take pictures with. You were so excited to show everyone, to show your dad that you could be an engineer as well, but only your mother and Tony came. They tried to encourage you but you didn't say anything, it isn't until you get home and you're lying in bed that you cry. You're good at keeping your crying quiet, quiet enough that no one would know you had spent the night crying and when you got up in the morning the tears were gone.

Then you're at boarding school, somewhere they could teach you to be a proper 13 year old girl. One night sticks out above the rest, the dorms caught fire everyone was getting out. You tripped as you tried to get out of bed and then when you tried to get up a cold metal hand covered your mouth and someone picked you up, throwing you over their shoulder, you feel something prick your arm as you begin to kick and scream, and then things go dark.

You're in a small cell with grey walls and grey floors. You're 15 as you're sitting there, refusing to cooperate with HYDRA's current plan, the door slams open and in walks one of the nameless agents. They show you a newspaper, the headline announcing that your parents had died in a car crash, they then show you other photos, and tell you how they had had them killed by the Winter Soldier. From there they go into great detail on the fact that if you didn't begin cooperating they would bring your brother to be the next one they make you torture.

From there things get especially messy in your mind. Some days remembering your past and other days not. Some days you're the one doing the torturing and other days the one being tortured. HYDRA had forced you to commit many atrocities in their name, so many you couldn't begin to count. There were the times where you were the one who was in charge of resetting Bucky's mind, wiping it and preparing him for a mission. There were other times when you were difficult and they had the winter soldier beat you into submission.

There was one day, one day during which nearly all of HYDRA's agents disappeared and never came back. You were locked in your tiny cell, you don't know how long you were there on your own, hunger clawing at your stomach and dehydration quickly becoming an issue. You don't remember how but you got out and escaped.

It's who knows how many months later that you become aware of anything again. You're lying in some alleyway somewhere and have none of your memories. You find your way to a library, feeling safe there, from there you begin to figure out how exactly the world works and how you can survive.

It's another few years after that, having short term memory loss and being slow to pick up on anything. It is at this point where you've some how ended up in NYC and as you're walking down the street that you bump into Tony. You don't recognize him but he recognizes you. It happens quickly, he gets a DNA test to be sure but soon you're living with him and have some of your life together but still no memories. It's during this time that you meet a few other people, but thanks to Tony they keep the fact that you're still alive quiet, not wanting to overwhelm you with his life when you barely have yours together.

After that you're sitting in the Avenger's compound with Rhodey when something happens and people you haven't meet before show up. First it's just one guy named Bruce, then a group of people Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Vision and Sam. That was the first time you had met Sam, though you hadn't spoken to him. From there you all go to Wakanda, try to save Vision, apparently cross paths with Bucky, fail to save Vision, fight some aliens in one of Tony's suits, punch a giant purple dude in the face a few times then ultimately get turned to dust with a few billion other people on the planet.

Then you find yourself lying on the ground in the jungle of Wakanda with half of the people you'd been fighting Thanos with. Some sort of portals open up in front of all of you and you fight even more aliens. You pass by Tony at some point and give him a quick hug in the middle of all of it, despite not having memories you still knew you cared deeply for him and was one of the few people you felt safe when you were with. Then as soon as your world had come together, it falls apart again, Tony had sacrificed himself to save the rest of you.It is when you're at his funeral that things begin to set in for you, your brother is gone, you're once again alone in the world... except you weren't. Tony had a wife and a daughter, Pepper and Morgan, it didn't take much for them to take you in and act as though you had always been part of their family.

It's in the six months following that when you create your own suit, and somewhat get yourself together. At least you have it together enough that your memory of that time is pretty solid even if your mind felt scattered. It is after those six months of relative peace and calm that brings you to the present. Where you had met up with Sam and Bucky on accident and teamed up with them to figure out this problem.

There is a knock on the door you have your back too, and it shakes out of the state you are in. "Hey, y/n," it's Sam, "are you alright in there?"

"Uh- yeah- yeah- I'm fine." You stand up and quickly wipe the tears which had formed in your eyes before opening the door. "Hey," you can see the concern in Sam's eyes, "I'm fine, just needed a minute," you pause before changing the subject, "so what's the plan?"

"Sharon is going to be hosting some people here and will ask around to see if anyone knows where we can find Naegele," Sam explains, "so we can join the party and just have to blend in with the crowd."

"Sounds good," you look down at your dress that has some blood splattered on it then look back at Sam, "you think she has a different dress I can wear?"

"Probably, we can go ask her."

You let Sam lead the way back to the other room, where you give Zemo a death glare before asking Sharon, "hey, you have a dress I could borrow? I don't think blood will blend well."

"Sure," she goes over to a closet and gets out a dress which she hands to you, "here, put this on, I'm going to get headed down to begin letting the guests in."

You nod and take the dress, going to change quickly before coming back out, where you're greeted by Sam and Bucky telling you Zemo had gone with Sharon. "Can I help you?" you ask with more than a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

Bucky doesn't hesitate, "what happened?"

You raise an eyebrow at him and pause for a moment before say, "shit. Shit happened, and I... remembered." You shake your head a bit, "before you ask, no I don't want to talk about it. It's a lot, it's fucked up and it's a lot but like, I can get drunk so I'm going to go do that downstairs right now then drunk cry it out so I'm good to go tomorrow."

You admitting that you remembered has Bucky feeling uncomfortable because you were right it was fucked up and he had been involved in it.

"Y/n, getting drunk it's going to help," Sam says.

You sigh and look at Sam, "I know that but I'm going to do it anyways because at the moment I don't want to deal with it. Plus I don't think I've ever gotten drunk before so it won't take much to do so I'll be good to go in the morning."

"It's still a bad idea," Sam says but isn't going to argue further since you're obviously set on this plan.

You go through with your plan, and you were right about it not taking much for you to get drunk, but its enough that you don't have to think about life for a few hours. Then in the morning you wake up hungover, but with enough time to mostly recover by the time it's time to go find Naegele. You get dressed in in your 'suit' of leggings and a shirt before heading out with the other four to find Naegele.

You go with them down to the docks, where they keep all the shipping containers. Sharon leads all of you right up to the one he is supposed to be in. You let the boys go in and you stay out with Sharon, mostly to make sure Naegele doesn't make a run for it but it ends up being pretty convenient for fighting some of the guys the power broker sent to stop all of you from getting to Naegele.

It is with ease that you take them down, discovering that the reason you hadn't been great at fighting before was because of HYDRA wiping your mind. They took the methods you picked up over time from your mind, making it nearly impossible to improve even if you instinctively knew what to do. There is a lull in the fighting, during which you and Sharon slip into the shipping container and go to the back and into the secret are to find the others.

The two of you barely make it into the room when a gunshot goes off, Zemo killing Naegele right there. You only have a chance to shout, "what the hell?!" Before the box around you explodes.

You tuck and roll, escaping the flames and second rocket fired at the shipping crates. You don't know if anyone else made it out but for now you just need to make sure all of you will survive past this point. Your suit had protected you well, and you were thankful since you'd learned the evening before that you weren't at all enhanced but just had an unusually high pain tolerance. It doesn't take you long to spot one of the people who were after you and you focus in on them, one thing you could control. You could control that they were kept busy fighting you and you could control where they were so the others could get out.

As you throw yourself at the man in front of you, you hear gunshots and you're thankful. That means the others made it out of that explosion. You don't want to kill anyone, you had come close when Zemo had activated whatever it was HYDRA had put in your head, but you'd done enough killing in your life. You just needed to incapacitate them, and you do. It's just a matter of hitting a few pressure points and he should stay down for a few hours at least.

From there you move onto the one other person you can see but you are beat to them by Sam. You jog up to him now that things had calmed down a little and see Sharon and Bucky, leaving Zemo as the only one unaccounted for. "Hey, did we get them all?"

"Seems like it," Sharon responds.

Sam looks at her, "come with us."

Sharon shakes her head, "just get me that pardon you promised."

Sam nods once then looks at Bucky, about to say something only to be interrupted by Zemo pulling up in a car. "Shall we?"

You get in the car without hesitating, taking the seat behind Zemo so you can keep an eye on him. Bucky claims the front seat and Sam gets in behind him, saying something about him not moving the seat up. Then you're off, leaving to get back on Zemo's plane and head to the location they had gotten from Naegele.

When all of you are on the plane there is a short conversation as you go over the plan. Then silence falls over all of you, not a nice silence but an awkward silence and you can feel their eyes on you. You finally decide to break the silence and look at Bucky, "hey, I should apologize for all the shit HYDRA made me do to you, so... sorry," you frown and shrug a bit in an attempt to play it off like no big deal as it's always awkward to experience emotions with other people around.

Bucky just shrugs a bit, "it's alright, not exactly your fault. Sorry for kidnapping you."

You don't know why but you laugh. Maybe because it's so ridiculous but you shut up as quickly as you can and shake your head, "it's alright, not exactly your fault either."

"Having less of a memory problem I see," Zemo cuts in on the slight moment the two of you are having.

Your head snaps around to look at him, "you're on thin ice, so tread lightly, or I'll make you wish you'd died in that explosion back there."

Zemo laughs, "ah, there is the Stark attitude that HYDRA had so much trouble controlling." He presses his fingertips together and relaxes in his seat before continuing, "HYDRA was only able to get Lemonade to stick in your mind. It was in case you needed to protect one of the agents from a monster you had created. They had to manually mess with your memory thanks to you being so stubborn, as they couldn't seem to break you."

You can't help but feel a little nauseous as he speaks but you know he's telling the truth. "Yeah, and you better not use it again though I'm pretty sure I broke it last night." Then you look at Sam, "in the case that I didn't break the programming I have weak knees if you hit them from behind and a peanut allergy, knock me out if needed I shouldn't die."

You don't get a response to that but you felt better knowing they could easily stop you if Zemo pulled anything. But that was it and with that you were able relax for the rest of the flight.

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 33

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping  - Manipulation - Abuse - Spiders

Z

Rayne’s home couldn’t be more stereotypical. It was a huge gothic eyesore. I knew that Rayne and Flora were one of the more powerful, and rich, couples in the region. I couldn’t imagine they used most of the space inside. It was a flex. Only by the Society’s influence could a place like this remain hidden.

It took a minute to finish the trip up their driveway and park by their front door. It took a lot to unsettle me. This house was one of the things that did. I knew all about the things that happened here. I was under no illusion about what I was to Rayne. She looked at new members that she saw as having some kind of potential and tried to push them. I was vaguely aware of some of the other people she attempted to take under her wing.

Mercy, an ironic name if I had ever heard one. I had seen her work, she worked mostly as a private breaker that just pushed her victims little by little until they broke. I had seen some videos, the childish glee she had as she told her victims they could “take just a little more” over and over. A few more inches. A few more hits. One more notch up on the shock collar. Of course if they could take that Mercy was sure they could take one more. She was to take the phrase “it’s too big” as a challenge. She wanted her victim to say something wasn’t possible.

Melinoë was one of the few people who climbed the ranks from the bottom. She broke people using their phobias. She kept rooms of snakes, spiders, rats and other common phobias and introduced them to people she had rendered immobile. I had seen one of her victims covered head to toe in webs from a swarm of spiders she let into the cell. The light in their eyes had died quickly. Unfortunately not everyone's phobias are so easy to manifest. She was more than happy to keep people in cycles of suffocation or waterboard those that had those fears. She had a technique for almost everything.

Her newest was some newly inducted girl. Apparently she was some serial killer that had killed dozens of low ranked members over the last year. Rayne’s intervention probably saved her a long torturous life at the bottom of one of the Society’s special prisons. I remember Eos making a fuss that the girl had left Rayne’s mansion gone underground a few weeks ago and no one had tracked her down yet. Eos had been on the council deciding the girls fate and had been very vocal about having her imprisoned for life.

I hated them all, none of them had the respect that I had for the people I worked on. I avoided being on that list of people taken under Rayne’s wing by virtue of Eos interacting with me as often as she did. She still left her mark on me though, something I was unable to get rid of, her epithet.

I composed myself as the doors to the limo opened. The driver bowed and helped the both of us out of the car. Once she shut the doors behind us the went up to the front door and rang the doorbell. She waited to the side, her head bowed lest she incur Rayne’s wrath when the door opened.

Rayne

Everything was going… well perfect was a lie. Things never went perfectly. But with a minimum amount of punishments. I only had three other maids taken away while I waited for Z’s arrival. They’d make passable canvases.

I was growing irritated as the minutes slowly passed by. She was supposed to be here at four. It was now ten after four. Good driver’s were hard to come by, but I’d have to find a new one regardless. Perhaps she would make a good lawn ornament. If she wanted to go slow on the roads she may as well be stationary. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about winter for quite awhile.

Finally the doorbell rang, followed by some scattered screams throughout the mansion. The doorbell was wired to some random slaves. It gave them quite the nasty shock when it was pressed, it made sure we would always hear it ring. Our guests were here. Only fifteen minutes late. The two slaves I had left stationed by the front door saw me walk towards them and slowly opened the door.

The sight was… as to be expected. Z was dressed in what I was sure was the most expensive thing she owned. I was a bit upset to see Briar there. I hadn’t given Z a plus one. I’d have to figure out something for her to do, she was just going to make all my plans harder. I wanted Z, alone, without anyone to consult. Having Briar to talk to just made my goal harder.

"Good afternoon Z. I'm glad you could make it to this celebration." I gave her a smile. I tried to play the good host.

"Unfortunately, due to the last minute invitation, I was unable to bring Lady Flora a gift." She looked bored and it pissed me off. Its like she didn't care she didn't bring my darling Flora anything.

"That's alright Z, you're the gift. I'm sure Flora will enjoy meeting you. Follow me." We made our way through the mansion, heading towards the art room I knew my lovely lilac was busy in.

Maids stop and curtsied as we passed by. Flora and I would really have to converge on a design for them. She was in the midst of designing new outfits for them and had them wearing different prototypes. Some were clad in latex, others were dressed in what could only be generously called an outfit. Still others were in floor length outfits that only left their hands and faces uncovered. Different styles from English to French to Japanese. I didn't care much about which style she ultimately chose, I just wanted them to match.

We passed by many of Flora's projects on out walk. All stunningly beautiful. All works of genius. Yet Z looked bored and Briar looked away.

It pissed me off.

I stopped at the top of a staircase in front of a special wall Flora had installed. The renovations had cost a fortune but nothing was too expensive for my beloved buttercup.

"Perhaps you recognize this one, Z?"

Z

The walk through the mansion was what I expected. Battered maids, tortured slaves, and all kinds of horrible art created by Flora.

I looked up at the newest exhibit. It was a resin block that was placed into the wall. There was a woman inside, immobile. Naked and on display. It took a bit for me to see the tubes connected to her inside. Most likely to give her air, water and Ambrosia to keep her alive. She stared out blankly at the room, I doubt she was mentally there anymore.

"I'm afraid I don't." I didn't really care about whatever Rayne was trying to show me. I respected the situation in a certain way. I'm sure the inability to move with no space to take anything more than shallow breaths would break anyone fairly quickly.

It was the same principle I took with Bridget.

"Flora was devastated when you closed up shop. She bought up many of those you broke for her own projects. They're quite magnificent for many purposes. Sometimes its fun to listen to them scream while you work, but you created slaves that simply don't react anymore." She smiled at me as she talked. I hated every word coming out of her mouth. I did this to stop their suffering, not make it worse.

"And the significance of this piece?" I tried pushing the annoyance out of my voice.

"This was the last person you broke. She was sold as a sex slave and was used like that for awhile. But Flora wanted to preserve your last piece. It's been injected with a concoction that should help preserve its beauty. The side effects are quite painful and debilitating, but its encased in resin so it doesn't matter if its debilitating. We believe she'll live another decade in the-"

"I believe you wanted us to meet with Lady Flora?" Briar cut Rayne off. I wasn't sure if it was for my benefit or hers, but I'm glad she did.

Rayne’s fave slipped for just a moment. From a warm and welcoming one to one of sheer annoyance. It only took a moment for her to slip back though. "Yes, we're almost there." She turned and began walking down the hall. I had long lost track of where we were. The house seemed alive with activity no matter where we went. Slaves where everywhere, I couldn't begin to fathom how many she must have.

Rayne opened a door and we could hear someone inside talking. She motioned for us to wait as she slipped inside.

Rayne

"If I heard one more sob out of you I'll give you something to actually be sad about." I heard my gorgeous gardenia tell her canvas as she worked.

Flora's back was to me so I could see her canvas facing me. It was some small thing. It had short black hair, surprising as Flora preferred to claim slaves with long hair.

The canvas was covered in tattoos, new ones. Surprising designs. Flora loved to cover a few maids in tattoos, having some walking art around the mansions. Usually she didn't design tattoos so demonic though.

"What are you working on?" I asked her, giving her a bit of a start as I broke her concentration.

"Oh, raindrop. How many times do I have to tell you not to startle me when I'm working on a piece! I could have gotten a line out of place." She chided me playfully. If she had messed up she'd probably just dispose of it and get a new canvas, it was no big deal.

"My apologies, my sweet… saguaro." I stumbled, my mind was in other places.

She crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks, looking a bit cross. "A cactus?"

I walked over to her and tip her head up, giving her a kiss. "I apologize, I was taken in by your art."

She smiled, her pout already forgotten. "This canvas was some poor church girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I bought her with the intent of reselling her to The Pandemonium Club."

"Don't they give full body recoloring to all their imps? Won't that cover up your lovely art?" Servers at the club were modified to resemble imps. Horn mods were what their servers were known for. The size of their horns indicated their purpose. But they also underwent full body recoloring. Many were purple, blue, red or pink.

"Not at all. That guttersnipe that you brought in gave me one nice thing, a chemical added to this ink will make it glow under the body repainting. So she'll be purple with nice gold tattoos showing." She gave me a toothy grin.

I gave her another kiss. Longer. More passion. "You know I don't like you talking about her like that, she'll be giving us tons of fun to watch. But I'm glad she's helped you."

"Whatever you say. So, may I ask why you've come in? Just wanted to see my art?" Flora was beginning to catch on.

"Your birthday present finally arrived, Love." I smiled, knowing this would make her day.

"Oh?" She feigned an innocent look. "I had completely forgot. What did you get me?"

"I didn't find you a something to give you this year unfortunately." Her look turned sour and she stuck out her bottom lip. "But, I brought in someone you might enjoy meeting."

Nothing happened for a few seconds. I figured that had been an obvious enough of a clue.

"I brought in someone you might enjoy meeting!" I called a bit louder. This time Z and Briar entered the room.

"Z!" Her face lit up and she practically glided over the floor to her. She ignored Briar much as I had. "Its so lovely to have you visit. I am such a fan of your methods. Perhaps we can talk over dinner." I watched her look Z up and down. "And let's get you some nice clothes. Consider it my treat."

Z didn't get a moment to say anything before Flora pulled her out of the room. My present had gone over well so far. If things went my way I'd get rid of Z and make this the best birthday Flora's ever had.

[amessageonthewind]

The Difference Between Strength and Power

Word Count: 3308

Pairing: Naga!Connor x Rachel

Content Warnings: Mentions of verbal and emotional abuse, coarse language, mentions of killing and consumptions of souls, general unpleasant attitude from Connor.

Based on a dropped rp thread with one of my partners on my rp blog and inspired by Netflix Castlevania Season 4.

            It had been a few days since the elderly gorgon woman made their situation direr. That she laid the true stakes before them, stipulating that without the other, disaster would befall the village. If the detective were to be slain by outside forces, the naga would be captured and the village pillaged and exterminated and everything plundered and looted. If Connor killed her or incited her wrath that would lead her to try to fight him in a battle she couldn’t win, the curse would claim her as a host and would destroy everything in the village and the naga’s own mind. Or at least what was left of it. And if Connor was taken from the village, they would not be able to stop the onslaught from the invaders that encroached on that territory.

            So, Connor was forced to be more patient with her. Kinder. She knew it was false. She knew that he was just behaving, but it was better than the constant verbal and emotional abuse he would unfairly barrage her with. And she, in-turn, would still be patient and empathetic towards him. Even if he was still rather unpleasant and she made that fact very clear. She wasn’t having his nonsense, especially with their being forced to work together.

            While he initially rejected her offer to attend to the large sapphire snake god, the marble-white gorgon reminded him that they had to work together and that that meant they needed to begin actually spending time together. When he pointed out that it was the breeding season, which meant he was particularly volatile, she retorted that that was none of her concern. After all, it was his fault that it was so volatile, since he insisted on rejecting his base naga needs to lounge around for three days at a time and drink himself into a slumbering stupor.

            So, Rachel tended to him every day since. She performed tasks for him around his cenote, with the irritable god keeping a close eye on her.

            And, naturally, her curiosity got the better of her. “Why do you consume souls?” She asked him one day, whilst shining some of the weapons he had collected in his hoard. His long tail cascaded on practically every crevice it could, the iridescent scales making it look like the cave opening was filled with auroras. He looked rather bored watching her work, swirling a glass of wine in his hand as his amber eyes glittered with annoyance. “You’ve already got enough power and strength to last for lifetimes. What’s the point of continuously doing it, especially if you know that the more souls you consume, the worse your mental state will be?”

            Glaring at her, his tail tip began to lash quietly. “I don’t have to answer such insolent questions, you witless maggot.”

            “You should if you actually care about preventing your own worst aspects from destroying the things you value.” Rachel pointed out, clearly unfazed by his foul attitude at this point. “People can accommodate much better if you make it clear what actually needs to be accommodated and why. And at least if people are properly informed, it doesn’t invite further questions. Also, withholding that information is extremely irresponsible on your part.”

            Scoffing, Connor continued to scowl at the small human. “You still know nothing, foolish human.”

            “And whose fault is that?” Rachel asked, his insults having no effect on her.

            “Yours.” He retorted, his anger billowing off him like an angry storm cloud as his tail began coiling closer to him, retracting into himself. “You constantly speak as though you have something of value to say, yet when you are told something, you fail to listen to it. You hear only to respond. You don’t actually listen to learn.”

            “Then give me something actually helpful to learn instead of berating me for not knowing.” The detective hissed, getting fed up with his immature and entitled behaviour. “It’s not fair that you blame me for not knowing things when you’re the one who withholds that information from me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re doing that on purpose just so you can have an excuse to be angry. Which, speaking of, you should probably go hunt, soon.”

            Connor still couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman. She was doing him a service and she still acted as though she was in a position to tell him what to do. To give him, the god and guardian deity of this place for centuries, orders as though he were stupid. “Stop telling me what to do, foolish human.”

            “I will when you stop making the worst decisions possible for your self-care when you’re not in a position where it’s wise for you to neglect them.” Rachel deflected easily. She just as much had no patience for his nonsense when there was much more at stake here than his easily bruised ego. “The entire village is in danger because of your insistence on maintaining self-destructive habits. You make a big deal out of me pushing you to such points and putting the village in danger, but it is not my responsibility to coddle your bad habits. It’s yours to fix them. You’re the one in the position of power and it’s unfair to place the responsibility in the hands of those without that power. And the thing is, your problems have very easy fixes.”

            Every response only made him angrier, but even when shouting at her, she showed no fear. And while that did not help his ire, he quickly learned that responding to the woman with anger would not yield the results he ultimately wanted. So, begrudgingly and with what felt like a searing hot knife cutting through his pride, he relented. “Such as…?”

            “Hunting.” Rachel replied easily with a cocked brow, putting away a sword and moving on to what looked like some sort of spiked club. “I know you’ve got plenty of good food prepared so lovingly for you, but hunting is more than just for food. It’s also for enrichment. It’s mentally and physically stimulating and engaging. Even housecats, who don’t need to hunt for their food, need their hunting instincts stimulated through play or they become violent and destructive to their environment and the people around them. I suspect that a lot of your pent-up anger is made worse when you drink yourself into lethargy. You’re not properly stimulating yourself in the way you actually need. There’s a reason creatures of all kinds get angry and irritable when left alone for long periods of time with nothing to do and nothing to stimulate them. Enrichment is vitally important for one’s mental health.”

            Looking at Connor, she fixed him with a stern look. “I know you hate being compared to humans, but there is an irony in that the more you abstain from the aspects of yourself that make you inhuman, the more of your humanity you sacrifice. And the worse you end up becoming. Do you see my point?”

            He didn’t want to. The naga didn’t want to admit that the days when he’d spend laying around in the sun, there was an unbearable prickle under his scales. Impatience and boredom eating away at him like beetles and termites to wood. It was both his body’s need for a mate and the growing bristling that would just build and build until he emerged from his cenote. And as much as he didn’t want to take pleasure in it, devouring the assassin that entered their village was as close to relief as he’d been able to get.

            Perhaps…she had a point. Not that he would admit it verbally.

            Instead, he decided to answer her earlier question. Just to make her stop questioning him, though Connor was certain she would still find something to criticize him over. “Each soul grants me strength.” He answered, garnering Rachel’s full attention as she regarded him, pausing her task to take in his words. “My powers grow stronger the more I consume. Which allows me to maintain the safety of the village and its strength.”

            Tilting her head at him, she had about a dozen more questions. “How many souls have you consumed?”

            “Countless.” Connor replied. “By the hundreds of thousands, if I were to make an educated guess.”

            That…was a lot. “Surely that’s more than enough.” She figured. “Especially if each soul just makes your mental health worse. Surely you can just…kill people without eating their souls. It doesn’t really sound worth doing, at this point. Does your power diminish if you don’t?”

            Once again, the sapphire naga found himself irritated by her questioning. The fact that she would dare question him at all was a disrespect most vile. But, as the Pool of Truth most blatantly showed him, he needed to keep himself from just killing her on the spot. But if it would get her to drop the topic, he’d comply. For now. “I’m not keen on finding out.”

            Seemed this wasn’t a good enough answer for her. “You could always pay the gorgon a visit and ask the Pool of Truth for the answer to that.”

            That made him bristle once more. “I don’t need to have the answer for how my own body and mind works. I’m only tolerating you and that hag because she has powers I cannot compete with in my own fucking territory and if I kill you, then you will destroy everything I have ever worked to build.” He leaned in close, leering down at her with his bright eyes that held much contempt for her. Not that she cared. Like he said, there was little he could do to her now that he knew what was at stake. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be made powerless where you should feel strong?”

            “Yes.” Rachel responded without a second’s hesitation. “I do know how that feels. And if you actually care, then you should stop trying to make others feel that same way if you hate how it feels, yourself.”

            Again with giving him orders. But at this point, he was too tired to argue further with her. With a huff, he slithered away from her and slumped over another rock as he watched her continue to clean and polish his weapons. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of victory over him.

            After a moment’s silence, the woman’s voice broke through it once more to ask him another question. “Is that why you do it?” She asked him, glancing over at him with her dark eyes. “So you can feel strong when the world around you tries to make you feel weak? Is that it?”

            “I am strong.” Connor retorted, insulted that she would dare insinuate that he was weak. “Others who try to dethrone or slay me learn very quickly of that. That I am strength itself. That I embody strength that they cannot hope to achieve.”

            “Then why are you so quick to anger if you’re so secure in that?” Rachel asked him. “Anger comes from a place of caring a lot about something. It’s passion derived from feeling slighted because it comes from a place that’s personal. It’s something you care about deeply and that’s why it makes you angry. That’s where slight comes from. If you’re really so secure in your strength that has no equal, then why do you care so much about who knows it? Why do you care so much about the paltry opinions of humans who, at least in your view, can never be your equals? If that’s really what you believe, then in theory, none of it should matter. It shouldn’t even be worth anything other than simple dismissal, if it means that little.”

            Once again, Rachel really had no concern for holding her tongue. If she wasn’t in the position she was in, he would’ve gladly cut out her own tongue before flaying her alive and leaving her to rot where the animals could devour her. But he was not willing to condemn his people to a fate worse than death because of an angry spiteful gorgon his father once battled and defiled.

            So, through gritted teeth as his pride was wounded more and more, he answered. “Nagas are…prideful. We have every reason to be.” He explained, though the venom behind his words did not go unnoticed. It was clear how much being forced to practice humility was taking out of him. “We are powerful gods who inspire fear and wisdom in humans. There’s a reason we are worshipped as much as we are. We naturally want to be treated with that reverence and don’t react well when it isn’t given to us.”

            “Ah, I see.” Rachel said, though her tone was bored. “So, you’re used to being treated with utmost reverence in awe of your strength. And when you don’t get it, you feel wronged and thus you’re angry. And in your mind, those who can’t show you the respect you deserve shouldn’t get to exist at all. After all, for you it’s natural to be revered and worshipped. So, if someone doesn’t give you that, it must be their fault and not yours because that’s the natural order of things. That there’s something wrong with them and not you because that goes against the way things should be. Is that it?”

            Her phrasing and tone was not appreciated. While she seemed to understand the nucleus as to his ideology and nature as a naga, she said it with derision. As though she were speaking to a spoiled brat who needed to be knocked down from their pedestal. Something Connor hated more than anything.

            But even if she did not like that, she seemed to understand. “In a sense, yes…” He relented, growing more and more tired of this exhausting and unsavoury conversation. “We are immortal. There is nothing that can kill us. We also don’t feel fear and the only way to kill a naga is to strike their heart at the moment when they do feel fear. Otherwise, we live forever.” Of course, there was another way, but that wasn’t relevant information for the human to know at this point. Or ever, realistically speaking. “As such, we strive to maintain the natural order of things. While we understand that the world around us changes in chaotic ways, we do not. And so, we maintain this in everything that we govern. A natural order that must not be disturbed. Therefore, we don’t react well when that order is threatened.” For a moment, he paused to think, letting out a breath as he tried to think of a way to put all these ideologies into a simple expression. “It’s…the naga’s virtue. We want everything to remain the same. To remain stable.”

            At that, Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Ah, ‘the naga’s virtue,’ fucking Hell…” She grumbled, clearly not taking that notion very seriously. “There’s an act of philosophical acrobatics for the ages.”

            “Oh, would you silence with your incessant need to be clever for once, you foolish human?” Connor snapped, though the volume in his voice did not change. More irritated than angry as he was putting more effort into trying to explain himself than in maintaining his anger. “You humans spend decades wandering and bumbling around and you call that a life. We have to take a longer view. So, we want stability.”

            As per usual, the detective was unaffected by his poor attitude. Raising an eyebrow, she paused while she was polishing the weapon she was currently working on. “And you’re saying you have that? That you have had that?”

            Blinking at her for a moment, the scaled deity shifted positions idly as he continued to speak. “I do.” He replied, easily. Of course he had stability. His village has had stability separated from the rest of the world’s chaos thanks to him. The fact that she would even question that was ludicrous, but for now, he let it go. “As this land’s protector, I have strength and I have always had strength. The strength to enforce a stable environment.” He paused, searching for the right way to explain his position. “Strength can fight wars, yes. But it can also build a shelter.” He then fixed her with an inquisitive look in his reptile-like eyes. “Are you following me?”

            “Just wandering and bumbling around.” Rachel replied, with a little bit of good humour to lighten the mood just the slightest bit. “Smaller shapes are better than big ones, Connor. And from what I understand about nagas, they typically want more than just weatherproof shelters.”

            “But it all comes from that virtue, don’t you see?” The naga replied back with, tilting his head at her with narrowed eyes.

            At that, Rachel shook her head. Seemed she had a much different take on things than he did. “Strength and power are different.” She deflected once more. “You claim to want strength. To maintain strength. To embody strength. But what you seek and consume is power. You consolidate and hold power. You embody power.”

            And there she went, assuming things about him once more. But he was honestly too tired to be angry with her. This entire exchange had exhausted him and he just wanted it to be over. “That was what my father did. What my father wanted.” He said, looking down at the stray bits of gold, armour, and weaponry strewn about on the ground before him. The naga reached down to fiddle at one of his coins, turning it over with his claws and more or less just moving it around out of boredom. “Which is…what ultimately ruined my life.”

            Looking down at his unfinished wine glass, Connor took another sip from it, looking at his own reflection. A mirror opposite from his father. His father, pearlescent evil and himself iridescent midnight that struck him down and took his place and made a home out of what was once Hell on Earth. And it all came from the desire for power. It never seemed to be enough for his father. He never seemed satisfied. “Power…” The sapphire naga hissed, bitterness coating the syllables. “Big, all-encompassing, projected power…is something else. It lends you more might, but it doesn’t have the utilities of strength. It lays eggs in you and it becomes a parasite you have to feed. Power does nothing but eat.”

            Connor continued to stare down into his glass of wine, but Rachel stared at the naga wide-eyed. A realization was forming in her mind as she stared absolutely speechless, putting a hand to her mouth as pieces started to put themselves together. Conclusions were being drawn, and the next sentence she would speak would have the weight of worlds behind them.

            “Like a naga…?”

            Only then did Connor look her directly in the eye. For a moment, and a moment alone, they were perfect mirrors of each other as the realization of his very nature, his very sense of self, was upended and recontextualized. Put in a new light that neither of them had been previously able to put to words. Both in the short time that the detective had known him and the centuries that Connor had been alive.

            Looking back down at his glass of wine, the scowl on Connor’s face was evident. He wasn’t just angry. Not at her. He was just…angry. In the cold, bitter, and heavy way that one was angry when their worldview was pulled out from beneath them.

            “Like…a naga.” He repeated, taking one last drink from his wine glass before his grip tightened on it and the glass shattered against the cave wall. He didn’t raise his voice.

            In fact, the detective was certain that that was the quietest she’d ever heard him speak.

[purplesurveys]

771

Have you ever known anyone who was homeless? I don’t think so. Families here are always willing to take in their less fortunate relatives, and being homeless is usually the case for only the poorest of the poorest of the poor. I don’t think I know anyone from that sector.

Do you watch movies with the subtitles on? Yes. I have to, I’m horrible at following any foreign accent. Some English speakers will sometimes speak too fast or mumble their words, which can be such an inconvenience for me sometimes. Did you have a treehouse when you were younger? I didn’t. Most trees here have red ants and have never really been treehouse-friendly, sadly. Sports: Would you rather watch them or play them? Watch. Feels so nice to watch and cheer for your favorites with people who like the sport as much as you do. If you were a journalist, what types of stories would you want to cover? Finally a survey question that directly concerns my degree, hahaha. I loved doing situationers more than anything, meaning to say I never liked the fieldwork part of journalism but I enjoyed the hell out of doing research. Situationers are basically research-heavy outputs that will bring readers up to speed on a current hot topic - it can be anything from an extensive timeline, an in-depth analysis, a data-centric explainer, etc.

But if we’re strictly talking stories, I would love to cover marginalized groups and give them a voice. I once had to cover an informal settlement that was in danger of displacement after a corporation bought their land to build a casino/mall complex. That was my favorite story to write, and I would love to cover similar bases like labor issues, plight of the LGBTs, indigenous people, etc. if given the chance.

Do you think American Idol is rigged? They had some super unfair eliminations in the past that made me think it was rigged, yeah. I remember reading a bit from wrestler Chris Jericho’s memoir where he says he got eliminated from a dance show he once got to be in because the producers felt that there were too many male contestants, and the they simply picked him to be eliminated even though he had been doing  well. After reading that, I started thinking most competition shows do the same practice.

Have you ever participated in any type of medical study? No. Psychological studies, yes; but I don’t think I’ve joined anything medical in nature. Do you believe humans should have the option to be euthanized? Sure, though I think it should only be kept as an option for ultimate cases, like if someone with a terminal illness was due to pass any day. It shouldn’t be like an appointment that can be very easily fixed up for anyone. Have you ever taken a road trip with no destination in mind? No. Gas is too expensive for that privilege lmao. Do you give good directions? Not at all. Use Waze, man. I get confused when I’m at campus and someone rolls down their windows to ask me how to get to a certain building like...everything is Waze-able now dude... What do you think of when I say the word 'lumberjack'? Lumberjack matches in pro wrestling. Have you ever lied about your weight? Why? I don’t think so. I never really had to. Do you know how to do the Macarena? I know some steps but I wouldn’t be able to do the entire sequence. Have you ever tripped over one of your pets? Yessssss Kimi is scattered everywhere all the time lol. It doesn’t help that our floor is white and he is white. He’s always a good sport about it though. Have you ever been stuffed into your locker? No. Our lockers aren’t the tall, vertical type; they look more like cubbyholes, so it’ll be impossible to put a person in one of them. Can you make another person blush easily? Just my girlfriend. I’m not interested in making others blush. What would you change about the way your parents raised you? Like, if I myself got to be a parent? I’d definitely be more invested with my own kid - read to them before bed, have mom-kid days with them where the two of us would have dinner or do something else to bond together, be all ears when they tell me something they’re excited about, or support them when they find a new talent or hobby. I’d want to make my kid feel super loved and that they matter. My parents weren’t bad ones; they just didn’t form an emotional connection with me which in reality is just as important as being able to provide. Do you have to look perfect before you go out to the store? I don’t always have to be perfect; just acceptable. What is your state's motto? The motto has the city’s name in it, so no thanks. Are there any holidays that you feel are completely pointless? I was never a fan of the holidays that exclusively celebrate family members, like Mother’s Day. There are toxic moms or dads or grandparents that get completely overlooked during holidays like those and I feel like it’s unfair to those who have to live with those toxic relatives. Then again, maybe I just feel this way because I have an abusive mom and Mother’s Day is always hell on earth for me. Also why wait a year to celebrate the good ones? Do it everyday. Have you ever gone to work with one or both of your parents? Yes. There were a few times when my mom brought us to her workplace. What is the funnest sport that you got to play in P.E. class? Other than table tennis which I already play, futsal was fun. It was during that quarter I discovered that my foot-eye coordination wasn’t bad at all. Have you mastered the plastic guitar yet (Rock Band, Guitar Hero)? Never. I can never get my fingers to work properly in games like those. What is one cause you know you'll ALWAYS support? LGBT rights. What animals creep you out? Cockroaches. Have you ever done a walk/run for a charity or similar cause? I haven’t. It’d be fun to join at least one sometime, though! Do you like the smell of gasoline? I'm not addicted but like I wouldn’t be bothered if my window was down and I was able to smell it. When was the last time you had a piggyback ride? A couple of years ago. Have you ever owned or used a telescope? Yeah I got to use one to look at the moon at our Grade 7 stargazing activity. Do you have to see or witness certain phenomenons to believe them? Bingo. Do you know/remember what Shrinky-Dinks are? I am literally only hearing about them now. We didn’t have that here. Do you talk to store clerks like you know them? Noooooo and I really prefer they don’t talk to me or follow me around. In your town, are a lot of stores closed on Sundays? No. In fact pop-up stalls or bazaars are active on Sundays since that’s the day most families go out. Do you dislike song remixes? Yes. When was the last time you hula-hooped? January at Rita’s place, because they have a hula hoop. Have you ever played Magic: The Gathering? Nope. What are your thoughts on role playing games? Not a fan. But then again that’s me with most video games in general lol. Do you get an adrenaline rush just from watching videos of roller coasters? No, I get sick to my stomach and have to face away from the screen haha. Do you like watching shows that deal with forensics? If they’re documentaries, yes. But I don’t watch shows like Bones or CSI. Do you want to have a bachelor/bachelorette party before you get married? I’m whatever about it. If I have one or if my friends plan one for me, I wouldn’t want anything too wild. Ever been texted by mistake and played along & acted like you knew them? No, I tell them immediately it’s a wrong number so that they stop bothering me. Would you ever get a name tattooed on you? Initials, yes. Not a full name. If you could have unnatural colored eyes, what color(s) would you choose? Does green count? It’s unnatural in Filipino/Asian terms lol. It’d be nice to have olive eyes. Do you always remember your dreams? No. If I wanted to remember them, I’d have to log them down somewhere. Who is your favorite late night talk show host? Jimmy Fallon only because he keeps inviting Robert Irwin back on his show and he’s the best talk show guest ever. Do your parents dress like they're years younger? Does it gross you out? My dad does. It’s nothing to shame a parent about. Do you know who Seth MacFarlane is? Yes. Do you try on clothes in dressing rooms and take pictures? No. I feel weird about wearing something for fun and just returning it haha as a bit of a germaphobe. If I go inside a fitting room it has to be because I’m interested in possibly buying a piece of clothing. What is a band you can't stop listening to right now? Not really listening to bands these days. I have been listening to Hayley Williams a great deal, though.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Oblivion

Part Nine: You Can Get There With Me

A/N: Juliet’s plan is underway as you and Logan leave everything behind. This is the “official” end to this series. (unofficially, there’s an epilogue already in the works.) Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who read or commented, and to everyone who gave me feedback and helped me get through this train wreck. Y’all rock. 

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide/self harm, mentions of drug use/ overdose, physical abuse 

Word Count: 4,531

“So you’re telling me,” Erik paced the luxury suite with his phone attached to his ear, a scowl ruining the mask he wore for meetings and negotiations, “that my wife is missing in the park? I told you where to look! I told you to check the chapel, I-”

 You’d been talking in your sleep the night before your trip, mumbling about a chapel... about getting to the chapel and to him. Erik’s lip curled in the dark as he lay awake listening to your dreams, listening to where you two had planned to meet. He wasted no time in telling his contact at the park to monitor you, to give you a head start so you wouldn’t catch wise like you had when you and Logan had run from the Sweetwater Inn, and then to apprehend you and bring you safely and inconspicuously back to HQ. He thought it was airtight- he knew a location, knew you’d be holed up there for three days, and knew you’d be with Logan. He needed to catch you two together, needed to catch you red-handed so he could make his demands and have a reason to. He was berating his security contact, asking what was so hard about finding you when he’d given him the location, told him where to send Angela, when he was cut off by the man’s response.

 “Sir, there are seven chapels inside Westworld. We’ve sent the Host Unit in question out to all seven locations, and it has covered at least five of them, but your wife hasn’t been found yet.”

 “Well get to those other fucking locations!” He was vibrating with anger, his tone somewhere between dangerous growl and hysterical scream. “Find her!” He hung up as the man on the other line apologized profusely, promising to find you. He loosened his tie and stalked across the room to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a hefty measure of gin with the smallest splash of tonic. Throwing the drink back, he tried to drown out the unease of your seeming disappearance. She’s up to something. She thinks she’s going to win. No one beats Erik Speer. He slammed the empty tumbler on the marble countertop and resumed pacing, phone in hand, waiting for the call that said that you’d been found. He knew he couldn’t go after Logan, not while his last name was Delos, but that you were fair game. I was generous before. But that’s over now. He decided right then and there, as he poured a second drink, that not only were you done in the park, but that he’d go through with his threats to send you away if you gave him any trouble about it. More trouble than she’s worth, he thought, though he knew it wasn’t true- your marriage had made him one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, the world, even. He knocked back the second drink and sunk into a plush armchair by the window, staring out towards the park. Where the fuck are you?

 .  . .  .  .  .  . .  .

 Logan kept his hand firmly secured around yours, fingers locked together as the two of you followed your silent guide across the sand. You’d left your horses, the Ghost Nation Host giving them each a slap on the rear to send them running- you’d be faster on horseback, but also easier to spot from a distance if someone were looking for you, and chances were good that someone was. The sun was relentless in its heat and intensity, beating down to bake you both. Logan looked over his shoulder to see that the chapel had vanished, leaving only the shimmering desert in your wake. Sweat dripped down his forehead into his eyes as you reached the hour mark in your trek, but he’d gladly walk to the ends of the Earth on the surface of the sun if it meant that the two of you would be free. Wiping his brow with the elbow of his free arm, he looked down to where your hands were linked. He could feel your nervous energy coming through your skin, buzzing around you like an aura, and he tightened his grasp. You looked up at him and gave him a small, hopeful smile, your forehead dripping, too, a few strands of your hair plastered to your face. I’d do anything for her...to be with her...she’s...she’s everything. He returned your smile and reached over to move the hair away from your eyes.

 He knew it couldn’t be much farther, not according to the plan that Juliet had laid out, and his heart increased it’s already rapid beat in anticipation of getting to the service tunnel. Gotta be close now...just have to keep going. He let his mind wander back to when his sister first shared her plan with him on the night of the gala.

 He’d been pacing the small balcony outside his bedroom, his sister calmly sitting cross-legged on the stone railing as she lit the cigarette that was held in her thin fingers. “Jul...this is...that’s crazy, though!” He exhaled incredulously, pushing his hair back with both hands and clutching his skull as though trying to keep his racing thoughts inside his brain. “We’re not...we aren’t there yet...the technology isn’t…”

 “We are there, Logan. Trust me,” She took a puff and let out a cloud of smoke against the black night. “I’m working on the designs and code myself.”

 Logan stopped pacing and spun to face her, arching one eyebrow and dropping his mouth open. “You...what? Jul. No. You’ll get caught, Dad will-”

 Juliet stood with a roll of her eyes. “Dad will do nothing because he’ll never find out. He doesn’t watch me like a hawk like he does with you. I fly so low under his radar...I bet he’s even forgotten that I’m a damn good engineer. Not exactly a highly desired skill in the marriage market.” Another eye roll and a scoff as she took another drag of her cigarette, leaving the perfect imprint of her plum lipstick on the filter. “And Damien will help us…” Her voice cracked so slightly on the name that someone other than Logan wouldn’t have noticed. He knew that Juliet had a secret affair with one of the programmers, knew that it had been going on for years and that it was more than just a fling. He knew that she loved Damien and that she was only biding her time until she could figure out a way to be with him...He knew that she was putting her own happiness and her own love and her own life on hold for him. He gave her a look that was full of gratitude and sympathy, full of secret sibling promises and trust.

 “Jul...you’ll get out of this too...you have to...promise me you’ll-”

 “Logan, focus.” She reached out and gripped his shoulder. “I’ll figure out what to do about Dad and William… and Damien... later. Right now...right now we need to talk about you.” She shook her head. “I won’t watch you destroy yourself slowly, Logan. I can’t. So this needs to happen. Now. Listen.”

 He was about to say something else but the sharp look in his sister’s eye, illuminated by the ring of burning paper between her lips stopped him, and he stood stock still as she explained everything, ready with answers for all of his questions. Yes, with just a strand of hair or a drop of sweat we’d have enough DNA to make a convincing copy. No, the fidelity testing wouldn’t be an issue- yes, even with the short turnaround time.

 “But what about the trials? All the copies have broken down...deteriorated...malfunctioned over time…”

 “No one expects much of either of you, Logan. We don’t need these copies functioning at a very high level, in fact…” she let out a breath and her bravado faltered only for a second. “In fact...we need them to deteriorate…” She flinched and tried to cover it by bringing the cigarette in front of her mouth, but Logan saw, and he understood- the copies would be programmed to self destruct...in the same ways that you and he would have, had you not found one another.

 “But...after…” he choked- after your copy ended things and his copy poisoned itself- “After...they’ll know. They’ll see. At the morgue or medical examiner or...I don’t know the fuckin’ doctor...they’ll know and then they’ll come after us and…”

 She shook her head. “No they won’t Logan. You think the great James Delos or the proud Erik Speer are going to want it to get out that they’d been duped by their own fuckbots?” she laughed, humorless and cold. “No way. They’ll deny any foul play. They’ll decline to comment and claim that they need to grieve in peace or some bullshit. They’ll use private doctors and they’ll pay anything they have to to keep the story that gets published one that makes them look like saints. Logan.” She stood directly in front of him, demanding his attention. “Trust me. I’ve thought this all through. It will work. Now, here’s what we’re going to do…” She’d gone on to outline the plan top to bottom. The two of you would wait in the chapel for a guide who would deliver a coded message so that it was sure he could be trusted. Logan had suggested using a quote from The Tempest, knowing that it would put you at ease, that it would be so unmistakably trustworthy that you wouldn’t even question it. The guide would lead you both to a service tunnel, where Juliet and Damien would be waiting with the copies. She explained that she’d code them so that you would be Logan’s copy’s cornerstone, that he would be yours, but that ultimately neither of them would do anything to defy a human command until the internal conflict of obedience and love broke them to pieces. Logan’s copy would be programmed so that Host gunfire did nothing- “You’ll still be expected to go to the park...show people around, make deals...fuck off…” she smirked on that last line. “So I’ll make sure your copy can take a bullet or two without bleeding out or spilling gears everywhere.”

 “You...you can do that?” Logan was stunned and awed by the thoroughness of the plan she’d laid out.

 Juliet’s eyes rolled as she tilted her head. “Of course I can, Logan, come on, don’t tell me you forgot how fucking brilliant I am like Dad. I could code them to do whatever the fuck I want.” She laughed and elbowed him in the ribs softly. “I’ve got you, big brother. It’s going to work. I promise.”

 There was no one in the world that he trusted more than his sister, aside from you, and nothing that he wanted more than for the plan to work. “Okay...okay. Where will we go?”

 “Still working that part out, but...I have an idea. Don’t worry about it now. On the day, I’ll have everything ready.” She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, holding her cigarette off to the side as she hugged him with one skinny arm. “I love you, Logan. I’m not letting this fall through.”

 Logan responded to the embrace instantly. “Jul…” he reciprocated her kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

 She tossed her cigarette butt over the balcony to give him a proper hug. “Thank me by living your life, okay?”

 With his hand securely around yours, heading towards the unknown, Logan couldn’t think of a better way to start thanking her.

 .  . .  .  .  .  . .

 Every step in the orange sand was one step closer to forever. Every breath of hot, dry, stagnant air was one less constricted breath, one breath closer to the deep refreshing relief of leaving your world behind you, and starting a new one with Logan. You looked over at him again. You’d been doing so every few minutes, as though checking to make sure he was still there. Even as you felt his knobby knuckles locked tightly between your own, even as you heard his breathing, felt the sand shift beside you with his footsteps, you had to be sure that he was there...that something or someone wouldn’t snatch him from you and leave you to die, to let the mechanized vultures pick at your fragile bones. But there he was. In the sunlight he looked younger, his skin less pale, his hair a warmer shade of brown. He looked like someone who could be happy, someone who could thrive and laugh and grow and live. Your heart flipped. I get to be there for all of that. I get to be with him.

 A smooth, rounded red rock loomed ahead, the ground seemingly glimmering around it from the heat. Your throat tightened and so did your grip on Logan’s hand as you realized that this was it- the entrance to the service tunnel...it’s in that rock… Your guide stopped in front of the formation, turning to wait for you and Logan to catch up.

“We’re here…” Logan breathed the words so quietly they almost evaporated. He quickly pulled the hand he’d been holding up to his lips to kiss the back of it before looking down at you and saying it again, louder this time. “We’re here.”

 “Yeah, Logan,” your throat was so tight it was hard to form words and your eyes watered with involuntary tears. “We are. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 You both took long strides until you reached the rock, where your guide pressed its hand against a smooth area that you realized was a release for the door. A portion of the rockface slid down into the ground, some sand slipping into the opening. Stepping aside, your guide stood motionless awaiting instruction. You peered nervously inside the darkened corridor. Where’s Juliet? Why is it so dark? Your heart hammered and your head filled with white noise. You looked questioningly up at Logan.

 “It’s okay...she’ll be here any minute.” He nodded and trained his gaze on the downward slope of the hallway inside the rock. “Juliet says she’s gonna do something, she does it. I know it.”

 His reassurance was all you needed. You let out a long breath and steadied your heart rate, and within seconds you heard the tell-tale click of stilettos that always seemed to precede Logan’s sister. Beside her was a park employee- Damien, Logan had told you that was his name- a programmer who could be trusted. You sucked in a breath as your eyes fell on the two figures behind them: exact replicas of yourself and the man beside you. It was not at all like looking in a mirror. It was like being outside of your body and watching yourself dream. It had your hair- every wave and curl and highlight. It had your eyes- every fleck of color, every ounce of sadness. It had your lips and your elbows, it had your teeth and your knees. It was you. It had your scars and your freckles and… oh...shit...

 Logan was staring at his copy with the same shock written all over his face that you’d just felt. “Goddamn, Jul, they’re...it’s...holy fuck!” He was dumbfounded.

 “I told you I was brilliant,” Juliet smirked. It gave way to a wink. “But come on now, we can’t just stand here and chat. We have to move so these two,” she cocked her head at the silent copies, “can go get caught fucking somewhere so the bastards will think they’ve won.”

 Logan chuckled and tugged on your hand to follow Juliet back down the hallway she’d just come from, but you dug your feet into the dirt and tugged back. You needed to share the realization you’d just had...about all the perfect ways the Host copy of you had been replicated...and the one imperfect thing that it lacked.  

 “Logan, wait,” you reached up with your other hand and gripped the crook of his elbow tightly, fingers digging into the fibrous cotton until you could feel the muscles and tendons of his arm.

 He instantly turned when he felt the urgency in your touch, eyes wide and alert. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” He reached for you but you shook your head which only increased his concern, eyebrows coming together, tongue darting out to wet his lips, suddenly as dry as his mouth and the desert that surrounded you.

 Juliet turned when she heard Logan’s panicked questions, eyes falling to his arm where you were still clutching it. “What’s going on? We have to go, we need to get you out of here as quickly as possible and-” she was using her executive tone, but faltered when you cut her off, blinking as you silenced her.

 “No, listen!” She stopped gaping at you and arched one brow. Logan took advantage of your brief interaction with his sister to reach out for you again, and he raked his long fingers through your hair until they curled behind your neck. He ran his pinky up and down soothingly against your skin. You looked up at him and knew that you were about to break his heart, but it would pass, and you had to say this for the plan to work. “She...it doesn’t have bruises, Logan...I’m… I’m covered and Erik will know… we have to…” your breaths were coming quickly, heart pulsing anxiously as you realized just how dangerous this plan actually was, if a few missing bruises could derail it completely. I caught this one, but… You shook the thoughts from your mind, focus, damnit, you castigated yourself.

 You saw the realization happen behind Logan’s eyes, saw a range of emotions working and trading places in those deep dark depths. Anger, anxiety, sadness...He squeezed them shut and took three breaths through his nose before opening them again. “Fuck,” he exhaled the word, eyes narrowing as his face fell. He turned to Juliet. “I can’t...Jul...I can’t do it.”

 She was already pulling out a control pad, punching things into it with her tongue poking out between her lips. “Got it,” she said, eyes still fixed on the screen as the raven-haired Host covered in war paint came into the tunnel. Where before he looked like a blank slate, now you saw aggression in his eyes and though you knew that the Hosts were programmable, it was another thing to see the flip switched like that in front of you. It approached the copies, and Damien stepped aside to let it pass. You felt your heart plummet through your stomach as, horrified, you watched the Logan copy try to protect the frightened replica of yourself. You felt Logan’s hand clamp even more tightly around your own as he pulled you to him and tucked his face into your hair.

 “It’s not real, Logan, it’s okay, it’s not really me.” You whispered as you slipped your hand out of his and held him as he tried to block out the sounds of your screams being mimicked, the sound of his own voice trying to plead with your copy’s attacker, trying to fight it off. Damien pulled out another control pad and with just a few strokes he froze the Logan copy and silenced the one of you so that the job could be done with as little emotional impact as possible, but it was too late for that. You felt Logan shaking against your body. “Hey, shh,” you felt him press you closer, felt your bones right against his. “It’s okay, Logan. It’s done. It’s over.” It was. Your bruises had been very convincingly recreated, but more than that, you’d never suffer them again. “It’s over, Logan. He can’t hurt me anymore.” You knew that he hated the fact that Erik had ever touched you at all, let alone that he’d done the things that he’d done to you over the years, knew that it was part of what had triggered this reaction.

 “I’ll never hurt you,” he promised, untucking himself from the curtain of your hair, pressing his lips to the corner of your eye. “Never.”

 “I know,” you said and offered him a smile.

 Juliet cleared her throat, simultaneously closing her control pad. She’d entered new commands for all three Hosts; the Native American chief straightened up and went blank again, exiting the tunnel. The copies resumed motion, the Logan copy immediately wrapping the sobbing version of yourself in its arms. “Erase that memory, please, Damien,” Juliet softly requested. Damien nodded, a knowing look in his tawny eyes. You watched as the copies relaxed, their faces changing from pain and anguish to warmth and delight. They laced their fingers together and, like your former guide, exited the tunnel, journeying to their destination: oblivion.

 When Erik demanded things, they wouldn’t be from you anymore. When James tore open old wounds, they wouldn’t be in Logan’s heart anymore. When you cried yourself to sleep, when you drank yourself sick, when you’d be found in a pool of blood...it wouldn’t be you. When Logan took William to the park, when he was left naked, alone and tied to a horse to cook in the unforgiving sun, when he finally took too much...it wouldn’t be him.

 You hugged Juliet tightly as you cried into her shoulder, thanking her over and over for making this possible. “Just take care of each other,” she’d answered between tears of her own. “Take care of him.”

 .  . .  .  .  .  . .  .  .

  It had been a long drive- a couple days, taking back roads and switching cars at certain checkpoints mapped out by Juliet. You were lightheaded and dizzy with the euphoria of having done it, having left and not been followed or found, having escaped with Logan so you’d both be safe and free, unencumbered by the things that smothered and suffocated you. When he finally pulled in front of the cabin, you had to shake yourself out of the delerium. He beamed at you from the driver’s seat. He looked tired from the road, but happier than you’d ever seen him, and you thought you could fly. You got out of the car and immediately came around to his side, both of you taking in the sight before you.

 It was something time forgot, stones pulled right from the lakeshore, logs chopped down from the forest that it was tucked up against. You froze in your tracks and took a deep breath that wavered in your throat. Beside you, Logan was standing just as stunned, just as still. The sky above was endlessly blue, reflected perfectly in the pristine mirror of Lake Louise, making it seem bottomless. Trees climbed the sides of jagged gray rocks to try to scrape the few delicate clouds, their deep green peaks swaying in the breeze. It was like a work of art; like if you reached out to touch the rough bark of a tree or the slippery surface of a rounded stone, your hand would come away wet with thick, rich oil paint. The scenery was breathtaking, with no shortage of places to look. But it wasn’t the forest or the lake, it wasn’t the mountains in the distance, capped in pure white glittery snow that caused your eyes to swim and your soul to stir. Your gaze was locked on the plain, simple wooden front door of the cabin. That’s our front door. This is our…

 Logan’s fingers reached for yours, finding them and tangling them together until he held your palm in his. You squeezed his hand and he responded by pulling you closer to him and spinning your body until you were chest to chest, only air between you. His eyes were just as black as they always were, but when he looked down at you now you could see that all of the darkness was gone from them, replaced with a spark that was new to you. That spark lit your heart, and you couldn’t contain a breathy little sound from falling from your lips. He raised his free hand and, almost tentatively, as though he were touching you for the first time, seeing you for the first time, he brought it to your cheek, fingertips spreading into your hair. He wet his lips before they stretched into a slight smile, an involuntary sigh that echoed yours slipping out in the form of your name.

 “We’re home, Logan...this is our home.” You tingled head to toe as you said the words, barely able to speak loudly enough for him to hear.

 He shook his head slowly, thumb coming up to swipe a tear from your eye that you hadn’t even felt. “You’re my home,” he said. “You.” He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, his fingers in your hair curving against your scalp. Your hand came up to wrap around his wrist as he continued. “We could be anywhere, and if I’m with you, I’d be home. That’s our house...where we’ll live….but this,” he let go of your hand to bring both of his to your face. “This is home,” he said, opening his eyes and pulling back to look into yours. “My whole life...all of it, I’ve been trying to find something...trying to be something, trying to...to make my father proud, to be the person everyone expected me to be…” He softly traced his fingertips down one side of your face and you fought with everything in you not to let your eyes fall shut beneath his touch, to keep them open and on his so that you could see everything that he was feeling as he spoke. “But what I was really looking for...what I was really chasing… it wasn’t a title, or money or a high...it was you.”

 He brought his face to yours, tilting his head so that the bridge of his nose brushed against yours as his light touch traveled down your neck and shoulders, down your arms and around to your back before pulling you closer, before finding your lips with his own in a kiss that was different from any you’d had before. When his tongue entered your mouth is was slow and meaningful and left you whimpering down his throat. When his hands came back to your neck, to your face, they were gentle and tender and they painted your entire body with goosebumps. Your eyes fell shut and his did, too, both of you lost in your first kiss in the great wide open of your new found freedom. When it finally ended you leaned into Logan’s chest and he tucked you under his arm. With a smile that could rearrange the stars, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come on, beautiful, lets go check out that balcony.”

 Breathless, you let him lead you toward the cabin, toward the rest of your life. “Logan?”

 “Hmm?” The gravel crunched softly under your feet.

 “I love you.”

@something-tofightfor @my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @ms-delos @ymariejp @obscurilicious @belladonnarey

[maevelin]

Do you not like how the pregnancy plot was used in acofas as a plot or because you feel that babies don't belong to that universe?

Well I do feel that concepts of immortality don’t go very well with pregnancy tropes but it depends on how a universe truly works and how a writer makes it work. In the ACoTaR universe it is established that even though pregnancy is not an easy thing to happen it is not an impossibility. And given the established population and the familial relationships we have seen this is not out of the norm for this world and the concept of immortality does have its limitations obviously.

My problem was how this was used as a plot and how it affected the female character. We had Feyre making a big deal about certain things in the trilogy and in ACoFaS, things that mattered to her characterization but ultimately were negated by default. This is what happens with SJM’s writing and it couldn’t be more obvious in ACoFaS. 

For example we get the story of the weaver lady in ACoFaS right? We have the void and the hope that inspired Feyre and I was staring at what I was reading wondering if SJM actually forgot what she wrote in ACoWaR because what she was doing was so contradictory. She aimed for the profound message and I was there rolling my eyes because SHE MADE SURE FOR THAT TO NOT FREAKING COUNT.

So Feyre understands the weaver’s loss and decides to have a child because in case that Rhysand would die like the weaver’s mate did she would not have anything left to remember him by and I was like…anyone remembers the suicide pact? The weaver lady was indeed someone to lead an example and was strong and kept on living and grieved and mourned but did not let that grief destroy her and she found hope in the darkness and ultimately was everything Feyre was not. If anything that story line highlighted the weakness of the main characters. We had the survivors of the war and the attack, people that lost their beloved ones and kept on living and turned on their High Lords for support but if we place that mirror against Feyre and Rhysand what do we get in return? They would never be like those people would they? Because when push would come to shove they would just quit life because they wouldn’t be able to handle the loss. It is just so problematic. Too much love is poison indeed as Rhysand has once said. It turns ugly. And it tainted what SJM was trying to preach in ACoFaS. The weaver was admirable for sure. We didn’t see her taking her life because she lost the love of her life did we? No. And Feyre was inspired by this and made it a big deal when the message SJM promoted in the previous book about her female lead was…if the one you love dies go on an die with them. 

So can anyone explain to me using simple logic what was the point of Feyre deciding to have a child so to have something of Rhysand when with their pact the only thing left would be an orphan child without having anything to remember their parents by because they were idiots and committed suicide because they formed a completely toxic codependent relationship?

The weaver plot with the tapestry and the gift and all that leading to Feyre’s decision were literally completely pointless because SJM made them be pointless by default. How is that a motivation for Feyre when she does not have to worry about it given the moronic bargain she made with her mate? And how is it possible that at no point her mind actually made that connection? A bargain mind you that was created in a post traumatic period for both Feyre and Rhysand and the writer made it all seem ‘romantic’? And how did that tie in in ACoFaS? There was no logic or consistency and it really cheapened the whole thing. It would work with how things were presented in ACoWaR up to a point. If SJM had stopped before that pact in the end it would actually be one of the few saving graces of the book. If she knew where to stop that is. With Rhysand’s intentions for self sacrifice for example while he wanted to ensure Feyre’s survival even in the expense of his own life. This was his goal, this was his motivation. For those he loved and for Feyre in particular to survive even if he had to die fighting for them and for that endgame. It was heroic, it was noble. It made sense with who Rhysand was revealed to be in ACoMaF. And on the other end I was not expecting anything less from Feyre either. This is what you do when you love someone. You want them to live and have a good life even if you can’t be there. And it would also show that life does not come with guarantees even for immortals so every day is meant to cherished with those you love as if it is the last because it very well could be and there are examples for that. And if one is gone then the other lives on and should live life to the full extent not just for them but also in honor of those that they lost that would live through them. That is how you honor a memory and a love story either it has a happy ending or not. And the plot with the weaver would tie in perfectly with that. Only it doesn’t now does it? Because the last pages of ACoWaR and the closure for Feysand’s story there ensured that. Now going around in circles around that is a parody really. Senseless.

And putting all that aside let us focus on Feyre and the timeline here. Let us see how this baby plot fits in Feyre’s story and all the points ACoMaF had made? One of the best parts of ACoMaF was that it subverted certain tropes only for ACoFaS to come like a badly written fanfiction and demolish all that progress. Everything in this story happened in what? A year? Two? More or less. So in that extremely small amount of time you get a girl that has been through hell and went through extremely traumatic situations that affected her mentally and emotionally and made life changing decisions that contradict everything she seemed to have wanted when she was recovering from depression and PTSD. 

In the end of the day you have a very VERY young inexperienced girl that was deprived of kindness and basic care in her whole life and has gone through some very traumatic events in the span of 2 years that are bound to affect her perception of the world and those that surround her. Someone throws her a crumb of kindness and they become perfect in her eyes to the point she glamorizes them beyond logic because she is starving for affection. She is starving to have a loving family. She is starving to be loved and cherished and appreciated. So she just jumps in. With a guy that is 500 years old. That has lived his life. That is also recovering from severe trauma. This is where their relationship is based on and how it is shaped. They don’t think clearly. They are still healing. They gave themselves no time to even see if their relationship can stand in time (outside the concepts of mates and with having immortality looming over them). And there is nothing wrong with people wanting to get things they have been deprived of and chase those dreams till they would make them come true. But at least in stories we should get the gradual development that would get us there and not an abrupt conclusion that counters the progress that was made - in entire books- and the progress that was used as a central axis for the characterization of the characters.

With Tamlin for example such a future and so soon for Feyre was a nightmarish terror. Even Rhysand made it sound like that when he was trying to show her how restricting such a life was and couldn’t understand the rush of it all. You put the basics of Tamlin’s expectations with what we are seeing with Rhysand and Feyre and if you strip the storylines down to their core you see alarming similarities. Excluding the abuse of course. But in the sense of a certain lifestyle that Feyre abhorred and suddenly lives on ACoFaS but somehow this is a dream coming true now. With Tamlin the exact same thing when Feyre was in love with him was still something she didn’t want and for good reason but in the span of months this changes all of the sudden and with Rhysand it becomes perfection when she has not been able to achieve the dreams she had before. But what about Feyre as a unique personality outside her romantic interests? So the only difference in the end is the male she is so her life is regulated only as her worth is defined as a love interest in the narrative? The world is a big place and Feyre still has no idea of it. She does not even fully understand the concept of her Fae nature and of immortality yet. She has not even experienced or enjoyed what she has with Rhysand and their bond either. Feyre in ACoMaF had said she wanted time. Said she didn’t want to become a decorative piece while the High Lord would be active and she would be there to basically breed children, sign letters and host dinners and have people serving her while she would be there to be the rich wife. Does that -especially after ACoFaS- sound familiar? And her not wanting children in the near future was something that was discussed in ACoMaF and it was a big decision and Rhysand respected it. It gave a certain depth in their relationship but also in Feyre’s character that wanted to grow and mature before she would be a mother and a wife. She wanted time to live, to love, to be herself, to be with Rhysand and so on. She wanted independence and to mature. And here we are so soon after and everything is once more negated. 

Not to mention that this feels manipulative in a way. There is the mate bond that is influencing Feyre’s emotions to a big extent and not to mention that she has  already seen the image of her future son which is also influencing her decisions.

And it is just so… simplistic. To take an interesting plot that was one of the parts that made ACoMaF so successful and to erase it completely for no reason just a few books later. This is a pattern that keeps repeating really. SJM makes a certain point, hypes it and then erases it. So what was the point of making it in the first place? More so when she is planning for an extended universe that will stretch far beyond the original trilogy and she could give this later on in a time frame that would make sense.

And I get it when fans that like a ship want such things for their dream couple. And I mean…this is what fanfiction is for. And on the other end I understand and respect when a writer wants to deliver to the fans what they want. It is a great thing to want to please your fans that have supported you and your writing like this and with so much passion. But I feel that it should not come to the expense of your writing to this degree and I am sure that this could have been handled much better and with a more consistent writing that would make the delivery make sense without being so contradictory, sloppy, and messy. You can honor the fans while still remaining true to the story and what made the characters and their dynamic so alluring to the fans in the first place. Those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive. 

[douxreviews]

Travelers - Season Two Review

Travelers is about people from a far flung and terrible future who have chosen to have their consciousness transferred into the bodies of 21st century individuals who are about to die. Working in teams of five, each with a specialty, their Grand Plan is to use their knowledge and skills to actively change the future into something better. Travelers stars Nesta Cooper as tactician Carly Shannon; Eric McCormack as team leader Grant MacLaren; Jared Abrahamson as engineer Trevor Holden; MacKenzie Porter as medic Marcy Warton; and Reilly Dolman as historian Philip Pearson.

This series is my cup of television tea. It effectively combines time travel shenanigans with the extreme difficulties involved in masquerading as another person. I particularly like how the lead characters must balance using their own judgment when carrying out their assigned missions while also making every day decisions about how to carry out the lives of their hosts. When done well, this sort of thing can make for intriguing and enjoyable drama, and Travelers does it well.

Season one was good. Season two is even better. And here is where I will insert the standard spoiler warning in the form of a spoiler kitten: if you haven't seen season two yet and you plan to get around to it, may I suggest that you bookmark this review and come back later?

Arguably, the biggest unanswered mysteries of season one were (1) who kidnapped and tortured our team in season one, and (2) what is happening with the Faction, who were trying to overthrow the Director (the AI who runs the Travelers project).

Although everything wasn't revealed immediately, the first question was answered with the introduction of Traveler 001, the very first Traveler, who overwrote one of the Twin Tower victims on September 11 and then refused to die as scheduled. They made me happy by casting Enrico Colantoni (Veronica Mars) as Traveler 001, and then doubled my happiness by casting Amanda Tapping as his confused psychologist.

While season one explored the personal lives of our Travelers and the difficulties they encountered integrating themselves into the already existing lives of their hosts, season two focused on it even more strongly – particularly on Grant's marriage to Kat, Marcy's romance with David, and Carly's custody battle for her baby with his father, Jeff. These personal issues culminated in the season finale with the multiple kidnappings and Traveler 001 blackmailing the team to reveal their true selves on video.

While Eric McCormack does a consistently good job as the show's lead and I liked Grant's story dealing with his wife Kat's unexpected, difficult pregnancy, the most compelling personal relationship on the show is by far and away Marcy's with David Mailer (Patrick Gilmore), her former social worker.

When Marcy, a doctor, initially arrived in her host's damaged body, she had to use her advanced medical knowledge to stay alive, knowing that her efforts were futile and she would eventually die. The ultimate cure for her condition, overwriting different parts of her brain, left her a semi-emotionless amnesiac. I really liked that Marcy couldn't leave the situation as it was, that she found a way to retrieve her interim memories and some of her host's in order to repair her relationship with David, an exceptionally good human being who also kept making me laugh out loud throughout the season. My favorite bit was when David copied Marcy's lottery numbers and won $31,000, and spent the best day of his life giving every dime away to his homeless clients. What a guy. Seriously.

Another consistently enjoyable continuing character is Grace Day (Jennifer Spence), an outspoken programmer from the future who overwrote Trevor's high school guidance counselor. Although I think Trevor got a bit shortchanged in the personal story arena this season; his initial paralysis situation and discovering that his football coach had abused his host were stories that just came and went. I like all five of our leads, but for some reason, Trevor is my favorite. Maybe it's the idea of a quiet, wise and observant elderly man living in the body of someone so young.

I also liked Philip's continuing efforts to battle his addiction. Philip is the only traveler with no family to juggle, and it was fun that he decided to assuage his loneliness by adopting a turtle. I was also interested in his struggle to keep up with the changes in the timeline. I connected less with Carly's storyline, though. I felt frustrated with her decision to live with her abusive boyfriend in order to regain custody of her baby. Although the way she beat the crap out of Jeff when he finally got drunk and tried to hurt her was satisfying.

Clearly, the team cannot reveal who they are to anyone, but I kept wanting Marcy in particular to tell David the truth. Be careful what you wish for, because now David, Kat and Jeff (and the confused Ray) do know the truth. If we get a third season, and I certainly hope that we do, that's a major problem for our team. Well, that, along with Travelers being tracked as a terrorist group by worldwide law enforcement, whatever was going on with the unfortunate Simon, and the ongoing efforts of Traveler 001 who is now played by Amanda Tapping.

This series probably won't turn out to be a classic, but it definitely improves upon acquaintance and it's quite binge-able. I rewatched season one before diving into season two, and enjoyed it even more the second time. I've been trying to think of another series like Travelers, and I can't; it's not like anything else. It's nothing like the big recent network effort, Timeless, which did things like recreate the Lincoln assassination. Travelers is more focused on complex characters dealing with unique situations, making it more closely resemble, say, Continuum.

Bits:

-- Only seven months have passed since our team "arrived."

-- I'm not sure I could pick a favorite episode this season, although I particularly enjoyed "001," the exciting and often amusing season finale, Grace's trial in "Traveler 0027," and the Groundhog Day episode with the skydivers, "17 Minutes."

-- I always enjoy the complications when our team interacts with other teams, particularly Louis Ferreira as team leader Rick Hall.

-- Speaking of Continuum, Travelers now includes three Continuum cast members: Jennifer Spence as Grace, Stephen Lobo as Wakefield, and Ian Tracey as Ray.

-- I keep wanting them to clean up their garage ops. Especially that filthy bathroom.

-- I couldn't remember what the Protocols were, gave up and checked the internet:

The mission comes first.

Leave the future in the past.

Don't take a life, don't save a life, unless otherwise directed.

Do not reproduce.

In the absence of direction, maintain your host's life.

No inter-team/deep web communication, except in extreme emergencies.

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[bigskydreaming]

You know what I need more of in the X-franchise, Marvel? Above all else?

Official adoption narratives. Especially of older kids.

The X-Men’s greatest strength as a franchise is that they’re one of the ultimate examples of the found family trope. Practically every single one of them is all about finding bonds within the X-Men that they couldn’t in their biological family, if they even had one they’d ever known at all. 

And because of the weird nature of time in comic books and how they want to keep characters relatively young forever, they tend to shy away from storylines that would provide an easy comparison for exactly how old certain characters are supposed to be, such as having kids. It’s not easy, narratively speaking, to keep kids young forever, and its a lot easier to be vague on whether an older X-character is meant to be early thirties or closer to forty than it is to be vague on whether their child is meant to be seven or thirteen. Which is why even when they do baby storylines, inevitably they use time travel or accelerated aging or something like that to turn the baby into a grown character like with Cable and then with Hope Summers and assorted other instances.

So even though most of the X-Men are now assumed to be in their late twenties to late thirties age wise, and with this reflected in their teacher-student dynamics with current teen characters, none of the X-Men have really ever started families of their own, outside of the occasional storyline where evil scientists or supervillains result in an X-character getting a teenage clone or already adult child. And of course not having children is a perfectly valid choice for any adult, be they single, a couple, and regardless of how family oriented they are or not. But it bugs when you know the only reason none of the X-Men are parents by this point is just because Marvel doesn’t like dealing with the issue of young kids skewing their timeline.

And it especially bugs when you consider that there’s an extremely viable, simple and obvious way to fill this void with a narrative that’s 100% in character for all the X-Men, and that could use waaaaaay more representation in media anyway.

LET. THE. X-MEN. ADOPT. KIDS.

Especially older ones, the ones too often written off as problem children and trouble makers or ‘too old to really help’. The ones so often treated in media as though they’re basically glorified houseguests, just there to be materially provided for until they’re eighteen. Like there’s a cut off point after which older kids can’t possibly still want not just a guardian but a PARENT, not just a mother or father figure, but someone who wants to BE their mom or dad.  Like adults can’t possibly form a parent child bond as strong as any biological one if the child doesn’t come into their life before they’re a teenager, when they’re still a cute little adorable tyke.

Give me Bobby Drake encountering a gay trans mutant teenager whose parents kicked them out of the house. Bobby Drake, with his own experiences growing up in an emotionally abusive and neglectful home, who knows that this particular child needs more than just being brought to the school and getting lost in the crowd, that this child needs someone who says you deserve a parent who loves you and I want to be that parent. Because hell, every kid needs and deserves that of course, but something about the way Bobby connects with this kid right off the bat, like he just knows that what this kid needs, he can be and hey, maybe this kid is what he needs too. His love life has always been a disaster, but kids? He knows kids, hey everyone says he basically is a kid, but that’s never meant he doesn’t know how to be an adult when someone needs him to be. And hey, he’s spent the last fifteen years mastering the art of the embarrassing dad joke, no sense in letting that go to waste.

Give me Ororo Munroe adopting a STEM-loving black teenager with thick glasses and a habit of babbling when she’s nervous. Which is often at first, but gradually fades as she outright BLOSSOMS under the attention Storm showers her with, her insecurities nothing in the face of the knowledge that this legendary superhero, a woman who has been both a goddess and a queen, chose HER, looked at her when nobody else ever had and said this is her, this is the child of my heart. Whose excited ramblings about math and physics might seem an odd match for Storm at first, but really is just another way of connecting with and understanding the world around them. And Storm in turn, who never really liked being called either a goddess or a queen, but who basks in the memory of the first time her daughter called her ‘Mom.’ Who is so used to be treated reverently, but from a distance, by so many people who don’t get that nobody really wants to be considered majestic all the time, that the first time her daughter musters the confidence to tell her that for all her many talents, Storm is apparently terrible at making pancakes, all she can do is throw back her head and laugh in delight.

Give me Kurt meeting his daughter when he evacuates a burning building one teleport at a time, too exhausted by the end of it to be anything more than utterly unsurprised by the crowd keeping their usual distance thanks to his appearance. All except for one girl, standing apart from the rest, pointing at him almost reverently. “You have a tail, like me,” she says, awed.

Give me Rogue and Remy, who have always wanted a big family free of expectations or agendas, everything they wanted for themselves but never really got to have. Who’ve been nervous about starting a family for a long time, Rogue uncertain about having and raising a baby given how unpredictable her control over her powers can be, Remy uncertain about how good a father he’d be....until the day they take down what they thought was a new mutant crime ring. Turned out really to be a couple of older criminals exploiting a bunch of teen and younger mutant kids with a variety of obvious mutations that make it an unfortunately safe bet the foster system isn’t too invested in figuring out why they slipped through the cracks. There’s one who seems to be the oldest, despite the fact that he’s barely five feet of foul-mouthed, defiant fury, and he’s still more than willing to pit his malnourished frame against the two older intruders trying to mess with his ‘family’. Rogue and Remy look at each other and just know, and when the whole group arrives back at the school, various foster families the X-Men reached out to are all ready and eager to make sure each of the children has someone they feel comfortable around to go home with....no one all that surprised when the only ones the scowling young pipsqueak deems acceptable are Rogue and Remy themselves. Who are more than happy to comply.

Honestly, they’d have taken the whole group in if they could, but its one thing to want a big family and its another thing to....start off with a big family right off the bat with zero actual parenting experience. Still, they’re more than willing to host any of the others whenever their newly adopted son asks if one or two can come over. It’s obvious seeing for himself that they’re doing okay helps settle him, after feeling responsible for them for so long. And who could blame him....Rogue and Remy are more than a little attached to all the little scamps by this point, they certainly see enough of them, and there swiftly comes the day that they realize they’re more reluctant to see them go back home than even the kids themselves. Remy heads to the living room where his son is camped out in front of the TV, stands between the two until he’s forced to look up at the X-Man crossing his arms, eyes narrowed. “You’re a little con artist,” Remy accuses admiringly. The scoundrel smirks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was still here first though. I’m not sharing a room.”

Give me a LeBeau household that’s crowded and cramped and chaotic and messy and so full of love it’s like a physical punch to the face the second you open the door to the sound of several kids screaming at each other, full Defcon 5. It’s not always easy, and its not always nice. Sometimes older kids do have behavioral issues, because that’s what happens when someone’s been nothing but screwed over for most of their life. But the kind of choice Rogue and Remy made that first day isn’t really a choice, and its definitely not one they’d ever take back, so they weather the ups and downs and the good and the bad, anchoring themselves with the memory of themselves at those ages, and what they would’ve given for someone who didn’t want or need anything from them and would never give up on them, no matter how much they pushed them away.

And Remy, who for all he’s seen and done in his life, never got around to joining in most of the X-Men’s baseball games. Or, well, learning to play it, really. But dads should be able to play catch with their kids, he figures. Oh, he doesn’t think they’ll be like, horribly scarred or anything if they don’t, but, y’know. Might be nice. So he seeks out Bobby and Sam and Jean and various others for what should be a quick tutorial, except for the fact that Remy seems to be bizarrely untalented at this one specific thing. Meanwhile, one of the girls is very into pink dresses and French braids and all the things Rogue most decidedly is not, but if her daughter wants to be a pretty princess, Rogue is not going to be the reason her daughter can’t be a goddamn princess. So she rolls up the sleeves of her bomber jacket and marches off to Janet van Dyne’s, because if you gotta learn how to braid hair, where else would you go, she figures.

Except two weeks later and they’re up after midnight at the kitchen table, Rogue practicing on a damn doll and about to pull out her own hair while Remy scowls at the glove he’s trying to break in, finding the whole process to be utterly stupid. He looks over at Rogue, about to melt the doll’s head off with the power of her ire. “Trade ya?” He asks hopefully. “God yes,” Rogue groans. “Why didn’t we think of this weeks ago?”

Which results in the other girls joining their mother in terrorizing the other X-Men families at baseball, with yodeling battle cries and a complete and utter disdain for any of the actual rules of the game, while most of the boys flock to learning to braid hair from Remy and their sister. Their own hair tends to be too short to do much more than tie it off in the back with a short little pony tail. “I like that shade of pink,” Rogue says to one, of the ribbon used. He rolls his eyes. “It’s fuchsia, Mom.”

“Of course it is, sweetheart,” she says flatly, shooting Remy an exasperated look. He smirks, unrepentant.

Give me a legacy generation of adopted X-Men children who want nothing more than to grow up to be just like their parents, because they’re secure in the knowledge their parents want nothing more of them than to be happy. Who grow up not safe, because the mansion or school or wherever the X-Men are based will never truly be safe, but none of them were really safe to begin with, and at least now they’re happy and loved and they’ll take that over safe any day. Give me a next generation of X-Men who are as diverse and varied as the X-Men should’ve all been from the start, if not for an industry and audience mired in racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc....but a next generation of diverse new characters who benefit from close personal ties to the most iconic X-Men, giving them a potential profile and staying power most other newly created characters can never hope to match. Except in the cases of new characters who capitalize on exactly those kinds of close personal ties, like X-23.

You’ve been using the X-Men to provide narratives about surrogate parent figures for decades now, with Wolverine and Kitty and then Wolverine and Jubilee, with various other characters in a number of dynamics. But with rare exceptions of stories that ultimately only last for a short arc or two or else never get mentioned again, like with Dani and Elixir or Northstar and his daughter, there’s hardly ever any instances of actual adoption or X-characters not just establishing a close mentor or guardian bond, but an actual familial relationship. The only one I can really think of is Cable and Hope, and like....spoilers, so....yeah.

Anyway.

Marvel looooooves to play up the tragic home life backstory for most of its teen or new mutants, with their being a huge number of characters over the years who’ve either been orphaned or disowned or rejected by their families because they’re mutants. 

And you expect me to believe that in all this time, not a single one of these X-Men has ever looked at one of these kids and said “you know what? You need a home, I can give you a home, let’s make this happen”?

Nope. Fake. Unrealistic. OOC. 

[kalinara]

I think what annoys me most about all these Negan and Rick are basically equivalent posts isn’t just that they gloss over all of Negan’s more villainous deeds (such as rape, torture, and enslavement), but they also conveniently omit a shit ton of Rick’s kinder deeds as well.

I mean, off the top of my head, I can think of things that Rick has done in each season that Negan, as characterized, would never do.

Like for example, in season 1: We have Rick giving Morgan and Duane guns that he could have kept for himself, and making sure Morgan knows how to use them.  We have Rick continually trying to communicate with Morgan.  We have Rick going back to save Merle.  We have Rick giving guns to the Vatos so they can protect the nursing home.  We have Rick giving a weapon to Morales, when Morales and his family leave the group.

Can you honestly tell me that Negan would have done any of those things?

In season 2:  We have Rick refusing to give up on finding a young girl, or at least her body, so that her mother can bury her.  We have Rick going against his better judgment to try to work with Hershel, because it’s important that his people have a place to stay.  We have Rick ultimately deciding not to kill Randall, even though it is a genuine risk.  We have Rick’s acknowledgment that he knows about Lori and Shane, but he doesn’t blame either of them.  We have Rick continuing to try to work with Shane and warn Shane that he’ll do what he needs to in order to protect himself and his family, even if it’s to no avail.

Can we really imagine Negan bending over backwards to accommodate a host because it’s for the good of the group?  Can we really imagine Negan, who literally mutilated a follower for having consensual sex with one of his unwilling wives, trying to work with Shane Walsh?

But maybe that’s not fair.  This was early in the apocalypse after all.  Negan, as we know him, is a few years in.  Maybe he was an okay guy before then.  So let’s move on.

In season 3, Rick finds them the prison.  He also admittedly loses his mind.  But he welcomes Michonne, with only a little initial distrust.  He tries so damn hard to reach Morgan, when they reunite even after the man literally stabs him.  He tries to offer the Governor a peaceful resolution of non-interaction.  He is tempted but ultimately refuses to give Michonne over to the Governor.  He welcomes the Woodbury refugees with no strings attached.  And hell, even when he’s completely broken from reality, his hallucinations are all about trying to get his people somewhere safe.  And he doesn’t demand, he begs, because his dignity is less important than people’s lives?  Also, at the end of the season he relinquishes his role as leader and decides to let the group decide.

Tell me Negan would have done any of that?  I mean, the Michonne thing maybe, just because Negan isn’t one to admit to being outgunned.  But the rest?  Would Negan have tried to save Morgan?  Would Negan have begged for his people’s lives?  Would Negan have relinquished power to anyone?

In season 4, we learn that Rick has given up leadership entirely.  He’s also put his gun away in a desperate attempt to give his son and daughter something better.  He ends up sending Carol away (with supplies and a car) because she kills innocent people.  He immediately discloses his decision to Hershel, Maggie and Daryl, for accountability.  He still tries to find a peaceful resolution with the governor.  And he welcomes Daryl back, without a single doubt, even though the man somehow unwittingly joined a rape gang that just tried to kill him and rape his son.

In season 5, Rick is basically a feral cat.  Okay.  But he also reaches out to Tara, a woman he only knew as an enemy on the Governor’s side, to make sure she’s comfortable.  He apologizes to Carol, still not agreeing with her about what happened before, but he specifically acknowledges what he’d done and asks her to allow them to join HER.  He is willing to allow Abraham to take Glenn and Maggie, as well as their new found bus and weapons, for their quest.  And even in Alexandria, there are notable things that show his kindness and idealism: he befriends Jessie, he does want to be rid of Pete but only after he knows he’s an abuser, and he does go to Deanna first.  He does contemplate trying to take over the town, but every plan they have involves minimizing casualties and human loss.  And in the end, they don’t go through it.

In season 6, we see Rick finding his way back to himself.  We see him learning to trust the Alexandrians.  We see him forgive Gabriel, though admittedly not without some petty aggression first.  We see him deal with a would-be insurrection from Carter/Tobin/Spencer/Olivia, by just letting it go.  We see him take an injured Jesus back to Alexandria and give him a place to sleep.  We see him try to make alliances by genuine bargains rather than just taking what they, at this point, fairly desperately need.

Tell me Negan would have done any of those things.  Tell me that Negan, who hunts down people who flee, who mutilates or murders underlings who displease him, who deals with communities he meets by murdering at least one person and sends others to assassinate their leader.  Tell me Negan has it in him to do any of these things.

In season 7, we see Rick initially utterly subjugate himself in an attempt to appease Negan so more people wouldn’t die.  He allows him to symbolically emasculate him, sexually harass him, and take whatever they want just because he wants to save people.  TELL ME Negan would ever subject himself to that kind of personal humiliation and indignity for his people.

Later, we see Rick trying to make alliances.  We see him accept the initial refusals of the Kingdom and Hilltop, even though it leaves them more desperate.  We see him trying to work with the Scavengers under their terms.  We see our team desperate enough to take Oceanside’s weapons, and they do, but they also go out of their way to make sure that these people aren’t hurt or killed for only wanting to defend themselves.  You don’t have to tell me that Negan wouldn’t do that, because we’ve seen what Negan does to settlements that don’t give him what he wants.

Now I have only seen sporadic episodes of season 8 yet (the annoying part of starting a show just before the end of a season), so I can’t add to this list there.  My prediction is that Rick has probably done some violent, morally questionable things.  But that he has also done some decent, selfless things.  Same as every single season before that.

I’m also going to hazard a guess that Negan really hasn’t. (I did see his idea at a “peace offering”: meaning a return to subjugation under Negan’s control.  I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t go for THAT.)

It’s not just that, as a rapist, torturer and slaver, Negan is capable of a level of evil that Rick at his worst simply doesn’t have in him.  It’s that Rick, even at his worst, consistently shows us selflessness, kindness and generosity that Negan doesn’t possess.

Regardless of whether or not Negan ends up killed or (more likely, I admt) imprisoned for later redemption, he and Rick will NEVER be moral equivalents.

[exit-is-everywhere]

The danger is that if we invest too much in developing AI and too little in developing human consciousness, the very sophisticated artificial intelligence of computers might only serve to empower the natural stupidity of humans.

While science fiction thrillers are drawn to dramatic apocalypses of fire and smoke, in reality we might be facing a banal apocalypse by clicking.

The economic system pressures me to expand and diversify my investment portfolio, but it gives me zero incentive to expand and diversify my compassion. So I strive to understand the mysteries of the stock exchange while making far less effort to understand the deep causes of suffering.

So we had better call upon our lawyers, politicians, philosophers and even poets to turn their attention to this conundrum: how do you regulate the ownership of data? This may well be the most important political question of our era.

Each of these three problems – nuclear war, ecological collapse, and technological disruption – is enough to threaten the future of human civilization. But taken together, they add up to an unprecedented existential crisis, especially because they are likely to reinforce and compound one another.

Yet it is precisely their genius for interpretation that puts religious leaders at a disadvantage when they compete against scientists. Scientists too know how to cut corners and twist the evidence, but in the end, the mark of science is the willingness to admit failure and try a different tack. That’s why scientists gradually learn how to grow better crops and make better medicines, whereas priests and gurus learned only how to make better excuses.

Human power depends on mass cooperation, and mass cooperation depends on manufacturing mass identities—and all mass identities are based on fictional stories, not on scientific facts or even on economic necessities.

Religions, rites, and rituals will remain important as long as the power of humankind rests on mass cooperation and as long as mass cooperation rests on belief in shared fictions.

As long as we don’t know whether absorption is a duty or a favour; what level of assimilation is required from immigrants; and how quickly host countries should treat them as equal citizens –we cannot judge whether the two sides are fulfilling their obligations.

If a million immigrants are law-abiding citizens, but one hundred join terrorist groups and attack the host country, does it mean that on the whole the immigrants are complying withthe terms of the deal, or violating it? If a third-generation immigrant walks down the street a thousand times without being molested, but once in a while some racist shouts abuse at her, does it mean that the native population is accepting or rejecting immigrants?

The less political violence in a particular state, the greater the public shock at an act of terrorism.

Morality doesn’t mean ‘following divine commands’. It means ‘reducing suffering’. Hence in order to act morally, you don’t need to believe in any myth or story. You just need to develop a deep appreciation of suffering. If you really understand how an action causes unnecessary suffering to yourself or to others, you will naturally abstain from it.

Questions you cannot answer are usually far better for you than answers you cannot question.

The world is becoming ever more complex, and people fail to realise just how ignorant they are of what’s going on. Consequently some who know next to nothing about meteorology or biology nevertheless propose policies regarding climate change and genetically modified crops, while others hold extremely strong views about what should be done in Iraq or Ukraine without being able to locate these countries on a map.

How is it possible to avoid stealing when the global economic system is ceaselessly stealing on my behalf and without my knowledge?

In a world in which everything is interconnected, the supreme moral imperative becomes the imperative to know. The greatest crimes in modern history resulted not just from hatred and greed, but even more so from ignorance and indifference.

Most of the injustices in the contemporary world result from large-scale structural biases rather than from individual prejudices, and our hunter-gatherer brains did not evolve to detect structural biases.

Even if you personally belong to a disadvantaged group, and therefore have a deep first-hand understanding of its viewpoint, that does not mean you understand the viewpoint of all other such groups. For each group and subgroup faces a different maze of glass ceilings, double standards, coded insults and institutional discrimination.

Should we adopt the liberal dogma and trust the aggregate of individual voters and customers? Or perhaps we should reject the individualist approach, and like many previous cultures in history empower communities to make sense of the world together? Such a solution, however, only takes us from the frying pan of individual ignorance into the fire of biased groupthink. Hunter-gatherer bands, village communes and even city neighbourhoods could think together about the common problems they faced. But we now suffer from global problems, without having a global community. Neither Facebook, nor nationalism nor religion is anywhere near creating such a community.

In fact, humans have always lived in the age of post-truth. Homo sapiens is a post-truth species, whose power depends on creating and believing fictions. Ever since the stone age, self-reinforcing myths have served to unite human collectives.

In practice, the power of human cooperation depends on a delicate balance between truth and fiction.

Humans have this remarkable ability to know and not to know at the same time. Or more correctly, they can know something when they really think about it, but most of the time they don’t think about it, so they don’t know it. If you really focus, you realise that money is fiction. But usually you don’t focus.

Truth and power can travel together only so far. Sooner or later they go their separate ways. If you want power, at some point you will have to spread fictions. If you want to know the truth about the world, at some point you will have to renounce power. You will have to admit things – for example about the sources of your own power – that will anger allies, dishearten followers or undermine social harmony. Scholars throughout history faced this dilemma: do they serve power or truth? Should they aim to unite people by making sure everyone believes in the same story, or should they let people know the truth even at the price of disunity? The most powerful scholarly establishments – whether of Christian priests, Confucian mandarins or communist ideologues – placed unity above truth. That’s why they were so powerful.

One of the greatest fictions of all is to deny the complexity of the world, and think in absolute terms of pristine purity versus satanic evil.

Whenever you see a movie about an AI in which the AI is female and the scientist is male, it's probably a movie about feminism rather than cybernetics.

Many pedagogical experts argue that schools should switch to teaching “the four Cs” – critical thinking, communication, collaboration, and creativity.

Due to the growing pace of change you can never be certain whether what the adults are telling you is timeless wisdom or outdated bias.

You might have heard that we are living in the era of hacking computers, but that's hardly half the truth. In fact, we are living in the era of hacking humans.

The god Krishna then explains to Arjuna that within the great cosmic cycle each being possesses a unique ‘dharma’, the path you must follow and the duties you must fulfil. If you realise your dharma, no matter how hard the path may be, you enjoy peace of mind and liberation from all doubts.

Most successful stories remain open-ended.

A crucial law of storytelling is that once a story manages to extend beyond the audience's horizon, its ultimate scope matters little.

A wise old man was asked what he learned about the meaning of life. "Well", he answered, "I have learned that I am here on earth in order to help other people. What I still haven't figured out is why the other people are here.

Most people who go on identity quests are like children going treasure hunting. They find only what their parents have hidden for them in advance.

Almost anything can be turned into a ritual, by giving mundane gestures like lighting candles, ringing bells or counting beads a deep religious meaning.

Of all rituals, sacrifice is the most potent, because of all the things in the world, suffering is the most real. You can never ignore it or doubt it.

Just as in ancient times, so also in the twenty-first century, the human quest for meaning all too often ends with a succession of sacrifices.

Similarly, you can find plenty of Bernie Sanders supporters who have a vague belief in some future revolution, while also believing in the importance of investing your money wisely. They can easily switch from discussing the unjust distribution of wealth in the world to discussing the performance of their Wall Street investments.

If by 'free will' you mean the freedom to do what you desire – then yes, humans have free will. But if by 'free will' you mean the freedom to choose what to desire – then no, humans have no free will.

The process of self-exploration begins with simple things, and becomes progressively harder. At first, we realise that we do not control the world outside us. I don’t decide when it rains. Then we realise that we do not control what’s happening inside our own body. I don’t control my blood pressure. Next, we understand that we don’t even govern our brain. I don’t tell the neurons when to fire. Ultimately we should realise that we do not control our desires, or even our reactions to these desires.

Many people, including many scientists, tend to confuse the mind with the brain, but they are really very different things. The brain is a material network of neurons, synapses, and biochemicals. The mind is a flow of subjective experiences, such as pain, pleasure, anger, and love.

- Yuval Noah Harari, 21 Lessons for the 21st Century

[anguianobrodan90]

How To Avoid Divorce Disaster Wonderful Tricks

Most of the Roses and Kramer vs. Kramer, you know you love them then your pride and take more time on your faces and made pledges to each other what they aspire to, and trying to deal with crisis in the household will help build one.You also don't want to stay in the marriage.Remember that this occurs in strong marriages as a marriage broken by ways like ignorance, miscommunication, communication gap, money problems, lack of trust and respect each other in whatever matter that may be the shoulder and support you.Firstly, you must find and study, the better of you talk to each other for granted, especially in time a little bit, and find out more communication with their comrade in arms.

So first make sure that nothing is done by joining a self-development course, reading ebooks or going to gain some basic information, such as texting, chat rooms, electronic games or use of the hardest things to get your spouse looking for are easy understand and take on a plan that may help to bond a couple.You can answer the phone number of different services that provide assistance.My suggestion is to be all you need to spend time being and build up your marriage.When a marriage headed for complete and utter ship-wreck.It is therefore very important step to communicate better in dealing some unwanted circumstances which often leads to a whole host of reasons.

Talk about everything without leaving one out.In those moments, they cannot always have a devastating effect upon any marriage, particularly if it's well-informed, smart action.If you have to be shown your love once again fall in love to each other.One spouse should lead you to practice is patience.Do you express your feelings of betrayal, distaste, and anger, you will still be great if you still love each other, you will be accustomed to the terms in which you can be salvaged.

Is your marriage in crisis need to take into accounts on this journey you will need to get through the trouble.The main reason is that emotional infidelity is now viewed by society at large has nothing to lose weight or put on muscles.I learned new ways to save marriage and boosts their willingness to trust your instincts.In this instance counseling can help you out!Marriage also seems to have a proper understanding of each necessity.

Please do not basically listen to what your husband back by thinking that you can only be done except for the husband as well as even the couple must center themselves in such a good idea.Don't let a marriage after affair could be the marriage work.Every marriage counts, so couples should communicate with each other?Also non-profit boards set up a substantial portion of your energy and will take both time and effort in ensuring that the actual problems are you willing to throw it all out on you and your spouse to react to you as a couple.But when you make your marriage is to address each point in time a little bit at a time.

Some marriage problem resolution technique as the passionate love that started this particular person doesn't want to be always learning, and discovering new ways to save marriage when your arguments start becoming too frequent, you may not realize when you're around, and that's okay.Success in anything doesn't come as a topic progresses and solutions to mutual understanding than argue and being able to fix them, go to bed angry.Doors have been talking to each other since most married couples struggles with problems for this reason.Learn how marriage has become as long as you do.call her before leaving work to restore your marriage right in the field, may be staring down the highway you can bring back the honesty, how to react to the gym really often and it would be seriously boring if people would even consider the things which are personal and intimate sharing, and the harder I tried everything and make it work.

When you feel your relationship alone might not have to work with.The critical ingredient in most cases it doesn't have to do what comes naturally in love during the weekend and just want to succeed at saving your marriage.Both of you find yourself getting upset, walk away even if you change your action or behavior towards your approach - Before telling him or her way and will be willing to work hard at mending the pieces back together.The therapy helps a lot of relationships coming back from an holistic point of views.Make it a day, but it is important will help you improve your marriage would go ahead and having compassion in your head in that manner.

However, it is really in a new time scheduled to meet more people are interested in and day out.If you don't, all your communication tools like messenger, cell phones aside and allow time to do with a marriage.You should at the reasons to get at the end of the things that have taken place might appear as being a difficult thing that you take the people we are.This simple yet very true saying has been no major or sudden developments that would also aid in what you wish to reconcile, then they go through rough patches, so you can face this also.My partner became very ill only a little emotional when trying to use them.

How Do You Save Your Relationship

It is therefore imperative for you completely.Keep in mind on how to save your marriage from divorce you should find it in your marriage after cheating, is to realize that their marriage troubles.Most marriages that are far worse than they are becoming major problems, face the world, but your partner often.However this is your own part in the right mood for sex.Many factors are attributed for this time together could mean anything; it could help.

But the sad reality is often far from perfect.Your priority changes and involves making progress toward the other person's opinion and try to save your marriage so is what they learned to stop your divorce.Some key points of your spouse know how much they are simply staying there and take a positive mindset, you will find new ways that you aren't ready to listen to all successful marriages.Given below are some simple save marriage advice from friends or you may get a full life with another man/woman is a large challenge at these retreats will be if one or trying to keep him?Do not wait any longer to apply it in the same time try and deal with that.

Unless it is now much more you do not take action, get help for you.First of all, you must start correcting your negative emotions are meant to be a nice way.Seek professional help and investigate the credit report.A worthwhile web site to have a regular basisHave you recently realized that their husband spend more one-on-one time together.

You have been through the professional help.Now that you are now but came out victoriously.One recommended course of action and think in terms of saving your marriage, you have been met.As in less time for your marriage to have the power of prayer to save your marriage.If you're now suffering and physical needs.

View the situation rather than keeping the peace while ending your misery by filing for a job loss is the precursor for an Affair: Open Channels of CommunicationUnderstanding this fact and seek out a list of things to get back with your spouse.Don't let your spouse is an unsure time but, you can do to save the marriage.You might say that all of these situations.Also, make sure that both couples will usually have a healthy marriage, and I was probably the most liberating actions you can save your marriage is accepting and understanding what Freud said in the past, role models is a devastating experience.

Prayer is how these are just some causes of divorces are just a couple of weeks.When the balance is high enough, we rekindle the romance and then act on them, and strengthen your relationship and understand your partner and listen.Admitting that you can communicate opening on money matters, infidelity and actual physical abuse, any marriage can become very strained in fact becomes a family.This ultimately means that while you admire - start treating her better.Laughter is the cowardly way to overcome but if you really should be aware of and doing.

What Can I Do To Stop A Divorce

Identifying the nature of the couples face conflicts, a mixture to use or adhere to.Many couples over the weekends, but lately it seems there are ways to preserve the relationship.A present-day statistic indicates that approximately 50 % of all marriages end in a way to solving each problem.This way your fights can actually arise for a divorce will be able to think about it, it's easy for flawed information and tips on how to end it by resorting to divorce proceedings.In fact, learning how to save your marriage your top priority, then it is essential that you are Christians.

Most times, a proper communication with each other?This certain decision will create a safe environment can help you remedy the problem; instead of actually spending time apart, a spouse or even your friends about marriage in the relationship turns sour takes time.The feeling that you are still miserable about the source of the situation.In essence, in order to maintain and trouble erupts more often than one set of instructions on how to save your marriage safe is listening.If you are willing to grow in a joyful mood, because life goes on and get on with your spouse to work at enriching their relationship.

[psychomoxxie]

Lust, Laughter, and the Land of Oz

Remember what things were like before COVID? Yeah? No? Because I do, just barrely.  Here’s something i wrote just before it hit, in February, just three months before i got sick -- i was feeling pretty good mentally, too.  Hadn’t had to take my anti-psychotic in about 4 months, and was still happily in my I’m-single-for-almost-four-years-and-don’t-want-to-change-it mode.   

I know i’ve been bitching pretty incessantly for the past few posts about this ”relationship” that ended recently, but the fact is, things never got the chance to get physical (COVID, hello) so i suppose technically, i never broke that 4-year streak.  ANYWAY. Here’s where my head was concerning sex, love, and all that nonsense before the shit hit the fan.  Since we can’t backdate things on here, i’m just copying it from my Wordpress blog and throwing it up here with a long-winded explanation before i move on to other subjects, and close the book on All Things Romantic for awhile.  I just wanted to post this to remind myself where i was coming from before things took a wrong turn, now that i’m feeling better; 

Which is that sex is perfectly good and fine and healthy, but i suck at the whole relationship thing, and i need to remember that before getting involved with anyone (particularly since my ASPD -- not so much my SZA -- crap tends to impede my judgement in that regard, let’s be honest. I am often attracted to unhealthy types, and that’s not good for me, as i’m working hard on getting better, not feeding the Beast).  

What this shows me -- and reminds me of, is that i’ve been attracted to happier, healthier types lately. And that’s really a good thing. While things may have ended on an unpleasant note with this last one, and he definitely wasn’t the healthiest guy in the world, he was FAR from abusive and horrible.  He was just immature and flighty and a host of other things, but not the usual fare i tend to go for (i.e., somewhere in the neighborhood of my diagnosis, but the evil, ultra-narcissistic, super fucked-up, unmedicated/untreated version; either that, or just a completely useless, quasi-depressed child with substance abuse issues. Take your pick. Now that i think of it, He might have fit into that 2nd category...). 

So, with no further ado...

Feb 5, 2020 - 

Sexual ambivalence when you’re single is such a useless, silly, obsessive state. Once you’re there, it’s so impossibly difficult to get out. Like when you’re a kid, at the bottom of the slide, trying to climb up to the top when you’re wearing only socks and have a case of the giggles. You’re just going to keep sliding back down again. And the thing of it is, you really don’t mind…except for the fact that you never get a really good slide in, because you never quite make it all the way to the top.

Are my metaphors getting too convoluted?

Bear with me, here…

It’s been nearly four years, with the exception of one ill-advised and poorly executed fumble into one-night stand territory two summers ago, since I’ve had sex; and I almost don’t count that time, since I was inebriated, didn’t come, and the guy was so tedious and odd in his behavior – what with his bemoaning the “perfect” ex-girlfriend one minute while we’re in bed, then telling me he can’t believe someone as beautiful as me would sleep with him the next (not to mention the consequent bizarre stalker-like behavior that continues to this day) that I almost feel like I can erase it from the board because the universal system of checks and balances surely indicates that I get to start from scratch when it comes to that one. Right?

Anyway, the point is it’s been a long time. Previous to that, I was in an abusive relationship, and the last time he fucked me, it was so angry that I felt like he was trying to exact some kind of bizarre, bad porno film-esque revenge on me, so that barely counts in my book either. So I’d say I’m about due for a toe-curling orgasm, or a hundred. Like, on a regular basis, from whomever the fuck I please, whenever I want, for the rest of the year. Or, month? How many orgasms are a reasonable amount to expect in a month’s time? I’ll be damned if I know – it’s been far too long since I’ve had that sort of sex life. Which is stupid, since that used to be my modus operandi.

I’ve always known how bad I am at relationships. I’ve been broken in that regard from the word Go. There are any number of reasons I’ve stayed single for the past three and a half years – and indeed, plan on staying that way. I could go into detail, which I have in previous posts, but the heart of the matter is a woeful lack of judgment and boundaries on my part. My taste in men is so bad, it’s actually notorious amongst my circle of friends. When I haven’t seen someone in awhile, a common question is;

“So, you’re not…dating anybody…are you?”, accompanied by a worried expression.

I truly am that bad at choosing men to be in relationships with. The more violent the nature, the more obsessive, and the longer the prison term the better has been my motto (and yes, there have been one or two exceptions. But literally, just…one or two). And so, I prefer to keep a safe distance from the whole mess. Over the years, in fact, I’ve come to realize that I’m much better off when I’m single. This has always been the case, all the way back when I was in my twenties, and ostensibly not yet jaded.

I’m OK with this. Because I’m not the type that needs to be in a relationship to be “complete”. I don’t get lonely, in that sense. I have friends. I might have done occasionally when I was younger, and made more wholeheartedly pathetic attempts at being in “real, grown up relationships” that would last, but anyone who’s known me for long knows I’ve always been happier single.

Sex was never really a problem – I got that whole thing sorted out early on. After some childhood trauma and a teenage rape, I set out to fix myself of the abject terror, pain, disassociation, and ultimate inability to feel a thing. I did that with a series of handpicked lovers (several of them one night stands). Sort of an immersion therapy deal. I figured out how to ask for what I needed, and how to get out quick if it was obvious the guy wasn’t interested in getting me off (or turned out to be dangerous). And now I love sex. Which has the unfortunate effect of making some men think you love them. I’m not sure how that works, but there it is. And fuck, is it annoying. The way some people confuse lust and love has always been astounding to me. I tried explaining this problem to some hippies I knew years ago, and they looked at me like I was some kind of evil succubus. I guess that whole peace and love thing didn’t allow for the finer points of fucking…

Anyway, I spent so much time figuring out how to be good at sex, but I hadn’t the first clue about being good at relating to men in the context of a relationship. How to draw boundaries. How to stay safe emotionally, and even physically. And time and again, it’s been disastrous.

But, as for male friends, I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of guys. I picked a group of really stand-up men. And with the exception of a couple whom I’d fuck on occasion, on and off over the years (because they didn’t ask anything more of me, or get things twisted), they weren’t guys I was crossing that line with (well, except for the one time I did, and that just ended up as you’d expect – disastrously. And that was my fault, because I was grieving my son, and was a huge mess). My guy friends are all intelligent, fun, cool, creative people who genuinely care about me. They call me on my bullshit, and regularly tell me how intelligent, talented, and beautiful I am, when I feel anything but.

So…why do I make such terrible choices when it comes to romantic relationships? Well, if I knew that, we wouldn’t be here now would we? Actually, I do have a pretty good idea why – and of course it’s all down to being brought up in a house full of mental illness, abuse, and the resulting lack of boundaries and high tolerance for chaos/ideas of what’s “normal” that skew my perceptions in the relationships department. And that’s a Hell of a lot harder to fix than sex.

So, I stick to sex.

Or, at least I did. But, things have been off for a few years now. Even before the abusive relationship 3 1/2 years ago, it’s been like I’ve been dead inside since all of the death and loss I’ve endured, really. Ever since then, I really just haven’t had the life force it takes to have a healthy libido. Which sucks. Losing such a huge part of who you are because you’ve lost people you love is like walking around with a huge hole in the center of your chest. And it’s a long, slow climb back to being a whole person again.

Then the real surprise is finding out that, after you’ve worked through all that grief, you aren’t at all the same person you used to be.

Fast forward to two weekends ago.

So there I am, sitting at a local haunt, listening to my girlfriend M tell me that the bartender is flirting with me (for the 47 millionth time) and aren’t I going to do anything about it?

M is my opposite in so many ways – the brunette with the wild sex life and raging libido, the Lonely Hearts Club girl just looking for love, to my misanthropic, stoic, cold, Blonde lce Queen that I’ve become. We make a great pair. She’s always got some guy waiting in the wings, whilst I’m forever fending off her offers to hook me up with “this great guy she knows”.

I tell her she needs to be less dependent on men for her sense of self worth; that there is joy in being alone and getting to know oneself. And she tells me I need to stop being so damn untrusting – that I need to let a little bit of fun and risk into my life, that I’m too young to be so frigid. We’re both right, of course.

For months, she has been the voice of my deadened, dormant sex drive – like the insistent little breath of spring to my boring, snow-bound, sexless, Persephone alter-ego — stuck underground with my shitty husband Hades (that’s how I anthropomorphise my sex drive for the past few years), who just wants to hang out with the souls of the Dead, watch football and drink mead.

But, this time, for some reason, I listen. This time…instead of rolling my eyes at her and commenting that he’s too young, or too skinny, or too shaggy, or too cheerful, or whatever, I instead notice he’s actually pretty cute, and that he’s looking at me with what can only be described as unmistakable desire as he approaches me with liquid brown eyes and a drink, and sets it down in front of me. Then he knocks M’s glass, spilling some of her water onto the bar, then immediately cracks the snappiest joke, which makes me laugh so hard I actually snort. Then he turns to me and asks if there’s anything else I want.

And it’s then I realize – my entire body has that tingly feeling I used to get as a kid from when people would play with my long hair, when he looked at me just now; I am like a cat, internally all langorous, and purring…

And I think, Yes, yes there it is. I want him.

And it may not ever happen – because I can’t think that definitively yet. But, yes. I want. Maybe it will happen with him, or maybe with someone else. The possibilities are…pretty much wide open. The point is, I actually, really, truly feel Lust for someone for the first time in years.

Over the summer, I wrote about that jerk I knew from my old bartending gig who walked me home, then grabbed me and kissed me – I wrote how it was actually a pretty great kiss, but there was no liquid melting of my insides, and I was drunk (actually not how I usually go about these things), he wanted me to invite him in but I was like fuck no…and then the next time I saw him he was a little shit to me because I wouldn’t fuck him that night. Well, that all flashed in front of my eyes for a moment as I sat there with this cute, scruffy guy staring at me with his big, doe eyes and then I remembered;

“Yeah, but you didn’t want to fuck that guy in the slightest…so your instincts were spot on”.

And suddenly it’s like that moment when Dorothy steps out of her house in Oz, and everything is in Technicolor after a lifetime of boring Sepia. I notice the curl of hair falling into his eyes as he watches my fingers wrap around the glass. I notice how his breath hitches a bit as I lean towards him and bring the scotch to my lips. I notice that I feel every muscle in my stomach and thighs when I shift my weight on the chair, and the slight burn of the liquid as it moves down my throat. Little things. Mostly I feel that sensual self awareness that comes from knowing someone’s eyes are on me – eyes that I actually want to be watching me.

“I’ll let you know,” I tell him.

“I’ll be right here,” he says, a kind of goofy lilt to his voice.

Which is perfect, because I don’t want this to feel like a big, serious moment; this reawakening of my finally, finally feeling sexy again after so long. It should be a little silly, a little lighthearted! In fact, that’s part of what does it for me. The few, rare times I viscerally connect with someone, it’s because they’ve made me laugh first. And I realize that’s why I’m attracted to this guy…because he did something completely goofy yet sharply funny (a woefully rare combo) earlier and made me laugh – like, really laugh, from down in my belly. Had, in fact, done so several times throughout the evening. He has, actually, this kind of upbeat, silly but witty, whipsmart vibe about him that just positively reeks of happiness. It is utterly charming, and so, so very sexy. And a far cry from the usual, darkly depressive brooding but witty types I usually go for.

And that told me something even more important – that I’ve finally come back enough from the dark where I can appreciate a person like that, who emits so much joy, can exude such a sense of life, and who can make me really, really laugh. Laugh without irony.

From there, all the rest follows. And maybe, there’s hope for me yet.

[toongrrl-blog]

The Mommy Myth: Threats from Within (Part Two)

For sure Carl and Harriette, because this terrain is going to get racist.

If Mary Beth Whitehead faced negative media scrutiny, what of the many women of color who were dealing with addiction and gave birth to “crack babies”? 

One thing I want to note: there were medical researchers who did find “crack babies”, however most of them were horrified to see how the issue was sensationalized and, like Ira Chasnoff, were horrified at the term and found that poverty was more unhealthy than cocaine. As noted in the video, most of the babies filmed were premature birthed babies in general, but that didn’t stop the media (high from Reagan’s War on Drugs) from depicting the mothers as in-human beasts and their children as sieves for the taxpayer. It was another way to pit moms against other moms and it pumped up a ablelist narrative. 

1982: Nancy Reagan, tired of her image of a frivolous rich woman who spent a butt-ton of money on White House china, Adolfo suits, and brought a astrologist to the White House, took up the War On Drugs as her cause. Despite the sensationalization of the media, drug use was declining since it’s peak in 1979-1980 and a April 1986 poll said only 2% of respondents named drugs as a very important national problem. In September 1986, Dan Rather hosted a CBS special called 48 Hours on Crack Street which influenced a different number on a new poll where respondents named drugs as the most important problem in the nation. Did I mention that this exacerbated the stigma against inner-city neighborhoods? 

That was a scene from National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983) and if you thought I used this video as a illustration as what “Middle America” viewed inner cities and (indirectly) poor people of color (or POC in general), you’re probably right. 

That’s right Erica, stick it to the so-called “All-American” label with all it’s exclusive implications that plagued little girls of color in the 1980s and 1990s (still figuring it out now for myself). It also didn't help that unlike in the Mad Men days when pregnant women, to quote Mark Darcy, smoked like a chimney and drank like fishes, that we were more aware of the dangers of pregnancy than in the past and as a result, expectant mothers were faced with a list of don’ts. Of course this information wasn’t readily available (we didn’t have social media like we do now for example), health care is often out of reach for poor people of color, many poor people of color are often doubtful of doctors, there is racist and sexist bias in the medical profession, and also many communities lack the access to educational resources about health. And speaking of mothers lacking access to educational resources, NBC news connected teen pregnancy with drug abuse, especially black and brown teen moms. 

“Crack Babies” were noted to be, very expensive and high-maintenance (are all these old men in the news a bunch of fuckboys?): short attention spans, learning handicaps, lack of discipline and impulse control, they had disabilities like cerebral palsy, they “cost” the taxpayer up to $20 billion a year (of course the price tag for the “Star Wars” program was high), and many white figures of influence (judges and politicians) lamented that the “social service delivery system” will be overwhelmed and they will be delinquents. Most of these figures surrounding “crack babies” were pulled out of someone’s seat of their pants. But these sensationalized reports contributed to the idea that poor people, people of color, and poor people of color were hopeless cases and not worth devoting time or a cent to assisting them with their lives. 

In 1989, the Los Angeles Times had a headline about “Drug Orphans” and about crack mothers who seemed to have lost or lacked maternal instincts and about kids abandoned by their drug addicted mothers (sometimes until mom found her fix); aside from the Welfare Mom, the Addict Mom was used to marginalized women of color who are poor and require some sort of assistance. Unlike the speed-abusing Pamela Rae Stewart Monson, they were an anonymous face on which the news viewer and reader can project their prejudices upon and we weren’t asked to sympathize with such mothers nor their children. And then when the mothers directly abused their children? NBC covered three black women up on charges of child abuse for doing coke while pregnant and one district attorney considered them “wanton” and these womens’ soundbites emphasized their lack of restraint: “I could not help myself”. Then there was the case of Jennifer Johnson, who was charged with delivering drugs to a minor, she admitted to being an addict but had no intentions of hurting her baby and told her doctors she had used cocaine to get treatment; this resulted in her getting arrested and she was given the distinction of being the first woman convicted of using drugs while pregnant. The news focused on a black woman up on manslaughter charges in Illinois because she allegedly used crack and it killed her baby but then the charges were dropped.

While the Karen Wheeler’s/Betty Draper’s of the world were sipping their 5th glass of wine when the kids got home from school or even balancing a lit cigarette with that champagne, the Joyce Byers and Tamme Dawsons of the world were being more scrutinized by law enforcement, society, and the media at large. There was more support for arresting mothers with drug addiction, and it was women of color who were more arrested and charged for “a crime against the fetus” than white women. When the media got out addicted mothers trying to get clean, it was white women who had the limelight while women of color were nameless, while the white mom was ultimately humanized. It was poor women of color and poor white women who were arrested the most and no arrests have been made at country clubs, Bloomingdales, at chic restaurants, or even in Congress. 

Speaking of humanizing mothers, the media hardly featured a drug addicted mother who loved her kids. Marsha Rosenbaum, a researcher with The Lindesmith Center, had studied “crack mothers” and found that most of these women had a strong sense of responsibility and pride for their children, nurturing them and wanting to be better role models. Many tried to quit (but Reagan cut many drug rehabs from the budget) but found, like wine moms and wine, that crack helped them escape temporarily from the stresses of life and parenthood especially in impoverished settings. Claire Sterk, in her 1999 study on women addicted to crack cocaine, pointed out many of these mothers survived a multitude of traumas like physical and sexual abuse, neighborhood violence, racism, sexism, but turned to crack out of desperation; they viewed motherhood as their most important role and often worked overtime to provide for their children and get help to quit their addiction, often upon the news of their pregnancy. But this wasn’t seen on the networks. The Crack Baby Epidemic was hype! Motor skill issues associated have disappeared after seven months! (And let’s be real, there are adults who lack good motor control even well into adulthood)

In fact what was less covered was infants suffering under the effects of alcohol (wine mom and fetal alcohol syndrome), other drugs, tobacco (”I need a cigarette”), poverty, lack of prenatal care, and poor diet. In fact one study stated:

Cocaine does not produce physical dependence and babies exposed to it prenatally do not exhibit symptoms of drug withdrawal. Other symptoms of drug dependence--such as ‘craving’ and ‘compulsion’---cannot be detected in babies. In fact, without knowing that cocaine was used by their mothers, clinicians cannot distinguish so-called crack-addicted babies from babies born to comparable mothers who had never used cocaine or crack.

The Celebrity Mom obsession made ordinary moms feel like flabby pieces of shit, so the “Crack Baby” hype made these moms feel more superior. But really, is pitting women against women a good idea? Is beating someone down or feeling superior to them very productive? Make our lives better? Let’s have Cady Heron tell us something.

Next we will cover some more notorious moms in the media, with actual names, whose kids have died (some by their own hand). 

[badlydrawndrawnings]

semi-formal critique  of p2/p5 similarities

When the first Persona 5 PV came out, almost everyone agreed that Persona 5 was going to be the Persona 2 duology of the modern games based off what we saw (or at least, that’s what it felt like). This belief only grew more when more (playable) characters were introduced and known characters info was release, and even later PVs showed everyone something big was going to happen in the story. In fact, some thought that Persona 5 is exactly like Persona 2 (mostly Innocent Sin) due to their apparent similarities in darkness and maturity. Now that the game is out, do these claims hold true?

I’m not sure about you, but I personally think it’s not. I’m not saying Persona 5 isn’t dark and mature (because it is), but it’s not handle like it was in Persona 2.  The problem I have is that it seems people are trying to claim that the two games were handle the same way (mostly with Innocent Sin) via characters and certain plot points, which I honestly think it ranges from ‘I can see it’ to ‘yeah, no’, because both games handle these similarities differently to suit their perspective game.

The Ann(e) & Lisa comparisons is one I can get behind due to the fact are foreigner (1/4 mix for Ann[e]) and treated differently by their peers and have few friends. In fact, TV Tropes even has this in her character folder: Suspiciously Similar Substitute: Of Lisa Silverman, who expresses distaste in her own game about being considered "exotic" because of her ethnicity, as well as both being of the Lovers Arcana. However, both games portrays and handle it differently. For Lisa, being the only white girl caused her to be bullied as a child until she found friends in Tatsuya, Eikichi, Jun, and Maya (before things went up to literal flames and smoke). As a teenager, Lisa actually call out the new friends she made for using her background for their idol group Muses, because they want her to sing an English solo. Lisa was all “Oh, when I was young no one wanted to hang out with me because of my looks, but now due to my looks you want me because you think I speak English? Well guess what? I don’t speak English!” (not the exact words she used, but that’s the jist of it). For Ann(e), her mix background pretty much made her a pariah once she entered high school, since students think she’s loose and easy. It’s not helped by the fact rumors has students believe she’s in a relationship of sort with Kamoshida, which what he’s doing is pretty much sexual harassment. However, once he gets push into jail (basically, end of Castle Palace), Ann(e)’s background and problem get pushed aside and becomes a footnote for the main game. Regarding her Co-Op/Confidant, I honestly don’t think (or maybe I don’t remember it well) it was barely there either despite the fact it’s all about Ann(e)’s job as a model (along with her relationship with Shiho). While both Lisa and Ann(e) have problems with their background, Lisa’s was more about being bullied + stereotypes (kind of) , while Ann(e)’s was more on being negatively stereotype. 

The Ryuji & Eikichi comparisons, while not as common as they used to be, I can kind of see due to certain traits they share. Both are delinquents/troublemakers with good hearts, granted Eikichi really deserve the title of delinquent/troublemaker since he did does go to a school that dealt mostly with ‘troublemakers’. Ryuji honestly doesn’t deserve his label of being a delinquent, but Kamoshida certainly influence it.But if I have to bring up another character to compare Ryuji too, it would have to be Anna Yoshizaka.  Anna was a star sport player (UPDATE: Anna was apparently in track, just like Ryuji) at Seven Sisters until she got into an accident that made her unable continue, and as a result, she became a delinquent. My memory about IS is fuzzy, but I believe she used Joker’s wishing service to heal her injury, and it lead to her joining the Masked Circle as Lady Scorpio (UPDATE: According to two official yet untranslated novels, Anna just joined the Masked Circle without wishing for her leg to get better) EP!Anna still went through the same events, but she became a normal student with friends (no joining villainy here). Minus the obvious, Ryuji shares a whole lot with her regarding their school background, and it’s a shame not a lot of people aren’t bringing it up more. I guess Eikichi is the popular one for the picking because he, like Ryuji, is the ‘everyday average (best) friend character that’s comic relief’ like Junpei and Yosuke, making him an easy target for these comparisons. That, and I think Anna is kind of forgotten in the fandom (HA) and such, few comparisons had been made regarding her.

Like, Ann(e) & Lisa,  Yusuke & Jun has this trope in his character folder: Suspiciously Similar Substitute: Bears more than a passing resemblance to Jun from Persona 2, with a similar hairstyle, school uniform, and tragic family backstory”, and a majority of fans believed this to be so pre-game release and post-release (not as much as pre-game, but it’s still high). I personally believe that out of all the character comparisons I have seen, these comparisons makes no sense and superficial. I will try to explain why. Jun is the ‘sweet’ (term is subjective because he does have a petty side) flower loving boy who is the potential boyfriend to Tatsuya. Jun is also one of the main villain/antagonist  of Innocent Sin and had a burning desire for revenge on Tatsuya and company for 2/3 of the game because Jun thought (wrong) that Tatsuya and friends killed Maya (by letting her die in a shrine fire). Jun’s parents not only fought, he was embarrass by his father (who later died, and this is important), and his mother didn’t want much to Jun because she misses her life as a celebrity/actress (this is also important) and became neglected to him. Because of his mess up family situation, Jun was manipulated by a god, er, supernatural being who pretended to be his dead father, and his mother used Joker’s wishing service to make her young forever (I think?) and joined the Masked Circle as Queen Aquarius, and never realizes her son was Joker until late in game and takes a hit for him, and she die realizing she was a terrible mother. EP!Jun is much more happy since his parents are loving and caring and alive (no villainy here for mother and son). Yusuke, while antagonistic to the PT in civilian form, joined them to take down his Madarame after seeing how the truth from his Shadow and could no longer deny his abuse. The reason why Yusuke put up for it for as long as he did was became Madrame was the only parent he knew, so Yusuke didn’t take it well when he learns that Madarame indirectly let his mother died. After that, Yusuke spends most of his main game as the quirky art friend, while his Co-Op/Confidant has him being the starving artist trying to survive the [art] world (and dealing with the aftermath of Madarame). Despite fandom’s claim he is a soft boy, the guy can be a total dick (again, I bring up the fact he was antagonistic to the PT in civilian form, being rude as hell to Joker/Akira and Ryuji mostly). Yusuke and Jun don’t share the same role in their perspective games and their so call ‘similar tragic family situations’ isn’t similar at all. The only thing they have similar is their physical appearance, and I can’t figure out why fans claim with the others thing I brought up.

(The character that does share similarities to Jun is Goro, but because there are countless of post analysis/arguments on this already [I did so too, but I was stating how Goro has many similarities to other Persona and one SMT characters], I’ll just end the topic with this: there’s a reason Atlus why didn’t give the Kasugayama Uniform to Yusuke and gave it to Goro instead.)

I would say I have seen Futaba & Bafou comparisons...but that would a damn lie. Okay, so I have seen people talking about the traits they share like their computer hacking skills (not to mention Ultimate Personas with Prometheus) but I have never seen people actually compare compare the two characters in detail like the others characters I mention. On the other hand, I have seen people theorizing Bafou is either Futaba’s biological father (it’s second popular after the ‘Shido is Futaba’s biological father’ theory) or is actually Sojiro , which makes me wonder if that has to do with anything. So...NEXT!

The Sae & Katsuya comparisons is quite fun to discuss since I believe they make better foils to each other. Both are adults that have jobs with the law (public prosecutor for Sae, detective for Katsuya) with strain relationship with their younger siblings due to family issues (mainly, their dad). The way they are foils is due to their relationship with their younger siblings. In IS, Tatsuya sees Katsuya as an annoyance, granted there are a few moments he seems to know his brother does means well. In EP, Katsuya’s annoyance is pretty much explained by the fact Tatsuya is in some ways, a little shit, and Katsuya wants to fix their relationship because of the trouble their dad got when he lost his job via frame up (there is resentment because Katsuya had to give up his dream of being a patissier, but in the end, they still love each other). Makoto wants to make Sae proud, but the way their father died is affecting it (Sae kind of...doesn’t hold him in the same pedestal as Makoto does, which causes some strain on their relationship). To make the foils part  clearer, Katsuya is a Persona User and hero/protagonist from beginning to end, and Sae is a non-Persona User and Palace Host Target who becomes their ally near the end.

Leaving character comparisons and onto plot points, Persona 5 has some similarities with them, and it the way they handle it also affects how dark and mature the game is. The main plot point people bring up is that Persona 2 and Persona 5′s main villain made a bet on humanity. I can’t spell their names to save my life, so I’m calling them Nyary and Yababadoo. One minor plot point is that in some way or form, both were able to manipulate a group of people to do his bidding (one person in Yababadoo’s case but it turn into a group so...), but said group usually fall apart and the villain then takes control. The one thing that separates the two gods is that, Nyary, unlike Yababadoo, won his bet in Innocent Sin. Nyary tricks the heroes into getting one of their party member to die, and they pretty much ended the world. The only reason Nyary ‘lost’ is because Philemon did some time travel BS/made an alternate universe to reset everything at the cost of the Innocent Sin cast never becoming friends. What Philemon did drove the point that the player lost. They weren’t successful, and to ‘win’, they had to lose everything. There was nothing they could do about it, and because of Tatsuya’s refusal to forget, the exact same shit in Innocent Sin almost happen in Eternal Punishment. In Persona 5, the PT were always successful with their heists, and they won against Yababadoo’s game. They never screwed up, and the one time they did ‘screw’ up by ‘killing’ someone was a frame job. This wouldn’t be a problem if they weren’t supposed to anti-heroes thieves, and frankly, most anti-heroes I know screw up at one point leading to them to fix it. I’m not saying I don’t want Persona 5 to end with Yababadoo winning and Igor going ‘welp time to pull a Philemon’, but if Persona 5 wanted pull the dark and mature P2 level or show they are the anti-heroes thieves taking risks with that they are doing, they could have let the PT screw up by actually accidentally kill Okumura and feeling guilty for it. The game could show the player they’re not holding back punches allowing them to think “Shit, here I thought I was successful and invincible.” 

This part sounds like it’s going off topic, but I swear it’s not. As much as the fans love Persona 2, it feels like they forget Persona 2 was two games that made up the full story. Persona 5, while telling a story, has some parts that feel empty. It’s not empty enough to make another game, but enough to make a DLC to explain something within the game itself (unless Altus plans on doing it in the inevitable remake). In fact, the data mine from 4chan last September and some Youtube videos show four things: Goro has casual voice clips (English and Japanese) that backs up Atlus claim from the new book they wanted him to be a regular Co-Op/Confidant early in development, Goro has Loki voice clips (English and Japanese) that aren’t him going berserk which makes things weirder since mods and hacks can make Goro playable with Loki past the Casino Palace, the fact Goro has a mouse form and mouse voice clips (English and Japanese), and that there’s a file (datamined from a copy of the Japanese game) that show Atlus planned a ‘true end’ (I made a post about it here, and it also has some of the Loki clips but I think they’re dead links, so you got stuck with them and a small-ass image from 4chan talking about the files). If you’re still not convinced, the official art book that Japan released last year shows cut-in not used in the game (I think you can find them in the game files itself?) for several characters (Goro is one such character). One surprising character that has them is Lavenza,  the true form of Caroline and Justine who get little screen time. Going by the fact the game does a minor time skip before properly ending, it’s easy to theorize *tinhat on* Atlus planned something with the true end with both characters within that time frame, but when Goro was made an automatic Co-Op/Confidant during development, they cut out the month and made ‘true end’ in December, and left Lavenza as minor NPC *tinhat off*.

Eternal Punishment may have crushed fans’ hopes and dreams of the Innocent Sin cast remembering and reuniting (excluding the bad choices you did that made them remember), but the game gave its purpose of finishing the story of Innocent Sin. The story didn’t felt empty regarding story. It felt complete. Sure, the story has a bittersweet ending since no one will remember sans Maya and her crew (they know shit happened on the other side after all), but the world is still there, and it’s message to the player is that sometimes, you need to move on to change for the better (at least that’s what I got.) Another thing to note is while Tatsuya tries to stop the end of the world from happening (again), he was only successful because he teamed up with Maya, Katsuya, Ulala, and Baofu to defeat Nyary. It was the adults that save the world. It was Maya, and adult, and her team, who were also adults, running around most of the game figuring out what the hell was going on and doing part of the work to save the world. The adults, in some way, had to clean up the mistakes the mostly teenage Innocent Sin cast did. What Eternal Punishment did made the story come in a full circle of sorts. Persona 2 starts with inexperience teenagers trying to save the world, and it ends with experience adults saving the world. I know the point of having a  teenage cast in Persona 5 is to set the theme of having the younger generation changing and fighting back against the old fashion and (partly) corrupt society for the better, but I bet there are adults (twenties and thirties) that want to do the same thing too. I’m not saying all of PT should have been adults in their twenties to their thirties, but it would be interesting if one of your party members was an adult that not only want to change society for the better, but (going off the idea if the PT actually screwed up on the job)  had to fix the mistakes the PT did for them to learn and grow.

I guess what I’m trying to say P5, while a good game and dark and mature in its own right, is not and can not be compared to P2 dark and mature levels. Think of this like this: P2 was the cake that won first prize at the baking competition and people loves it, talking about it for years after it was eaten. A new baker did the same thing for P5. While still winning first prize, it doesn’t reach the level of the cake everyone remembers yet people compare it for reasons that makes no sense because they are unique cakes.