#what about my mental illness champion...... . (the dead one)

[marcsnuffy]

well first of all none of those guys killed themselves

[muldj0rd]

“You saved my life. You’re my superhero” || Lestappen

Summary: “I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Warnings: Jos Verstappen’s A+ parenting, Jos Verstappen is a warning in himself, talk about mental illness’, depression, eating disorder, angst, Max needs a hug, Charles gives it to him, internalised homophobia, top Charles, bottom Max, anal, anal fingering, handjob, dacryphilia, praise kink, insecure Max, insecurities, nipple play, Charles being Max’s first male partner

Masterlist || AO3

Growing up, and if you didn’t look too close, Max was a happy child

Good mother. Good sister. Grew up with a father with failed racing dreams

It gave him pressure, sure… But if he didn’t have the pressure… Would he be who he was today?

Today, Max Verstappen was a three-time world champion winner

3 times as more champions than his dad

61 more wins than his dad ever had

Was his dad a good dad, though?

Jos Verstappen was the worst dad, if he even deserved to call himself a father

Max grew up with all kinds of mental illness’. Some he grew out of, some he didn’t

Depression. Stayed all through out his karting days and up until now

Eating Disorder. He didn’t feel valid for having one, and thinking he made it up because he didn’t look like someone with an ED

He wasn’t fit. He wasn’t skinny. He wasn’t…

He’d look in the mirror every morning, looking at his shirt covered chest, telling himself he needed to work out more, loose the fat around his stomach

No matter how hard he tried to loose the fat, he could never look good or how he wanted

He could never look like Charles

Charles was pretty. Who was Max kidding? Charles was hot… Until he slept. Charles was drop dead gorgeous when he slept

Max didn’t care it sounded creepy- it wasn’t, right? They were friends, and Charles had fallen asleep in his company before, so naturally Max had seen Charles asleep. Gorgeous

Max wouldn’t be where he was without his so called father

Max would be dead without Charles

Max wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. It was wrong… That’s at least what his dad had told him after Max had told him a story about Charles that maybe to Jos sounded a tad bit too friendly

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is pretty”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is slightly attractive”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is hot”

Was Max gay?

No.

Red Bull had suggested- Christian had suggested to Max that he tried out therapy, he refused of course, but when Christian didn’t shut the fuck up, he agreed just to keep him off of his back

“Who helped you become who you are today? A three-time champion, that is?” The therapist asked curious

“My dad… I guess” Max shrugged slightly, biting his bottom lip softly, the skin rough from where he had been nibbling at it for a few days, stressed about this session

“You guess?” He asked curious, shifting in his seat

“I wouldn’t be a champion without my dad, but I wouldn’t be…” Max sighed, nails scraping his palm, itching the anxious feeling “…I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t be alive… Without… Without C-Charles” It was if the words were wrong, or a sin of some kind

“Charles? Leclerc?” He questioned, knitting his eyebrows together

“He’s always been there for me” Max shrugged slightly, his bottom lip trembling “When… When everybody was… When everybody was against me, Charles had been there. Always. Picking me up from the dirt of the track, telling me everything would be okay and that people could go fuck themselves” He chuckled softly, his eyes welling up, glazing with tears

“So… You and Charles are friends?” He hummed, writing something down on his notes

“Yeah. I guess…” Max hummed, shrugging slightly, sniffling

“You need to stop guessing, and instead start to know” He sighed “You like Charles?”

“Yes” Max hummed “I mean- no. Not like that. I guess-… I know, Charles is a friend”

“You find Charles attractive?” Max looked up, his tears now dried

“H-He’s pretty. I gue- I know” Max swallowed “Sometimes” He shrugged slightly

“When? When is Charles pretty to you?” He shifted curiously in his chair, the one hour now gone, but he wanted to hear more from Max

“When he sleeps” Max shrugged “His long eye lashes against his cheek bones, his lips slightly parted, pretty lips… Full. Nice. His hair messy… Looks more fluffy that way. I just kinda wanna stroke it, thread my fingers through it” Max smiled softly, not realising what he was saying

“Max…” He sighed softly “I can’t tell you how you feel, but… I think maybe you should reconsider what you feel towards Charles

“I’m not gay” Max said confused, shaking his head slightly “I’m not”

“I’m not saying you are, Max… I’m saying you should reconsider if Charles and you are better friends than you go around and think”

”I’m not gay” Max kept mumbling all the time, in all the languages he knew

“You listening, boy?” Jos asked when he saw and heard Max mumbling to himself “What you mumbling about?”

“Nothing. Sorry father. I’m listening” Max apologised, squirming in his seat where he sat

He wasn’t listening, and he knew his father knew, and he was sure as hell to be beaten over it later

MAX: Can I come over and cuddle with Leo?

Charles blinked his eyes open. He was yet to fall asleep when he heard the ping, but close to

The light was bright in his eyes. 1:36 said his phone when he turned the brightness down

CHARLES: It’s almost 2 am, and he’s asleep. What about Sassy and Jimmy?

MAX: Can I come over to just see you then?

Max always used Leo as an excuse to see Charles when he needed it

CHARLES: Of course you can, Max

’Thank you. I love you’

MAX: Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit

Moments like these came often, so to not wake the whole apartment complex, Charles had given Max a key

Max closed the door behind him quietly. Kicking off his shoes and his jacket, putting them neatly on their respectful places, knowing Charles was a neat freak

Max softly got into Charles bed, careful not to wake him if he was asleep, Leo stirring quietly awake when he moved to lay on his side, back facing Charles’

Max’ breath hitched slightly as he felt Charles pull the duvet up over his body, an arm around his waist, keeping him close, soothing him softly to sleep

Charles asked once at 3 am what happened. Max broke into tears. Charles hated seeing Max like that, so he never asked again

He felt guilty for never asking. Selfish. Max didn’t want to talk about it anyways, so it was all good

Max woke up by Leo licking all over his face, making him groan softly

He was now laying on his stomach as Leo curled into his side, his fur soft against Max’s hand that was stroking him

He got out of the bed, seeing as Charles wasn’t there. His mind worked on auto pilot, his body walking towards the smell of food

“I’m sorry” Max murmured from where he stood in the middle of the living room, looking into the kitchen

Charles’s body stiffened slightly “It’s fine. It’s what friends are for” He chocked out, not looking at Max

Why didn’t he? He always looked at Max. No matter what

“I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Max was the one getting abused, so why was Charles the one going to break down?

“Charles…” Max almost whined, looking up into the back of Charles head “Look at me, please… Charles, I need you to look at me” Max whispered

Charles tapped on the counter with his nail, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the ceiling, hoping the unshed tears would just go away

When they didn’t and he couldn’t stretch it any longer, he turned around, opening his eyes slowly

He shouldn’t have. The tears streamed silently down his cheeks the moment he saw Max’s disheveled look

Max drew Charles into his arms, Charles immediately shoving his head into the crook of Max’s neck, his hands clutching at the front of Max’s shirt

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve saved you” Charles sobbed into Max’s neck, his body shaking

‘You saved my life’

Max’s eyes welled up, feeling guilty that he had made Charles feel like this. Made him feel like he should apologise

“It’s not your fault” Max chocked out, sniffling slightly, holding back tears as best as he could

Charles leaned away from Max neck, his sobbing quieting down, now eye to eye

Max took his hand up to Charles’s cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wiping away tears around his beautiful green eyes

“It’s not your fault” Max tried again

Max wanted to lean in, kissing Charles until they were both passed out from oxygen. It wasn’t the right time… or was it?

‘Fuck it. I am gay’ Max though before slowly leaning in, kissing Charles softly, Charles kissing back immediately

“Thought you weren’t gay” Charles chuckled, tear stains on his cheeks and chin

“What?” Max asked, still dazed from how good and right the kiss felt

“I’ve heard you mumbling all last week” Charles chuckled again, his hands squeezing Max’s waist softly

“Oh… Well…” Max scratched the nape of his neck “I guess my therapist have gotten into my head”

“No… He wouldn’t do that. He’s just given you a push towards something you couldn’t walk towards yourself” Charles said softly, his green eyes wet from his earlier crying

How could Max not want to kiss Charles when looked like that? So he did. Max leaned back in to kiss Charles

Charles kissed back as well, a little more tender than before

Charles wanted Max- no. Charles needed Max. He needed him in a way no other could give him

He kissed Max a little harder, drawing a yelp out of him as well as Charles pushed Max softly up against the island counter, trapping his body

Charles’ hand went into Max’s hair. It was cut. Charles hated it. Max looked better with longer hair, but he always cut it because Jos said ’It made him look like a faggot’

It wasn’t cut too short, so Charles stilled managed to tug softly, making Max leaning back with a whimper, Charles’ lips going to his throat

“You’re pretty when you cry” Max chocked out, closing his eyes, trying to think of anything else than what it might feel like having Charles inside of him

“Yeah? That’s your kink?” Charles chuckled, his tongue lapping at Max’s throat and over his Adam’s apple

“N-no” Max chocked out… Maybe it was, yes. It definitely turned him on a little, but he didn’t want Charles to cry during sex

“Hm. Shame” Charles hummed, his hands on Max’s hips, pulling him away from the counter, guiding him towards the bedroom again

“Shame?” Max asked confused, Charles pushing him softly to lay down against the bed

“Yeah” Charles hummed, sitting down in between Max’s spread legs, hands just below where his shirt ended “Would love to see you cry in pleasure”

Charles leaned down, kissing Max again, his hands traveling under Max shirt, but he stopped him, pushing at his wrists

Charles stoped, leaning back again, seeing Max’s face turned to the side, his eyes screwed shut, hands tight around Charles’ wrists

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to. It’s fine. I’m sorry for pressuring you” Charles said softly, hissing quietly at Max’s strong grip around his wrists

“No, no. I want to. It’s just-… I don’t-… I don’t like m-my…” He had turned his head back to Charles, but his eyes were still screwed shut

“I do. You’re so goddamn beautiful that it hurts to look at you” Charles sighed “And I want to show you just how much I love all of you”

Max whimpered softly. Love? His hands slowly loosening around Charles’ wrists, slowly opening his eyes

“Let me show you” Charles whispered, his eyes soft and wide. Max nodded softly “That’s not enough for me, amour”

“Show me” Max nodded softly

“Thank you. We can always stop if you get too uncomfortable, okay?” Max nodded “Max”

“Yes” He said as soon as Charles said his name

’Good boy’ It sat on Charles tongue. He didn’t say it

Charles didn’t know, but he’d assume that Max had a praise kink- I mean, who wouldn’t in his state?

He didn’t get any praise when he was younger, so Charles had now decided to make it his mission and give Max praise for every little thing

“Lift your arms” Charles said softly

He could feel the hesitation in Max’s hands were they twitched around Charles’s wrists before he pulled them off and over his head, sitting slightly up so Charles could pull the T-shirt over his head

Max fell back against the bed, immediately covering his stomach with his arms

Charles leaned down, kissing Max from his lips, down his chin, along his jaw, down his neck, over his throat, and down to his collarbone

Max whimpered every time Charles moved to a new spot, arching his neck to let Charles have more space, his arms tightening around his stomach

“You’re so fucking beautiful, mon amour. So fucking beautiful” Charles hummed, kissing down Max’s chest softly

Max moaned softly when Charles licked over one of his nipples, causing him to hold his hand over his mouth, giving Charles the chance to kiss further down, closing in on his stomach

Max felt like pushing Charles away, but why would he? Max thought it over

If it was anybody else, he hadn’t let it go this far, but it wasn’t anybody else. It was Charles. Charles who had saved him. Charles who has saved his life. He wouldn’t find that part of his body disgusting. Would he?

Max moved his other arm, letting both arms fall to his sides

Charles looked up at Max, slightly surprised he had gotten him comfortable, but he loved it nonetheless

Max, the broken man with no proper childhood, was comfortable around Charles

Charles continued to kiss Max’s stomach, slowly getting lower, kissing the skin above Max’s waistband of his sweats

Max wanted to thread his fingers through Charles’ hair, so he did. The dark brown locks soft around Max’s rough fingers

“Charlie” Max whined quietly as Charles darted his tongue out, licking at the stubble burns he had accidentally made seeming he hadn’t shaven in a couple of days

“Yes, amour?” Charles asked teasingly, leaning back to see the burns he had accidentally made down Max’s pale body

“Please” Max whimpered “I n-need you” He stuttered, blushing red from the embarrassment of sounding needy and desperate

“Yeah? You need me?” Charles chuckled, to which Max mumbled out a low ‘yes’ “Alright. Sweats and briefs off” Charles patted the outside of Max’s thigh before he went to the night stand, taking the lube from the drawer

Charles turned back to the bed, seeing Max now completely naked and laid further up the bed

“Mon dieu. You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are” Charles sighed with a slight smile, his hands caressing Max’s thighs, watching as his hard cock twitched at the affection, leaking slightly

“This isn’t fair” Max whined, tugging at the hem of Charles’ shirt

Charles took the hint, chuckling softly as he pulled the T-shirt off of himself

Max almost drooled at the sight, but was quickly replaced with a small pout “I’ll never look like you” He mumbled

“I don’t want you to, amour. I want you to look just like this” He murmured, opening the lube bottle, pouring some on his fingers

“Remember; you can tell me to stop whenever, okay?” Charles reminded Max as he warmed up the lube

Max nodded quietly “Amour” Charles said, in a tone that was slightly warningly

“Yes” Max said “Jus’-… please Charlie” Max whined, bucking his hips slightly, trying to show Charles how much he needed him

Charles only chuckled softly, circling Max’s hole softly, making Max moan softly, his hands gripping at the sheets

Though, his hands immediately flew to Charles’ biceps when Charles slowly pushed in his finger

“F-fuck- Charles” Max whimpered, feeling Charles slowly moved his finger, twisting it and slowly moving in and out of him

When Max was loose enough, Charles pushed in a second finger, Max moaning at the action, his back arching

“Dieu. Why haven’t I made a move before, hm? You’re so fucking beautiful like this” Charles chuckled, his fingers slowly and softly moving in and out of Max, his lips attached to Max’s bent knee, most likely giving him burns there as well

“C-Charles. Please- i-i need it so bad. Please” Max had never thought in a million years he’d be begging for Charles’ cock inside him

“Shh. I got you, baby” Charles soothed, slowly pulling his fingers out of Max, loving the whine that escaped Max’s lips

Charles wiped his fingers on the inside of Max’s thigh so he could pull his own sweats and briefs down

When Charles had lubed himself and lining himself up with Max’s fluttering hole, Max held his hands against Charles’ abdomen, stopping him softly

“I-i’ve never… I’ve never had sex with a man- I don’t know what I’m doing” Max said, more confident then when they had started

“I know, amour. I got you, okay? Just lay back and tell if you want to stop or something you want to do different” Charles said, a slight smirk on his lips

Max nodded softly “Yes” He whimpered softly

“Good boy” It flew past Charles’ lips before he could stop it, but when he saw how red Max’s whole body got, he didn’t want to take it back

Max was about to come back with a witty comment, but could only moan when Charles slowly pushed into him, stopping every few inches, letting Max adjust before he continued

Charles kissed along Max’s collarbone, feeling him loosen around his cock

“C-Char… Please” Max breathed out, trying to move against Charles, having no success to get any kind of friction

“Come on. Finish my name. I like how you say your S’” Charles chuckled, thrusting softly once, Max moaning softly

“Charles” Max gasped when Charles thrusted once again

Max had been insecure about his lisp forever ever since they were kids, and Charles had loved the way Max said his name just as long

Charles set a pace and rhythm that worked for him, and one Max didn’t have any problem with

Charles put a hand under Max’s body, angling his hips slightly so it was easier for Charles to hit his prostate, making Max moan loudly and chant his name like a prayer

“Charles- please- I need… I need to come, please” Max almost cried out, nails digging into Charles’ back

Charles wrapped his hand around Max’s neglected cock, stroking him at the same speed of his hips “Come for me, amour”

Max’s nails dug into Charles’ back so hard he was afraid he’d break his skin as he came, covering his own stomach and Charles’s hand with his cum

Charles slowed his hand and hips down, moaning Max’s name softly into his pale neck as he came himself

“I like your hair longer” Charles murmured, kissing Max’s shoulder softly as they sat in the bathtub, Charles’ hand on Max’s stomach, stroking his thumb over his skin

Max sighed “My dad-“

“Fuck what he thinks. He’s not your father. He’s a man who treats a child like a subject” Charles said softly, kissing Max’s cheek bone just under where his black eye shone ended

Max wanted to cry. Charles was right. Jos never treated him like a son. Maybe for the first few years, but when Max became competitive in karting, he became a subject

“Move in” Charles said, sensing Max wanted to change the subject “I don’t like you living somewhere he knows” Charles held Max closer “Please”

Max nodded softly “I will. I want nothing else… But, we’ll have to learn Sassy and Jimmy to be nice to Leo” He chuckled

[imtooscaredforthis]

So Two Murderers Walk Into A Room…

Chapter Three: The Truth Isn’t So Bad

Mentions of: Murder, Homicidal Thoughts, Knives, Homicidal Tendencies, Mental Illness, etc.

A/N: I was super sleepy while editing this so please forgive grammar/spelling errors

Tags: @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @moonshineinasippycup @stwbwwychan @mama-miya

He was right. You hate to admit when you’re wrong, but boy were you wrong. You truly are in some sort of fucked up dimension. And that entity thing, you saw it. After you sacrificed all those survivors. It was real.

In some strange way, you felt connected to it. Like it was controlling you. You shouldn’t want to be controlled. You never want to be controlled. But you like how you feel.

You get that familiar blissful feeling whenever you kill, but multiplied by ten. Right now, you feel amazing, the buzz and adrenaline running through your veins. You feel better than you’ve felt in a long time. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind doing this for eternity.

“Boo.” A voice suddenly whispered in your ear, making you shriek and turn on your heel, waving your knife around. A gloved hand caught your wrist, stopping you before you could do any damage.

It was that masked freak from before. He chuckled to himself lowly, and you could feel the smugness emanating from him. “Seems like I caught you red-handed, Sweetheart. You finally ready to confess?”

And just like that, your mood soured. Sweetheart. Who does this condescending prick think he is?

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed poisonously. “And I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You don’t, but I’m sure I can get it out of you. You do have quite a bit of blood on you after all. Cute. So how many did you get? Two? Three?” He examined the knife in your hand, before releasing your wrist.

“Four, actually.” You corrected him, doing your best to stop your smile as you felt some sadistic pride grow in your chest. What are you doing? Why are you trying to please him?

“Ooooh, four. You got them all?” He asked. “Yeah, not like it was hard or anything. I was a district champion in track in High school, and I did gymnastics in college. So I have some extra skill when it comes to the hunt.”

You can’t help but find yourself getting sucked into this conversation with him. No one’s ever talked to you about murder before. It’s such a taboo subject, and yet, you’re here, talking to this man and treating it so casually. It’s so…freeing.

“See? Isn’t it nice being able to be yourself? Your true self? I knew you’d admit it eventually.” He remarked.

“Okay, you might’ve been right about some things, but not everything. Who are you, anyway?” You asked, realizing he never told you his name.

“Mmm, I go by a lot of things, but most people know me as Ghostface.” He said.

You repeated the name to yourself, before giggling. “You’re so weird.”

“Laugh all you want, but that name terrified anyone who heard it, especially those who read my name in the paper. The stories of what I did kept countless up at night, and I would’ve scared you too.” He stated in an irritated, almost threatening tone.

“Oh really?” You challenged him. “Yep. I’d have you changing your locks and everything. Maybe I’d even get you to move.”

“Well, you’re wrong, Ghostface. Because I’m not a pussy. I’m not scared of anything.” You replied, gesturing at him with your knife in hand, a big grin on your face.

He was oddly quiet for a moment and stood as still as a statue. Still, you could feel his eyes following your movement. Then, he spoke. “I have a feeling you and I are going to be good friends.”

Huh? Just when you thought you got under his skin, when you thought you finally deflated his huge ego, he bounced back immediately. Seems like you can’t push his buttons like he can push yours.

“Now, there’s lots for us to do. I need to show you around to the other realms and have you meet the other killers. That’ll be fun.” He remarked.

“Other killers?” You repeated. “Yeah, you didn’t think it was just us, did you? Now c’mon, let’s go.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the woods.

–

It didn’t take long, just a little more walking before finding the other killers. There were around eleven, all grouped up together, waiting for another trial, you assumed. Many had more monster-like features, but others appeared to be human.

You weren’t afraid, but you were intimidated, and curious. Why did they look the way they did? Did they always look like that? Or did something change them? Do you look like that?

It’s been a while since you looked in a mirror, but you don’t think you do. You hope you don’t. One of the few things you pride yourself on is your looks. You’re beautiful. You know you are.

Not only is it nice to be pretty, but it’s good for sex, and it’s also easier to lure in your prey. That’s how you’ve killed and gotten away with your murders.

“Hey guys, welcome our newbie, _______! Isn’t she just the cutest?” He pushed you against him, before reaching up and squeezing your cheeks. Glaring at him, you smacked his hand away, slipping out of his grip.

Feeling all the attention on you, you glanced at the group, suddenly feeling shy. “Uh, hi.”

It’s strange, being around people and creatures that all now know your secret, even though you’ve spent your whole life hiding it. It’s even weirder knowing that they’re just like you.

Well, not just like you, but they obviously have to have some involvement with killing to be there.

“Well, hello there.” A lilac-haired man purred. He approached you quickly, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. You blinked at him, processing his actions.

Okay, now some guy dressed in what seems like a ringmaster’s outfit is hitting on you. Not that you minded. He was quite good looking after all, with a pretty face, and a toned upper body. Great abs too.

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m-”

“Fuck off, Trickster. She’s mine.” Ghostface interrupted, shoving him away. He said something to him, you weren’t sure what because it was in another language, but whatever it was didn’t sound nice.

You opened your mouth to object to Ghostface’s statement, but the next thing you knew he was ushering you away from the killers. “You’ll get to know them later. Let me show you around.”

[eldrigeonsss]

Favorite fnc au, go

I was told not to overthink this, and then proceeded to overthink it completely-

I went on a fucking heroes journey trying to answer this ask, and though I know in my heart that anon just wanted a tiny glimpse into my brain, my ass was thinking far too much for a cohesive thought.

So here’s a couple that have been on the mind, fnc-centric

- Wild West AU

Yes, I’m also working on a Wild West AU for Ethersea, no you can never have too many cowboy aus. I’ve not done anything about this, I’m just thinking very hard about it, bc outlaws are literally land pirates. Anyways imagine you’re a bounty hunter Chip, going to bust some outlaws smuggling some stuff, and find a captive fish-man who seems way too feral for his own good. Imagine you end up recruiting this fish-man to help you hunt but immediately find out that whatever this guy is involved in, it goes WAY deeper than just getting unlucky and getting taken captive by some lowlife thugs. Shenanigans.

- Spaceship AU

(If you’ve ever listened to Swan Song by The Mechanisms, you get it) Chip finds this battered, strangely-shaped ship while stranded on a planet, and ends up stealing it, later discovering that the ship is powered by the mind of a long-dead champion named Gillion. Time for some space adventures! No tragedy here ahah :3 how much can it possibly hurt to fall in love with someone that you know you’ll never truly get to touch?

- Old Tattoo (the coffee shop au that lost its way)

This one’s literally just a self-indulgent (fully projecting) modern au where the albatrio are all adults trying to live a normal fucking life, while the universe is trying super hard to put them back together. (Soulmates frrrr) They eventually become roomates, and are also pulled into various schemes cooked up by Old Man Earl, as normalcy slowly begins to lose its meaning. They’re all trans, they’re all mentally ill, and they’re all vaguely aware of the fact that they knew each other in a past life. This one’s fnc-centric I think, unless PolyPirates demands it becomes known, and in that case I cannot stop it. I don’t control my writing my writing controls me.

Stone Age AU

This one requires knowledge of the Just Rolled What If: Stone Age session for it to truly make sense, but if you don’t have access to it, just imagine; what if there was timeline shenanigans a la spiderverse? Essentially, the crew of the Stone Age timeline fucked up in their world, and jeopardized multiple other universes. Chip and Jay from this world are completely immoral, and Gillion is trying his best to fix what they have done, while swearing an oath to kill his Chip and Jay. Stone!Chip and regular timeline Chip swap places, and while Stone!Chip learns of what could have been had things been different, the family he missed out on, regular Chip meets a broken and battered Gillion, devoid of that spark he’d grown familiar to. This au is mostly angst. I wanna talk more about it but I’d want that to be it’s own post (or fic)

[theoneandonlysemla]

Hello friend <3

🎃 pumpkin, 🍂 leaves, and🌙 moon (Nevri for moon) <3

Hello there, fellow sufferer of brain rot! 😋

🎃 pumpkin: do you have any favorite brainstorming techniques? how do you like to gather ideas for your wip?

Ohhh, that's a tough one! In summary, you could call it ‘It came to me in a dream’. I have a strong tendency towards maladaptive daydreaming and have been making up little fake scenarios since I was a child, which I then watch in my head before falling asleep. (Yes, I am mentally ill 😅) At some point, I started writing these fake scenarios down and since they were mostly about my fictional or celebrity crushes, that's how I got into writing fanfiction in the first place. Nowadays, my basic ideas for stories still arise from this, and then I sit down and approach the whole thing ‘professionally’. First of all, I create a brain dump, which includes everything that's in my head. In the next step, I sort it chronologically, as it would make sense in a plot. And then I stuff the whole thing into an Idea to Outline form. (I downloaded it from Abbie Emmons when it was still free and I think it's really good; I used it to put together Dealings with Daedra: Boethiah's Wrath. And then it's on to chapter plotting, where what I've accumulated in the form is meticulously broken down. Then, finally, I start writing! 😁 I used to be an absolute pancer and that's why I've abandoned several fics. I just can't handle a lone vibe well, I have to structure and plot the whole thing so that I don't end up at a dead end. Another great source of inspiration for ideas is music – I can always use it to capture a vibe. Sometimes ideas just come to me when I listen to lyrics. And then comes the fear of plagiarising 😂

🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?

Okay, don't do, what I do. I tend to edit while writing and it makes the whole process so damn slow! I just can't resist to change things up as soon as I have to re-read to get back into the story. Terrible habit, actually. When the chapter is done, my boyfriend is forced to read it. He does not do it with everything tho - pure smut (and toxic shit) ist not his thing and I do not want to put that on him. Also, he often says he can't help with that, because he has no idea about smut. (My argument that the scene structure is like every other scene did not help tho 🙃) As soon as he has read it and made his comments on it, I'll edit those. Then I transfer the text to my ipad and read it on there - pro tip btw! Change the screen and you'll find mistakes easier! After that round of editing comes the last step: I have my writing programme read it to me. I am very blind for mistakes and hearing that something is off helps a lot! And still, there will be mistakes in my text afterwards - usually I find them as soon as the chapter is uploaded... 🫠

🌙 moon: do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

Eve, I have to spoil you for that info!!! Yes, Nevri has a dark backstory and secrets she tries to keep. As you would expect from Boethiah's Champion. In DwD: Boethiah's Wrath she reveals it in chapter 19: The killing of a Nord. I'll leave it vague here but uhm... As we all know, one has to sacrifice someone to become a part of Boethiah's cult. And who that was and the reasons behind that, that's something he rather tries to keep hidden. And for DwD: The Curse of Molag Bal it's basically the main plot that she has to keep a secret and that brings a whole lot of trouble to her. Not gonna say more of this, because spoilers and so on 😁

[junebugwriter]

Every year my hotel where I work nights in [redacted] hosts a convention, run by the hotel owner. This convention is basically Conservative Catholic Mecca. Every year, they come, they buy every room in the place, and host extremely big-name political and religious figures. We're talking senators, congress people, all of that nonsense. Alongside them, we have priests, bishops, nuns and monks running around here too.

I would say that 95% of them are genuinely the nicest and kindest guests I've ever encountered. I've encountered a LOT of groups, and most groups range from generally nice to out-and-out rude and hell to work with. This group? Generally nice to work with. Most of the people are bland, dull, and inoffensive.

Banal, even.

I know what they say in their meetings, though. The halls are lined with vendors booths and displays that champion to the uber-conservative Catholic cause. These are people who would probably be happy if the church rolled back to its pre-Vatican II status, and go back to Latin rites for everyone. These are the hardcore Trad Caths.

These people want to kill me.

They would never admit that to my face, of course. I'm a boymoding stealth trans woman, early in my transition, and I haven't shaved in a few days. I'm not out at work anyways.

I bet if I asked them what they think of trans people, they would give me a pretty clear answer, though. A clear and present danger to society. Perverting God's creation. An abomination. Perhaps some would be gentle about it, couching it in therapy language, that it is some kind of mental illness, one in need of some kind of, oh, I don't know, conversion therapy. They wouldn't use those words. But they have all kinds of ways of getting around inconvenient truths.

These people are obsessed with the unborn. Forget the life of the parent giving birth. Forget whatever reason they might have that necessitates abortion. These are people guiding policies that have gotten people killed. These are people WRITING policies that will get people killed. These people have blood on their hands, but their obsessed with their concept of purity, they don't care who gets in the way of it.

I'm a religious professional. I know these types of people well. I used to be a pastor, after all. I've felt the anger at their blithe banality, their mealy-mouthed kindness, but it's all too fresh this year.

Lord forgive me, but I hate them in my heart.

Lord, I restrain me from telling them exactly what I think of them, because I live in a society, and I need rent money and healthcare. Healthcare they are dead set against.

Fuck their kindness. Fuck their "love." They don't love me. They love people, as long as it doesn't ruin their vision of a holy, pure, traditional society. Fuck their "clean hands." Fuck them.

If I am angry, it is out of righteous anger. I would say they don't know what they're doing, but the problem is, they know exactly what they are doing. Except they see themselves as heroes. They choose not to see what their policies and dogmas are doing to real people.

I'm not real to them. I'm just a statistic.

But every one of them is very, very real to me.

And I say this as a recipient of their "kindness":

Fuck them.

[novaauster]

chapter 4

Palmetto State University Sports Column: A New And Confusing Era In BJJ Begins

This is the end of BJJ as we know it, and the beginning of BJJ as we will know it. Last night marks the unauthorized match between Riko Moriyama of the Moriyama dynasty, often called the King, and his usurper, white belt Neil Hatford of the Foxhole Gym.

If you haven’t yet seen the footage, you might be wondering if my editor took the day off and a typo got through to print. But no, I do mean that renowned brown belt champion Riko Moriyama was submitted in overtime by a novice. Let me set the scene, kindly filmed by one Nicky Hemmick: Moriyama enters Gracie Palmetto in the middle of an open mat, quite rudely and without an invitation-- though I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. He is demanding a rematch with Kevin Day (yes, the Kevin Day) and Day declines. We can see first a peculiar-looking blonde blue belt, then every other student, stand up, ready to back up their instructor’s decision.

Let’s take a moment to discuss Day and Moriyama as their public images. Day’s teammates have kindly reached out to me to give their controversial perspectives on him: wrestler Aaron Minyard, former champion at his Macon High team, noted that Day is “a demanding piece of shit who’s obsessed with my brother”, however Neil Hatford was eager to add that he is “even better than you think he is”. A blue belt who will remain unnamed added, poignantly, that Kevin Day is “brave.” 

Moriyama has, of course, been far more active within the media, but his teammates have not been, and USC Trojan wrestler Jean Moreau has specifically refused to comment on his time at his side [link to article here]. I would raise the question of if any Raven would feel safe being so forthcoming about their King.

Moriyama declares “Shame does not come from loss, but from refusing to fight. You have shamed us for long enough.” For those not in the know, Moriyama is paraphrasing a viewpoint expressed by Rickson Gracie in his autobiography Breathe [Link to Amazon here].

Day responds, simply, “I did not lose.”

Now, chat, Day and Moriyama have not faced each other on the mat since Day’s purple belt promotion, during which he suffered a broken wrist that took him out of the IBJJF that year [link to press release]. Could he truly hold a grudge from an unfinished match so long in the past? We have been trying to get in touch with Coach Tetsuji Moriyama to confirm or deny. 

Enter Neil Hatford, who had been partnered with the proactive blue belt, with a bold statement of his own: “You don’t even believe that yourself. Kevin and I discuss your inferiority complex and intricate daddy issues all the time, so maybe you should go ahead and add another I to that Roman numeral on your face. I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of having a fair fight with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions.”

Chat, I say. Chat, is this real.

Obviously, Moriyama’s attention falls on Hatford and the mat clears. The blue belt briefly disappears from the camera’s field and reappears with black armbands barely visible underneath the sleeves of his gi.

They proceed to fight, and chat let’s be honest, Moriyama wipes the floor with Hatford much as you’d expect a brown belt to do. Hatford’s grip-breaking skills are certainly above average, but when he shoots the fireman’s carry Moriyama escapes and takes that shit personally. Hatford narrowly escapes his every submission, though, slipping the ubiquitous wristlocks with practiced swiftness, and seems perfectly comfortable sitting in knee-on-belly for a brutal half-minute.

Chat, Hatford’s BJJ is not what I would call good . His brain is clearly faster than his muscle memory, Moriyama has probably ten pounds on him even with his weight cut, and he relies heavily on plain old endurance. 

Moriyama gets bored with knee-on-belly, moves to full mount, and it looks like it’s all over-- in fact he’s rearing back to, it looks like, throw some ‘bows, which is so incredibly illegal-- when Hatford just… smirks. 

The blue belt stops reaching into his sleeve and matches Hatford’s smile and chat, this is when I knew that some caveman shit was about to be pulled.

Chat, I cannot stress this enough. Hatford cross-collar chokes Riko Moriyama from bottom mount. Wait, you say, can’t you just posture up and rip an armbar if some total dipshit tries that? And I tell you that yes you can. That is, advisably, the correct move from there. 

But when Riko Moriyama stepped onto the mat to roll with the stranger in the orange gi, he expected a white belt, not a total dipshit. He must have spent so long rolling with experts that he forgot how to counter technically-incorrect, cartoonish, caveman jiu-jitsu. 

I hate to say it, chat. Forgive me for the pun, but Riko Moriyama choked.

To his credit, he did not tap. Hatford held on until he passed out and a couple vindictive seconds after that. Bro had a score to settle. 

Coach David Wymack, referee, stepped in before his gym became the site of a regicide. His sportsmanlike efforts are applauded but ultimately void considering that Moriyama shot himself in the head that night.

Chat, I will be real, this is serious. It raises questions about the kind of pressure put on our fighters in this day and age, especially the stoic and mostly-silent Ravens. We talk a lot about head wounds in sports, but not about the one that did Moriyama in.

I’ll let someone else do the obit/memorial. The real question is, who is Neil Hatford and what will the madlad do next?

Peace and love,

Katelyn Mackenzie

chapter 1 of Trial Class the aftg bjj au fic under the cut

Tags: Alternate Universe-- Jiu-Jitsu, Trans Neil Josten, because if your bjj gym does not have transmasc rep you’re doing something wrong, Autistic Kevin Day, because if your bjj gym does not have autistic rep you’re Really doing something wrong,  Crack Treated Seriously, i did not intend to write so much bullshit about bjj but here i am

In the end notes I have my notes on each characters’ belt rankings, my reasoning for why they would be at that level, and their main skills if you find that stuff interesting. 

Neil ducks into an unmarked door of a cinderblock building, his heart pounding. He knows he was being followed. He doesn't know by who, or how many people, or under whose orders, and he doesn't want to find out.

He's greeted by a rickety staircase that announces his arrival step by step. Creak. Creak. Feeling like a kid in an antique Baltimore home. Bad music leaks up through the floor from the basement, not too loud but instantly recognizable as the kind of stuff they played on MTV a decade ago.

At the bottom of the staircase is a dude about his age in a plain blue martial arts gi, and maybe Neil should pay attention to his scowl, or his brown belt, or his height-- but instead he zeroes in on the face tattoo. A chess piece, the queen.

"No one signed up for a trial class today," the guy says flatly.

"That's fucking disrespectful," Neil says.

The guy blinks, then crosses his arms across his chest. "What is?"

Neil steps down a few more stairs to show he's not intimidated by this poser. "Getting Kevin Day's tattoo. He didn't get it to look tough."

"I am Kevin Day."

Sure, he looks a little like Kevin Day. He has the eyes, and the jawline, and the wrist brace, but he can't be Kevin Day. He can't be the man whose tournament footage Neil has tracked down over the course of years and scrupulously watched until he memorized every single move. "Oh yeah? And what's Kevin Day doing in a shithole like this?"

"Training," says Kevin Day.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Neil locks down his expression, tries his level best not to start begging for mercy, and gets close enough to shake Day's hand. It’s the fastest, most perfunctory handshake he has ever experienced, and Neil notices that they're at eye level while Neil is still standing on the final stair. "I'm here to sign up for my trial class."

“Alright, uh, gym rules.” Kevin gestures towards the framed list, up on the wall beside the famous portrait of Hélio Gracie, all stern with his red belt blending into the red flag background: Jiu-Jitsu Da Guanabara, the first federation of jiu-jitsu schools. There’s also a display of belts in order: white, blue, purple, brown, black. Only five levels. Neil has always found it beautifully simple. “Number one, shoes off when on the mat, shoes on when off the mat.”

Somebody has scratched out Rule Number One and scrawled “Dogs out” in its place, but Kevin is ignoring it so Neil figures it doesn’t mean anything. 

“Number two, proper attire. That means belts tied all the time, even in no-gi, for safety. That also means wear your gi for a gi class, Nicky!” Kevin abruptly shouts the end of that sentence towards the people already on the bright orange mats.

Orange is a weird color for mats. They tend to be gray, or in the Ravens’ case, black, but the explanation for the design choice is tacked up above the rule list: The Foxhole Gym, it reads in Canva font, and underneath adds Gracie Palmetto.

A young man on the mats dutifully wearing his blue belt, albeit overtop nothing but a tight rashguard and obscenely small fighting shorts, replies “You’ll never take me alive!”

“You’re lucky we have a trial class or I’d force you into the orange gi.”

“Oh the horror! You wouldn’t do that to me!”

Kevin turns back to Neil. “Stay away from Nicky. He’s trouble. Rule three, respect the tap. Tap when you’re done, let go when they’re done-- but you won't be tapping anyone out.” He goes behind the front desk and retrieves a clipboard and pen, as well as a folded gi. “Rule four, sign the waiver.”

It’s The Orange Gi, which Nicky had been so horrified by. Neil takes the whole stack and tells himself that it isn’t that bad, it even smells like laundry detergent, but it really is garishly neon. 

“That’s the only spare we have,” Kevin says. “Beggars, choosers. If you come back get your own and get a Gracie patch on it, rule five. Six, sign in before class and don’t be late. Seven, personal hygiene, don’t be disgusting. Eight, no jewelry, no glasses, no unbound long hair, hearing aids on a case-by-case basis. For safety. Nine, get a white stripe before standing up while rolling and a red stripe to roll at all. The rest is self explanatory.”

There are four more rules on the list. Neil reads them. “I’ll just get changed, then.”

“Changing rooms’ to the left.” They are two open doorways to the left, neither of which are labeled.

Neil hesitates.

“Just pick one, they both have stalls.” For a second Neil’s sure that Kevin Day just clocked him, but then he continues “I’m ninety percent certain that Nicky removed the signage on a dare from Allison but they will not confirm, deny, or tell me why. They say I have to learn what a ‘transgender’ is. Do you know?”

“Uh,” Neil says.

“I will not google it. I have learned that the internet is not my friend.”

“Dictionary?”

“You think it is in a dictionary? Half the words these assholes use are not defined in it.” Rule twelve, Neil remembers. No foul language. “What is rizz, I ask and find no answer. What is skibidi. They have no respect.”

“Pretty sure it’s in any dictionary printed in the last twenty years,” Neil says.

“If you say so. Regardless, if I find proof of whoever pulled this outlandish prank they will be fighting a Ten-Round Tuesday with me and I will be grinding shoulder pressure into their face the entire time and finally grant mercy in the form of a d’arce choke. Mark my words!”

“Yes Coach,” Nicky yells back. 

Wow, Keil thinks. Kevin Day is a total freakshow. Good thing I’m the normal one here. Out loud, he says “Why ten rounds with you? Why not, for example, that guy?” He points at the scariest guy in the room.

Now, if Neil has experience in anything, it’s in determining who is the scariest person in the room. It isn’t the strongest one, because all of them look like college-age athletes who are strong as hell. It isn’t the biggest guy (blue belt, two stripe, spiked hair) or the highest ranked (Kevin, and then a purple belt, one stripe, pink gi). It’s all in the eyes. It’s a blond blue belt, approximately 160 pounds, 5’0, black gi and long black rashguard covering as much skin as possible. 

Kevin looks where Neil is pointing. “Oh, Andrew? No. I am trying to punish them, not injure them for life.”

“I see.”

“Class starts five minutes. Get changed.”

Neil picks a changing room at random, glad to find it empty. In a locked stall he switches out his binder for the sports bra in his backpack, suspecting that he’ll need the extra lung capacity, and changes out his white t-shirt for the closest thing he has to a rashguard, a black polyester shirt that’s slightly too small. It reads Charlotte Día De Los Muertos 5K, and it may be stolen, but considering that he had both run five kilometers through a graveyard and almost become one of the muertos via stab wound, he feels he has the right to it.

He pulls the gi pants on over his running shorts, tying the drawstring tight high on his waist because otherwise he’d be stepping on excess fabric. The sleeves flop halfway over his palms.

Nothing for it. Today is a good day. Not only has he escaped the people following him without having to call up his uncle, at least for now, he’s also getting a class with Kevin Fucking Day. And maybe Kevin Fucking Day is a little bit… off, but he’s still, Neil’s sure, a genius. 

Neil leaves the changing room with his blank, borrowed white belt tied as best he can. He sets his backpack in the cubbies, which creak under the weight, in view of the mats so he’ll always have an eye on it. In the cubby beside him are knives. 

“Your belt is tied wrong. Ask somebody to help you with it,” Kevin says, taking Neil’s signed waiver. “Neil Hatford,” he reads of the paper. “Oh. I never asked your name.”

“I never offered it.” Neil’s used to skirting around that part of conversations. He’d run out of names if he gave them up so easily. 

“Well. Introductions. Everybody who comes to lunchtime class is already on the mats. Closest to us are Allison and Dan. Allison is in mount.”

Allison, purple belt, pink gi. Neil vaguely recognizes her, he thinks, from skimming past internet discourse. People like to accuse her and her Youtube channel of teaching bullshit self-defense, but she never claimed to be a self-defense teacher. She teaches pure jiu-jitsu and never claimed to be a full coach, it’s not her responsibility to tell people how to dodge a punch. “Allison Reynolds?”

“Then you should know of Dan Wilds,” Kevin says as Allison pins Dan’s arm down on the mat, steps her knee over it, and maneuvers the other arm into mounted triangle position, leaning down over it to close the choke until Dan taps. They switch positions and run through it again.

“I don’t,” Neil admits.

“You will.” Kevin does not elaborate. “You are aware of Nicky. Bantamweight beside him is Aaron. The two mountains are Matt and Seth. Seth is the white belt but do not make the mistake of thinking he is on your level.”

Neil raises his eyebrows. Never meet your heroes, he thinks, and decides on saying “And what level is that?”

Kevin looks him up and down. “Novice, featherweight-- or bantamweight if you cut a few pounds-- and, unless you made a very particular visit to the pharmacist, women’s.” He says it like reciting a grocery list.

“Fuck you.”

“You asked. Which part of that was offensive?”

“Fuck. You.” Neil prepares to repeat himself in Portuguese and Japanese, but doesn’t get the chance. 

“And then those two vale tudo maniacs are Renee and Andrew.” At first Neil translates the term directly-- free for all-- and then colloquially-- no-holds-barred-- but he did read Rickson Gracie’s autobiography. Vale Tudo is a precursor to MMA, with no points, no timer, and yes, no holds barred, but it went well out of fashion by the 90’s. Kevin’s just using it as an expression. “Renee’s in-- well, she had an uchi-mata-- and there he goes--”

Renee’s back hits the mat with a gruesome smack, but she inverts into k-guard to bring Andrew down with her. Andrew disentangles himself from her legs in a scramble and then hauls her into side control, but doesn’t stay there, instead reaching deep into her lapel for a choke.

Renee uses the shift in balance to slip the choke though, getting her knee wedged in between them and wrestling up, holding a whizzer hook over Andrew’s arm like it’s the lever to the nuclear codes and letting it up would cause World War Three. He can’t take her back. He tries to tap her knee and force her over sideways but her base is too wide, he can’t reach. And normally one would underhook her far-side thigh and roll underneath, but he can’t even reach that far. 

So he shoves his hand under her near-side thigh instead and rolls. “I didn’t know you could do that,” Neil comments. 

The tournaments Neil has watched have fighters with, more or less, the same build, just at different weights. Jiu-jitsu is all about using leverage to cancel out what might be greater strength, but he’s never never seen anything focusing on accommodations for fighters that are short and fat like Andrew. 

Kevin’s watching the fight with his hands on his hips like an old man loitering at a construction site. “He likes to improvise,” the brown belt says. That confirms what Neil thought: Andrew made up that modification on the fly. “They’ll do this all day if I don’t stop them.”

“I could watch this all day,” Neil agrees.

“What?”

“What?”

Kevin calls Andrew’s name. The roll ends, abnormally quick for two people that were previously clinging to each other’s necks and clothing for dear life, and the two slap hands amicably. All of the lethal striking-snake energy seems to drain out of Andrew’s body. He walks glacially slow to the edge of the mat, shaking out each leg once before stepping into a pair of black flipflops. When he gets to Kevin’s side, he pulls a strand of Renee’s rainbow hair out of his mouth and flicks it onto the floor. 

“Are those knives,” Neil says to neither of them in particular and starts examining the knives in the adjacent cubby. They’re all fairly small, flat-handled, easily concealable but not cheaply made or rarely used. They look sharp. 

“They sure are,” says Andrew. Up close Neil notices that his rashguard extends up his neck and down his hands, held in place by holes at the thumbs almost like a medical brace. 

“Andrew,” says Kevin, very obviously wanting to change the topic. “Are you going to take him?”

“I can take him,” Andrew confirms cheerily. 

“For drills,” Kevin says. 

“I can take him for drills too, Coach.”

“I’m not your coach.”

“Who is?” Neil asks. “Whose gym is this?”

“He’s out for lunch right now, but David Wymack,” Kevin says, the way most people say Abraham Lincoln or Tetsuji Moriyama. Despite this obvious reverence from the Queen, Neil has never heard of him. 

“Stats?” he asks. “Lineage?”

“Who’s rude now,” Andrew says. “But if you were nice would you be any use?”

“It’s fine,” Kevin says. “Eight wins MMA, two TKO, five submission, one decision. One draw. One loss, by decision: DQ on injury by foul. You want height and weight class too?”

“What do proportions matter when I’m asking about qualifications?”

“Right answer,” says Andrew.

“Lineage Royce Gracie,” Kevin continues like he hadn’t heard Andrew. 

Well, Neil can’t argue with that. “Is that how you pronounce it? Hoyce?”

“Royce,” Kevin repeats. “Yes. You do a lot of reading.” And not much else, is the implication. A not entirely true implication, it’s just that Neil tends to fight for his life the way his mother taught him: with a gun. Uncle Stuart made sure he could make do with hand-to-hand, but that didn’t exactly mean paying for his gym subscription.

Neil lets it slide.

Kevin checks his watch, then starts removing it because of the No Jewelry rule. “Class.”

“What kind of class,” Andrew says.

Kevin thinks about it. “Cardio Class.”

The people on the mats apparently hear, because some grumbling rises up about how it isn’t even Saturday.

It can’t be that bad, Neil thinks as he toes off his sneakers and socks and steps onto the mats. At least it’s not Día De Los Muertos.

“Group punishment is against the Geneva Suggestion,” Andrew says.

“Geneva… suggestion?” Neil isn’t sure he heard that right.

Kevin ignores Neil. “You have to stop accusing me of war crimes on the internet and then telling me I have to work on my public image. It’s unprofessional.”

“Now, who said I was professional?”

“You work here. You teach the kids’ class.”

“I don’t accuse them of being war criminals.”

“I should fire you.”

Andrew shrugs. They walk over to the mats. “Your belt is tied wrong,” he says. 

“My belt is fine.”

“Nicky.” Nicky, blue belt, Trouble, looks up from his side splits. “His belt is tied wrong.”

“Is it my birthday,” Nicky says, smoothly pulling himself upright and prancing over. Up close, Neil sees that rashguard is emblazoned with the words Mexican Ground Karate over a sunset logo. He tugs Neil’s belt loose and attempts to tie it standing face-to-face with him, but it falls apart. “Shit, it’s backwards. I forget how…” He moves behind Neil and, looking over his shoulder, ties a sturdier knot with muscle memory. “That’s it.”

Neil nods but doesn’t thank him as he returns to his corner. 

The awful MTV music pauses, and Kevin sits in the center of the mat so everyone’s attention falls on him. “Circle up,” he says redundantly. “Announcements. The next person to leave their weed in the cubbies where the kids’ class can see it is signed up to Ten-Round Tuesday with me personally. Toro Cup is coming up. Get your tickets to see Renee and Dan fight. Gym’s closed next Monday for Coach’s birthday, show up to Abby’s house if you want to see him. And this is Neil, here for his free trial.”

“Hi, Neil,” the class drones.

“Hi.”

“Final announcement: it is Cardio Day. Everyone on your backs, leg circles.”

A couple people slap the mat as they fall backwards to circle their feet in the air. They then move their legs up and down, side to side, and bicycle style, and Neil is careful not to accidentally kick Andrew beside him. Once Neil’s abs start really burning, Kevin calls for everyone to bridge, first with both legs and then with one leg in the air. They then sit up and shift their knees pointing to one side and then the other, windshield wiper style, and stretch their backs by twisting behind them while they’re at it. 

“On your knees. Neck circles. Chin to chest. Chin to shoulder. Ear to shoulder. Hands to the mat, wrist circles. Fire hydrants-- I am once again asking why hip circles are called fire hydrants.”

Neil looks around and ends up meeting Andrew’s intense stare. ‘Nobody tell him,’ Andrew mouths. 

Neil nods.

“Reach through at your waist and twist overhead. Three reps then do the other side. Cat-cow. Alternating lunges. Feet together, elbows down, knees apart, hips to the mat. At least I understand why this is called the frog stretch.”

Neil is then subjected to the knowledge that everybody in the room, including Seth the mountain, has the hip flexibility of a professional gymnast. None of them even look strained. 

“Feet apart, hips back,” Kevin continues, which deepens the stretch and makes Neil feel distinctly like he’s about to dislocate both of his entire legs. “Hold it ten seconds. Stretch out anything else you need.”

Most people do back-stretching yoga pose or start touching their toes, but Andrew just starfishes back on the mat.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Neil says quietly to him.

“That was the pre-warmup.”

Oh, well. 

“Everybody up,” says Kevin, jogging to the edge of the mat. “Start running.”

Neil tracks the attitudes of the athletes, a range from Matt giving Dan a hand up with a ‘this might as well happen’ grin to Nicky lamenting “You can’t do this to me!” to Andrew staring at the ceiling like a character in the Office breaking the fourth wall. Neil has already done a lap around the mat, following close behind Kevin, before Andrew even gets to his feet.

Now, there is running, which Neil likes, and then there is whatever this is. Whatever this is, Neil learns very quickly, is different because he is barefoot, making him pay much more attention to where he steps even though he knows in theory that it’s safe. He’s also constantly turning to his right, running in circles, and the space is big enough for a much larger class than the ten people here but he still can’t get a good straight-ahead line going. It puts strain on his ankles. 

Neil laps Andrew for a second time. Andrew is doing a shuffling sort of run, so slow that the only thing separating it from walking is the springing motion. 

“High knees,” Kevin says. 

Fucking hell. Neil switches to high knees, forcing him to pay even more attention to where he’s stepping and where he has to turn, and just when he gets the hang of it, Kevin switches to butt kicks, which are even harder to balance with. 

“Drop and give me twenty push-ups,” Kevin orders. 

You’re joking, Neil thinks, dropping and doing push-ups as fast as he can to keep up before Kevin’s up and running again, and three laps later they’re doing jumping jacks. 

Neil has never before in his life felt like he is about to die while doing jumping jacks, and he has also never felt like eight other people want to kill him while doing jumping jacks. He adds that to the list. 

Then they’re facing inwards, sort of skipping sideways, then doing it facing outwards, and then alternating two inwards-skips and two outwards-skips which gets really complicated on the turns because he has to keep the rhythm steady while turning his entire body and also navigating the mat’s corners. He almost trips over his feet. 

“Line up on the edge of the mat,” Kevin says, finally coming to a stop. 

Neil hopes that’s a good thing, following Andrew to one of the lines beside the two punching bags, but that’s too much to wish for. They do forward rolls from standing twice down the mat, then backwards rolls twice down, then Keven demonstrates the basic and beloathed movement drill called shrimping in which he curls up on his side like a shrimp and pushes himself backwards with one foot, pivoting on his shoulder. “Twice down,” Kevin says again, “And if I see you getting up in the middle of the mat and walking back early I’ll make you shrimp backwards too.”

Neil figures that, after seeing Kevin’s example and making sure that Andrew goes ahead of him, the relatively simple movement will make sense. But once he’s actually laying on the mat, he feels like a beached fish, just sort of squirming around. He’s also motion-sick from the somersaults. He’s only made about two feet of distance when Andrew is walking back from his first round.

“Am I doing this right,” Neil says as Andrew is passing him.

“No,” Andrew says, and keeps walking.

“What am I doing wrong,” Neil calls after him.

“Get on your side.” Andrew slaps the mat as he falls down in front of the punching bags-- nobody ever seems to sit like a normal person, they all just tip backwards to get to the ground-- and in record time has reached Neil. 

“I am on my side.”

“No you’re not.”

“I think I would know if I was laying on my side or not.”

“Wrong.” Andrew sits up. “Your shoulders,” he says, and then grabs Neil’s shoulders, first pushing them flat down to the mat. “Your back. Your side.” He hauls Neil’s right shoulder up and pushes his left shoulder down until he is, admittedly, on his side. 

“Fine,” Neil grumbles. When he tries to shrimp again, he finds that he does actually cover more ground, as dumb as it looks. “I’ve never seen anyone shrimp in tournament footage,” he says.

“Yes the fuck you have?” Kevin, overhearing, walks over. “You might have an encyclopedic knowledge of what you think are jiu-jitsu moves, but there is a difference between moves and technique. The former are what you see. The latter is why they work, how one creates space so that they work. You remember Andrew and Renee’s roll? Had Renee not shrimped out to get to dogfight she would have been stuck in smash-half until she managed to catch a giggler or Andrew had advanced. Speaking of which, Andrew, good work forcing the whizzer on her end in order to sweep, it was a good reconfiguration of the sequence.”

Neil speaks five languages, but wonders if the fact that he could understand every word Kevin just said means he should count jiu-jitsu as a sixth. 

“Tournament footage,” Andrew mutters derisively. Neil suspects that the only time Andrew and Kevin really get along is when they’re bitching about someone else. “You’re worse than a junkie. You’re a fanboy.”

“And you’re taking too long,” Kevin adds. “Just line up after you reach the end of the mat.”

Neil grits his teeth and shrimps two more times, then looks behind himself to see how much ground he has left to cover. Andrew’s reached the end already and is walking back.

“That’s fine,” Kevin says. “Just stand up.”

Neil abandons the endeavor and stands up. Once he’s back in line, Kevin calls Matt up for his next movement-drill demonstration: Kevin sits on his knees, Mat lays on his back and puts his legs around Kevin’s waist, and then Kevin pulls Matt upright by his lapels and stands up, carrying him for three steps before setting him down. “Just once across this time, pair up. If you’re with an idiot like Nicky and don’t have lapels to grab onto, just get a collartie and make him hold a seatbelt.”

Allison, Dan, Renee, and Aaron suddenly become the most popular people in the room. Neil is closest in size to Aaron, but that doesn’t matter much because Andrew is already kneeling on the mat.

Neil tries to flop backwards onto the mat like he’s seen everyone do, but he mistimes the breakfall and ends up going oof. 

“Stop playing around and pull guard,” Andrew says, so Neil does, putting his legs around Andrew’s waist and pretending it’s not weird at all when he has to pull himself even further into Andrew’s lap in order to cross his ankles and lock into closed guard. Andrew pulls the lapels of Neil’s gi top open, grabs a deep grip in them, then just stands up.

It’s a test of strength for anyone in Andrew’s position, Neil’s sure, considering that they basically have to squat the weight of an entire other person, but he thinks it’s even more a test of balance. There’s no more considering whether it’s weird or not, instinct kicks in and Neil just starts clinging to Andrew’s back. 

“You’re not going to fall,” Andrew says.

“No, I know,” Neil lies. 

After taking the assigned three steps, Andrew sinks back down to his knees in a smooth motion that has to be harder than it feels. Not once does Neil sense any kind of lurching loss of balance. With a steady inhale, Andrew pulls Neil back up and stands again.

After three reps of that, they reach the edge of the mat, second place with only Kevin and Nicky beating them. “Legs down,” Andrew says, and Neil opens his guard just in time for Andrew to drop him.

“Dude,” Neil says, stumbling. 

“Well that’s one way to learn how to breakfall,” Nicky comments. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Sure.”

Then it’s Neil’s turn. 

It is unimaginably difficult. Even with Andrew’s arms over his shoulders so he doesn’t have to bother so much with the lapel grips, Neil can’t figure out which leg to start standing up with. As soon as he gets to one knee he’s falling to the side of the other one. 

“Do it slower,” Andrew says.

“I am going slowly. That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Neil snaps and steps up again, only to wobble and fall again.

“Wrong, that’s not slow.” Andrew is able to close his guard without getting as close as Neil had, since Neil’s so thin, but he pulls himself closer anyway and almost sits up, getting their centers of gravity as in-line as possible. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the secret to Cardio Day is to pace yourself, not to take what Kevin says literally.”

“We’re supposed to do what he says,” Neil argues. “He’s the coach.”

“No he isn’t, remember? Even if he was, it’s your training, not his. Try again.”

Neil, going what feels like comically slow, holds Andrew close and tries to stand up again. He gets to his feet this time and stops, muscles coiled like springs. 

“Exactly. Three steps.”

Neil takes one step forward. Then another. Then he lifts his foot off the mat and-- falls. Andrew opens his guard just in time to breakfall and catches the rest of Neil’s momentum so he doesn’t catch all the force in his wrists. 

Neil swears under his breath and tries again. It’s a little easier, and he gets to the three steps, but doesn’t kneel back down gracefully, just falls a little more predictably this time. 

Kevin comes over now that everybody else has, of course, reached the end of the mats and lined up again. “Just do it one more time.” 

Fucking fine. One foot up, pull Andrew to that side, other foot up, pull Andrew to the center, stand up, ignore the burning muscles of his thighs, take one lumbering step, than another, than a third, then “Legs down” and he drops Andrew exactly like he’d done to Neil.

“You’re supposed to kneel back down, not drop him,” Kevin says.

“I know.”

“Already everybody, off the mats, get some water, come back for drills,” Kevin says to the group at large. A couple of them brought water bottles, but the majority flock over to the water fountains. Neil is last in line because he’s the only one who has to sit down and put on his sneakers instead of just stepping into flipflops, and he gets the shorter water fountain that was almost certainly built so that the kids’ class can reach. 

It’s fine. Today is a good day.

Even the so-called drills, the class part of the class, aren’t straightforward. Kevin just tells everyone to “Drill whatever takedown entries you know, but don’t finish them. Two minutes and switch.” Everyone claps once, synchronized, before they pair up and start their takedowns. Kevin starts walking around and correcting people. 

Andrew stares at Neil. “Uh,” Neil says. “You go first.”

Andrew nods and then he’s all motion and Neil finally gets to feel the so-called vale tudo maniac he’d been with Renee. He grabs a collar tie, forcing Neil’s head down, and hooks his fingers in the outside of Neil’s sleeve, pulls him one way and then the other, forcing him to step forward, and then skids forward, hauling Neil’s leg up in his arms. “Single-leg,” he explains.

“I know what a single-leg is.”

“Then step back next time.” Andrew fights for grips again and gets them, pulls the same pull-sideways trick, but this time when he reaches for Neil’s leg, Neil forces weight back onto it and steps back. 

Andrew trips him. 

“Breakfall,” he says while Neil is still in the air, and Neil slaps the mat out of spite.

What’s worse is that the breakfall works. 

“I said takedown entries,” Kevin snipes at them, because he always comes over at the worst times.

“Not my fault he doesn’t have base,” Andrew says.

“Neil, get better base,” Kevin says. “Andrew, stop tripping him if he’s just going to fall. You’re not learning anything.”

Andrew hits single-legs for the next minute. Neil tries to step back, sprawl, to break his grips, even to pull guard one embarrassing time, but nothing works. Without warning, Andrew then hits a double-leg, but only once, and then when he stands back up he gets nothing but a sleeve grip, pulls Neil’s arm up in a slight arc, and twists somehow so that Neil’s body is stretched across his shoulders. He can tell that if Andrew ducked and pulled further on his arm Neil would go flipping headfirst onto the ground. 

“Fireman’s carry,” Andrew says. 

Of course Neil has heard of a fireman’s carry takedown, but it’s not common in the Raven strategy, and it feels so different than it looks. “Show me again.”

Andrew does the fireman’s carry two more times, Neil running commentary. “So, it’s same-side arm, up, and then step to the side-- no, away-- and then you kneel? Or do you kneel before you step? And then what type of grip you use for the leg? Which leg?”

Before Neil gets his questions answered, the timer goes off and it’s time to switch. 

Alright, Neil tells himself. You just got a masterclass in what you’re supposed to do. First, get grips.

Step One is foiled time and time again by Andrew, who somehow manages to twist and yank his arms out of every single grip Neil gets on them. He only gets close enough for a collar tie once, his palm on the back of Andrew's neck, and Andrew ducks and pushes his elbow up, breaking that grip too. Neil’s fairly certain that he could spend the next week just grip-fighting and not get anywhere against the wrestler. 

“Andrew, stop being a dick,” Kevin calls over to them. “He’s not getting anywhere.”

Now that someone else said it, Neil has to disagree. 

Andrew finally lets Neil grab his sleeve, and must be expecting Neil to pull him into a fireman’s carry because he had asked so many questions about that takedown, which means that Neil of course has to shove Andrew’s arm out of the way and shoot a double-leg. 

“Really,” Andrew says, not only not falling over but also wrapping his arm around Neil’s neck in the precursor to a guillotine. 

“Shit.” Neil stands back up. “You’re like a tree trunk. I didn’t sign up for this just to get marionnetted around, you know.”

“Never would have guessed. Hit the fireman’s.”

Neil does shoot the fireman’s carry this time, keeping his singular grip close, and gets a sense for the feeling just before finishing the takedown, where Andrew’s body is all balanced on the fulcrum of his shoulders. He could just lean forward and send Andrew to the ground. 

“Why did you sign up?” Andrew asks faux-innocently, which is when Neil realizes that he messed up. 

He fights for grips again to stall for time. “You said it yourself, I’m a fanboy,” he tries. 

“Wrong. You didn’t even believe he was Kevin Day.”

“I just like jiu-jitsu.”

“Nicky took down the signs. You didn't know this was a gym any more than Kevin knows you’re a runaway.”

“So it was Nicky.” It’s a clumsy attempt at deflection, Neil reeling from the confidence in Andrew’s deduction, because he’s wrong but he also isn’t. Neil didn’t strictly run away, not from his Uncle, not this time. But he is, in identity, a runaway and nothing else. “I was wondering. Why are you grilling me anyway,” he says, which is what he thinks a normal person would say. Everything’s an interrogation to him.

“Because you’re lying.” The ten-second warning on the timer beeps, and when Neil shoots his next double-leg Andrew simply refuses to fall.

“Okay, Jesus, fine, I came in because some creeps were following me.” This is Neil’s last resort besides just plain bolting. It’s a good lie because it’s true, allowing him to follow it with “I don’t know why.”

The timer goes off, but not much changes considering that everyone has paused in their training to eavesdrop.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” Andrew says, his tone a pitch-perfect imitation of Nicky’s ‘Is it my birthday?’. “That’s against Rule Fourteen.”

“You guys have an anti-stalking clause codified into your gym rules?” Neil doesn’t remember seeing such a rule, but considering the freaks around here he isn’t surprised.

“Rule Fourteen is Be Respectful, don’t you remember. Not very respectful to chase rabbits all the way to foxholes, is it?”

Allison raises her hand. Andrew beams at her, but she’s undeterred. “I fucking hate stalkers. Permission for Seth and I to hunt them down.”

“Denied,” Kevin says. 

That is… a weird exchange. Not only is it weird that strangers want to get involved in Neil’s business, it’s weird that the self-proclaimed non-self-defense trainer would be the first to say so. But paired with Seth, whatever combat weakness she might have would be canceled out. She’d turn from obvious bait and a liability to the secret weapon in the mountain’s shadow, it would be an excellent teamup. There’s just no reason for it.

Dan raises her hand. “We’re not asking.”

“Denied.”

“Go yourself then. Pussy,” Seth says, effortlessly breaking Rules Twelve and Fourteen.

“Denied,” says Andrew.

“I’m not fucking scared of you,” Seth starts, which is an interesting position for him to take considering that he absolutely should be. His loss.

Kevin picks up the remote to the timer from where it’s been sitting on the tops of the mats taped onto the walls. He turns the volume up and makes it beep earsplittingly loud. “Drill your takedowns to finish, any submission. Two minutes each.”

Nobody moves. The timer starts ticking down. 

“How about you walk him home, Andrew,” Renee suggests sweetly. Neil revises his mental calculations to put her down as the largest threat in the room, based off ‘Rather the devil you know’ logic. “Since you seem concerned.”

“Base,” Andrew says as warning before he slams into Neil, takes him down, and hauls him into an armbar before he can start to fight. Neil taps, he lets go. 

“That’s very thoughtful,” Renee says as if Andrew had agreed with her, and then proceeds to take Aaron down the same way. 

The two minutes pass in silence that would be tense if not for the overwhelming presence of Andrew hitting his full wrestling takedowns over and over again. He goes for armbars mostly, but hits a knee bar in a scramble and a kimora when he pins Neil on his side. He does not rush to get up between each rep the way Renee does, allowing Neil some time to catch his breath, but he does not slow down either, the two minutes passing in perfect increments of stand up, fall, tap, stand up again. 

They switch and Neil learns that he has been doing collarties incorrectly and he should be keeping his elbow in and constantly putting weight on the back of Andrew’s neck. “Otherwise I just have your arm,” Andrew explains, taking Neil’s arm and ducking underneath to get his hands around Neil’s waist in the precursor to a mat return.

“Noted.”

Neil manages to land one somewhat passable double-leg to armbar combo before the timer screeches again. 

Kevin turns the timer’s volume down, looking faintly embarrassed now that he’s not interrupting anyone. “Circle up,” he says. “Nicky, can I borrow you for single-leg x?”

Nicky walks to the center of the mat and Kevin falls back and slaps the mat, maneuvering himself so that Nicky is standing over him with his feet standing beside Kevin’s waist. Kevin grabs Nicky’s ankles and launches the lower half of his body up, his knee clamping down on the inside of Nicky’s thigh and his other heel wrapping around to the outside. “Five reps, alternating sides, and sweep on the fifth,” he says, then demonstrates the sequence again, four more times, and on the fifth time bridges his hips at a 45-degree angle so that Nicky falls. “One minute and switch.”

Neil’s seen that move before. It should be fine. The timer beeps and everyone does their synchronized clap.

Once he’s actually laying on the mat with Andrew standing over him, he gets second thoughts. He’s meant to bring his knee up to hold onto the inside of Andrew’s thigh, which is obvious, that’s just what single-leg x is, but-- “This feels dangerous,” he comments.

“If you knee me in the balls I will return the favor.”

Neil tilts his head. “Bit difficult.” 

“I’d find a way.”

He does not end up kneeing Andrew in the balls, which makes the whole thing an overwhelming success, even though it takes him six tries to actually pull off the sweep at the end. Andrew’s sense of balance is just supernatural. 

The timer goes off and they switch. Neil already feels off-balance as Andrew gets into position, holding his ankles, and when Andrew’s knee catches him, he can’t stop himself from falling backwards. Here we go again, he thinks.

Andrew surges forward after him, eyes widening, and he’s not sure what the problem is until he hits the ground with Andrew’s hands cradling Neil’s head. “Oh shit,” he says, looking down to see that his head and shoulders are hanging off the edge of the mat. He would’ve cracked his skull open on the hard concrete. “Thanks.”

Andrew pulls his hands away, looking annoyed. “Don’t fall.”

Neil does fall again, and again, but in a different direction so Andrew doesn’t have to rescue him again. He’s not sure which one of them is more frustrated by it by the time Kevin tells them to circle up again.

They drill knee-cuts, which Neil does actually understand. It’s just one hand on the hip and one hand on the knee, push the knee to the mat, staple it down with his leg, underhook, and go to side control. There are intricacies he’s not getting, he’s sure, but it’s fine. Then they do a more movement-focused drill in which he switches from armbar from guard to armbarring the other arm, swinging 180 degrees around with just the pendulum momentum from one leg. 

“Do you know how to do a wristlock from here,” Andrew asks while Neil is holding onto both of his arms and calculating how much momentum he can get without accidentally kicking Andrew in the head. 

“Of course,” Neil says. He tries to do the pendulum motion, but runs out of momentum while still facing Andrew, so he just scoots the rest of the way until he has his leg clamped over Andrew’s head in proper guard-armbar position. “Do you want me to?”

“Show me how you would.”

Neil does so, methodically replicating the steps he remembers from watching a Raven instructional video. It doesn’t feel quite right, but Andrew taps anyway, and they continue the drill without further interruption. 

Just when Neil thinks he’s going to have to slow down or even, horrifyingly, ask to take a break-- the pendulum motion requires a ton of ab strength, as did single-leg x-- the timer goes off. “That’s class for today, line up on the edge of the mat,” Kevin says. 

Andrew rapidly disentagles himself from Neil’s guard and goes to stand beside Renee and Nicky, the other low-ranking blue belts. Neil goes to the end of the line, beside Seth. 

“Good work today. Announcements just in case you forgot: Do not leave your devil’s lettuce in the cubbies, Renee and Dan are fighting Toro, Wymack’s birthday is next Monday, and Neil, Trial Class, is not allowed to roll. Let’s bow out.”

Everybody bows, then Kevin goes to the front of the line and starts shaking hands, the line doubling over on itself to follow him so Neil gets told “Good work” by Kevin Day, Allison Reynolds, Dan Wilds, Matt, Aaron, Renee, a very cheery Nicky, and a reluctant Seth, in that order. It’s so disorienting that he only notices what’s wrong when everybody has gone to the water fountains.

Andrew is gone.

Belt rankings, reasoning, main skills:

Wymack- black (coach. Main skills: Patience.)

Kevin- brown (trained since birth. Main skills: he’s just better than you.)

Allison- purple (access to a gym since freshman year high school. Main skills: leg entanglements.)

Dan- Blue, 3 stripe (dedicated training. Main skills: Creative use of weight and pressure while incorporating moves from class into strategic rolling.)

Matt- Blue, 2 stripe (built different. Main skills: strength without skimping on technique)

Aaron- Blue, 2 stripe (wrestling experience. Main skills: a lot stronger than he looks.)

Renee- Blue, 2 stripe (access to a gym since being adopted by Stephanie. Main skills: does not believe in no-win scenarios)

Andrew- Blue, 0 stripe (does not roll with anyone but Kevin, Aaron, Nicky, and Renee. Main skills: balance, standup, grip-breaking, and space management. You cannot knock him over and you especially cannot pin him down.)

Nicky- Blue, 0 stripe (does not follow the rules. Main skills: wrestling and flexibility.)

Seth- White, 4 stripe (has trouble translating moves from drills into strategy during rolling, does not follow the rules. Main skills: built like a truck.)

Neil- White, 0 stripe (no experience, pure vibes. Main skills: encyclopedic knowledge of lore.)

Also, Neil talks about the Gracie family like he really admires them, because he fucking loves jiu-jitsu, but in real life they’re not exactly role models. They can be trusted to be damn good at jiu-jitsu but not, for example, to respect women. However, at least they’re not the Moriyamas. 

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you liked it!

[meowstic-madness]

Chilled! Alwin AU

So, I know this is random and I haven’t actually done much explaining on my own world of Pokémon, but I randomly drew this last night and wanted to share it.

This basically started as a small idea, until I drew it and became a practice on shading, but looked cool and made me think deeper into the story.

Also, I will have a post just for explaining what my characters or Champions are, so yeah. But right now, AU time.

TRIGGER WARNING (blood, death, gore, mental illness)

Just a basic brief on Alwin: Name: Alwin Walsh Gender: Male Age: 16 (became Champ at 15) Height: 5″5 Sexuality: Gay (is dating Hop) Team: - Ren (Inteleon) - Male - Veda (Xatu) - Female - North (Frosslass) - Female - Ryu (Flygon) - Male - Excalibur (Aegislash) - Male - Echo (Noivern) - Female

So basically, this takes place just over a year after Alwin became Champion, and meeting the other Champions of each region (it’s an event I have but is explained in a Wattpad Chatfic story that I am currently writing. Fight me.). The events are basically the same as the regular “timeline” but this AU is a possible branch off of the same event.

Main Timeline

Alwin has been suffering from depression for a while, present before the Gym Challenge, but only progressively got worse. Sure, Hop also has depression, but his is only mild, so Alwin didn’t feel like anyone understood, not even his own Pokémon.

A day when he’s alone, he feels compelled to be alone, to let his own thoughts roam, in an attempt to try and rid them for the better. In this state of though, he thought that it would be better to head to the Tundra without his Pokémon. Yes, he was smart enough to check the weather to make sure he didn’t freeze, but went on his way, without his phone, bag and Pokémon. What he didn’t anticipate however, was that Hop was supposed to be visiting 15 minutes later.

Arriving in Freezington, he made his way out to the Snowslide Slope. Pokémon avoided him throughout the Frostpoint Field and Giant’s Bed, any aggressive ones stopped by others, noticing the troubled boy. Upon reaching the Snowslide Slope, he headed up, passing Pokémon and keeping to himself.

But he still stops, stops to watch a battle between a Beartic and a Druddigon. He stood far enough away from the original starting ground of the battle. He watched mesmerised, stuck in place. He wasn’t aware of the Beartic being pushed back towards him, until it was too late to realise. When the Beartic was too close, it dodged a clawed attack from the Druddigon, which hit Alwin instead.

The wounds were deep and across his chest, but landing in the snow had his body temperature drop quicker than what it should have. The battle between the Beartic and Druddigon stopped, realising what they had done. Pokemon from around the area stopped, seeing what had been done.

Of course, since Alwin wasn’t where he was supposed to be, Hop goes out to the Tundra, having found Alwin’s phone still on the weather check. He does let the League know, so they set off to the Tundra as well to help.

This is where it splits off.

In the regular timeline, Alwin is found by Hop and Peony, close to death and freezing. Of course, when the others find them, they bring Alwin back to Galar, back to a hospital. Alwin is nursed back to health, but still remains on the road to recovery in the mental area. There isn’t much story after that, but I’m getting there.

Anyway! Onto the AU-

In this AU, they don’t find Alwin in time. Instead, Alwin dies in the Tundra, bleeding, cold, and surrounded by Pokémon. But, he doesn’t move on. His pain, his agony, is what forced him to come back as the creature that he is; some form of ghost. Neither human, a Pokemon, or alive, he becomes an embodiment of agony and regret, rising from his body, now buried in red snow and wandering the mountain.

But not for long.

Hop and Peony are quickly accompanied by Leon and the League to search, and so they start the search. Along the Snowslide Slope, they search, and with Alwin’s Pokémon in Hop’s care, Hop decides to send Echo (the Noivern) ahead to seek out anything odd. This however backfires, Echo rushing back and trying to get the search party away from the slope. As she tries to drag Hop away, she flees after seeing something else behind Hop. But when Hop turns and stumbles back to get away.

Alwin, too dead to be true.

They aren’t sure what to do, but they’re all terrified. It wasn’t what they wanted, and it wasn’t what they wanted to find. Of course, they flee, unable to find anything to do. They expected him to stay there, up on the Snowslide Slope, within the Tundra.

But they were wrong.

Alwin would appear to them, bringing a chill to the air. He’d speak, but he’d sound lost, asking why they were afraid. Hop was the only one that gave him a clear answer; the one that would treat Alwin as if he was still alive.

Alwin wasn’t a threat, and Hop could see that, and so he pushed the others to remind them that Alwin was their friend. And so speculation began.

They wandered if they could bring Alwin back; if they could free his soul. But could they?

Hop believed there could be a way to bring Alwin back, but he did this in secret, with Alwin as the only other that would know.

They travel to Kalos, seeking out their friend, Madelyn, Kalos’s detective and fellow Champion. Hop’s first thought was the legendary Xerneas, a member of the Aura Trio. He knew Madelyn had connections with them, so she was their first go-to. Despite this thought, the Pokémon of Life could not do anything. Madelyn then continued researching for the two, having her fair share of ghost encounters herself. She searched through books and asked any Ghost Gym Leaders on what they knew about people turning into ghost ( Allister was excluded from this of course), but nothing can out of it. She did everything in her power to find a way to either free Alwin or bring him back, but to also keep this secret.

Hop heads back, the spirit of his friend following. Alwin’s death is revealed to Galar, and the rest of the world, a month after the event. During this time, Hop, Leon and Raihan go back to the Snowslide Slope to find his body, only to find its resting place; where frozen flowers lay over red snow.

And that’s basically the AU.

Extras nows.

These here are the drawings. I am proud of the first. But the blood splaters on the second looks a bit off, but it still works.

So, Alwin died in the Tundra, where his body was buried in the snow by the Pokémon that witnessed his death. This happened shortly after his death, which was why his body wasn’t found by the search party. The Pokémon payed their respects, placing flowers over the grave, which froze over, preserving them.

Alwin’s presence is known through a cold chill that breezes through. This is what scared the League members, as they’d have their backs turned, before feeling the chill. They’d then go check if a window or door was open, only to turn around to see Alwin. These chills can be as weak as small breezes, but can become as strong as blizzards that only last for less than a minute.

Hop released any Pokémon that Alwin caught, only keeping his main 6, Eternatus and Zamazenta. However, North (the Frosslass) went off, going to the mountain where Alwin rested. She did this to watch over the ghost he continued on as.

In this state, Alwin is able to communicate with Pokémon, understanding them perfectly.

In order for Alwin to travel, he would need to attack himself to an object that was “Galarian”. This is why he was able to leave the Tundra, as he attached himself to an object, which allowed him to go to League members without notice. This is also how he traveled to Kalos with Hop, as he attached himself to a Galarica Cuff that Hop had around his wrist. He is also able to travel to see the other Champions this way, as they all received a Galarica Cuff as a send-off gift.

He rarely ever appears to others. He will only appear to those that he once knew, such as Hop, the League and international friends. Sometimes a child may catch a glimpse of him, which terrifies them, and sometimes an adult will too, but it’s always thought to be a trick of the wind.

It you were to capture him on camera or in a video, he’d only appear as a wisp of frozen cloud or mist.

I believe that is all. Feel free to critique or ask anything about this. This was a little AU I came up with in less than 2 days, but I so dearly love it.

:)

[alexsfictionaddiction]

‘She overcame everything that was meant to destroy her.’

Women are truly incredible creatures. We have spent centuries being overlooked, downtrodden and dismissed. In some respects, we have come a long way in terms of gender equality but there are still many recent occurrences which remind us of how far we have to go. 

So many female illnesses take years to diagnose or aren’t taken seriously enough when they are. Women are still having to justify why they chose not to have children. We’re still working with a pay gap. Some women aren’t considered to be women because of the body parts they were born with or without. There are still places in the world where women simply don’t and never will have the opportunities to live life on their own terms. Despite all this, we’re still out in the world making and doing amazing things and looking beautiful while doing them. 

This recommendation list is really a collection of books that celebrate women, their courage, their friendships and their choices. It’s pretty varied in terms of genre and style, so I’m pretty sure you’ll find at least one book here that piques your interest. Keep being your fierce, unstoppable self and honour your girls today. -Love, Alex x

1. Dangerous Women by Hope Adams.

In 1841, 180 English women are on board The Rajah, a ship bound for Australia. All of them are criminals, most of them convicted of petty crimes but one of them has a deadly dark secret. Then someone is killed and the hunt for the culprit is on. But it’s hard to protest your innocence when you’ve already been found guilty. This addictive mystery is so well-researched and is based on the true stories of real female criminals aboard The Rajah. There is an overwhelming, stifling darkness, haunting the whole novel that is so atmospheric and reflective of conditions on board. It’s a story of sisterhood, female friendship and the existence of the Rajah Quilt is an example of the incredible feats that women can overcome if they work together. 

2. Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu.

Viv is tired of following the rules at her high school and is determined to shake things up. Channelling her mum’s former punk persona, Viv creates and secretly distributes a feminist zine to her classmates, who start to take action. Cliques are abandoned as new friendships are formed and a revolution kicks off. The real sweetness about this gutsy, fierce YA novel is the fact that talking about the daily trials and tribulations that girls go through brings them together rather than divides them. There are some fantastic characters and the inclusion of male allies is everything.

3. Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams.

After a disastrous break up, British-Jamaican millennial Queenie embarks on a journey, riddled with bad choices, to discover what she really wants from life. Straddling two cultures, a job where she is perpetually underappreciated and an underlying mental health condition, Queenie is a relatable depiction of what it means to be a young, Black woman in 21st century London. Funny, honest and deeply moving, Queenie is an essential enlightening read with a wonderfully flawed, real woman at its heart.

4. Hag: Forgotten Folktales Retold.

Inspired by British urban myths, this collection of spooky, fantastical stories by various female authors celebrates women in all of their guises. These stories are written by the likes of Daisy Johnson, Kirsty Logan, Irenosen Okojie, Eimear McBride and more. Some of the stories are very dark. Some of them offer powerful insights into other cultures. Some of them explore inherently female issues such as the repression of desire and motherhood. Overriding the whole collection is the wonder and power of women defying the odds and achieving their dreams. A fantastically unique read, ideal for International Women’s Day.

5. My Grandmother Asked Me To Tell You She’s Sorry by Fredrik Backman.

When Elsa’s grandmother dies, she discovers a series of letters apologising to the various people she has wronged. Elsa’s mission to deliver these letters leads to some strange places and a journey that leads to getting to know her grandmother in a way she never did, when she was alive. The relationship between seven-year-old Elsa and her grandmother is so beautiful and I’m sure I’ll never read another grandmother-granddaughter relationship like it. Granny is a truly formidable character and a woman who has left behind a very full, colourful life. Backman is a master at writing quirky, uplifting stories of community and this charming novel is no different.

6. Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo.

Kim Jiyoung has recently given up work to raise her baby daughter but before long, she begins displaying strange symptoms, such as impersonating the voices of other women. As her psychosis deepens, Jiyoung’s entire life is spilled to her male psychiatrist and it’s a life of restriction, abuse and control. This incredibly evocative book is a harrowing illustration of the misogyny ingrained deep in Korean culture and the devastating effects it can have on the women who live within it. A woman on the brink of insanity speaks for them all in this heavily symbolic, heartbreaking read.

7. The Shelf by Helly Acton.

Amy is pretty sure that Jamie is about to propose, so she is more than shocked to find herself on The Shelf, a reality TV show for single women. Over the next few weeks, she and five other women must take on challenges to improve themselves and be crowned ‘The Keeper’. The Shelf is a joyful celebration of singledom and female friendship. Funny and heartwarming, it inspires its readers to never settle for second best and discover life and yourself, completely on your own terms.

8. Invisible Women by Caroline Criado-Perez.

The world is made for men. Cars, phones, the medical industry, workplace laws and more areas of modern society largely ignore women. This fantastically informative manual exposes all the data biases that have been hidden from us. Caroline Criado-Perez has collated stories and case studies from across the globe that show how women’s lives and health are affected by our male-minded world and calls for drastic change.

9. A Kind of Spark by Elle McNicoll.

Addie has autism but she is so much more than that. When she learns of her hometown’s involvement in witch trials, she launches a campaign to erect a memorial for the women who died during them. This gorgeous, uplifting, funny middle-grade book offers a unique insight into a neurodivergent mind and simultaneously honours innocent, murdered women. You’ll get all the feels!

10. Olive by Emma Gannon.

Olive’s choice to not be a mother has ended her nine year relationship and her three best friends are all at various stages of motherhood. So, where will Olive fit into their lives now? This wonderfully sensitive and thoughtful novel is a wonderful celebration of women who are child-free by choice as well as giving voice to those who have struggled to become mothers. It will speak to any woman who has ever been asked when they’re going to take the leap into that ‘inevitable’ stage of a female life -motherhood.

11. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid.

Evelyn Hugo is a retired Hollywood icon who has personally chosen struggling, unknown reporter Monique to dictate her biography to. No one knows why, not even Monique herself. Over a series of intimate meetings, Evelyn tells Monique her story; from her rise to fame in the 1950s LA to her retirement 30 years later and the myriad of romances throughout that time. In time, it becomes clear that Evelyn’s and Monique’s lives intertwine in a heartbreaking fashion. Soaring, epic and completely unforgettable, Evelyn Hugo is the story of a woman who was consistently objectified, moulded and suppressed. Ultimately, it is a story of a great forbidden love and the hell that fame can bring, especially for women.

12. The Year of the Witching by Alexis Henderson.

Imannuelle’s mixed heritage is sacrilege in the tiny, puritanical community in which she lives. So she does her best to obey the rules and worship the Father. However, she finds herself in the haunted Darkwood where the spirits of murdered witches roam but they have a gift for Immanuelle -her dead mother’s journal, which leads to her discovering the dark truths behind the community she was born into. This atmospheric, brooding fantasy-horror novel champions the overthrowing of control, the discovery of one’s own inner power and capabilities as well as demonstrating how women have been villified by the patriarchy for centuries, simply for leading the lives that they want to lead. An addictive, Gothic witchy treat!

[mental-ch-illness]

Can you fake or exaggerate symptoms of any mental disorder? And actually get away with it?

absolutely. 

i know that this community isn’t too fond of addressing this topic, but this has definitely happened and continues to happen. for every person who is caught, i can almost guarantee you there are at least 3 more that haven’t been. that being said, i don’t think that fakers are extremely common, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have these conversations.

not everyone is gonna want to see this, so i’ve put it below the cut.

when we find out someone is faking something, our emotions may be varied. it can be really difficult to sort through it all, and that’s okay. your emotions are an involuntary response to your environment, it’s only how you deal with those emotions that truly matters. i think that the most common emotion experienced, however, is probably anger and rightfully so. these situations, though, are rarely something that can be handled correctly with anger. moving forward and deciding how to take action can be very difficult. 

if you suspect someone you know is faking, or even have proof of it, you should step back and asses the situation. ask yourself the following questions:

what is the scale of this situation?

how many people are actively they faking to?

are they faking in public or in private?

do they have any power/influence?

are they attempting to educate or spread awareness about a condition that they do not have?

what are they gaining by faking?

are they taking up community resources?

taking up space in therapy groups or activities

taking up limited clinician time

taking up psychiatric unit beds 

receiving government aid, financial or otherwise,

receiving aid from other organizations/charities

etc

have they hurt themselves or others to prove or maintain their facade?

what kind of people are they lying to?

what do you personally want to happen?

honestly, trying to describe each and every nuance of this situation and what i believe is the best course of action is really taxing so i’ll be summarizing as best i can. 

under what conditions would i POTENTIALLY need to call this person out within a friend group/community?

if they have received financial aid or donations of resources from friends or from the community 

if they have a large following or influence, particularly if they are championing themselves as an educator or advocate

if they have hurt themselves or others in the process

be extremely careful with callouts. remember that you are one person and you can’t possibly know everything about a situation. this person could have received the wrong diagnosis, mistaken symptoms/experiences for the disorder, have been manipulated into believing they have a disorder, or are just not aware that they are faking (yes, this does happen!). a call out can do way more harm than good. 

for the most part, if a faker is just faking for attention and isn’t attempting to use their faked disorder for personal gain, you should literally leave it alone. it’s not a fight worth starting. some people are just horribly insecure and incredibly toxic. you can’t change them and you can’t save everyone around them. calling a faker out when it doesn’t really need to happen will victimize them and push them to lean further into the lie. ignoring them and encouraging others to ignore them and leave is generally the safest and least stressful option for everyone- except the faker. 

additionally, remember the ramifications of this action. some people will get very defensive and actively seek you out and try to sabotage you. 

i’m not close to the faker, what should i do?

distance yourself from the faker. tell others you do not want to be around them and do not want any contact on the faker’s behalf. 

i’m not close to the faker but a friend is, what should i do?

pull your friend aside privately and calmly bring up your concerns. do not demonize the faker, even though that is very easy. you cannot force a friend into taking your side, but if you at least address the situation, you’ve done what you can. 

i want to directly confront the faker, what do i do?

if your reasoning for confronting a faker is because you want to hurt them or make them feel bad, don’t. that will only cause them to lean into the lie even more. it victimizes them and they love that. 

if you want to confront the faker in an attempt to maybe get them to understand that what they’re doing is wrong, you need to have a private, one on one conversation. be nonjudgemental. being nonjudgemental doesn’t mean condoning their actions, it means staying neutral to achieve a goal. many people who fake for attention are actively hurting. plenty of them come from rough situations and are insecure. additionally, many feel guilty. offering them a chance to come clean instead of destroying them can be a great act of compassion and really turn someone’s life around. it can also provide a lot of closure as well.

this is NOT for everyone though. examine your emotions and how you feel about this person. if you genuinely can’t forgive them at this time, or ever, this isn’t something you should do. there is absolutely NO SHAME in just dropping the person and never seeing them again. you are the victim in this situation, you do what is best for YOU, not the faker. 

i’ve found the faker in another community, what do i do?

are they actively faking in this other community? if they are, then privately speak with whoever is in charge. if they aren’t faking and aren’t hurting anyone there, there’s really no point to bringing it up. 

if you have previously confronted this person in the past and they are not faking anymore leave them alone. it’s clear this person has made an effort to change. they don’t need to have mistakes thrown in their face constantly. following someone around and trying to make their life miserable is just not healthy for you. 

i have been open in the past about being a compulsive liar. i have else met a LOT of other liars and illness fakers in my life. this is how i have dealt with them in the past. if you feel like this is too light, yeah, maybe it is, but fixating over trying to ruin someone will only ruin you. the best way to show someone you see through them is to literally cut them off and go no contact. nothing drives a manipulator up the wall more than losing one of their prey.

if a person is trying to change, then let them. when i came clean about my lying, i lost a lot of friends, and rightfully so. i don’t blame any of them for feeling the way they did about what i did to them. i don’t see myself as a victim of their anger when it comes to their initial actions. that being said, they have continued to go after me despite the fact that i have actively changed and have people around me who keep me accountable. it’s not healthy for anyone involved to drag around a dead horse and beat it when you get angry. 

i hope this helps!

[valiblythe]

~ Cadence Hyrule ~

Profile

First Name: Cadence

Pronunciation: ˈkādns

Meaning: modulation of the voice.

Middle Name: Sheik

Pronunciation: SHēk

Last Name: Hyrule

Pronunciation: Hai-Rool

Nickname: Cad; Cade; Cadenza

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Species: Hylian

Sexual Orientations: Bisexual

D.O.B: 08.01. 2002

Zodiac: Leo

Photo Gallery: here! and here!

Appearance ~

Face Type: Diamond

Hairstyle: Hair down; Messy bun

Hair colour: periwinkle

Hair Accessories: N/A

Eye shape: almond

Eye colour: blue

Glasses?: N/A

Contacts?: N/A

Facial Hair: N/A

Skin Tone: pale

Complexion: fair

Body Type: mesomorphic

Height: 5'1

Weight: 115 lbs

Birthmarks: N/A

Scars: Has a tiny cut on her cheek

Clothing Style: See pic above

Health ~

General health: Good

Posture: Straight

Any physical illnesses?: None

Any mental illnesses?: Depression

Addictions: None

Memory: Great

Allergies: Has an allergy to white safflina

Handicap: N/A

Medications?: N/A

Phobias: Athazagoraphobia, Thanatophobia

Relationships~

Father: King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule

Mother: Queen of Hyrule

Brother: N/A

Sister: Princess Zelda Hyrule

Best friend: Link, Sheik (Aka Zelda- XD)

Close friend: Impa; Revali (though they do clash a lot); Prince Sidon

Friend: the chuchus, and the bokos- you know how it is; Lady Urbosa and Daruk

Pets: has a tiny water chuchu; Has a horse named Aries

Crush: Master Sooga (cuz who doesnt anyway-)

Boyfriend/Girlfriend: Link; dated Revali for a month and got tired of him

Spouse/Fiancee: Link

Personality

Strengths: Her independence; Wide range of knowledge; flexibility; is very precise; calculated; has her mindset on one goal; her unbelievable power

Weakness: Her emotions/her heart

-----> Cadence was first filled with revenge and sorrow. It drove her to her 'purpose'--- and that was to destroy the Hylians. But as soon as she meets them, she learns many things from them. It sparkled that light inside of her that was dead all her life. She's independent, precise, and serious, but has a great sense of humour without even trying. She's kind, and compassionate to people, especially animals. She's gentle in nature if she has to be, but great in combat. She won't think twice about killing something. She's fierce and tough and doesn't want people to see her weaknesses. But those weaknesses come to life when it comes to her loved ones. She'll do anything to save them, and that, they consider a weakness. It was using her heart.

LoZ Stuff~

Role: antagonist at first, but the protagonist in the end

Where is seen first?: Legend of Zelda: BOTW

Where can be found: At the Yiga Clan camp

Do they own a divine beast?: Yes

If so what's the animal the divine beast?: A wolf

How is it troubling the town?: N/A

What's the divine beast's name?: The Moon/ The Labyrinth

(Note: this Divine Beast is the 5th one, supposedly Link's, but he tells her to take care of it while he does what he does in the Kingdom)

Quest: The Ex-Champion's Ballad

What blight is Ganon?: Monk Maz Kosha

Game Interactions~

Dialogue When first meeting: "You're finally awake.. Great. Oh your clothes, Sir. *clears throat* a-anyway please follow me... Be careful of the bokos-"

Dialog when seeing each other in a different region: "Ah.. such... a horrible coincidence- I-I meant a good coincidence.. We meet again.."

Dialog when player is in Gerudo clothing: "This- Is.. not what I signed up for.. But it works. I guess..."

Dialog when player isn't wearing any clothing: "What do you think you're doing?? Everyone's seeing me like this!! Damn you, give me my clothes back!!"

Quest Stuff~

Quest Name: Link's Guardian

Quest Type: Main Quest

Quest Description: You met Link at the Shrine of Resurrection. He didn't remember anything. Now, you have to follow him through his adventures and guide him. You will serve as his protector. When you reach the end, it is time for you to go. Don't worry, you will still be there with him. Your power is his strength.

Dialogue when giving quest: "*explains quest* Okay. We have to work together to... help Master Link.. I won't let anything happen to him.*

Dialogue when the player is finishing the quest: "Ah... you made it... thank you, thank you for helping me succeed. It is a great honour to work with you. Now, I trust that he is in good hands. Take care of him for me, please? Many things lie ahead {name}... May the goddess smile upon you.."

Game Universe: BOTW

SSS

Upper Body Strength: 8/10

Lower Body Strength: 9/10

Overall Strength: 8/10

Hand to Hand Combat: 7/10

Weaponry Combat: 10/10

Emotions: 8/10

Calmness: 6/10

Recklessness: 10/10

Speed: 8/10

Reflexes: 8/10

Agility: 9/10

Intelligence: 7/10

Obedience: 5/10

BACKSTORY (Can change depending on the RP or story plot)

(IN CADENCE'S POV)

Rebels. That's all you know of us. The Yiga Clan, thieves. You only know so much, that you call us evil. I was fooled too, but in a different way as you. What good could there be any way in such evil people?

No one is really truly evil. The people around them, the things they do, are the ones that make them evil. Revenge drives them to become the way they are now. But they only see the bad in you, not themselves.

Ever since I was a child, I knew I was an outcast. A simple loner who didn't deserve love. I was thrown away by my father, the king of Hyrule. I was a cursed child ever since then, and I will always be. I can see why he threw me away, I was simply not needed and is of no use to him at all.

But life isn't as cruel as it seems to be. When all hope is lost, someone will be there to pick you up. But in change, you owe them your life. You had to pay a debt. Master Kohga tells me a story, tells me that he found me out in the Hyrule Garrison, surrounded by creatures who threatened to kill me.

Until that they on, I served him, and treated him like a father. I owe him my life, and I'd do anything to set things right. Though I knew I wasn't his child, I treated him like he was my father anyway. Whoever threw me out don't deserve to be called my parents, because how could a parent ever throw their children away, as if they're nothing to them?

But some things you blindly just follow solely because it was a debt you had to pay when you don't realise how evil you're becoming.

All my life, I simply wanted to avenge myself. After my father had told me how he found me, and who my parents were.. all I could feel was grief. Sadness. Pain. Little did I know was that I was going to meet a certain someone who was going to change that negative perspective of mine. Perhaps someone to clear the clouds after a stormy day.

It all started when I set off for a mission. My mission was to get inside information on the Hylians and the Hyrule Kingdom. Then, once I fulfil that mission of mine, well... we destruct their foundation. Only then will they know how much it hurts to be broken and thrown away.

(TO BE CONT. IN PROGRESS!)

------------------------------

Credit to the owner on the picture and template!

(LOZ OC)

[elizabethemerald]

Eternal Night Redux: Finale

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

AO3

Please please reblog!

The Hearthstone once more hummed with energy. Throughout the past few months it had slowly recovered from Gunmar draining it. Jim was delighted to see it once again to its previous healthy glow. 

Since Gunmar's defeat at the hand of the Trollhunters, Trollmarket had been constantly busy. Ambassadors from various troll tribes had been constantly coming and going. They were all working to solidify the tenuous peace that had been established. 

There was still tension between different groups. The trolls of Trollmarket disliked the trolls from Gato's Keep since they refused to come in their hour of need. Many of the trolls still hated and distrusted the changelings, and the surviving members of the Janus order returned those feelings in spades. 

Angor was still feared even by some of the trolls who had fought alongside him. And the former assassin still harbored many ill feelings for Strickler. Jim did his best to keep those two apart as much as possible. 

Even with tensions still running high between groups and between individuals they were all still gathered again. Trollmarket was filled with all manner of trolls, Krubera, Quagawump, changeling, and the survivors of old Trollmarket. The troll and changeling armies were waiting outside the Heartstone, just in case things went poorly within. 

Jim marched into the Heartstone with the Staff of Avalon in his hand. Claire and Toby were on either side of him. The rest of his growing family followed behind.

 "I must insist again that this plan is folly!" Merlin's gravely voice called forward from the back of the group. 

"Enough Merlin! We've discussed and debated this point back and forth in circles ever since we killed Gunmar."

Merlin took a breath to argue but Toby spoke over him. 

"Yeah shut up beetle brows." Toby shouted back. "You've done nothing but complain literally since we woke you up."

Merlin pushed past the others and out his arm on Claire's shoulder. "Perhaps the fair Claire-"

"Do you want to get punched again?" Claire smacked his hand off her shoulder. "Because I feel like calling me 'fair Claire' again is a sure fire way to get punched again."

Merlin flapped his mouth like a fish for a moment, and Jim swirled around to face him. 

"We've already decided. If she is going to be an enemy and try to kill us all when she gets out, that outcome will be the same whether we release her now or she breaks free a thousand years from now. At least now we are as prepared as we can be for a fight." Jim turned and led the way down the stairs as he talked. "However if there is any chance to talk her down we have to do it now. We can't just wait till it's convenient."

They pushed forward and spread out into the prison chamber. Jim strode toward the center, beneath Morgana's form, frozen in the stone. With a resounding click he pushed the staff into its home in the key hole. 

Jim looked past the staff to Morgana. If she decided to kill them all it would be the fight of their lives to get out of this chamber. He was sure that some of them would die here if it came to that. He didn't know if he could bare losing anyone here, maybe Merlin was right and this was a bad idea. 

As he wrestled for a moment with his indecision he felt a hand fall on each of his shoulders. Toby and Claire had moved forward with him. They each had one hand on the staff and one on his shoulders. 

Jim leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Claire's lips, then turned and pressed one to Toby's as well. He took just a moment to breath in the same space as them, his eyes closed before he steeled his back. 

"Together?" He asked them. 

"Together." They said as one. 

Jim wrapped both of his hands around the Staff of Avalon and with Claire and Toby speaking in the same breath as him, said the enchantment that would free the Eldritch Queen. 

They carefully aimed the green beam that blasted out from the staff at the hanging crystal. It only took a moment before the crystal shattered. Jim summoned his helmet to protect his face and his shield to protect Claire and Toby's. 

The bits of stone froze in mid air before flying back towards the now free Morgana. Jim resisted the urge to draw his sword as she hovered slowly downward. Toby and Claire both had their collapsed weapons in their hands, they were trying not look threatening, but they didn't want to be taken by surprise. Jim stepped forward toward the golden armored woman. 

"Morgana! We have freed you in a bid for peace." Jim said. His voice took on a commanding air that still took him by surprise, though the others had come to expect it. 

Morgana did not reply instead she swept her gaze over those gathered here. Jim worried for a moment whether she understood him, and was about to try again in Trollish. Before he could the gravely voice he had come to dread spoke up. 

"Like I said, it is foolish to trust her!" Merlin stepped forward his sword in hand. 

Before anyone could react to stop him, golden glyphs appeared around Morgana's emerald hand. The magic blast knocked Merlin back into the wall. Jim hesitated for a moment waiting for any other magic attack. 

"We'll go ahead and give you that one, but we would like to talk peace."

"You dare try and talk to me about peace?" Morgana's voice reverberated in the room. "You want to talk about peace while you are wearing the amulet forged from my hand!"

Jim had to stop himself from taking a step back from the force of her fury. He mentally berated himself. Wearing the armor put a serious dent in his negotiation ability. He was surprised when Claire stepped forward, boldly facing the Eldritch Queen.  

"If you don't want to talk peace with Jim, then talk peace with me!" Claire's voice took on the same magical quality as Morgana's as she spoke. "You possessed me! Tried to destroy my soul! Tried to kill my boyfriend!"

As she spoke Morgana slowly floated lower till she was standing on the ground. She still towered over the children, but at least she wasn't blasting them apart. Jim couldn't help but notice that she was easily the tallest non troll in the room. 

"I have every right to hate you!" Claire continued. "To want you dead for what you did to me! But I want to offer a chance to end the fighting! To end the bloodshed that has stretched back who knows how many thousands of years."

Morgana looked at her closely, her face closed off and unreadable. She studied every line and curve of Claire's face. Whatever she was looking for she seemed to find because she nodded to herself, then settled into a floating seated position. 

"Very well my child. Let's talk of peace."

A sigh ran through the room as if every person there had been holding their breath. Claire sat down on the floor in front of her and Morgana floated lower till they were on the same level. 

"My partners will join me in these talks." Claire said. "Jim will represent the needs of Troll kind. Toby will represent the humans, both those in the town above and in the rest of the world."

Jim stepped forward and sat beside Claire. Toby sat on her other side. In an effort to show their earnestness Jim pulled at the amulet on his chest, allowing his armor to return to light. He pocketed the amulet. Toby set his collapsed warhammer aside as well. 

"It would seem I'm outnumbered at these talks. Would no one join me?" Morgana turned aside and addressed the rest of those gathered in the room. "My champion?"

Angor growled reflexively from where he had been leaning against one of the walls. "I am no longer your champion!"

"No. I suppose not." For the first time an expression other than fury could be seen on her face. Jim could clearly see it as a deep sadness. Morgana turned to where Strickler and Nomura were standing on the opposite side of the chamber. “Well what about you? Will one of you stand by your Lady Creator?”

Nomura looked away a scowl on her face. Strickler however took a step forward. Morgana waited but that was as close as he moved. 

“It is true you created the changelings. So we could work as your spies and assassins in this war. However Jim helped us, without any thought of reward, even while we were still on the opposite sides. Also he was the one who insisted that the changelings be included again and again. He was the one who fought for our place at this table. I think I can speak for all of my brethren when I say we stand for once alongside the Trollhunter. Not against him.”

Morgana looked down, her face thoughtful. When she looked up again Jim could see a fire in her eyes. 

“It is is said, that you can judge a man by the enemies he makes.” She glanced over their shoulders to where Merlin was standing. “Or by the allies he keeps.” At this she glanced to Angor. “But I truly believe the truest test of a man is the enemies he turns into allies, or even friends. Fine. I will sit alone against you.”

On impulse Jim shifted over so he was sitting to the side, in between the Claire and Morgana. Toby quickly caught on to what he was doing and moved so he and Jim were now looking at each other, with Morgana and Claire on their sides. 

“You don’t have to be against us.” Jim said. “We are all sitting together.”

Claire leaned forward pulling Morgana’s attention. 

“The three of us have fought together against everything we have come across.” Claire said. “We can all fight together now.”

In an uncommon display of seriousness Toby also leaned forward as well meeting Morgana’s eyes. “Seriously can we get this conversation started? This armor is super uncomfortable to sit in for long periods of time.”

Jim and Claire laughed, and even Morgana smiled. Together all four of them, the three Trollhunters and the Eldritch Queen sat and talked. They talked of war and bloodshed. And they talked of peace, and rebuilding. They talked long into the night, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh eventually bringing in chairs so they didn’t have to sit on the floor. 

In the end they spoke of balance. Of a balance that had been absent from the world for far too long. Together they spoke of creating a better future, for Troll, Human, Changeling, Wizard and anyone else out in the universe.

Fin

[uranianrights]

When different writers from the period have mentioned Kraft-Ebing, it has been in pretty different ways, but I found this quote in the appendix of The Intermediate Sex which seems to cast some light over the issue:

Sexual inversion has usually been regarded as psycho-pathological, as a symptom of degeneration; and those who exhibit it have been considered as physically unfit. This view, however, is falling into disrepute, especially as Krafft-Ebing, its principal champion, abandoned it in the later editions of his work.

- Otto Weininger, Sex and Character. 1906

This clears up for me how his earlier statements square together with his later advocacy against antisodomy laws. 

In 1879, Ulrichs wrote in Critische Pfeile, the last part of his series of pamphlets on uranians:

My scientific opponents are mostly psychiatrists. They are, for example, Westphal, Krafft-Ebing, Stark. They made their observations on Urnings who were in institutions for the mentally ill. They appear not to have seen mentally healthy Urnings. The rest follow the published views of the psychiatrists.

Which is to say, he regarded Krafft-Ebing as an opponent. 

Hubert Kennedy, Ulrichs biographer, writes:

Ironically, the man who became the major proponent of the sickness model of homosexuality, Richard von Krafft-Ebing (1840–1902), became interested in studying the subject precisely as a result of reading Ulrichs’s writings, as he explicitly stated in a letter to Ulrichs of January 29, 1879 (Critische Pfeile, 92). Already in 1877, Krafft-Ebing had written that Ulrichs was “afflicted with this perverse drive” and that Ulrichs “still has not furnished proof that he, as an inborn phenomenon, is eo ipso a physiological and not perhaps a pathological one” (Krafft-Ebing 1877, 305–306). With only a slight change in the wording, this statement was included in his Psychopathia sexualis (1886, 58) and it remained in all later editions of this perennial bestseller. 

Although Krafft-Ebing became interested in the subject because of Ulrichs, his understanding of it was rather along the lines of the degeneration theory of Bénédict Auguste Morel (1809–1873), as presented by Morel in 1857. This is shown already in the title of Krafft-Ebing’s 1877 work, which may be translated: “On certain anomalies of the moral drive and the clinical-forensic evaluation of them as a probable functional sign of degeneration of the central nervous system.” Nevertheless, Giovanni Dall’Orto sees a positive influence of Ulrichs on Krafft-Ebing, in that Krafft-Ebing “softened, thanks to him, the original premise, which saw in the homosexual a serious degenerate, and a criminal for life” (Dall’Orto 1985, 66).

Seeing as this mentions Krafft-Ebing never editing out the part about homosexuality “likely being pathological rather than inborn” I’m not sure what edits, exactly, he did make. I suppose that even in thinking it a “biological error” -- as he did all sex not turned to procreation -- he may still have expressed himself less damningly on the subject. 

At any rate, historian Harry Oosterhuis writes about Krafft-Ebing:

Krafft-Ebing’s overall attitude became more and more lenient and humanitarian: from the early 1890s he opposed the penalisation of homosexual acts and he was among the first to sign Hirschfeld’s petition advocating the abolition of Section 175 of the German legal code, which made so-called ‘unnatural vice’ punishable. In his last article on homosexuality, published in Hirschfeld’s Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen [Yearbook for Intermediate Sexual Types], Krafft-Ebing admitted that his earlier views on the immoral and pathological nature of homosexuality had been one-sided and that there was truth in the point of view of many of his homosexual correspondents who asked for sympathy and compassion

And while I can no longer find the source, I have once seen a quote where Ulrichs, shortly before his dead, expressed great hope at Krafft-Ebing support for the petition to repeal Paragraph 175, seeing it as a sign that his words were finally being heard, years after he had retired from his advocacy. 

[a-chrome-disguise]

A long overdue catch up

Once Brett was gone, a silence fell between Cyrus and Kazimir. The younger man was on his feet, arms held behind his back as usual, his eyes examining the photographs that lined the wall. Most of them he found too painful to look at for too long, so his eyes lingered on the candid photo of him in his Team Galactic outfit. He wondered why his grandfather had such a picture in the first place.

‘...I hope you don’t mind that I put that one with the others,’ Kazimir spoke up. ‘...I wanted to see what you looked like as an adult, so when the opportunity arose… Well, I took it.’

‘Ah.’ That explained that. ‘...It’s fine.’

‘I’m sorry, Cyrus… I’m really sorry. I let you down so badly…’

‘You did nothing of the short,’ Cyrus blandly replied.

‘But I could have done so much more, I should have -’

‘- I do not blame you for keeping your distance. I know what Olya and Aleksandr must have threatened you with.’

‘...You do…?’

‘I was not going to take it lying down. I told them that I was going to do whatever I could to maintain contact with you, and then they dropped the bombshell that if I did, I would be “forcing their hand”, and we would emigrate.’

Kazimir sighed heavily.

‘Yes, exactly… I didn’t want to leave you, but I thought it was the lesser of two evils. I didn’t think that you needed to deal with the upheaval of moving to an entirely new region on top of… everything else,’ he nodded. ‘But… with how things turned out, perhaps I made the wrong decision…’

‘I disagree. You are correct, I would not have dealt with emigration well,’ Cyrus replied, without turning his head. Keeping his back to his grandfather. ‘The time for me to leave Sinnoh was as an adult, not as a teenager.’

‘But maybe you would have been able to get help sooner, in a region that’s less… stifling,’ Kazimir murmured, picking his words carefully.

‘With those two breathing down my neck? Unlikely. Psychiatry is “quackery”, and “not something they’ll have in their house”. No, I was going to suffer by myself, whether I wanted to or not,’ Cyrus bitterly replied, and Kazimir shook his head. ‘You tried to keep my environment as stable as possible. I understand that.’

‘...Cyrus, I have to ask…’ Kazimir began, the hesitance clear in his tone. Cyrus swallowed hard, bracing himself. ‘...What happened at Spear Pillar? All I heard was that there was some kind of disaster… And you vanished afterwards.’

‘...So you have no clue.’

‘I thought you were…’ Kazimir’s voice choked up. ‘I thought you’d maybe… r-reconnected with Nazar.’ The euphemism hit Cyrus’ ears, feeling like a somebody had taken a mallet to his stomach. ‘A-And I heard things about… your team blowing up a lake… That’s not true, is it, Cyrus? Tell me it’s not true…’

Cyrus’ jaw was tightly clenched. His eyes were stinging.

What a disgrace he was. What a failure. He raised his head, staring up at the ceiling, to try and keep the tears from seeping down his face. Damn it, he was not going to cry. Not if he could do anything about it.

But the disappointment, the upset in Kazimir’s voice, damn near broke his heart.

‘...I cannot. I cannot do that, because it is true,’ he admitted.

‘Why? I - I can understand your general idea of erasing emotions, I know that was because of what your parents put you through, but… bombing lakes? How does that help anyone?’

‘I justified it as a necessary evil,’ Cyrus replied. ‘I did not want to do it, but it seemed like the only way to progress forward. In order to help save the universe from the burden of our shattered, incomplete emotions, I was going to have to make the sacrifice of one small lake. Yes, I understood the risk. But I was prepared to take it. ...I sent a team out to make sure that there were no innocents nearby that could potentially get hurt.’

‘God, Cyrus…’ Kazimur mumbled.

‘I needed the lake guardians. I needed the gemstones from them, in order to create chains that would wield Dialga and Palkia. That’s why. I would use the red chains to harness their power as my own, and with that, I would recreate the universe.’

Kazimir held a hand to his mouth in horror; the things Cyrus were saying sounded insane. He knew that his grandson had done some bad things, he understood that Cyrus’ ill reputation was for a reason, but… what he was hearing went beyond his expectations.

He knew that grief and abuse had twisted Cyrus’ heart, but it was only now, hearing Team Galactic’s full intentions, that he started to get an idea of just how much damage had been done. To him, as well as to the region.

‘I came so close to succeeding. Oh, the champion tried to stop me, as did her friend. Cynthia and Ksenia, Sinnoh’s heroes. But the biggest obstacle was the gap in my knowledge. I had spent so much time poring over the myths and legends of this Godforsaken hell hole. So much time researching the lake guardians, Dialga and Palkia.’ Sucking in a deep breath, Cyrus closed his welling eyes. Despite his best attempts, a tear trickled down his gaunt cheek. ‘But I had no idea about Giratina’s existence until it was dragging me down to hell.’ ‘“D-Dragged you down to hell”?’ Kazimir repeated, choking on his words.

‘Giratina, the Pokemon banished to the Distortion World for its violence. My actions had upset the balance of the world, and Giratina arose to correct it. By taking me with it. That’s what happened at Spear Pillar. My goal was within my grasp, I was just brushing a perfect new world with my fingertips - and then it was snatched away from me.’

‘Y-Y-You still want to do it? T-To try again?’ Kazimir questioned. Cyrus could not see his grandfather dissolving into tears, but he could certainly hear it.

‘...No. Not for everyone. It took being imprisoned in the Distortion World for me to finally pull my head out of my backside and start to reflect on myself, my actions. Why everyone outside of Team Galactic was so opposed. I accept that I was wrong to override everybody’s bodily autonomy like that, but I genuinely believe that the world would be a much better place without emotions. But I underestimated just how attached people are to these repulsive feelings.’

‘...Cyrus…’

‘...I’m trying to get better. I understand now, I know that I am the outlier. I cannot comprehend why, but I accept it, no matter how reluctantly. And I am trying to improve my mental health. To conquer my demons. ...I am in therapy. I have a therapy Pokemon. I am on medication.’

‘But you still want to remove your own emotions?’ Kazimir wept.

‘If I were to be given a magic pill that would make me permanently emotionally empty, I would take it in a heartbeat.’

‘...God…’ He tried to shake the thought loose, not wanting to commit that one particular detail to memory. ‘H-How did you get out of there…?’

‘...Ksenia came back. God knows how she managed to get in there again, but she came back for me. I was in there for a month, I think. Judging by my estimations once I was out again, because time certainly did not flow the same in there as it does out here. Give or take a week. But that is one reason why I will not try again. I cannot count on Ksenia rescuing me again. I cannot count on surviving a second attempt. Granted, my life does not mean much now, but…’

‘Please don’t say that. W-When I heard you were missing, I - I thought you were dead. I thought - I thought I’d lost my chance to reconnect with you… I couldn’t deal with the thought of having to bury both of my grandsons...’

‘...I am sorry.’ Cyrus bowed his head.

Kazimir wiped his face, drying the tears and trying to pull himself back together. Damn it, he was going to have to work extra hard to make sure his grandson never felt he lacked support ever again. He was going to have to make up for his years of absence.

‘W-What happened after I was warded away?’ he softly asked, afraid of the answer. But he had to know. He needed to know everything that Cyrus had been through while his back was turned. No matter how much it hurt. ‘H-How did they treat you? Did - did they at least improve…?’

Cyrus let out a small scoff of derision.

‘Disowning you was the last straw. That was the push I needed to disavow emotion. If they were going to make it so that I had no support, I was going to make it so that I did not need support. My faith in them was shattered. Rightfully so, because no, they did not improve.’

Cyrus shook his head.

‘The best that I can say about them is that Olya remained stable in her grief, but Aleksandr grew worse. In spite of my attempts at numbing myself, there were still numerous arguments between us. They still brandished Nazar’s name like a weapon, beating me with vitriolic sentiments of failure every time I could not - or did not - become Nazar’s clone.’

‘...I tried calling when you turned eighteen, you know…’ Kazimir quietly told him. ‘Since they couldn’t legally stop us from reconnecting. Aleksandr said you were out.’

‘I probably was. I spent as much time as I could out. Just to be away from them.’ Cyrus hesitated; did he tell Kazimir about the worst of it? The absolute nadir of Aleksandr’s abusive behaviour?

No. Kazimir had been upset enough by the current conversation, there was no way he could make it worse. At least, that was what Cyrus told himself. But part of him had to wonder, was this avoidance really due to not wanting to further distress his grandfather? Or was he just looking at any excuse to not open up?

‘...I had thought about reaching out, when I left their house. And again, after Spear Pillar. And a third time after my hospital release.’

‘Hospital release?’ Kazimir repeated.

‘After Spear Pillar, the moment I left the Distortion World, it did not take long for people to notice, and to call the authorities. I was sectioned, and held in hospital for a few years. But before the authorities caught up with me, I considered contacting you. ...I don’t know why I did not reach out sooner,’ Cyrus explained. ‘Well. I know why I did not after Team Galactic. I thought that you would not want anything to do with me, after everything I had done -’

‘- You will always be my grandson,’ Kazimir firmly told him. ‘I don’t approve of your actions, but I understand the why. I understand that you’ve dealt with an incredible amount of suffering by yourself. I’ll admit, hearing some of these details hurts, but it’s nothing compared to what you must have gone through with nobody to ease your burden. But I won’t turn my back on you. Cyrus, I love you.’

Hearing those words, the sentiment that he had secretly craved for so long, caused Cyrus’ stoic demeanour to further crack. He had his teeth gritted, as he attempted to keep himself together. Kazimir noticed his shoulders hunch as the effort of repressing what was threatening to burst free made him tense even further. Kazimir lightly placed a hand on his grandson’s shoulder, causing him to jump.

‘Come here, Cyrus…’ Kazimir had his other arm extended, to offer a hug.

Cyrus finally turned his head to look at him, but made no move to embrace him. So Kazimir did it, instead. Cyrus was still stiff and unyielding, but Kazimir gently pulled him close. He clasped his hurting grandson to him, and unlike before, Cyrus did not need prompting to return the gesture. Wrapping his arms around Kazimir, and with nobody else to see his face, he finally broke down into a torrent of tears. Kazimir made sure not to do or say anything, not wanting to accidentally spook Cyrus back into closing off.

The pair remained as they were for what felt like an eternity, until Cyrus had cried himself out. Until his head throbbed, his eyes felt exhausted, and he thought there were no more tears left for him to shed.

‘Better?’ Kazimir softly asked. Cyrus pulled himself away, rubbing his forehead. He silently shrugged. Not really. But he allowed Kazimir to steer him back to the sofa, and the pair sat down together.

It seemed that neither of them had any more heavy, upsetting details to bring up, and had cautiously descended into small talk. Properly reconnecting, getting to know one another again. The repressed, depressed adult in front of Kazimir seemed so different from the grandson he remembered, but the more they talked, the more he saw hints of the Cyrus he knew before. Especially when they began discussing astronomy.

Though Cyrus reluctantly changed the subject after a few minutes. As much more comfortable it was to discuss small things, there was still one important thing left unsaid. Something that he vitally needed Kazimir’s approval of, if they were going to continue to stay in touch.

‘Cyrus?’ Kazimir asked, when he fell silent, frowning with concern.

‘...There is one last thing I need you to know,’ Cyrus cautiously began, closely studying Kazimir’s reaction. He swallowed hard. ‘...I… I have a boyfriend.’

‘Oh!’ Kazimir looked surprised, but fortunately, it did not bother him in the least. ‘I’m pleased for you.’

‘...Thank you.’

If Cyrus was entering the emotional minefield that was relationships, then, in Kazimir’s mind, that could only be a good thing. A sign of improvement. Ahh, but poor Cyrus looked so on edge, and Kazimir realised that he must have been anticipating a negative reaction.

‘Does he make you happy?’

Quite a big question. Honestly, the answer was no. But that was not because of Jaideep; Cyrus could not fault him as a partner. He was simply too far gone to experience genuine happiness.

‘...I cannot say that I have been happy since… well.’ Cyrus stopped. No need to go over all of that again. ‘But, he makes me “happy” in that sense that he makes me as close to it as I can possibly be.’

‘Good…’ Kazimir murmured. Not quite the response he had anticipated, but at least this man made Cyrus sort of happy? The clarification that Cyrus lived in misery hurt, though, and he swallowed a sudden spike of anger at his daughter, at his son in law, for being so cruel.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Jaideep Rose.’ Another look of surprise. ‘I live in Galar, these days.’ ‘That name sounds familiar… didn’t he get into a bit of, um, trouble in Galar…?’ Kazimir carefully asked.

‘Yes. It is a long story, and obviously not one he is comfortable discussing -’

‘- Oh goodness, no, that’s very understandable! I wasn’t sure if I was thinking of the right person,’ Kazimir hastily clarified.

‘That is partly how we got to grow so close. Having misguided attempts at improving things blow up in our faces, and living with the consequences. ...He’s a good person. Kind. Considerate. Patient.’

Unbeknownst to Cyrus, there was a slight softening to his tone as he talked about Jaideep, and Kazimir grinned brightly.

‘Could I meet him some time?’

‘I -’ Cyrus began, taken aback. ‘Maybe? Obviously, I will need to ask him first.’ ‘Naturally, naturally. If we’re going to stay in touch, why don’t we exchange phone numbers? Then, if your young man is willing, we could maybe arrange a get together,’ Kazimir suggested. A sense of embarrassment crept over Cyrus - or at least, that was what he thought it was - at the mention of Jaideep being his “young man”, but he ignored it. Kazimir accepted him, and seemed delighted for him. Coming out could not have gone better.

‘That sounds like a good idea.’

[duchessofostergotlands]

I think one of the biggest criticisms I’ve seen regarding Gayle and her questions about Kobe’s legacy was that people were saying that this is not recent news, there were plenty of years when anyone could have dig deeper and ask questions directly at the man in question. I can get both point in the sense that speaking up around the time of his dead can come across as self serving and attention seeking but on the other hand if not now that the reflector is on, then when?

I think that’s a completely bullshit argument to be honest. “This is not recent news.”  Did we have a meeting as a society where we decided that after x number of years the rapist’s slate’s wiped clean and we all have to agree on that? Did anyone ask any survivors of sexual assault whether they’re ok with that? Sexual assault is a life long trauma. If the survivor can’t forget about it and has to deal with their entire life being torn apart forever - not just the crime but Kobe’s lawyers who were brutal and aggressive, arguing she was a crazy slut so she can’t ever have been raped, that women with any history of mental illness should never be trusted or believed or even treated as human beings - why should we give the alleged perpetrator a pat on the back and tell them they’re forgiven and no one is allowed to mention it again? 

As for the fact people didn’t ask him when he was alive so no one should talk about it when he’s dead, that’s a poor argument. People didn’t talk about this much because he was respected and talented and reinvented himself as a caring family man who loved and championed women. We didn’t talk about it because that’s rape culture. It happens over and over and over. And that’s our shame to deal with as a society. But to say “well we didn’t talk about it then so let’s just not bother to even mention it now” makes no sense. How do you ever shift the needle if society won’t allow you to talk about it when someone’s alive or when someone’s dead? Those are the only two options!! lol. They should have talked about it when he was alive but do you think they wouldn’t have been met by this exact same reaction? That it was a long time ago, that he’s beloved, that he’s respected, that he loves women and has daughters etc etc? So essentially 1) it’s better late than never and 2) anyone who had talked about it before his death would have been told to shut up too. The reality is that people don’t want to talk about it ever. That’s it. All of this grief stuff and the timeliness of it etc etc is covering it up. If he was still alive it would be a different excuse. 

I don’t think people realise the impact of what they’re saying. I have a pretty wild sexual history and severe mental illness. If anything like this happened to me I know without a shadow of a doubt that despite being a feminist I would never ever tell the police about it. Ever. Because I know that my health and my past would mean I wouldn’t be believed and I would go through hell trying to prove it. I know that because I’ve seen it over and over, in cases like Kobe’s and in many others. And when I see people trying to get women fired and sending them death threats because they dare to ask questions about rape culture it makes me realise not only that I wouldn’t get justice if this happened to me but that society likes it that way. I’ve never been sexually assaulted or raped and it still has a huge impact on me to see this so I can’t even begin to imagine how it feels to people who have. Those are the people I’m thinking of during this. I’m thinking of Gianna, an innocent child who lost her life. I’m thinking of the other passengers whose entire family has now been decimated. 

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

Shanie’s Dream Fic: A Masterpost

The following is a Masterpost of all my various finished, started, and sketched out dream stories. They are listed here as the dreams originally were, not as the stories the dreams became. Listings are by Saga/Series, Story Title, and Month/Year of original dream. Also listed are the fandoms of the dreams and any specific warnings the fics might carry. For the record, this isn’t a post really for anyone on here. It’s mostly for my own records. I do have a copy on my cloud storage but I’m putting it here as well on the off chance anyone is curious. BTW: I’m putting this here so that I don’t have to list it every time. As far as the WWE dreams go. Absolutely NONE of them are Kayfabe compliant. That’s the problem with not watching the shows regularly. I don’t dream about the TV side of it often. The Zowens dream is close though. It’s sort of a hybrid. The rest? Well, all of them are some level of NKC, but some are not only non-kayfabe, they are straight up AU.  BTW2: In every single one of these stories involving me I am some manner of queer. I’m pretty sure in all but maybe one or two. I’m either wlw, ace, or both. NOT ONE of the first person dreams contains romance between me and another character. The best you get is a single platonic fake-relationship story. (That one did have a smut scene in it but it isn’t romantic.)

Anyway, list behind the cut!

ADVENTURES IN DREAMLAND Master Post

SAGA   A Family Beyond Blood

Part 1 Darkness Fallen (August 2019) I find myself trapped in a world where I died as a child. Now as a spirit I must find a way to restore the universe to it’s proper order. (Somehow my young death caused the entire universe to splinter) *McMahon Family and MCU Dream* Part 2 Death and Life on Planet Earth (August 2019)

Having saved the universe but not ourselves, I vow to do whatever it takes to return Shane to his rightful place with his family. *McMahon Family and MCU Dream*

Part 3 A World Restored to Fall (August 2019)

The universe has been reset again, and I have been returned to my proper timeline. Or have I? There’re odd happenings in a local bookshop and it’s up to me to figure out how to stop them *Original Dream Featuring IRL People*

Part 4 World War Winter (August 2019)

Nuclear Holocaust has occurred. The world is at war with the machines. As a soldier in the CAMP forces, I must leave everything I know behind and face down the android army. But, maybe there’s a familiar face or two in CAMP after all... *McMahon Family Dream* *VIOLENT*

Part 5 Of Queens and Kingdoms (August 2019)

The world is reset. AGAIN. This time, it’s me, Shane and Marissa in a new land where the middle ages and modern times are happening simultaneously and women are the dominant gender. And, somehow, I’m the bloody queen. *McMahon Family and WWE Universe Dream*

Part 6 Titans Reign (August 2019)

Having ascended to the throne and filling the royal court with WWE superstars, I must now find a way to rule over a land I barely know. Meanwhile, a sinister plot is brewing to put the patriarchy back in power. *McMahon Family and WWE Universe Dream*

SAGA That’s What Friends Are For

Part 1 Death of a Fangirl (and Birth of a Friend) (October 2019) [Only Published Story on List]

I find myself being given the chance to meet Shane. Unfortunately, my mental illness turns the dream into a nightmare and my life unravels. But don’t worry. Shane will save the day. He always does. *Shane O Mac Dream*

Part 2 With A Song In Her Heart (October 2019)

Shane has been ignoring my texts, so I hunt him down. My search finds me at a pride festival where a spontaneous song catches his attention a little too well. *Shane O Mac Dream*

Part 3 One Last Birthday to Celebrate (November 2019)

It’s Christmastime in Squirrel Hill. For some dumb reason, Shane McMahon has decided to visit me the day before his birthday. Naturally I surprise him with a present. The other surprise (getting caught in a domestic dispute) is far less pleasant. *Shane O Mac Dream* *VIOLENT*

Part 4 The Pink Rose (Not a Dream)

I survived the shooting. Waking up in a hospital, I find my mother and a room full of flowers from the WWE Superstars. But one flower, a lone pink rose, is unlabeled. Wanna take a wild guess who sent that one? *WWE Universe Story NOT Based on A Dream*

Part 5 Dreams and Demons (December 2019)

So, it seems that watching your friend nearly die in a hail of bullets isn’t the best for your mental health. At WrestleMania 37, Shane is presented with a choice. Me, or TV. Of course he chooses me, this is my dream, what other choice   would there be? *WWE Universe Dream*

[Are you starting to see why I never publish any of these. They are painfully bad self inserts and woefully self-indulgent. But they are also therapy, hence the writing]

SERIES   Trippy Shorts

Story 1 A Little Fall of Acid Rain (August 2019)

The world is ending – but only in NYC. I’m there. So are the McMahons. Destruction and danger abound. *McMahon Family Dream*

Story 2 I Know Who I Am (September 2019)

All of my favorites from TV, movies, music, and wrestling are turning up murdered. Each time, a cryptic message is left behind, written in blood. Can I figure out the connection before everyone I like is killed? *General Pop Culture Dream* *EXTREMELY VIOLENT AND DISTURBING*

Story 3 Fixed Points and Fixed Pairings [An Unfinished Symphony] (September 2019)

One night, outside the bar, I am approached by an older version of myself. She brings a time machine and a mission – go back to the attitude era and change time so Shane remains the heir apparent. But some people are just meant to be together, and others just refuse to listen – even to an angel from the future. *WWE Universe Dream*

Story 4 A Song of Summer [A Snapshot] (October 2019)

As an Agent of SHIELD, it doesn’t take a genius to see that Black Widow and Hawkeye are in love. So, through the power of music, I decide to try and hook them up. *MCU Dream*

Story 5 Journeys Beginning [A Snapshot] (December 2019)

One day at school, I find myself amid an alien incursion. But don’t worry, the Doctor is on the case. Also, Shane is involved because of course he is. *Shane O Mac and Doctor Who Dream*

Story 6 Arson, Murder, and Revolution (January 2020)

At a Hollywood LGBTQ party, I find myself caught in a plot by the Trump administration to commit mass murder. When it goes awry, revolution stirs and it’s up to me and several other progressive celebrities to light the fuse *General Pop Culture Dream* *VIOLENT*

[See, they aren’t all about Shane. Just... most of them]

STAND ALONE STORIES

Once Upon a Dream (August 2019)

I black out drunk in an alley one night and awake to find myself in a dream. It’s 1990 and I’m somehow a middle-aged black woman. Also sharing the dream is a young and angry Shane McMahon. Together we use the circumstances of the dream to fuck shit up for the NYPD. *Shane O Mac Dream* *VIOLENT*

The Many Deaths of a Tabhead (August 2019)

Five years after getting hooked on a new drug called Tabs, I find myself in an endless loop of getting murdered. The only way out is to survive. Too bad I have no memory, and everyone wants me dead *Original Story Featuring IRL People* *VIOLENT AND DISTURBING*

Champion of the Faerie Queen (December 2019)

Did you know that Marissa McMahon is the Faerie Queen and Shane is her consort? Neither did I. And, it seems, when war comes a calling, it’s up to me to save the McMahons and the country. But I’ve got superpowers now, so that helps. *McMahon Family, MCU, and DC Universe Dream*

To Earthquakes, Lovers, and Newfound Friends (May 2020)

In lovely SoCal, I’m watching a movie when an earthquake strikes. I soon find myself both blind and badly burned. The only hope I have to survive is a certain pair of lovers who just happen to be in the area for some R&R. *Zowens Dream*

Penny and Kicks vs The World (June 2020)

As a longtime WWE employee, I’ve been best friends with Shane for years. But in the fallout of Coronavirus, the public is looking for a scapegoat. Vince is more than happy to offer up my father. Now, the entire wrestling world is in turmoil and Shane and I are just trying to weather the storm. *WWE Universe Dream* *VIOLENT*

Virginia Gothic (October 2019)

In a world where my highschool sweetheart and I never broke up, we must forge a path on our own through hardship and rejection. But what is the meaning of the mysterious Jesus statue? And why is Bacchus being so damn shifty? *Original Dream Featuring IRL People*

Uzil (January 2020)

An mystical being from the horsehead nebula takes up residence in a little boy’s guinea pig. The miracles come quickly and soon they are inseparable. *Original Third Person Dream* (I wasn’t in this one)

The E-Manual (February 2020)

The end of days is drawing near. I have been chosen as a prophet of the end times by the Almighty himself. I must go out into the world armed with only scripture and a mystical magazine, trying to convert as many people as possible before time runs out. *A Mostly Original Dream* (Shane’s in the last two pages)

Seraphina and the Seven Wishes (April 2020)

The world is a video game and the McMahon’s are the Addams family. It only gets weirder from there. *McMahon Family Dream*

A Matter of Science (And Opinion) (May 2020)

I accidentally set fire to my apartment during a spell. I’m promptly arrested and call The Doctor as my defense. Sadly, the call is rerouted to Stormcage and SpongeBob SquarePants ends up on the case instead. This one is every bit as absurd as it sounds. *Doctor Who and SpongeBob SquarePants Dream*

A Revolution In This Century (Enter Me) (November 2019) The year is 2027. Climate Change has decimated the globe and revolution has reduced the Ruling Elite to food reserves. However, absolute power corrupts absolutely, and soon the new ruling poor become as ruthless as the 1% had been. In this horrible dystopia, I am a powerful government official who has taken on the McMahons as consorts for the sole purpose of saving their skins. *McMahon Family Dream* *VIOLENT, DISTURBING, AND A BIT SMUTTY*

Crystal Vision – A Dozen Birthdays (December 2019)

After showing kindness to an enchantress, I am given my hearts greatest desire – a place in Shane’s life. I am sent back in time to 2005 as a WWE Makeup tech and given 12 years in the life of my childhood heroes. But a lot happened in the WWE from 2005 to 2017 and not all of it good. How much can and do I dare change? *WWE Universe Dream* *Painfully NKC. Disturbing subject matter involved because 2007 is a thing.*

Dr. Slime and the Wondernerds (August 2019)

Three high school nerds find themselves in possession of a mysterious green substance. When it explodes during an experiment, they find they have been given superpowers. However, this is the real world and super-powered “freaks” get picked apart, not celebrated. Can the teens resist using their powers? *Original Third Person Dream* (I’m not in this one)

Planeswalking Like A Grecian (October 2019)

After death, Xena finds herself on the Astral Plane. Promptly running into Joxer, they must find a way to survive the dangers of the afterlife. But don’t worry. Gabrielle has a plan. *Xenaverse Dream* (I’m not in this one)

The Foresight Curse (June 2020)

The problem with knowing the future is that you usually don’t have the ability to change it. So when Radar O’Reilly realizes Henry’s fate the day before it happens, he has to spend the next day trying to drown out the feelings of dread and sorrow, if only for the Colonel’s sake. Funny thing though, sometimes fate takes a left turn and you get a second chance to say goodbye. *M*A*S*H Universe Dream* (I’m not in this one) Vampires, Wraiths, and Shades, Oh My! (December 2019)

In the middle ages, I am orphaned at a very young age by vampires and taken in by Vampire Hunters (AU Shane and Stephanie). Now a teenager, I fight alongside them to protect the world from the dangers of the night. *McMahon Family Vampire AU Dream*

WHEW! I’m pretty sure that’s all of them! I have so dang many dreams it’s hard to keep track of them all! Anyway, out of all of these, only a handful are finished, ONE is published (Death of a Fangirl) and a ton of them aren’t far past the sketch stage. So, this is my list. Every story on here I at least have sketched out. I doubt I will ever even bother writing many of these, but the intent is present.