#unmatched in his mental illness

[inkymaws]

[catmaidetho]

o//// ∞

o// hi pebl!!!

Take it or leave it, if I can’t at least break even, then I’m leaving when I been feelin' this awful since I hit bottom and Said, “Hand me my shovel, I’m going in!”

"Half-Decade Hangover" by one mr Will Wood!

send me a ∞ for a song!

[carnivorouswillgraham]

anytime goldiipond interacts with one of my ray posts i feel like a certified Correct Opinions About Ray haver ngl

[nblatinotails]

YOU !!! YOU get it

Love the tails gets taller hc as much as the next guy, but I think he might stay a lil guy forever. Lil man syndrome (fatal)

We know Sonics on his own at 10-ish but it's almost definite that he's been alone longer than that!! He's homeless, he sleeps where he can and eats his favorite food all the time, while that could be acceptable at the time (high protein, high caloric value) it's not sustainable. We don't know if he has access to other food sources, if he even HAS money to gain access to those resources. While he's a pretty chill guy overall, there is a certain amount of stress that comes with having to provide for yourself at such a young age AND save the world constantly! He's taken on the responsibility of watching over the WORLD. AT 10.

Plus, when he does meet Tails and becomes his psudo caretaker, he's suddenly under the stress of being the sole provider and protector of someone beside himself. Suddenly he has to make sure this kid eats, has to find safer places to sleep, make sure hes happy and healthy ! That's a lot to balance at 10 :/

VALID amy gets taller than sonic hc I LOVE IT ! She has a presumably normal childhood on little planet till she leaves, but even then she has a safety net, she has vanilla and cream, and then eventually her own home. She's right on track with her physical health,, y'know, maybe some points taken away cause of the stress of being a hero, but she seems like someone who has healthy ways of balancing work/life stress.

But Tails... oh boy.

This poor kid can never seem to catch a break, can he?

Like, I know I said before that the rules of their world probably work a whole lot different, cause we see a lot of kids exploring the world on their own, but we gotta remember a lot of it is unwilling. Like so many of them are forcibly separated from their family cause of Robotnik and the disasters he summons, the land he destroys, the cities and towns he levels. AND they all seem to be older, a lotta 13-18 year Olds. Children like cream and charmy seem to be pretty universally considered dependents, living with family or caretakers, requiring babysitters and enrichment that older kids seem to have progressed passed. Clearly they do also help fight against Robotnik sometimes, and charmy is included in a lot of the Chaotix dangerous jobs, but that's all accompanied by adult supervision and monitored pretty heavily. Usually they're both kept out of direct combat and world ending missions. What I'm saying is that even if they consider different ages as ready for different levels of responsibility than what humans typically do, 6 and younger still seem pretty young for living alone and fighting crime.

So like... Tails' situation is still equally tragic. Alone and likely starving till 4, physically and mentally abused until he meets sonic, homeless and likely dealing with food instability and malnutrition for a few years until they get their house, ALL the while dealing with the constant threat of death looming over his head, AND when he's aiding in the fight against Robotnik, constantly having to be 2 steps ahead! He's always gotta be able to pull some crazy solution or plan to save the world last minute, always up to date on his tech to make the most advanced countermeasures to Eggman, always gotta study up on chaos and ancients and the mystical lore of their planet incase ancient evil rises again (cause they seem to do that every other month tbh). Like, THAT much stress? At 8?? Brooo

Little dude's gonna be under 3 ft for the rest of his life.

Not to mention the mental toll?? Like that's a perfect recipe for anxiety and depression, burnout and hyper perfectionism. Like this kid had been overworked since the day he was born and presumably kicked out. And besides cronic sickness, he probably makes himself stress sick all the time smh. Get this baby a therapist and a nutritional counselor

Been thinking,, Tails is probably small

Like, we don't know exactly what happened on Westside, but a lone 4 year old probably isn't a stranger to some form of food scarcity, no matter how smart he is. We also have no clue how long he was on his own before he met sonic and had a somewhat consistent eating schedule,,, no reference of when mobians typically begin eating solids or any developmental milestones. A few consistent fan hc are that he was just completely alone (neglect, parental death, abandonment, etc.), or that he ran from mistreatment (orphanage, family, etc.). In multiple cannons he's implied to live in the forest or be completely alone, independent of a village. That wouldn't be so strange as it seems a lot of kids hit it out on their own, but again, he's usually 4 ish when they meet, and from the way he acts, he's been alone for a while. The toddler years are very important developmentally, and kids who go hungry at this point tend to lag behind their peers for the rest of their lives. It messes with physical development like height and weight regulation, can contribute to cronic illnesses and blood pressure, and often effects behavior and anxiety levels.

Even after he meets sonic and gets taken under his wing, we don't know how stable of a diet these two crime fighting street kids could maintain. I remember a wonderful post breaking down the portrayal of food instability in AoStH, while I can't seem to find it, I remember they mentioned tails specifically showing a lot of signs of food hoarding and over eating, and the OPs own experience with these traits as a result of childhood hunger.

..Y'know, sonics probably in the same boat,, they both probably have to eat more than the average person because of the amount of calories they burn running,,, and while we don't know exactly what sonic delt with in game cannon, I know theres a few different examples in comic and show cannons. Unfortunately I never read any comics and I've only really watched 1/2 of AoStH so that's where my sonic knowledge ends, but I'm sure it varies.

There's also the issue that we have no clue how tall they're supposed to be,,, at their current age AND when they grow up. Like, shadow, amy, and sonic all seem to be around the same height rn (~100 cm / ~3 ft 3 in, Amy's a little shorter at 90 cm / 2 ft 11 in, but she's also a few years younger), so maybe sonic is on the right track, but do we know if they're supposed to get taller? Like adults in the sonic universe are wildly inconsistent from cannon to cannon??? Like, Vanilla is ~25 (age varies sometimes) and is approximately 130 cm (4 ft 3 in) while Vector is 20 yo and 180 cm (5 ft 11 in), and Big is 18 yo and 200 cm (6 ft 6 in). In Sonic Underground, Queen Aleena, his mother, was ~50 yo and ranges from source to source, but apparently is around 130-145 cm (4 ft 3in - 4 ft 9 in) while comic heights for other adults or parents are harder to track, but seem like they tap out around where the kids are now. So is height relative to species? Maybe?? Big is bigger than vector, and yeah, his name is big, that's kinda implied, but is he just an outlier or is that normal?? storm the albatross is 19 and just a little taller than vanilla at 140 cm (4 ft 7 in) but albatross' are fuckin massive compared to rabbits and cats so maybe species does play a part in height?? But also charmy and cream are the exact same age and height at 6 yo and 70 cm (2 ft 3in) ?? OK, wild, cool, whatever it's bringing logic into a fun world of brightly-colored cartoons and that's not always applicable, but I still think these mfs should be short.

I think tails should realistically be a behind in height, and prolly will stay that way, I think sonic should be shorter too tbh. With the early childhood hunger and intense world ending stress they have now, these kids should not be growing rip them

So hc that both sonic and tails are shorter than they should be, but Tails is, like, borderline concerningly small because of his EXTENSIVE history of stress, abuse, and hunger, AND as a result of that that he's kinda skittish and gets sick more often than kids his age should prolly

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (3) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, talk of mental illness and su!cidal ideations, allusions to trafficking, mentally unstable reader who's in denial, allusions to death and violence, hurt/comfort, arguments, something gets thrown in anger, terms of endearment, dreams of domestic bliss, savior complex Finnick and reader, no use of y/n, unedited

⠀ 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The familiarity of the train car made you shudder. The first time its elegance had amazed you, but now it was commonplace, a trade for everything else that had been given. The escort who you'd known for years, but always blocked out because of her unmatchable insensitivity was babbling on in her overwhelming syrupy voice as your brain buzzed with anxiety. When the smashing of a glass on the train's wall brought you back to the audio of the train cab.

“Can we wait to break things until the games? After all this time, Finnick, you still need your manners." She tutted, waving her hand in the air. “Plenty of time to get the aggression out later, right now just bask in the attention. Now I'm going to go check over the mentoring plans." Her neon purple eyebrows were so animated when she spoke and the color assaulted your eyes, the click of her heels echoing she exited.

Finnick had buried his head in his hands over a counter top as you quietly knelt down to pick up pieces of shattered glass. An Avox would end up cleaning the mess later, but you didn't feel comfortable just leaving it there.

“Why can't I help you?" His voice was much softer and more broken than you'd expected. Calloused hands holding his face as he stared out the train window.

“Help me?" Your confusion was evident. "You have helped me.”

“No I haven't, I'm an enabler." He shook his head, sniffling through the tears you hadn't noticed forming, your heart cracking.

You stood, dropping the glass pieces you'd been holding to approach him. "No you're not, Finnick, enabling what? Talk to me.”

He turned to you, "Talk to me. You're always trying to take care of me, angel, and I love that about you. But you use it as an excuse to hide the fact you're not doing better.”

"I am doing better, I don't understand what you're talking about, Finnick! I understand if you're angry, I just-”

"What? You looked at Annie and thought, ‘She���s too fragile to handle this, so why don't I take it all on for her? I can handle this.’" 

You nodded, “I can! I couldn't let her- I couldn't let her die.”

“But you can let yourself?" He had raised his voice ever so slightly, but it was enough that your chest was tightening. “You're punishing yourself for what you had to do to survive when you were 17! This isn't about altruism, this is about guilt."

“I'm not selfish.” Your voice was steely, you were angry. Why was he trying to pry at things that were of no matter to the present issues? "I'm doing my part, it wouldn't be right of me not to!" 

"Nobody thinks you're selfish except yourself. You could die because you want to prove something about what happened in the arena. That arena is gone, you need to focus on the now. On your now, not mine. You want to suffer in silence, you want to focus on everybody else to make up for living.”

"Stop it, Finnick! I don't want to talk about this. Be upset with me, but there are more important things to focus on.” You refused to make eye contact as you wrapped your arms around your body. There was a rebellion to plan for, no time for a psychoanalyzation of your brain, so you needed to deflect.

“You're my wife, angel, there's nothing more important to me than that. Especially since I've done such a shitty job letting you sit there, comfort, and listen to my problems while you only ever ask to be held. Why don't you trust me?” He stepped closer to you, voice delicate.

"I do trust you.” You kept your eyes planted on the ground. He was supposed to be angry or sad, but not whatever this was.

"Then why don't you say anything after you get a call from the Capitol? Why is it always only a few minutes after your nightmares to discuss how you feel, but every other waking moment is about me? I want to protect you, I want you to stop ruining yourself over the past and let me help you like you do for me.”

“I don't want to talk about it, Finnick." You were pushing down the onslaught of tears beginning to fall down your frozen face. “Can we please, not talk about it." You whispered as you shrunk into yourself.

“We have to start dealing with it, you are self-destructive, just because you hide things doesn't mean you're better set then Annie is. You are not going to step into this arena and sacrifice yourself for someone to make up for the fact you killed Conway six years ago."

“You're being mean."

“No I'm not, I'm being honest. You won't deny it because you know I'm right, this is a suicide mission to make up for all of them. Dying the second time around doesn't bring them back and neither will anything else. But if you put yourself in danger to make up for things we all had to do to be where we are now, you'll be killing me too.” 

You began walking straight past him, to comfort and be comforted was the dance that held you which was being broken as each second passed. This was unfair, having trauma didn't make you as hurt as him or Annie. You just had natural human feelings about what had happened and reconciling for that wasn't dangerous.

“You can't just walk away when I stop coddling you for a second, this is all going to be okay, if you can recognize and let me help you heal. If we're gonna do this I need the rational version of you." He trailed behind you as you kept walking.

“I don't need to be coddled, I'm sorry if you're sick of me trying to help you and everyone else, but that doesn't mean-" You gasped for air, “I'm just, I'm trying to help, maybe I am making up for what I did. I'm just sorry and I'm trying to help because I can't bear seeing other people having that light snuffed out of them. I want you to feel safe, and Annie, and Mags, and Ondine, that helps me.”

"See we can start there, you don't have to make up for what you did. Everyone did things to survive, we were kids. I can help you if we talk about it.”

"How are you supposed to help me, Finnick? I did worse things than you did, of course I'm guiltier, I preyed on someone's mind, on their feelings for me and then I killed them. And I'm so, so sorry for it everyday of my life and I feel it gnawing at my insides. I'm sorry that he's dead. I'm sorry that I was manipulative. I'm sorry for the person's I created. I'm sorry that I lied to you. I'm sorry that you're right. I'm sorry that I need to make it go away, Finnick, and it won't go away until I give it something equal even if it means I-” You wiped the tears from your face, “Finnick, I don't talk about it because being with you is reason enough to keep my grounded most of the time. I don't need to say anything when I see you and it's an easy reminder why I'm living."

“You shouldn't want to live just because of me. I want to be there for you, but when you feel that way I need you to be honest. You don't need to atone for any things, you deserve life. If we're going to go into that arena, you need to start believing that because I will not let you die. I love you and I need you to survive, to make it through with me to the end.”

You'd stopped walking and were leaning your back against the train wall. Nodding slowly, you were exhausted.

"I know you don't believe that right now, but I will make you believe it, my love.” His hand caressed your face and the radiating warmth made your ice cold face shudder.

You stared at him in silence before you let the sobbing take over your body. " I'm sorry, I don't know how to deal with it. I want to be better, I do, but I just can't. It won't go away.” His arms enveloped you like sunshine, guarding you from everything else.

“I know, sweet girl, I know." 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Meanwhile Haymitch had to take the initiative to begin introducing his new tributes to the pack of well known, well introduced victors. Unbeknownst to Katniss and Peeta, he would of course be pulling strings to make sure they were in close proximity or at least had the attention of certain victors for the plan being hatched.

Katniss had not seemed thrilled at the idea of Finnick, but she was rarely thrilled with anyone.

“This year we have some volunteering, which will definitely spice things up a little bit. Two couples in one game, especially when one has been adored by the Capitol for years will keep their attention." Haymitch gestured to the screen where you were sending Annie back to the line with the other female tributes.

"Didn't she also have a relationship with the male tribute last time, isn't that how she won her games?" Katniss asked.

“Yes, Capitol Princess, she is just as adored, but more tame. The less cocky side of the duo you could say."

“I bet you he's not going to protect her when it comes down to it since she did the same thing last time. He's got to know that's just how she plays the game." Katniss reasoned, doubt of everyone taking hold.

“I'd be extremely surprised if that happened, they've been with each other for years and oh-" The cameras zoomed in on the seaweed and made rings on your fingers as you held hands. “Looks like that bond has gotten ever stronger. They'll be a pair and if she does die it would be a sad day, Katniss. She's a really nice lady regardless of what she did to win at 17.”

"It's not that different from you, you just got lucky.” Peeta remarked.

“I'm just saying she wouldn't be an easy ally to trust, I mean didn't she kill all of them when it came to the end?" Katniss shrugged, leaning forward. 

“This isn't about trust, it's about survival. You need allies, even if it means they end up dead at the end, you need them to survive. You're both fresh meat, these people have built a repertoire with each other for years. You're gonna need some of them on your side for as long as you can." 

"And you want us to go with them?”

" It wouldn't be a bad idea.” Peeta shrugged, "If he's gonna protect her then we'll be protected too.”

"Yeah until we become perceived threats too.”

"Hey, I'm just laying out your options. There are 22 tributes to pick from, I know these people so I'm giving you my insight. Whether or not you decide to take it is up to the two of you.” Haymitch gestured at both of them before turning back to the screen." So District 5.”

              𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

���Finnick, what's the plan?" You asked as you two lay in the silky sheets of the bed.

"We have to get Katniss to trust us so we can get her out of the games. We'll be able to plan more once we get there.” His hand lazily lay on your shoulder,  grazing strands of your hair.

"And you'll keep me updated? No secrets?”

"No secrets, my love.” You hummed contently as you snuggled yourself deeper into his shoulder. "When we're in the arena, you need to stick by me. They'll probably try to split us up somehow, we can't let that happen.”

"I can take care of myself if it does.” You assured.

"I know that, but I need to know that you're safe. That you're not trying to throw yourself in front of someone else to save them before you.”

"Even if it's Katniss?” You said lightheartedly.

"We need to get her out of there, but I won't let that be at your personal risk. I owe you a real wedding, remember?”

"Oh, I remember. One with a dress.”

"Any dress you want, angel. So you have to listen to what I say, just this once, and stay with me in the arena and do as I say to stay alive.”

"That's two times.” You joked. " I don't know if I'm capable of doing that.” 

“Haha, very funny." He rolled his eyes. Silence took over for a second and you closed your eyes to let yourself rest with him. “I promise we'll get out of this and you'll get the life you deserve, we deserve."

“I trust you."

“Good because I mean it. We'll have our house back overlooking the ocean where little kids will run around outside, soaking up the sun and salt air. They'll have your beautiful laugh and your hair that'll whip around as they run.”

"And you're angel eyes, plus that disarming smile. We'll have to be on the lookout or we'll always give them their way.”

“You can read to me as I fish, you can sit on your favorite rock and I'll collect you all treasures. Annie and Mags will watch them so we can occasionally sneak away to swim in the sunset." 

"Oh you've got it all planned out, haven't you?”

"Of course, my love, the perfect life we can have when we're free from all of this.”

"Then I guess I'll have to listen to you to make that happen.” You laughed tiredly, body relaxing.

"Exactly, Mrs. Odair, so I can make sure our dreams come true, that everyone gets a chance to do the same.” Oh, your sweet, sweet boy. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you all so much for reading and for all the feedback! someone mentioned wanting to see haymitch presenting them and I thought that would be a great addition so thank @almostjollypizza for suggesting that! not gonna lie this was kind of a difficult chapter to write but I hope you guys enjoyed it, I'm excited to get to the Capitol and the stuff there. I have so many ideas! likes, comment, tags, reblogs, and asks are all super appreciated, love you guys, thank you! 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @skjdksjdhdjd @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Playing With Fire - Cooper Adams X Female Reader

Title: Playing With Fire

Cooper Adams X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Riley (Mentioned), his son (Mentioned), Rachel, and a news reporter

WC: 2,926

Warnings: Mentions of murder/killing (none take place), slight change in canon storyline, very brief mention of affairs (none take place), single dad Cooper, arson mentioned, mentioned of mental illnesses, age gap (40's/20's), possessive Cooper (but not too much), nicknames, banter, slightly suggestive, mini angst, italics, and fluff

Cooper Adams had made it out. He had made it out alive and well, and his family - and all the people at the concert, including police and FBI - were none the wiser that he was The Butcher. He'd admit that they indeed made it difficult for him, but Cooper was smart. Intelligent in a way that allowed him to stay three steps ahead of everyone else, usually.

His ability to blend in, to become just another face in the crowd, was unmatched. The persona he had cultivated over the years, that of a loving father, a devoted husband, and a trustworthy firefighter, was nothing more than a well-crafted mask. Underneath it all, the real Cooper thrived in the chaos, satisfying the monster inside him.

He had managed to avoid arousing suspicion, maintaining his calm, collected demeanor even as the authorities closed in on others. He must've blacked out or something, he didn't remember how he and Riley had escaped - well, how he escaped. Riley still had no idea who or what her father was. And he’d like to keep it that way. 

But, a week after Lady Raven’s concert, his carefully constructed world began to fracture. His wife thought that he was having an affair; he wasn’t. 

The revelation came out of nowhere, after a quiet dinner that was too peaceful to be real. The kids had already gone to bed after devouring their dessert, and Cooper had felt a strange calm wash over him, knowing that his double life was safe. But then that all changed.

“I want a divorce.”

Rachel’s words hung in the air, colder than the untouched dessert of pie in front of him. For a brief moment, Cooper felt as if one of his lives was cracking, a sharp splintering sound reverberating in his mind. The mask he had worn for so long threatened to slip. But, he was Cooper, after all, and he had survived worse. He could gain control over most situations, and he'd gain control of this one. Just a bump in the road.

‘A divorce would be for the best,’ He reasoned with himself. He could play the part of the heartbroken husband, the loving father who still wanted to be in his children’s lives. He’d get sympathy, not suspicion. “Yes,” He said slowly, calculating his next move. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

His wife’s face softened, perhaps expecting resistance, but instead finding a man resigned to his fate. She had no idea she was giving him exactly what he needed. 

She moved out, and into an apartment that following month. The divorce was finalized a few months later.

He was supposed to stop, he had planned to end his life, but his kids… He needed to be a part of their lives. This divorce was needed, but it changed his overall plan. And then, on top of everything that was happening, the concert happened. 

He didn't know how they knew he was going to be there. His mind raced with the possibilities. But, it didn't matter in the end. He was stepping away from The Butcher’s legacy forever. 

Cooper had always been the master of his own fate, and he intended to end his reign as The Butcher on his terms before the risks eclipsed the rewards. He was acutely aware that, sooner or later, the law would close in, or he’d slip up. 

Overall, he wanted to step away from being The Butcher, to spend more time with his children. He didn’t want them to grow up with a father who wasn’t there for them.

And he escaped. He escaped, and no one knew he was The Butcher. Not the police, not the FBI, not even his family. Now, it was time. Time to step back, to retire from the darkness that had consumed him for so long. Time to slip back into the life he had built, the life of a father, an ex-husband, a firefighter - an ordinary man of everyday society. 

He thought he would just go on with his life - spending time with his kids every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, going to work, and coming home to an empty house. Life carried on as before, just without his now ex-wife. The routine was supposed to be enough, a return to normalcy.

But, then he met you...

A year later, Cooper was at work when the sirens blared - there was a fire at a college dorm. It was just another job, another fire to extinguish. But as he arrived at the scene, hopping out of the firetruck, his attention was immediately drawn to you. You stood a safe distance from the blazing building, wearing worn-out Converse, shorts, and an oversized hoodie; with your college emblem on the back of it.

There was something unsettling about the scene before him. And then, as if sensing his intense gaze, you turned your head and your eyes locked with his. At that moment, something shifted within him. But before he could process the feeling, he snapped out of it and returned to work. Soon, the fire was manageable, and not even two hours later, it was extinguished. 

After the flames were put out and the smoke had begun to clear, Cooper found himself drawn back to where you had been standing. He approached you and you looked up at him, and he had a chance to introduce himself. It was a brief exchange, but it was enough to spark a connection. A connection that he hadn’t been expecting.

~~~

Cooper had never expected his life to take such a turn. What started as an unexpected spark at the scene of a confirmed arson fire had blossomed into something deeper. He and you had been dating for a few months, and Cooper found himself surprisingly content. Your presence in his life brought a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.

Cooper often found himself marveling at how well you fit into his world. The age difference seemed insignificant compared to the happiness and stability you brought into his life. It was clear that you weren’t just a fleeting presence. Plus, his kids loved you; Riley had already seen you as a role model.

Yet, despite the joy and contentment, Cooper’s need for control never fully dissipated. His controlling tendencies extended into every corner of his life, including his relationship with you. He needed to know what you were up to when you went out, and he often texted and called you while you were at college, checking in on you with a frequency that some might find overbearing to those outside of the relationship. But you found it endearing. It was his way of maintaining control, of ensuring everything was as it should be.

When you were together, and he wasn't working, Cooper took it upon himself to handle everything as well, often insisting that you relax and not lift a finger. Whether it was managing household chores or planning outings, he was always there, ensuring you were comfortable and well cared for. To him, this wasn’t just about showing affection; it was a means to exert control, to keep every aspect of your shared life under his watchful eye.

Again, you didn’t bat an eye. You understood his need for control and found comfort in the way he took care of you; it gave you a routine. His meticulous nature was just another part of what made him who he was - and you loved who he was - it brought a sense of security and warmth to your relationship that you valued deeply.

His ex-wife, Rachel, never truly understood him. She noticed his obsessive tendencies and his need for control, but she often saw them as quirks rather than deeply ingrained aspects of his personality. She would sometimes dismiss his need for order and control, urging him to 'relax' or 'let things go,' which only heightened his anxiety and need for control. Their relationship eventually strained under the weight of these misunderstandings, leading to a growing emotional distance between them.

With you, you don’t just tolerate Cooper’s need for control; you seem to intuitively understand it. You recognized that his constant checking in, his insistence on handling everything, wasn’t just a desire to take care of you - it was a way for him to maintain a sense of stability in his world that he originally didn't have.

To keep a long story short, there was something about you that captivated him - perhaps because he had never met anyone who seemed to understand him as deeply as you did.

~~~

Keys jingling in the lock, Cooper opened the front door. The lights in the house were dimmed, only a couple of lamps leading to the living room. Shrugging off his jacket, he carefully folded it, placing it on the small table by the stairs; so he could easily bring it upstairs to his closet when he was ready for bed.

Searching, he found you on the couch, typing away on your laptop. Even though you and Cooper had only been dating for six months, he had practically begged you to move in with him. The thought of you staying in the college dorms didn’t sit well with him, especially after the fire that had occurred there nine months ago. It wasn't just the threat of fires that concerned him though; there were dangerous people out in the world - monsters - and the idea of you being so exposed made him uneasy. In other words, he wanted you for himself, and he knew that he was strong enough to protect you, if needed.

Living together gave him peace of mind, knowing you were safe and under his protection.

Looking up from your computer, you gave him a small smile. "Hey, Coop," You began, your voice warm. "How was work?"

Your attention drifted back to your screen, but Cooper knew that there was genuine interest in your question, the way you always cared about the little details of his day. It was one of the things he loved about you - how you made him feel important, even in the mundane moments.

"Busy as usual, paperwork mostly," Cooper replied, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you. "But, it’s better now that I’m home." He walked over to you. Leaning down, he cupped the back of your head with a hand, placing a kiss on the top of your head before sitting beside you on the couch. "What are you working on?" He asked, his gaze flicking to your laptop screen.

"History," You answer with a sigh, saving your work and shutting the laptop, "But, you're home now, so I guess I should take a break." You joked lightly, placing the laptop on the coffee table. 

"Hmm," Cooper hummed thoughtfully, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck as he began to massage it. "You’ve been working hard, sweetheart. A break would be a good idea." His touch was firm yet soothing, a mix of care and control that you’d come to recognize as uniquely his. 

You sighed, shutting your eyes, relishing in the feeling of Cooper's fingers working all the knots before running through your hair. "Want to watch something?" You muttered, fluttering your eyes open as he finished his little massage; settling more comfortably against him, tossing your legs over his lap, his hand instinctively resting just above your knee.

"Yeah, sure," Cooper agreed as his free arm traveled down to wrap around your waist. "What do you want to watch?"

"I don’t know…" You trailed off, "We could just scan until we find something mildly interesting."

Cooper nodded, before scanning through the channels. You were half paying attention to the TV screen, more interested in fidgeting with Cooper's hand on your leg. Cooper’s hand was large and strong, the kind of hand that seemed made for the work he did. Solid, capable, with slightly calloused fingers that spoke of years of hard labor. His skin was warm against yours, a comforting presence as his thumb occasionally brushed against you. The veins on the back of his hand were prominent, a subtle reminder of his strength - power - yet the way he held you was tender.

Your drowsiness vanished as the words "Breaking News: Ninth Arson Attack Strikes City, Possibly Linked to Serial Arsonist," filled the room. You straightened up, your attention fully captured by the screen. The images of a blazing warehouse played out in stark contrast to the comfort of the couch, the flickering flames reflected in your wide eyes. The newscaster continued the urgency in her voice. "In a shocking development, authorities are investigating a devastating fire that broke out late last night at a local warehouse, marking the ninth suspected arson attack in the city in recent months. The fire, which quickly engulfed the building, required multiple firefighting units to bring under control. Fortunately, no injuries have been reported, but the damage is extensive, and the warehouse is considered a total loss."

"I was there for that. Took hours to get the fire out." You heard Cooper say, his own eyes watching the scene before him on the screen. “Do you think they'll catch him?”

You hummed softly, "They might, but it’s not going to be easy for them."

The newscaster continued, "-Investigators are working tirelessly to piece together evidence from the crime scenes and are appealing to the public for any information that might lead to a breakthrough in the case. In the meantime, the city remains on high alert as the search for the arsonist intensifies."

As the newscaster continued to report, you leaned back into the couch, your hand stopping its ministrations to cover Cooper’s on your leg. "Well," You said casually, your tone carrying an eerie undertone, "He’s definitely made a name for himself. You know, it’s almost poetic, makes you wonder what drives someone to turn their pain into something so... Powerful."

Cooper glanced over, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Poetic? That’s an interesting way to put it."

You met his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in your eyes. "Yeah, well, it’s like he’s creating a masterpiece with every fire. Some people just have a way of making their mark, you know? Even if it’s through destruction." As the newscaster’s report droned on, you shifted slightly, your eyes never leaving the screen. You spoke with a casual air, but your words held an unsettling edge. "For example,.. Serial killers and serial arsonists..," You trailed off, your tone almost contemplative, "They're not so different, really. Both are driven by something deep, something they can’t quite control."

There was a pause, and Cooper’s eyes narrowed, staring at the side of your face. Did you know? Did you know about him? And with the way you spoke, so intimately about the mindset of someone who causes chaos and leaves destruction in their wake, felt eerily familiar. It was as if you were speaking from a place of experience, not just observation.

Suddenly, the memory of that night - the night he first saw you at the dorm fire, standing so calm in the face of destruction - came rushing back. The pieces fell into place in his mind.

You weren’t just intrigued by the arsonist’s actions; you were speaking from the perspective of someone who knew all too well what it was like to manipulate fear and destruction. The recognition was there, behind the facade of your own calm demeanor, and Cooper couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding a darker truth about yourself.

Cooper leaned in closer, his honeyed gaze intense but measured. He kept his voice low, “You seem to have a pretty deep understanding of what drives someone to create chaos.” His words were carefully chosen, probing but vague, designed to test the waters without directly accusing you. He maintained a steady, almost casual demeanor, hoping to gauge your reaction without revealing his own suspicions; he turned in his seat, facing you, his arm slipping from your waist to rest on the back of the couch.

You met his gaze with a knowing smirk, your eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and something darker. “Well, not only do I take a Criminal Justice class, but…” You paused smoothly, your voice carrying a hint of playful menace, “I’ve always found that understanding the darker side of human nature can be quite enlightening. After all, everyone has their dark sides and secrets. Some are just better at hiding them than others. Don't you agree, Cooper?" You tilted your head.

‘Yeah… You knew. But how?’ He stared at you, his expression neutral but his eyes betraying a flicker of recognition. “Yes,” He murmured slowly, his dark brown eyes narrowing ever so slightly, “I do agree.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as his hand on your leg moved up, his fingers gripping your inner thigh with a possessive yet tender pressure.

"Well," You began, voice back to its usual lighthearted tone, "I don't know about you, but I am exhausted," You stood from the couch, only to bend down, your hand cupping his stubbly cheek, tilting his head up to meet yours, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, "And I would love nothing more than to snuggle with you."

Yeah… You understood. Cooper looked up at you, his dark eyes softening as he felt the warmth of your kiss.

He smirked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he stood. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get some rest."

---

Main Masterlist | TRAP Masterlist

[desolatespring]

Accidentally deleted the request from my inbox but it was something along the lines of “imagine reader being the one too drunk in front of Chrollo”

CW: mentions of alcohol, depression, anxiety, yandere themes, physical abuse, slight religious imagery.

You stare at the ground, once again counting the floorboards under your feet. Numbers 3 and 19 creak, 14 through 17 are worn down from how the door drags against them, and-

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” Chrollo’s voice cuts your thoughts short.

“I’m counting the floorboards… again.” You hope your boring honesty will be enough to make him leave you alone.

“Sounds invigorating. Maybe if you behave I’ll take you out to watch the grass grow next.”

You scoff. “It beats being locked inside with a dolt like you.”

“Such an uncouth mouth. Didn’t you hear the part where I said you’d have to behave to earn such a privilege?”

You reluctantly look over, already knowing the smirk you’re about to see. Aaand there it is.

That’s really the only push you need. You sigh as you rise from the couch, making your way to the refrigerator. Your eyes glint over the contents before finally settling on what they were looking for.

You snatch Chrollo’s whiskey, the label of which you could never dream of pronouncing correctly. Not bothering with the glass, you take a few big swigs straight from the bottle.

“What an unladylike way to drink.”

“I actually find alcohol dependency to be very sophisticated. Only the wealthy can afford to drink like this.”

He raises an eyebrow and his smile only grows.

“Darling, if memory serves, alcohol dependency is usually a sign of depression and anxiety. Both of which are prevalent mental illnesses amongst the lower class.”

And just like that you’re drinking more then heading to the kitchen sink. Now supporting a smirk of your own you begin dumping the bottles contents down the drain. “Then I’ll have to abstain.”

The mirth in Chrollo’s eyes is palpable as he watches the expensive liquor get wasted. He’s on you in an instant, trapping your body to the counter and holding the now half emptied bottle.

“There’s no need for abstinence,” the lecherous implications make your skin crawl, “but would a little class kill you?”

“If it would I might actually start acting dignified. Anything to escape the likes of you.”

You’d like nothing more than to smack the faux pout off his lips. Chrollo leans over you, reaching for two whiskey glasses from the cabinet. He makes sure to get closer than necessary as his body presses against yours.

Once retrieved he hands you a glass filled with the umber liquid and leads you to the couch by your wrist. You’ve been with him long enough to know attempting to pull away is futile so a mere groan of displeasure will have to suffice.

He settles down on the couch, dragging you along next to him. To an outsider looking in you’d appear as the perfect couple. His arm is wrapped around your back, rubbing what’s suppose to be soothing circles into your bicep, and he looks at you, granting you his undivided attention. You know better though, this is just a subtle display of his control over you. His grip tells you you won’t be getting up unless he allows it, and his watchful gaze is studying every minute detail about you. Any adjustment to your position, drop in facial expressions, or even a change in your breathing will be noted.

He at least has the decency to try and cater the conversation to your interests. “I’m not surprised The Walking Dead comic is better, the source material tends to be unmatched,” “I don’t sound like Patrick Bateman, I’m just saying it wasn’t until The Smiths release of The Queen is Dead that the band truly found their sound.”

Try as he might but you just can’t feign interest at his blasphemous attempts at being good company. Even a conversation as light as this feels dangerous. You’re refilling your glass without a second thought.

Overestimating your tolerance only proves to be detrimental. The effects of the alcohol are kicking in close to instantaneously. Truthfully, you’d been too stressed by your current living situation to eat much. The strength of the alcohol mixed with an empty stomach has it rushing to your head.

While you wouldn’t consider yourself to be angry drunk, emotional was an understatement. Whatever you were feeling before you drank became amplified until it was blinding. The arm Chrollo has around you is now stifling, his voice more grating than ever. It’s all so aggravating. His unwanted commentary throughout the night only succeeds in provoking you. You have to mentally applaud yourself for not ripping your hair out.

In an attempt to cover up your disgust you finish your second glass, hoping it’ll wash away your problems. It works for a bit. You’re forgetting things as they happen and you zone out unintentionally, yet your anger digs in it’s heels and remains.

You think you fell asleep at one point but judging by the way Chrollo continues monologuing you brush the thought aside. Realizing you’re starting to black out you begin grasping to every word he says as if it were gospel, desperate to stay alert. The last thing you’d need is to pass out and be unresponsive in front of him.

The next time you come to, your brain is scrambling to connect the dots. You don’t even remember what he said, but the emotions you felt still linger. The stinging in your palm and fingers is your next source of confusion. You look from your hand to his face trying to find the missing pieces to your mental puzzle. The handprint on Chrollo’s cheek is evident and despite your drunken stupor you begin putting two and two together. You look to your hand again for confirmation and, oh shit.

You’ve never hit him before. Passive aggressive behavior and wry responses were more your forte. Occasionally, when feeling particularly spiteful, ignoring him altogether was the solution. But this was certainly new. You know you didn’t actually hurt him, at least not physically. Yet you still fear his retaliation.

Your anxiety proves warranted. “That was bold.” Unsure if it’s the booze or his inhuman speed but your head is cranked to the side while your vision struggles to catch up. Your head swims, you feel like you could vomit from the sudden onset of dizziness. The pain doesn’t come immediately but it leaves you blinking back tears when you feel it.

It takes even longer for you to realize you’re now on the floorboards you counted so adamantly earlier. Supported by your hands and knees, you look up at him through tears fueled by an unholy concoction of fear and affliction.

He doesn’t speak right away and you aren’t about to test the waters by opening your mouth first. The silence is deafening but you find yourself longing for it the moment he breaks it.

“I miss how you use to look at me. Trepidation is very unbecoming on you.” He looks almost as pained as you. The way your body trembles before him isn’t the same confident person he first met. “I miss the old you. You’ve lost yourself.”

It’s rare to see any real emotion on his face, let alone for him to speak so openly about them. Realistically he only does this because he believes you to be too drunk to remember any of this in the morning.

Blaming the alcohol for your next response would be too simple: it takes generations of piss poor genetics and wasted potential for evolution to reach this level of idiocy.

“I’ve lost myself so you could be who you truly are. You have no one but yourself to blame.” The words are slurred as you reflect on the times before he kidnapped you. The man you use to admire, now strikes you down with his own hand. Nostalgia may kill you before he ever does. “I use to love you.” If your words won’t be remembered in the morning it’s best to make them count while you have the chance.

His gaze remains cold. The past tense doesn’t go unnoticed, and somehow these truths cut him deeper than any of your snide remarks ever did. You never fully come to this conclusion yourself as you pass out on the floor.

Chrollo sighs and carries you to your shared room. As he looks down at you sprawled unceremoniously on the bed he notices how the bruise already blossoming on your cheek stands in stark contrast to the pale satin sheets.

You’ve always had a funny way of making him discern emotions he wasn’t accustomed to. This has to be the closest thing to guilt he’s ever felt. With the realization he’s condemned both of you, comes the wish you didn’t dump half his whiskey down the drain. God knows he could use some more of it right now.

[euphoniouspandemonium]

Cotton Mendings — a WIP intro by yours truly

finally doing a proper introduction yayy!! who would have foreseen this .

stage: drafting (rip it's been so long and it's going soo slow)

tags: #wip: cotton mendings ; #aes: cotton mendings

genres: historical fiction, literary fiction

themes and tropes: idealisation and romanticisation of people, queer love and toxic queer relationships, friends to lovers, tenderness and love for the world, hope, grief, obsession, mythological and religious imagery, breaking out of other people's perceptions of you, relearning gentleness after having it beaten out of you, being loved as being known

warnings: emotional and physical abuse, character death and mentioned animal death, period-typical homophobia & transphobia (will add on)

pov: 3rd person past tense

setting: 1920s England

summary: Oscar ignites a relationship with an old friend – charismatic socialite Salvatore – whom he has had repressed love for for years. But despite everything their relationship is haunted by the death of Oscar's brother and a series of portraits simply called Percy, made by a German artist: paintings of a red haired man who appears perfect and soft and yet incredibly, beautifully tragic. It makes Oscar question Salvatore and their relationship and wonder about the life and seemingly inherent sorrow of the subject, while Salvatore grows ever more enticed by ruthless, enigmatic Yvonne. Their separate obsessions grow and push them apart, while at the center of everything is Percy, devastatingly alive and spiteful, trapped in a narrative he did not create. Who is Percy, who is Salvatore, who is Oscar in rotation to them? Does he want to know at all?

characters, notes, excerpt & taglist under the cut <33

characters:

Oscar (he/him, bi): world's #1 most pathetic sad boy. romanticises everything to the point of self destruction. scared of acting on his desires but full of soooo much love. obsessive, incredibly sensitive, artistic, melancholy. also sooo autism.

Salvatore (he/him, bi): charismatic, intelligent, flamboyant, philosophical, hedonistic. he sees everything in a very realistic and nihilistic way. emotionally detached yet surprisingly protective and gentle with the people he loves.

Percy (he/him, bi, trans): babyboy !! baby!!!!!!!! full of so much life and love and poetry. he is very sweet and sarcastic and loves going on little adventures. mentally ill & physically disabled. he's suffered more than jesus but his wonder and whimsy are unmatched.

Yvonne (she/her, bi): hot evil woman❤️ ruthless, vicious and cold. her love is almost violent and repugnant. she only cares about few people but if they are in danger she knows no morality or law. also she's mischievous like a little cat <3

notes: Cotton Mendings is my passion project, my Magnum Opus, my baby. I have worked very hard on it and I've developed the character dynamics and symbolism sooooo much I could talk about them for hours. It all started with the song Angie by The Rolling Stones, but it has strayed very far from its original concept (actually Angie isn't even on the playlist — it is now completely a product of my obsession with The Smiths I'm afraid). It has helped me through so much and I will be very happy if people like it :] I love my horrible insane bisexuals. Why is everyone bisexual, you ask? well. I ❤️ bisexuals.

excerpt:

He thought again of Percy, of the way he glowed as if coated in honey and sunlight, the sweet smile on his face. What if Percy had spent his life failing at it, too? Trying to be the perfect picture of a beautiful boy. Turning hazy and translucent, like a ghost, from trying. And those few minutes with him, how the light extended and held Oscar too, how Percy was perfect and beautiful but couldn't possibly be only that. How they were both an image without a body.

(general) taglist: @ribelleribelle @talesofsorrowandofruin @writing-is-a-martial-art @alexwritesfiction @aether-wasteland-s @sculpture-in-a-period-drama @phantomnations @olimpias (ask to be added or removed)

[lesbiandanhowell]

Special episode of Sam reacts!

Sam reacts to: We're All Doomed Movie

Since this is long, little summary of thoughts at the beginning. I didn't love the editing at the beginning, because it felt too fast paced/ too jumpy? But it changed in the second half and seeing the contrast in the editing of it being much slower during the emotional bit, it does make sense. I think the movie for sure did the performance justice and showing the audience interactions added a lot for me.

Also this show is so important on every level and I adore Dan so much for making it and being so proud of it.

- Immediately started looking for myself but I don't think you can see us, cause we sat on the balcony. I have however already spotted @energeticwarrior and @danrifics like less than a minute in lmao

- I love seeing how many of the camera positions I identified correctly.

- I wish they would let shots linger more, the cuts are quite jumpy.

- Oh this brings me back so much. Hearing the audience laugh at certain moments I remember laughing in that moment. I get the same excitement and urge to clap and cheer.

- I love seeing his expressions, cause I didn't get to see those up from the balcony!

- The person with the boob hair sweater in the first row, I love you!

- "Believably sad, lonely and horny. Dan Howell!"

- Okay they somehow really managed to capture the energy of the room which I was worried about. The sound leveling between audience and Dan is really well matched imo.

- He is SO SWEATY what the fuck how stressed was he because the venue really wasn't too hot honestly.

- My attention span is so much worse than when I was there in person holy shit.

- "After the show talking about what a good time you've had" and none of us have been able to shut up about just how much we loved it since 🥹

- The overalls are so bad for Dan, he has like no ass in them.

- Okay admission that @personthattoleratesme made fun of me for: during the YouTube swipe Montage I didn't realize all the other like Crafting, Baking, Shipping Container YouTubers was Dan the first time I saw the show...

- I am SO GLAD Froot Loops Tucan made it and the persons reaction and confidence is incredible.

- Dan's ability to go between talking about wanting to fuxk the Duolingo owl to the very real danger of social media influencing political elections is unparalleled.

- "Human communication. We want to come together with real people. Share stories, move each other emotionally with our words about depression and pensis."

- Imagine Dan Howell calling you hoe...

- Something about Dan calling himself a ditzy bitch gets me so bad every time.

- "Miscellaneous mentally ill nerds of London" best title I have ever been given.

- I liked Sundays madlips better :(( But wasn't faggots Sunday I am so confused now

- The screams for every Phil mention, we love him so much.

- I love Blame Game so much, some of my favourite parts from the whole show because the energy is unmatched. The fact that JKR gets a more severe reaction than Musk is actually so funny.

- Sunday crowd was the best, you can so clearly hear that the majority of people is calling freedom for Dan at the end aww.

- I need more bravery to fuck shit up, to not be so agreeable and complacent and be more disruptive honestly.

- After the calender bit his voice is so shakey and broken, I didn't hear that at all in person but fuck that just broke me.

- Yeah the last few minutes always get me so not much of a reaction to those other than I cried, again.

- What I found interesting was the parts that were left out? Cause I definitely noticed a few moments that didn't make the cut which I find surprising! Moments I noticed were the first mention of him only using two emojis, that's referenced again with the cowboy hat emoji and also he didn't include the iconic "Because time changes everything".

- I am so glad they managed to get All Star because it is simply part of the experience honestly. Nothing hit's quite like sobbing and then being hit with that song.

EDIT:

- I remembered something else I really loved: the music, I really think they choose such a good score, made such good little sound effects and the reaction I had to hearing it all live was amazing.

[lauriejamesgrace]

okay so watching season three of heartstopper and seeing peoples reactions to it on like tiktok and shit have really got me thinking about my own experiences and habits of invalidating my own experiences

like the general responses ive been seeing are focussing on either 1. the emphasis of the importance of platonic relationships (which i really appreciate and value but thats not what im on about here), 2. charlies struggles with his mental health, and 3. nicks struggles with charlies mental health and all that jazz

and my first instinct when i see people talking about nicks struggles with it all is like?? shut the fuck up?????? its not about him??????? but the more i think about it the more im like wait no he is in a shit position!? it is hard as FUCK when someone you love is going through stuff like that and you just don't know what you can do to help?! and obviously this is all fictional lmao like the support of the viewers makes no difference to the actual characters but im still like he does deserve the recognition and support for what hes going through, because all he wants to do is try his best and help however he can, but theres not always anything you CAN do and that feeling of helplessness is almost unmatched

and then me having that whole thought process and realisation has made me reevaluate my attitude toward the whole 'dating someone struggling with mental illness' thing and THEn i was like well its not fair that i was diminishing those struggles to begin with!1!! and thEN i was like why did i have that mindset at all??? because im someone who has always made an active effort to have empathy and understanding for every viewpoint of anything i can possibly do so

but yeah then i just had to accept that it was because ive always been too hard on myself, because it definitely started with my first girlfriend who i wont go into detail but she was,, not well and i was dealing with things and putting the responsibility on myself, as her girlfriend, to keep her okay and alive even, at FAr too young an age to have any kind of responsibility for that. and i guess i just wish that id had been exposed to this attitude earlier? because seeing the amount of understanding from strangers on the internet for someone going through similar things to myself would have been endlessly helpful for my own mental health

i dont really know where i was going with this and thank you if youve bothered to read all my mindless rambling that would usually be in one of my many journals i just cba to write when typing is so much quicker and easier when my mind is moving this quickly, but yeah i guess my point with all this is just like

take care of yourself <3 like i know its an overused sentiment but like, being there for others that 'have it worse than you' doesnt mean that you dont also deserve a support system

i definitely have more to say on this but need to get my head straight before i can word anything more lmao but yeah be kind spread love employ empathy love u lots xoxoxo

[seas-storyarchive]

2 for 1 combined request because yes.

Protection - genderbent au

--

In the beginning, after Alastriona introduced herself as an overlord.. things got tense.

"Look, pops." Vox said to Rory, the television faced man had invited Rory to a club to talk. "Alastriona is WAY out of your league. Way closer to my tastes and all."

Pfft. This fool wished. "Hmm.." Rory wasn't going to touch his drink, not trusting anyone in this club. Goodness, it was disorienting. "Well, I suppose you'll have to try harder, my good man. For Alastriona is unmatched." He put a tip under his drink and walked out of the club, leaving a drunk Vox to stew in anger when he finally realized what happened.

--

Cut to when Rory and Alastriona began a courtship, it was very lowkey. He was ever a gentleman, her being a proper lady.

This? Well.. it occured during a monthly meeting of the Overlords.

"Allow me." Rory pushed Alastriona's chair in a bit so she was closer to the table.

Alastriona smiled at him. "Why thank you, Rory. Such a dear." She joked, her ears flicking.

"Hey! Hey Alastriona!" Great.. "I heard you'd be here! I got these for you!" A bouquet of red roses was shoved into her face.

Don't pull out the handgun. Don't pull out the handgun.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you Vox, truly lovely collection of flowers and- oh, tsk." Alastriona's tone was taunting and sarcastic as she took the bouquet, and all the flowers died the moment her fingertips touched it. "I'm afraid my thumbs aren't very green. So sorry-"

"No! No, it's fine!" Vox threw the bouquet away, onto Rory - who ignored the flowers coming back to life in his presence- grinning like a fool at the overlord as he pulled a box out from behind his back. "The finest chocolates in all of the underworld, for you!"

The entire room, apart from Vox, all mentally asked themselves - didn't Vox realize that Alastriona hated sweets? They assumed it was well known!

"Ah, thank you, Vox." Sarcasm and annoyance were not being captured in 4K by the television, it seemed. "But, I am afraid this is ill timed, as I am watching my figure. And am not much for chocolates."

Vox looked a bit crushed, looking past Alastriona to see Rory smirking. He was not about to lose to some - some - founding father, rose pimp looking bitch! "Well, let me know what you want and it's yours!" Vox said to Alastriona. "Anything! No price is too high!"

"Anything?" Alastriona asked, playing with Vox's emotions hardcore as she batted her doe eyelashes at him.

Vox nodded, grinning like a fool again. "Anything.." Oh, Alastriona had him. Poor sucker.

"What I want, Voxxington," oh, watching Vox being so desperate was delicious.. but now was time for him to go eat dirt, "is for you to recognize that when a lady is already in a courtship." She took Rory's hand, interlocking their fingers. "It is highly improper, extremely childish - much like your style of dress - and very rude."

Vox's face, when he finally realized he lost when Rory pulled up Alastriona's hand to kiss the back of it, was that of a broken man. He looked so defeated. Oh, Alastriona wished she had a camera.

The meeting went as normal after that, Vox was silent. Too shocked to say another word. Focusing on Rory and Alastriona's held hands that rested on the table.

--

Cut to current day:

"Alastriona! I have come for you, darling!"

Alastriona, who sat on a balcony overlooking the lawn, frowned into her mug of coffee.

"Dhis fuck again?" Angel asked, not looking up from his project, sitting at the table across from her to paint her nails.

"Sadly, my effeminate fellow." Alastriona said softly. She tapped her foot, sending her shadow to inform Charlie of their.. unwanted guest. How she missed her staff.

"Come on, babe! Let's get out of this loser hotel!" Vox saw her, finally, his smile becoming a jealous frown. "And go be in the company of people more OUR style!"

"Do you think he'll ever realize his style came from a dumpstah?" Angel asked, checking the shiny purple nail polish. "Hm.. what'chu think?"

Alastriona snorted. "Perhaps that's also where he picked up his personality!" She smiled as Angel laughed, looking at her hand. "I love it! Do you have the same color, but with glitter?"

Her question was met with a wide grin. "I sure as shit do toots!" He dug through his supply to find it.

"Vox, get out of here!" Oh, their show was back on! Angel paused to look over the ledge with Al, seeing Charlie and the rest of the gang ready to kick Vox's ass.

"Should I get my piece?" Angel asked, going back to digging.

"No, no. I'd like to get my nails done please, darling."

"Sure thing, toots." He found the requested polish, starting to paint the rest of her nails.

"You fuckers don't get it!" Vox snapped to the hotel residents. "I saw her first! That found father, pimp lookin, flower patterned fucker stole her from me!"

"How DARE you insult Mister Rory!" Niffty was on Charlie's shoulder, brandishing a knife - with dried exorcist blood on it. Ah, Niffty, darling dear.

"Piss off!" Vaggie's spear was inches from Vox's screen.

"No! I'm not leaving until Alastriona admits she made a mistake and comes with me!" Vox said, smacking the from his face, looking up at the balcony. "You hear me, Alastriona! You made a big mistake! But it isn't too late, babe! Come make the right choice!"

"Go kick rocks, Vox~" Alastriona sang, making Angel laugh.

"But you're supposed to be with me! Not that old timey, founding father-looking, pimp dressing, floral patterned bitch!" Vox stomped his feet like a toddler.

"At least my darling Rory has an actual persona that isn't a picture on a screen!" Alastriona really went there. Holy shit.

"Dayum toots! Save some for the rest of us!" Angel was loving this. It was beautiful.

"You fuck- fucking whore!" Oh, oh there it is. "Get down here, make the right choice, and MAYBE I'll-"

The sound of a shot being fired, and the defeating noise of breaking glass was heard. Vox had a hole in the corner of his television set, a crack from the hole to the other side of his head.

"Wha-"

Rory, abandoning his gun - still full of bullets by the way, tackled Vox down to the ground and began to claw and rip and bit at the man while snarling, "insult my wife again! Do it! Do it you tacky piece of-" his hair had elongated, breaking free from the hair tie that held it, as had his teeth and claws.

Alastriona whistled from the balcony before fanning her face. "Oh, how I love the sight of a working man!"

Angel chuckled. "Well, after this, you can tap that."

"Pfft. Oh hush you." Alastriona grinned at him with a blush.

"What I'm just sayin-"

The sound of high pitched screaming, mixing with the sound of tearing bones and wires was heard along with a snarl that was more of a roar.

"Leave! If I catch wind of you here or near my wife again, I will rip off the rest of your limbs and use them as mounts for the clothing in my shop!" Rory roared in Vox's face before getting off of him, holding an arm with frayed wires in his hand.

Vox took that as his cue to run off, with one less arm - the place of breakage with sparks and oil and blood spurting everywhere.

"Niffty darling," Rory held out his other hand, "my handgun, if you please." And, when he had it, he took a few (deliberate) pot shots - he might have gotten a bit too ambitious and actually hit the man in his leg, but worth it - at Vox to help nail the message home.

"My hero!" Alastriona called from the balcony as Rory's features shrank back to normal.

"All in a day's work, my beloved." Rory proudly puffed out his chest as he slid the gun back into his coat.

"You two are sick.." Vaggie said, impressed by also horrified.

"Then I hope to never find a cure." Rory said as he pranced back into the hotel, swinging his prize to and fro like a happy school boy who got a new toy.

"You are good to go and tap it." Angel said with a grin.

"Shut up." Alastriona smacked a twenty onto the table.

"Drop another twenty and I'll do your makeup."

"How about a fifty for hair AND makeup?" Alastriona pulled out the bill.

"You desperate floozy, say less! I'm in!" Angel snatched the bill. "Come with me to my office! I'll even throw in a free outfit consultation!" He led her off the balcony, into the hotel, and to his room.

"Bets on how long it'll take for boxxy boy to forget the memo?" Husk asked as they all filed back into the hotel.

"A week." Vaggie groaned as her spear disappeared.

"I betting 24 hours." Charlie said, getting a nod from Niffty.

"You think that fucker would be that desperate?" Cherri asked.

There was the sound of spitting - Rory had apparently tried Vox's arm, and spat the bit he tried into a napkin.

"What's the verdict, Mister Rory sir?"

"Horrible, Niffty dear. Just plain terrible." Rory said as he snagged the closest bottle from behind the counter, poppped the top, and chugged.

"Where are Angel and Antlers?" Lucifer asked, having seen them leaving the balcony.

"Right here, Luci baby!"

Angel walked down the stairs, with his makeup done. And he wasn't alone.

Alastriona was with him. Wearing heels, a red skirt that covered her knees but left the rest of her legs below bare, a form fitting black shirt with a red short jacket, and her long hair in curls, which highlighted the make up on her face.

"Look at this sexy bitch!" Angel said, hyping up his newly found make up buddy. No one said anything, and nope. Not gonna pass. "I said LOOK!"

Charlie, fighting her bisexual brain, grinned. "Oh my gosh, Al! You look amazing!"

Vaggie nodded, her lesbian brain broke.

Husk just gave a thumbs up, pounding a bottle.

Niffty was moving around Alastriona, going a mile a minute in compliments.

Lucifer nudged Rory, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rory was.. well, the bottle was on the floor and spilling everywhere, his mouth was hanging open and sockets were wide.

"Well, Grinny? What do you have to say- whoa! Hello!"

Rory was on his knees, before Alastriona, holding her hand in his as he kissed it repeatedly. He looked up to her face, adoration on his, "you are gorgeous, my darling."

There was a mixture of "awwws" and gags. It was a fun to watch the two stuttering around each other for the rest of the afternoon.

[bandtrees]

tell me about milton the presidential pool boy

SEND ME A CHARACTER AND I'LL...

OFC <3 i will do these solidly in uh... the order i remember to :D yay. milt is the perfect character to do this with though because my highly specific headcanon realities for him in particular are UNMATCHED. UNDER A READMORE—

Sexuality Headcanon: BISEXUAL ICON. also polyamorous of course, and objectum - which is obviously not a feeling he has words for but it’s part of what drives his initial attraction to marla and callum, his attraction to the objects in particular while they’re a novelty. i figured it would be an interesting segue into him being desperate to keep his ‘human’ face if it already stuck out in their relationship - but in a way he finds hot, lol. til it’s not anymore of course.

fun fact, in my milton fic that lays out a lot of what i basically imagine for him, i scrapped a line during him and callum’s arguments that would have been, in response to callum becoming more obsessed with the dialup/innovation overall, him trying to reassure callum that he would’ve loved him even without his object head - but of course he wouldn’t be able to lie like that, and would hold his tongue. it would’ve been a parallel to the last milt/marla scene, buuut i couldnt find a place to squeeze it in, lol.

Gender Headcanon: plain ol cisgender gentleman 👍

A ship I have with said character: WHITE HOUSE POLYCULE MY BELOVED. i am so very fond of callum+milt+marla you have no idea the mental illness i gave myself with them. i am a huge sucker for polyamorous ships and the amount of tragic potential with literally every combination of these three drives me fucking insane.

A BROTP I have with said character: i am sure him and norm would have a lot to talk about if they ever were to personally meet, lol.

A NOTP I have with said character: ...well here’s the thing about that. jokes aside though, if i can cheat and say “an existing interpretation of a ship i do like”, i do love callum/milt a lot, but i am specifically really not into the interpretation that it was an affair situation. for a lot of reasons - only one of them is that i’m as attached to the polyamory headcanon as i am. for starters, dubious a figure as he is, i don’t think callum would Do That, both morally and because i think a lot of his personality revolves around the fact that he only really views his life in service to other people and i can’t see him being that underhanded unless it was for a cause he really thought was just. when i think the problem with him is that he abandons his personal relationships for those causes.

that and, like… it just sidelines marla in a way i don’t like. dialtown, all my love to it, kind of already has a problem with its gender ratios and such and i don’t think regaling the female character in the equation to a beard or “The Wife” or whatever is fair — not to say i think every woman has to be shipped, but i just find her having an active role in callum+milt’s relationship way more interesting than any alternative. let her fujosh it out smh. plus i’m bisexual and will always take a well-thought out m/f ship over m/m ships that are just kinda there.

A random headcanon: lax as he appears, especially compared to callum, he has a lot of resentment in that weird little heart of his. he has an obsessive attachment to his own humanity, in a “weathered and it’s all i have” sense — being in wars made it so he felt a lot of his body wasn’t his own, but he wasn’t prepared to ‘lose’ it to the dialup, either. in a world where callum managed to actually force him to get an object head, he still would’ve committed suicide… after taking crown down with him, of course.

i also like stylizing him as having a black censor bar in place of a face :] with his trademark lil hat visible ofc lol.

General Opinion over said character: I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY FUCKING LIKE HIM. both my insanely specific headcanons and the framework that dogman themself has put down for him. he’s very interesting and some of the bleakest dialtown’s story has gotten - which inherently intrigues me a lot. i think he has potential for a perspective on dt’s story we really don’t see that much of - that being how the dialup must have felt at the time, and how genuinely horrifying it would have been.

i also, for a while - and this is really ironic coming from me - really really did not like milton. not for anything to actually do with him - i just really liked callum crown and, before learning who milton was, was incensed that so many people seemed to be more attached to what i thought was a throwaway name than his actual lore, lol. now i know better of course. now i have become fucking insane, at that

⬆ I LIKE HIM VERY MUCH

[ticklishraspberries]

hi razz! i'm sorry to hear that you're sick, feel better soon! any music you've been listening to lately that you'd recommend? :D

hii!! thank you so much!! ohhh i love to yap so here are some less-popular artists (at least i think these ppl are kinda niche to me but maybe i'm just out of touch)

ethel cain is officially one of my all time favorite artists of all time. i saw her live, front-row, and got to hold her hand and sing sun-bleached flies with her. ethel is a stage name and her real name is hayden, she is an absolutely beautiful trans female artist. her album, preacher's daughter, is a concept album that i think everyone should listen to, all the way through, in order. it is quite a disturbing story, so exercise caution. i like all her music, not just that album. she writes about the american south, cycles of abuse, having a strained relationship with god, and dating shitty men.

sorry mom is one of the greatest upcoming punk bands around. i am fully biased because i may or may not be friends with someone in the band...shh though because i don't want anyone to be like omg sorry mom is associated with this fucking tickle fic blog oh my god i'd be so embarrassed shut up. anyway, their debut album babyface is actually one of my favorite albums ever as well. their lyrics are fucking unmatched. the main theme of babyface is the pain and struggle of growing up, feeling younger than you are, feeling behind all of your peers...a feeling that i strongly relate to and i think a lot of people do. their first ep is also great but the girl who is no longer in the band cannot fucking sing so listen to those with caution lmfao. i rlly hope they re-record those songs bc i love them, it's just...her. specific songs you should check out are: molly sells molly by the seashore / getting sick / town clown / enema / teeth / stoop kid.

peach prc is a tiktoker turned popstar who is just so fucking talented and writes incredible lyrics. she's a lesbian and her newest song, secret, is about dating a closeted girl. she writes about being gay, her struggles with mental illness and addiction, as well as fun, upbeat, songs about sex and hating her exes. i think her genre is maybe considered hyper-pop?? idk i'm not good with subgenres lol but she is sooo talented and her tiktoks are fucking hilarious and she is so funny and cool and an amazing writer and singer. my favorite songs are heavy / forever drunk / josh / favorite person / like a girl does.

those are the ones i feel the need to scream about and indoctrinate people into liking. taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, chappell roan, sabrina carpenter, and megan thee stallion are all big favs lately. i'm also getting really into metal and subgenres of metal because of my partner. slipknot, ice nine kills, spiritbox, and dance gavin dance are the main ones i've latched onto.

[amostdelectablescribbler]

WIP Intro: Steel Horses and Hot Irons

As requested by @tea-and-mercury, i am writing up a wip intro for the big ‘un. 32k words deep as of writing this. Sooo:

Genre: Action

Setting: South USA, Arizona-Texas-Nevada area. The Mojave, pretty much.

Tropes: Bigass guns, physics that doesn’t really get addressed, a whole bunch of mental illness (poor Becca), romantic sideplot, big plot twist, secondary antagonist scarier than the primary.

Tag (so i can see it): #STHI (it’s gonna work a bit like a signature for me)

Imma just put the prologue and the character work i did in because it’s just that much easier.

Prologue

5 years ago, 2035, the atom bombs were dropped. First at the USA, then Afghanistan, Russia, China, most of the EU, France shone like a strobe light before the nuclear power stations finished exploding. They all fell in the face of nuclear armageddon. All that was left were craters, rubble and uranium. A few survived and began reclaiming the barren, toxic wasteland. In Utah, there was a lot of this. The Krugers, based in Arizona, were dangerous and silent assassins that disappeared into the night when they left. The Mob, the surviving criminals from the surviving prisons. The lowest of the low and barely organised. The Survivors, who can walk off just about anything and were mostly left alone by everyone else. Wandering bands of close friends also formed, finding work as hired guns.

The Motliest Crew were renowned the best. A group of 5; 3 men, 2 women, all balls-to-the-wall insane. They had no known names, only specialties. The Marksman, Rebecca Johansson “Pew.” A sniper who allegedly never missed a shot, but was very shy, anxious and probably depressed. This is to be confirmed as there are no therapists left in Arizona, or in Alberta, Canada. The Scout, aka, Sorren Clark. “Keep up, $#§/stain.” A speedster with a mouth and a shotgun, one get’s him into trouble, the other get’s him out. Not the most useful combo in Australia, but out in the wastes, invaluable. The Brawler, aka, Claudia Vander. “I’m gonna punch him.” A large frame packed with muscle and grit hailing from South Korea and California. Her fighting skills are near unmatched. 

The Demolitionist, aka, Callum Henderson. “I had a dog and his name was… Bingo!” A drunk, black, tartan-clad Scotsman with a grenade launcher and a rocket launcher. And a claymore, he has a sword too. The Gunman, aka, Rasputin Romanov. “Shoot first, ask question while reloading. Spetsnaz 101.” A man of few words and a Spetsnaz soldier from Russia, with a really heavy accent and a really heavy gun. 

Each of these wandering guns-for-hire wore a face mask or helmet to both obscure their identities and filter the noxious cocktail of chemicals in the air in some places. They were all armoured to various degrees with assorted run-down military kit that had been scavenged. The Gunman was clad in hulking Juggernaut military gear, the Demolitionist in assorted pads and plates, the Scout in Moto leathers and a bulletproof vest, the Brawler wore similar kit to the Scout and the Marksman was in ill-fitting, minimalist spec-ops kit. Minimalist because only a third of what they found came close to fitting her. Each suit was tailor-made (except the Marksman) by it’s wearer, each adding their own personal flourishes and decorative elements, like sketchily-woven tartan, tally marks, oil crayon, the works.

Now, the character work i did (and added):

Rasputin and Becca:

Callum, Sorren and Claudia split up to go and have fun, leaving Becca with Rasputin. They sat in the hotel room, looking at each other quizzically. Becca had curled herself up in a blanket nest across the room from Rasputin’s massive frame that was posted on a bed, leaning into the wall, staring blankly into the space between air molecules. He looked around, registered Becca’s comfort ball, cracked his back and shifted his posture to something more relaxed.

“So.”

“Mm?” Becca mumbled from her nest, poking an anxious head out into the dim light.

“Why are you hiding?” 

Becca paused in thought, eyes darting from Rasputin to the floor, to the roof before finally talking, her own indecision caving to his patience.

“I’m worried.” She whispered into her blankets, “I’m worried about them.”

“Hmm. In Spetsnaz, we had a good cure for worries. We would sit and talk about worry. You want to try?”

“Mhm” she slowly heaved her miniature frame out of the blanket nest and towards Rasputin, who lay down on the bed fully, shuffling along to make space, further dwarfing Becca. She curled up next to him, heart rate going from cardio to moving. Listening to his huge heart slowed down hers, his relaxed body position relaxing hers. There was a security in being so close to something so large, like swimming with a whale.

“So. Why are you worrying, Becca?”

“I- I’m worried for Callum and Sorren and Claudia. I don’t know what might happen to them. Even if I was there with them, I would just slow them down, but I like knowing where they are so that I know they can protect me if they have to.” Rasputin’s huge bald head turned around

“I will tell you this, Becca: I have protected all of them before. I can protect you.”

“There are monsters out there than can hurt them?”

“But none them can hurt me. I am Russian. I am Spetsnaz. Nothing hurt me.” Rasputin’s gravelly, broken English was somehow comforting. 

“Really?”

“Da.”

Callum:

Another cold, dark night came as the red sun plummeted below the horizon. In the town, there was a bar. A man sat alone, at the end of the bar, drinking from a flagon of foamy beer and people-watching and checking his watch, waiting. For something or someone to spur him into action. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

An hour passed and he finished his beer, ordering another from the barkeep. The night crept on fruitlessly for the man. The stream of people coming in and out slowed to a trickle as he waited in the dark bar, wooden flagon in hand, beer getting colder, patience wearing thinner. Finally, one man entered who caught his attention. A tall, burly figure with a tartan kilt and sash over his impressive armour and helmet. The man held himself proud and tall, confident in himself and his abilities, but not arrogant. He walked with a muted swagger as he progressed to the bar and made his order, shifting the claymore on his back to avoid the seat. Some whiskey or other on the rocks. He had an enormously Scottish accent and as he removed his helmet to drink, it was revealed that he wore an eyepatch and had a nasty burn scar plastered on the left side of his face, sprawling under the eyepatch and barely visible in the shadow. 

The man stalked forwards silently, sitting beside the Scotsman without making a single quiet sound. 

“So, is it really you?” The hooded man had a smooth, melodious voice, with a noticeable Mexican accent.

“Who’s really who?” Callum replied, unflapped by a stranger randomly appearing beside him. In the better light, the man saw belts of grenades wrapped around the scot’s waist and bulges from beneath his sash. 

“You. Are you really the famous Callum Henderson? Legendary demolition man for the Motliest Crew?” The stranger’s voice somewhere between admiration and mockery.

“So tha’s what they’re callin’ us. ‘The Motliest Crew.’ ‘Bit demeaning, no?”

“Not at all. I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve been watching your antics for a while now and i was wondering if I could get an autograph?” The strange man spoke from beneath a hood, eyes glinting red in the gloom, a crocodile grin on his face as he reached i to his poncho and coat,

“Aye, sure. Tell me where tae sign.” Callum turned to get a pen from his pocket and when he turned back around, a tattered, sun-bleached “wanted: dead or alive” poster of him was placed on the dark wooden bar. The wind whistled as the man tapped the ‘dead’ part, “Just here, please.”

“Yer a bounty hunter, eh?”

“I am. One of the best, too. The Wolf of District 13.”

“So, wolf, is this the best yeh have? Vague, indiscernible threats and uncanny looks?” Callum replied, showing no fear of the man beside him, as he downed his scotch, putting a 5€$ bill beneath the glass. The Wolf chuckled for a second, before going dangerously calm, retreating into the dimly lit bar and drawing himself up to his full, enormous height. 

Cybernetics whirred to life from beneath the wolf’s poncho and hood, as his eyes glowed red and a hiss of steam whistled from his elbows. Callum stood, grabbing his sword, “So this is how yeh wannae do this?”

“Yes.” Hissed the wolf, as his mechanical legs grew a third joint, making them look like the legs of a wolf, lean and strong and good for chasing. Callum stood, taking the poster to inspect it. He looked for a while, put it on the bar, signed it, pocketed his pen and walked out of the bar. The Wolf lowered his guard in disbelief, hunching back over to examine the wanted poster. He had circled “Dead” and signed it at the bottom. The wolf finished his beer and sulked off into the night, after paying his tab.

Claudia:

The Wolf of District Seven stalked down the back alleys of the Last City, following the cheering to a dingy looking warehouse with lights and shouts coming from within. Loud, aggressive music blasted from huge speakers, the bass shaking the walls. The Wolf entered the building by walking through the front door guarded by bouncers without being noticed at all. In the centre of the building, a ring had been made, inside of which, there were two fighters. One was a large man with massive arms and cybernetic reinforcements on his elbows and shoulders and he wore brass knuckles on his ham-fists and a metal plate on his jaw. The other fighter -the Brawler- was a smaller woman with broad shoulders and strong, lean arms. Claudia was still tall, but this other fighter was massive, yet her confident stance, and side-guard indicated extreme proficiency in her trade. The large man wore brass knuckles, she wore steel boxing gloves haphazardly manufactured from scrap sheet-metal and cast-iron. 

The man brought a standard boxing guard up and his opponent steadied herself before bouncing on her toes. The large man angled himself to his opponent and swung a huge haymaker which was caught by the woman, pinned to her side and she started slamming him with crushing blows to the liver and ribs. Each blow made a cracking and a clanging as steel smashed bone. With one final powerful uppercut, she released the mans arm and slammed him in the chin, knocking him unconscious before he hit the cold stone floor.

The Wolf came through the crowd without detection or suspicion of a tall, hunched figure in a black poncho and hood hiding the figure’s face. She called into the crowd, “Who’s next? C’mon, dude! It said fight ring on the poster, not warm-up gym!” The Wolf took his chance and approached Claudia, weaving through the crowd, “I will fight you, if nobody else wants to, that is.” The Brawler looked at her new opponent, weighing up the fighting skills of this strange hooded figure, “Bring it, big dude!” she tapped her chin with her glove, taunting the Wolf. “You know, I’m a big fan of you and your crew, Brawler. Before we start, can I please get an autograph?” The Wolf asked, crocodile grin spreading beneath his hood, red eyes catching the light as he withdrew a pen and wanted poster from the folds of his poncho. His metal limbs glinted in the spotlight, clawed steel fingers on full display. He handed her the pen, “Just here please.” He tapped under ‘DEAD’ in ‘Dead or alive.’

Claudia signed the poster in pen before she realised what it was, stepping back as she realised, “Trying to bring in the reward money?”

“Have to make a living somehow. It’s not personal.” The Wolf removed his black poncho to reveal a body made mostly of metal and machine parts. Steam hissed in the shining pistons operating the Wolf’s arms and legs. Guards were raised and it began.

The Wolf dropped low, correctly anticipating a jab to the face, claws grating on the cold stone floor. “Slow.” He cackled with glee, swerving past a knee aimed to the gut and sweeping the supporting leg from below her. “Sloppy.” He taunted from behind Claudia as she got up and readied herself to fight properly. He took the next punch that came for him, a misdirect left hook into an elbow to the chin and a slam to the ribs. Both massive blows made a sickening clunk as metal was slammed together violently. “Weak.” Growled the Wolf, as steam hissed. Before she could process it, the Wolf’s metal fist was an inch before her face, and promptly slamming hard into said face, pushing her backwards. The next blow came before she was done staggering. A monstrously powerful ridgehand to the lower back, snapping the Brawler back up, only to take a huge uppercut to the liver and a sweeping kick to the back of the knee, bringing her down into a spinning back kick. She was out before she hit the floor. The Wolf drew his clawed hand into a stabbing blade, winding up to deliver the killing blow, before the referee stepped in, stopping the fight. “That’s enough. You’ve beaten her, prize ‘s in the pot.” 

“Fine. I’ll take your bribe, but that doesn’t pull her bounty off the board.” The Wolf growled, cursing under his breath as he left the dingy arena. 

and finally, Sorren:

The Wolf of District 13 sat at the end of another bar with another mug of beer. The MotoGP was on the TV, engines roaring through the abused speakers. One man sat watching, he had a beer in his gloved hand and a confidence in his demeanour. “I know you’re there, mate. I’ll get to you when Ducati finish this lap in first.” The Scout waved a hand in the Wolf’s direction, before retreating it and sipping on a gin. The Wolf stared in awe and bitterness at the scout’s arrogance, he had never been dismissed by a target before. Ignored once or twice, acknowledged every time, but never dismissed. This was not going to fly. The Wolf advanced silently towards his quarry, making no sound, red eyes glowing with malice. The Scout waved his hand again, tutting. “No, I said I’ll get to you in a bit. I keep my word. Sit back down, finish your drink, and put the knife away.” 

“And if I don’t?” The Wolf muttered under his breath.

“Them you’ll go down in history as the most boring assassin ever. If you want to kill me, you’ll do it on my schedule.”

“Idiot.” 

“No, you idiot, I’m reckless. The difference being one is being thick as bricks and the other is having no regard for your own safety.”

The Wolf was a very patient killer, he would wait for days for his quarry to show themself, but after 5 minutes with this intolerable little man he had very much lost it. He went in with his knife and went straight for Sorren’s spine. He missed the spinal cord because of the Scout’s impossible reaction speed, but instead his blade was buried in his lumbar. 

“Ouch. Welp, I’m off to die somewhere pretty. See you in hell.” Sorren groaned as he got up from his stool, blade still stuck in his back, and walked out of the bar bleeding everywhere, hopped on his motorbike, and caned it back to the Hotel California deep within the sprawling city.

-end-

Btw i got more wips to do more intros on, since you’re so desicated and insist on reading to the end of these :3

[eva-reviews]

The Water Outlaws by S. L Huang -- A Review

Trigger Warnings:  Attempted sexual assault, graphic violence, death, torture, a brief discussion and brief scene of cannibalism, classism, misogyny, murder, talk of work camps, mental illness, suicide, war, wrongful accused of a crime, political censorship, decapitation, nonconsensual body modifications (tattoos), corrupt government, death of a minor. 

My Rating 

8/10. I have been trying to read more POC books as I find myself reading a lot of white-centric books. Not only to support the authors, but I love the different stories that come from different life experiences unlike my own. This was such a good book to start with. Huang is a stunt performer, which made the fight scenes AMAZING! Seriously it felt like I was watching it happen, the way I gripped the book so tightly and held my breath was incredible. It has been so long since a book has enraptured me. If you like the old Chinese martial arts movies, this is that but as a book! Amazing job.

Overview

Lin Chong is an arms instructor for the Imperial Guard, and she is good. The issue is she is a woman, and men think they can take advantage of her. Gao Qui is an Imperial Martial who is also the Emperor's friend; Lin Chong upsets him and he decides to destroy her life. Lin Chong is forced to escape the Empire and join the Liangshan mountain bandits who seek justice for women, deviants, and progressive thinkers, all people whom the empire and men would feel threatened by. They are also murderers, thieves, smugglers and cutthroats. 

These are very dangerous people who think for themselves and change a political society that is interested in the betterment of those they deem powerful and smart, otherwise known as, men. 

My Thoughts

This book is a gender supun retelling of the Chinese Classic ‘Water Margins’ by Shi Nai'an published around the mid-14th century. I have not read the original book, so I cannot speak to how good of an adaptation it is, however, S.L Huang has done well writing a commentary society today. Even though we are not in the mid-14th century there are still parallels we can draw back to in our modern society. 

 We open to our main character, Lin Chong. She knows she is held back due to her gender. Lin Chong mentions how she has to be perfect compared to her male counterparts because there is less room for mistakes, saying “... She had no margin for raucous missteps, not the way her male colleagues did '' (pg. 25). Lin Chong is in a male-dominated field, by herself. She has no other woman in a similar position to talk or go to for guidance. Gao Qui, the Imperia Martial, makes many comments on the weakness of women, stating “... People warned me about you, they said it was only trouble, hiring a woman…” (pg. 31). Gao Qui, friend of the Emperor, meaning he is almost untouchable which is why what happens to Lin Chong is so horrible. Although she never attempted assassination and he forced her weapons upon her, he has more power and authority. His word is far above her own. No matter how many friends she has. This is the beginning of Lin Chong’s adventure.  This is still a very big part of society today, whether or not we acknowledge it, it happens. Our whole world is built for men, to make them comfortable, keep them in power and keep women below them. 

Anyway, enough with depressing shit. We have to talk about my favourite character in the whole book. Lu Da! She is probably one of the worst monks to ever exist, she says she is no longer a monk because she “... missed curfew … A hundred and seventy-three times … because I was drunk!” (pg. 6). She is also much too dramatic for her own good, saying multiple times she would kill herself for bringing any harm to her sisters and friends. If there was ever a way to bring in Gen Z humour to a book, suicidal jokes are the way to go. Lu Da is a force to be reckoned with, her strength is unmatched. I can’t think I will find another character I love so much, so soon. She was well-written. I wish I could meet her. 

I know I keep saying it, but... the fight scenes are AMAZING. Take the training scene. 

“With a brush of wind, sister Lin flew into the air --  literally flew. One hemp soul flashed against Hu Snniang’s sternum, propelling her a full three pieces back before she hit the ground and rolled against the grass. Lin Chong spun off the kick and her hands and feet flashed from the air, one two three four five six, attacking Li Kui at her pressure points before somehow swinging behind the other woman with an elbow squeezed about her neck. In a blink, Li Kui had slumped to the ground, submissive” (pg. 138), and this scene later, “... tore into them through them bone bursting as if their flesh inverted from the inside out, human faces exploding into skulls and then nothing. Slivers of meat and skeletons whipped like daggers…” (pg. 276). 

Huang has a way of writing combat that is understandable and so very entertaining. It is a little gory, which I can understand that turns some readers off of this particular book, but I love the gore. This is an adult book, be warned if you are unsettled, this may not be for you.  

It is very interesting how queerness is presented in this book. It isn't so much a queer book, as it is a book with queer characters. This has to be my favourite kind of book. It doesn't make a big deal about same-gender couples or people who don’t quite fit their birth sex. Although it is not explicitly said, it is very heavily inferred that Lu Junyi and her friend, Jia, are romantically involved, 

“ ‘We promised… we promised we would never marry’ …  it wasn't uncommon for an unmarried wealthy person to take a house companion of the same sex, though it was uncommon for such an arrangement to last more than a short time … No one chose to remain unmarried as another wealthy woman’s house companion when a contract with a proper husband was available instead” (pg. 116-117). Now I don't know about you but that certainly sounds like a loophole to live with your girlfriend and not get caught by me. This is not the only instance when a same-sex couple is mentioned. In a conversation between Chao Gai and Wu Yong, she says 

“... ‘Sister An couldn’t keep me in bed another day if she offered me the nightly ‘treatment’ she gives sister Song.’ … Not everyone in the camp knew Sister An and Sister Song were burnishing each other’s weapons so to speak…” (pg. 239). 

Liangshan is a place for people who do not fit in with the societal norm, which means those who don’t fall into the heteronormative agenda. 

The topic of gender is also brought about. For example, the Ruan Brothers aren't all male, but they are all called the Ruan Brothers. When the Liangshan go on one of their missions, they need to dress as female merchants, and the Brothers are part of this mission;

 “ ‘I’m going to be the prettiest woman out of any of you,’ Seventh Brother bragged … ‘Speak for yourself!’ Fifth Brother shot back with a laugh. Lin Chong had learned he switched back and forth between men’s and women’s clothes on normal days according to his whim, which here at Liangshan aren't entirely uncommented on.” (pg. 164) 

Fifth Brother does not fall into the gender binary, changing their clothing depending on how they feel that day. Again, I am so impressed with the ease with which this is presented, it's not as if it is something unusual and should be hidden. But rather it is brought up as a fact, and then we move on. We don't linger on it and make it into a big deal that Fifth Brother is sometimes a man or a woman. 

One thing I love is when authors give us the . Yes, I know that they don't have to and most of the time the story is wrapped up nicely without it, but I just feel it is nice to end on a calming note after intense emotions, and let me tell you, I had some very intense ones. The ending was an absolute whirlwind. Everything happened fast. It was crazy. It kept getting faster. I annotate my books and there were 35 pages that I left blank because I couldn't stop reading. I felt I had to read faster because everything moved so fast, not in a bad way, it's war ya know? I was tense. I think I physically held my breath in parts. I read the last battle scene with fantasy battle music in the background, the best decision I have ever made. Although I wasn't reading anymore, I felt I was physically there. That was such an incredible feeling!

The one thing that I found most difficult while reading this book was the number of characters. We switched from watching Lin Chong and the Liangshan to Lu Junyi in the main city. I found it a little difficult keeping up with the characters, their names and what they do. Thankfully a list of characters and their main role in the story was included. If it wasn’t for the dramatis personae I would have been lost. This is a reality I find with a lot of fantasy books, not just Huang’s. Too many characters and too complex of a story for me to keep them straight. 

Conclusion

The Water Outlaws is a fantasy story that surrounds women, female empowerment, unconventional femininity, dangerous philosophies, and rebels who will not be silenced. S.L. Huang is an exceptional writer. If you like the 80’s martial arts movies, it is for you. The women actually have a personality!! I wholeheartedly suggest this to anyone who enjoys well-written battles. 

[lzbthdrc]

Jane Austen Fanfiction Recommendation

A Wilful Misunderstanding by Amy D'Orazio | 4.5/5 stars

Pairings: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy (Primary); Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley (Minor); Lydia Bennet/OC (Minor)

Rating: Mature. There are some references to sexuality, as well as several sensual scenes between a married couple.

Summary: Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have a whirlwind romance that leads them to marry less than two months after they meet. Their joy is unmatched and full until they travel to London to enjoy the entertainments of the Season. External machinations lead Mr. Darcy to separate himself from his wife and set her aside at a removed country estate. Tragic misunderstandings lead to even more tragic circumstances, resulting in an enduring struggle to find their way back to each other, both physically and emotionally.

Read This Fic: This fic is free with a Kindle Unlimited subscription, or it is available for purchase: https://www.amazon.com/Wilful-Misunderstanding-Pride-Prejudice-Variation-ebook/dp/B08FZ4S23L

[SPOILERS and TAGS BELOW]

Tags: Regency Era, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Earn Your Happy Ending, HEA, Marriage, Marital strife, Marital Separation, Discussions of Infidelity, Mental Illness, Depression, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Childbirth, Forgiveness, Not safe to read if you are triggered by pregnancy, Loss of virtue, Discussions of fallen women, Ramsgate never happened

My Impressions: This fic was beautifully written and incredibly impactful. It explores and complicates several things that I love about regency-era stories, such as legal duties of wives to their husbands, beliefs that women and children were property, and the dangers of love matches and matches of convenience. There is also a complex emotional interplay between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy that I find very compelling. The only reason that this fic is not five stars is that the miscommunication/misunderstanding that occurs between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy seems somewhat contrived to me. I confess that I had to stretch my imagination to believe that it could happen. That said, the somewhat unbelievable nature of the miscommunication only makes the fallout of the realization more intense and fraught.

Notes on Characterization: Elizabeth is somewhat out of character in this fic in that she spends much of the story very sad, angry, and depressed due to her circumstances. Mr. Darcy starts off the story very out of character, but considering that Ramsgate never happened, it is at least somewhat believable. His characterization becomes better as the story moves along. Caroline Bingley is relegated to being an insufferable shrew intent on ruining everyone's happiness, which is pretty common in JAFF. There are some really delightful original characters in this story, however, especially Viscount Saye and Mrs. Macy. Characterization gets a 4/5 stars.