#what shapes their views and yadda yadda

[roman-roy-apologist]

gang i need to write a young brad fic from zack’s perspective as an older sibling in an abusive household

[springtrappd]

You said in one post that the author of Solar Lunacy is ableist. Could you explain how they're being problematic? I know almost nothing about them or the story itself, so I wouldn't know if they've said or done anything sus. Also, thank you for actually criticizing the Daycare Attendant stans, almost nobody in this site does that.

thank you for asking! it's rare to see, you're right, but it's also rare that people are willing to actually engage with that critical posting, so -- again, thank you! as for your question: oh boy, can i!

first: the basics. dissociation is a psychological response to overwhelming stress wherein the brain... disassociates from itself, placing a barrier between itself and the harsh reality. the most famous dissociative disorder is dissociative identity disorder (DID), known formerly as multiple personality disorder (MPD) or split personality. did occurs when someone without a fully-formed identity (read: a child) undergoes such severe stress that the 'brain' dissociates from its identity itself, creating alternate identities (personalities) to deal with the things they can't. these alternate identities work together to form a system. it's way more complicated than that and you can read more on it here and here but that's the bare minimum for the ignorant in the audience. we all caught up? good! moving on.

now, the question of whether or not the daycare attendant is a system is a touchy one. i've seen multiple different stances on the matter, seen a lot of arguments, and typed (and deleted) several hundreds of words about it, and the answer that i've come to is that, for the sake of this argument, whether the dca is a system in canon doesn't matter. what matters is how bamsara treats them. how do they handle the characters, how do they frame the switches in personality, the confusion, all the parallels to real-world symptoms -- how do they expect the viewer to feel, what do they pull from the cultural lexicon, yadda yadda. does bamsara -- regardless of their intentions -- depict the dca as a system, and if so, how do they handle it?

the answer is that they depict the dca as experiencing altered identity states, switching (and even blurring) between identities, and even repeatedly acknowledges them as a plural entity.

and it is these behaviours, specifically, that are used to make the dca scary. bamsara's daycare attendant is scary because they experience altered identity states. because they blur identities. because they are a plural entity. because they display the textbook symptoms and behaviours of a disorder most commonly caused by childhood sexual abuse. and it is the fear that this is inspires that makes them (but especially moon & eclipse) sexy.

now, one can argue that this is simply in line with existing horror media, and they would be correct: most pop culture depictions of dissociative disorders are extremely ableist, and have real-world consequences! but what makes it really, really shitty is that... i don't want to think about this stuff. i don't come to fandom to be reminded that people are terrified of what they don't understand, and that that very very often includes the mentally ill. i don't want to be reminded that there are people who don't believe dissociative disorders exist at all. i don't want to reminded that they -- the sick, the survivors, the unlucky 140 million -- are spoken of in the same way as monsters. i don't come here for harsh realities. but solar lunacy is the most kudos'd fnaf fic on ao3, and we all have to live with that.

if you liked solar lunacy or bamsara's content or... whatever, i don't particularly care. i'm not mad about people thinking evil alters are sexy, or engaging with horror content that says shitty things about systems -- it's your life, live it how you please (and i've got a vanny icon so who am i to judge lmao). sometimes the things that make us happy are kinda shitty, and that's okay! our views are shaped by the society we live in, and there is no society on earth that is kind to the mentally ill -- there's no way to undo that, to stop that from influencing you in some capacity. but... all i ask is for you to think about this stuff, and try to educate yourself on the topic. there's nothing wrong with making a mistake, or having flaws -- but there's something wrong with making a space that feels unsafe, that reflects some of the more uncomfortable aspects of our society, that unintentionally hurts people. it's just up to you if that something is something you care about.

i hope that answers your question, anon (and anyone else who's curious). take care, mate!

(edit 13/01/2023: due to some technical difficulties on tumblr's end, the notes aren't quite showing up properly, so here's the link to bamsara's reblog chain if you can't find it.)

[si1verghosts]

you and me found love (lost under the shade)

re4r leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 3.3k

18+ | cw: mentions of drinking, smoking, sex | tw: illusions to suicidal thoughts; author's general preoccupation with death and dying

read on ao3

title: falling asleep on a stranger by pierce the veil | art: taft bridge under the rain [#127] by carmonamedina

a/n: i honestly don't know if i am doing this whole tagging thing right idk how to tag on here so sorry if i missed anything.... anyways, this is the first thing i've managed to finish in months - i did not imagine the first leon fic i'd actually post would be reader insert but here we are!! i hope u enjoy :D

not beta read - all mistakes my own or done purposely due to my general disrespect for the grammatical conventions of the english language.

i do not own leon, yadda yadda, please don't sue me <3

please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chat bot and/or writing generator.

-----

"I can't be what you want," Leon had said, voice even. "Maybe you should try to find someone else; someone who can… be around."

Someone who can give you a straight answer. Someone who doesn't come home bloodied and bruised and can't tell you why. Someone who doesn't make you feel like it's all just a lie. 

You had never heeded any of Leon's suggestions before - "You should go," he had whispered after that first night, and the second, and the third - but you wish you had; so you give it a shot now. 

You let your friend set you up with the guy in accounting at her job she had been telling you about for months. "And get this - he always wears a tie bar! He just seems so put together," she had raved to you over drinks the weekend prior.

Accounting, tie bar, put together. Nice, neat, safe. 

You had shrugged, "give him my number."

He's waiting for you outside the bar when you arrive, jogs over when he notices you approaching, holding his umbrella out over you. It's unnecessary - the cold precipitation is hardly a mist, barely coating the strands of your hair. "You look beautiful," he smiles. It feels rehearsed, platitudinous. You thank him, letting him guide you inside. 

His hand brushes your arm as he helps you out of your jacket, skin soft. You pull away with the shock of it, covering with a small wave of beckoning. He falls in behind you as you traverse the familiar path through the room to your usual spot, settling in before he can manage to make a show out of pulling out your chair.

Same table, different seat; back against the wall - it's a whole new perspective. No longer focused solely on the person across from you, it's as if the whole world falls into your line of sight. It suddenly makes sense why you always found it so difficult to hold on to Leon's attention.

He slinks away to acquire your requested vodka soda from the bar. You pick at your nails until your fingers shake, shifting to look out the windows. The rain has picked up, pelting the glass and obscuring the view. You long for your car and the pack of menthols tucked away in the glove box, nobody to quit for now. 

He returns with your drinks, water for himself - "trying to cut back on carbs, you know? I've been making real progress with my lifts lately." 

"That's great," you smile. 

He leans in, beginning to chatter away excitedly about weights and protein and bicycles and Wall Street. His cologne reeks of business school, of polo shirts and white picket fences and 2.5 kids. You hope you are nodding at all the right moments. His tie bar catches the light of the Budweiser sign hanging behind you, silver glinting red, as if informing you you aren't.

It's hard, much harder than it reasonably should be but you've forgotten how to do this. Leon and you hardly spoke; the silence was easier - until it grew violent from your overreliance. 

You catch the ring of the doorbell over the drone of his voice, a familiar shape of blonde hair and brown leather entering your peripheral vision. You turn, a sick sense of satisfaction slithering up your spine. 

Shoulders hunched and hands shoved deep in his pockets, he shakes off the water droplets clinging to his hair like a dog. He picks his head up, blue eyes and dark circles meet your gaze almost immediately.

You raise a brow, I took your advice; happy?

He spins around, setting the bell off again as he slips out the door. 

"I'm sorry," you interrupt your date, who had been entertaining himself, seemingly never even recognizing your shift in attention. "I'll be right back." 

You are out the door a second later, shoving your arms back into the coat you thankfully remembered to grab, shielding your skin from the rain clouding your vision. Blinking away the droplets from your lashes, you spot Leon making his way down the sidewalk and take off after him, catching up as he nears the corner. 

You call to him, voice near enough to stop him, but only for a moment. "Go back inside," he throws over his shoulder, continuing forward.

You want to reach out and grab him, make him turn to look at you, but his shoulders are set in a tense line. Your touch is sure to set him off like a slingshot. 

Steeling yourself, you dart around him, blocking his path. You find yourself in front of him without any idea of what to say. You gape at him stupidly, chest heaving from the exertion of chasing him down; maybe you should've asked what's-his-name for a good gym recommendation before you ran off.

Leon entertains you for a moment before he huffs, eyes narrowing, "what are you doing?"

It's an excellent question - one you had never bothered to stop and ask yourself. 

What are you doing? 

Why did you agree to go for drinks? Why had you put on the dress Leon had carefully unzipped and let pool around your ankles just a few weeks ago? Why had you asked Mr. Tie Bar to meet you at the bar you knew Leon always popped into after work? 

Fuck. 

You swallow harshly, "trying." 

"Trying?" Leon reiterates, almost laughing. "And what is it that you are trying?"

Normal. To get over you. To make you mad. Honesty. To make you look at me. To make you want me like I want you. Safety. To hurt you. To get you to say something, anything. Trust. To get you to make me stay. To get you to stay. 

You feel yourself frown, the familiar pressure of tears building behind your nose. You try to swallow the feeling but it just mixes with the venom stuck in your throat, bubbling back up after mutating into a bitter twinge of anger. "What the hell does it look like, Leon? You told me to try to find someone else - that's what I'm trying."

He rocks back on his heels, crossing his arms. "Well, it doesn't really seem to be working out, does it?" 

"It was going great, actually." You smile, hoping it's not as hollow as you feel. 

"Oh, yeah?" He cocks a brow, lips pulling into a sly smirk. "Then why are you out here with me?

"You," you huff, at a loss. His words seem to be coming easier than ever while you choke on every one. You shrug, "You looked upset when you left."

"And I'm sure that's exactly what you wanted, right?" His smirk stretches into an acetous grin. "Came to relish in the tears, huh? Sorry to disappoint." He moves to brush by you, but you plant yourself in his path once again. 

"I can't believe-" you start, but stop short. Because you can believe he'd think of you that way - you'd never given him a reason to think otherwise. 

You think back to the silence that had made its home between the two of you, realizing you had used it as a confidant, letting it absorb everything you should've given to Leon instead. 

"I just wanted to check on you, see how you are doing." Your voice comes out as small as you feel under the weight of Leon's gaze. It's ironic - all this time you just wanted him to look at you, and now you wish he'd turn his eyes anywhere else. 

He snorts, short and irascibly, "I don't need you worrying about me."

"I know you don't, Leon," you throw your hands out, rainwater flicking off your skin with your exasperation. "You've made that very clear. But I can't help it - I'm going to anyways." 

"You shouldn't."

"Why not?" You half-yell, half-whine. You cringe at the sound, feeling slightly delirious; freezing cold and nearly begging him to let you care. 

 "Because you can do better." His voice is even once again, feelings stacked neatly away and locked up tight. 

"You don't get to decide that for me," you spit, ears ringing with the echo of your too-loud voice. 

"Yeah," he nods. "I do." 

He steps around you again, intending to disappear down the side street. But this time you grab him, fingers latching onto the slippery leather of his jacket, his arm as tense as a bowstring under your grip. 

"Let me go," he requests without turning to look at you, voice still even, even, even. It's a courtesy, he could easily pull free - but you are sick of his kindness, his courtesies; that's how you ended up here. You don't want them anymore.

"Make me." 

"Let me go," he repeats, slower and thicker. 

"No." If you want me gone, you'll have to force me. You don't say it, but you know he got the message when his shoulders slump, fight draining out of him all at once. 

With the thrill of victory that ripples through you, you make the mistake of loosening your hold on his jacket. He seizes the opportunity, twisting your arm and grabbing you by the bicep, pulling you close. He is running hot despite the chill of the rain, you have to force yourself not to relax into his heat. 

A moment passes, and then another. Neither of you move. The precipitation falls in sheets around you. You can't bring yourself to care. 

Your gaze slides from his chest to his neck to his jaw, backtracking the path of a stray raindrop. You chance a glance at his eyes, finding they are already on you, steely blue shimmering with the light of the streetlamp behind you. 

You love him. 

You wish the ground would crack open, allowing you to freefall straight down to hell. You imagine that would feel better - less painful - than this. 

You love him, and your skin burns with the feeling of it. You want to throw up. You want to kiss him. You want to pound your fists against his chest, curse him for doing this to you. 

You settle for allowing a sob to escape your throat. 

He releases you from his hold instantly at the sound. You scramble to grip his jacket to keep yourself upright - it's pitiful, the teeth of the zipper biting into the skin of your hands. The sharp pain comes as a tether, gifting you the space to ground yourself, to shove the tears back down. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, tight and clipped. "I didn't mean to-"

"No," you cut him off, voice rough, grating. "It wasn't. You didn't hurt me."

"Okay," he mutters. 

You laugh. You love him and you can't help but laugh, sinking into the insanity of it. 

You feel him start to stiffen again, unsure. The feeling of his discomfort building under your fingers forces you back into yourself, realizing where you are, that you've been causing a scene on the corner down the block from his apartment. 

You release him, but you don't step away, tilting your head just enough to take in the sight of him - parted lips and a handful of freckles, blonde hair tinted green by the neon sign over the entrance of the convenience store a few feet away. 

"I'm sorry," you croak out, drifting back; wishing the rain would melt you down, suck you into the storm drain. That's the only thing that could pull you from him, you think; swirling down the gutters with the cigarette butts and the fallen cherry blossoms until you're laid to rest at the bottom of the Potomac. 

His nose twitches. "For what?"

That I can't find someone else, can't force myself away from you.

That I love you, but can't tell you.  

"For," you throw your hands out, weaker than before. "All of it."

He nods, "It's okay."

You don't want it to be, but you suddenly feel exhausted. Too tired to fight, to pull any more truths from him. 

"Take me home?" You request, you plead. 

He nods again, holding his hand out to you. "Yeah."

You intertwine your fingers with his own, the roughness of his callouses and scars soothing in their familiarity. 

The walk to his place is short. You don't bother trying to shake off the water before entering, leaving a trail of raindrops up the stairwell, down the hall, through his front door, across his apartment to the tiled floor of his bathroom. 

He reaches into the shower, cranking the hot water, allowing the stream to heat up as he helps you out of your wet clothes. He removes the drenched fabric piece by piece - jacket first, then your dress, unzipping it with even more care than the previous time. It doesn't slip off with the same ease, but his gentle fingers pull it from your skin until it falls away. He crouches to undo your shoes, allowing you to step out of them before reaching up and rolling your nylons, guiding them down your legs. 

He moves to do the same with your underwear, fingers resting on the waistband as he glances up to you, silently asking your permission even though he already has it, always will. There's no heat behind his actions, but the tenderness sears your skin all the same. You nod, a low ache settling into the center of your chest as he slides them off you before standing. You unclasp your bra; he doesn't comment on the matching set.

The steam of the boiling shower envelops you as you undress him in turn. You struggle with his belt buckle, stiff fingers uncooperative. He takes over and you drop to your knees to untie the laces of his boots, finding them mercifully secured with single-knots. You make quick work of them and he reaches down to help you up, moving you out of the way before he kicks them off. 

You assist him in pulling his shirt over his head, peeling the cotton away from his skin. You unbutton his jeans as he removes the clips from your hair, wet strands falling limply in front of your eyes. 

"Go ahead and get in, I'll go throw this stuff in the wash." His voice is mellifluous, sickeningly soft. 

It makes you feel like a kid, incompetent and helpless. You hate him for it. You hate yourself for twisting his kindness into something dark and disgusting. 

"I can help," you offer, because that's all you can do; already leaning down to collect your things. "You have to hang the jacket, it's-"

"Wool. I know," his hand brushes your back lightly, "it's okay. I'll be right back."

You straighten up, allowing him to guide you across the bathroom and help you into the tub. You slowly ease your way under the hot stream as he slides the shower curtain closed. 

You watch the shape of him through the cloudy plastic, shucking off his jeans and pulling off his socks. The sobs you had just barely choked down twice before make another escape attempt, clawing at your throat as you watch his shadow collect your clothes and move down the hall. 

You shut your eyes against the sudden emptiness of the room, against the tears and the silence and the panic; against the loathing and inferiority. You take the coward's way out, turning away from it all to hold your face up to the showerhead. 

He returns quickly, rustling around for a moment before slipping into the tub behind you. His presence awards you the bravery you needed to crack open your eyes, to clear your throat. "You're wrong, you know."

Exhaustion overshadows his amusement as he hums in question, "about what?"

Picking your hand up, you reach out slowly to slide your fingers along his collarbone, circle the puckered scar on his shoulder. "That I can find someone better." 

He scoffs, dropping his head, hair fluttering down to obscure his face. 

You move your hand to his neck, thumbing his jaw. "If anything, it's me who doesn't deserve you, Leon." 

He shakes his head, but you ignore the action, continuing before he can protest. "Nobody can take care of me like you do - not even myself. I'm sorry" - for needing you, for burdening you; for loving you even though I'm unworthy of it - "for pushing you. I understand there are things you can't share, but I want whatever you can."

You sigh, shifting your hand at his neck to pull him to you; he follows you easily, achingly. "Even if it's just this." 

He nods minutely, hooking his arms over your hips and resting his forehead on yours. Answer delivered on a breath that floats across your lips, "alright." 

You remain in his arms, his agreement echoing in your mind in time with the beat of your heart in your chest. Seconds morph into minutes, only moving when the water begins to grow cold. 

You wash first, your shampoo and conditioner still on the rack next to his own. Leaving him under the stream, you make your way to his room after wrapping yourself in one of the towels he'd brought into the bathroom. 

Home. You had asked him to take you home and he brought you here, despite your own place being just a few blocks further in the opposite direction of his from the corner you had been on. But his assumption was right; this - he - was home to you.  

The emptiness of his apartment was unsettling at first, but it quickly grew comforting - no regrets staining the carpet; no photos on the dresser of you as a girl you don't remember being. Here you could be untethered from the past you didn't want; white walls graciously offering a clean slate, even if you didn't deserve it, didn't earn it. 

There is a shirt of his waiting on the bed for you, a pair of your pajama pants in the drawer next to his. Your stomach turns at the sight - no wonder he had tried to push you away; you had subconsciously settled into his space, his closet and his bed. 

Your mug in the sink, your pills behind the mirror - the reckless domesticity of it all is startling, terrifying. He had given you an inch and you had taken a mile, too eager for the chance to be something new. 

You pull on the clothes, making your way towards the balcony, a wave of nausea rolling through you under the soft cotton. Outside, it's still raining, translucent ropes sluicing off the overhang of the roof. 

You almost immediately regret stepping outside, feeling as if it's a betrayal of the care Leon took to get you warm; but you needed it. The chill of the air forces your thoughts to line up, to wait to be addressed one by one.

His hand leading you home, your wool coat hung to dry, his shirt waiting on the bed for you to occupy - each act a silent invitation; the realization stirs inside you, grips your collarbones from the inside. 

Could it be…?

You should ask him, but you've asked for more than enough tonight. 

He slides open the glass door, sweatpants low on his hips; the lamp on his nightstand illuminates him from behind, feathering out all his sharp edges. Maybe it's not love; maybe it's just lust, desire - a need so great it's all-consuming. You have no point of comparison to use as a frame of reference, to assist in finding the distinction. 

"I was away for a few days, there's not much in the fridge. Is ramen alright or do you want to order something?" He asks and it's love, you are suddenly sure of it. 

You turn; the sight of Leon in the buttery glow of the bedroom acting as a beacon, guiding you through the terror. "Ramen is fine."

[etchif]

Okay but genuinely. Why is Cats so severely hated on. I get the 2019 movie is largely what brought it back into the public conscience and thus strongly shaped the current generation's view of the show but there has to be more than that, people were hating on it even before the film came out. It almost feels like Cats (or god forbid LIKING Cats) is treated as somewhat of a musical theatre taboo. The One Show no one likes and you're not allowed to like because everyone will look at you funny, even folks who don't normally care much about musical theatre. Come on guys they're just kitty cats

Yadda yadda nice opinion did a youtuber give it to you try forming your own opinions on things without parroting other people's etc etc

[angelfevr]

akane kurashiki is (not) allocishet: an analysis

[pt: akane kurashiki is (not) allocishet: an analysis. end pt].

okay so we’ve been meaning to write this for a while but havent bc we’ve been focusing on other projects. slight disclaimer if u dont agree w this hc thats fine, just dont be a dick just bc it interferes w ur own interpretation . we all have our own ways of reading the text so. Yeah!! lets get started

so i just wanna say akane is a character i resonate with in a lot of ways, and a lot of what im going to say comes from my and others’ experiences. ur identities and experiences r def gonna affect how u view a piece of work right? 

so when i played through the series in 2023, i initially viewed akane as everyone else did: she’s in love with junpei, and even hced her as bi like most of the fandom. but the more i studied the source material, the more i felt thats not rlly the case?? esp after ztd, like im sorry but i cannot buy the idea that both junpei or akane wanna marry each other. junpei is for another day but in terms of akane i wanna talk abt the idea that she may be aromantic. 

immersing myself in the fandom, a lot of ppl’s first impressions of akane’s june persona is that she was initially gonna be this ditzy girl next door who only serves as a love interest for junpei. ofc that ended up not being the case, but i see ppl say that they only rlly cared for akane after finding out she’s zero. which imo is such a missed opportunity for analysis.

as june, akane interacts with the world through tropes. the first thing she does when we’re introduced to her is fall on junpei. and overall is seen as this nervous girl who wouldn’t harm anyone. she flirts w junpei throughout the game, yadda yadda yadda. when it comes to her identity as zero, she desperately wants a perfect ending where she can be with junpei. its guesswork as to which aspects are true of akane, but i personally see these traits as smth she thinks “kanny” would do. 

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“Junpei: Well, I dunno. Anything. I mean, you're hiding it. How would I know?

June: You mean, like...the number of men I've dated?

Junpei's heart stumbled over itself.

June: Do you want to know?

He had to admit, he was a little curious.

June: Don't worry.

She smiled at him.

June: Only 18...

!?

June: ...Times 0.

June: Yeah... I guess I just haven't met Mr. Right yet…”

“Number of men” is highlighted in green. End id].

of course, bc of her tumultuous childhood and how she didn’t have many friends, she never rlly had experience w dating. but not much suggests she would beyond her own words.

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“Kanny: You...meant a lot to me...when we were kids...

Kanny: I've liked you...for a long time, Junpei... A really...long...time..”

“Liked” is highlighted in green. End id]. 

.

[id: screenshot from 999’s script, black text on a white background that reads:

“"Okay..."

My voice shook as I answered.

It was hot in the room. It felt like my heart was on fire.

6 minutes or not, my heart burned with my feelings for him.

…”

“burned” is highlighted in green. End id]. 

but actions speak louder than words, and she doesn’t go far beyond flirting and declarations of love. in ztd, she doesn’t even make these advances even when she’s trying to lighten the mood or make things right with junpei. the only time being when she speaks with carlos in the pantry. 

[id: a log of dialogue from zero time dilemma which reads: 

akane: if it was because of me somehow… then this time i need to rush to his aid. that’s what i’ve decided anyway.

carlos: you really like junpei, don’t you?

akane: wh-what in the world are you saying, carlos?! 

carlos: i’m out of my depth when it comes to romance.

end id].

[id: a log of dialogue from zero time dilemma which reads: 

carlos: did you bake heart-shaped cookies full of love for your darling junpei?

akane: oh carlos… would you please stop teasing me… 

june is meant to be seen as the ideal japanese woman, and since performance/identity is a huge part of her character, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that she’s performing heterosexuality/amatonormativity, by extension femininity (but that’s an analysis for another day). 

akane is also slotted into the role of a mother figure for kyle just as sigma with the role of father. i can’t help but think of the scene in little shop of horrors (1986), audrey sings abt a stable and “ideal” middle class life. i remember watching it thinking it was odd, given that im aro and am not interested in settling down or emulating cishet middle class values. but my friend, who is poor just like audrey and akane, told me that it’s a common occurrence for poor ppl to think this way. to want a sense of stability even if it’s stereotypical. i feel like this applies to akane as well. i also hc her with bpd, and instability is a common symptom for us, so it makes sense for her to see junpei as a beacon of such, of normalcy. he’s rlly the only normal part of her childhood. she wants him to fix her lol . 

[id: screenshot from virtue’s last reward which reads: 

“i pleaded with her to leave, but she quietly shook her head. there was someone very special to her, she told me. he had saved her life once, and she felt her death would help to repay that favor.” end id].

and while we do see oldkane/vlrkane reminisce abt her life w junpei thru kyle, the passcode being jumpydolls, i feel like thats less abt love and more abt the fact that shes lonely, which a lot of ppl mistake that like. love can fix that.. when it rlly cant. not to mention what i said earlier

akane and junpei rarely make physical contact beyond junpei holding her in his arms and hugging. you can of course be a couple and not be that physically affectionate, but junpei is the only one initiating this. also like?? not even an “i love you” when you haven’t seen each other in nine years???????

[id: cg from nine hours nine persons nine doors. junpei holds akane’s shoulder with a worried expression. Akane has her eyes closed. End id].

[id: screenshot of zero time dilemma. junpei hugs akane near the basketball court in the lounge. akane wears a wedding ring on her right hand. end id].

[id: screenshot from zero time dilemma. junpei holds a ring in his right hand. white text on the bottom reads, “well, remember back in elementary school your dream was to wear a ring?” end id].

this is actually a common experience for aros who dont realize aromanticism is even an option. i remember when i was a kid, i’d have daydreams of getting married and dating ppl but when the opportunity actually came, i was uncomfortable and rejected it. 

i feel like junpei’s proposal and akane’s acceptance were reckless of both of them, and probably not even signs of true feelings. junpei’s arc is abt regaining agency, and akane’s is abt control (hashtag cinematic parallels), so it makes sense this would happen. both wish they could return to their childhoods, hence their emotionally immature attitudes + tendency to reminisce abt the past (junpei is counterphobic to this though and eventually gets over it in vlr’s timeline, though akane continues to act this way going forward). poor decision making is a sign of trauma after all. 

i mentioned how akane (and junpei but again. Another story for another day) subverts gendered expectations w her personality. aro ppl (as well as lesbians if u wanna go for a lesbian akane reading) tend to feel disconnected from their agab bc yk we arent straight and like a cishet woman liking a man is a sign of womanhood according to Society............ so like what if ur a girl who likes girls? or doesnt like anyone??? what does that make u??? (again, this could either be a trans reading or a lesbian reading)

anyway my point is. i think its more interesting to read akane’s interest in junpei as her wanting stability and a normal life, esp given that she is traumatized and was once poor. i feel like fluffy junepei fanworks make their dynamic very one-note and lack what makes their dynamic intriguing. but hey!! thats just my opinion as an aro person and how i prefer to interpret it 

[warriorofthesky]

was thinking about possible dissenters among the precursors being forced into the ritual that created the witness and what their presence might represent in the witness we know today. at first i thought their presence was why at times the witness seems to lose its cool, but now i’m not sure.

i think them being forced into the ritual messed up with the part where the ritual was supposed to “cut off” the unnecessary/problematic parts of the precursor race, not with the “becoming a single entity with one goal” part. we never see the witness doubt itself, none of its disciples even consider that it might be conflicted about anything, it never wavers in its goal. what i believe went wrong was with its motivation.

i think it’s in the collectors edition lore books that eido points out that the witness seems to enjoy making traveler blessed civilizations suffer. mara mentioned before that the witness was a being of pure hatred. i think that’s where the ritual went wrong. it was supposed to create an entity that worked towards the final shape for the good of the universe (no more death, no more life, yadda yadda) but it was never able to let go of the resentment it had towards the traveler not giving its civilization meaning. it still uses the excuse of the final shape and it definitely wants it but it wants it bc the traveler refused to give its life meaning, not because it reached enlightenment (“found truth in the darkness” hmmmm???). i think the witness is a hypocrite and has been mostly throwing the world’s biggest tantrum for eons.

i guess you can view its anger as righteous under certain light. why didn’t the traveler give the precursors meaning? why was it silent? why didn’t it give them guidance? why did it choose to flee instead of talking to them?

(i am of the opinion that the traveler simply couldn’t do any of that tbh)

in any case, i don’t think the witness was supposed to feel this level of hatred. i think the precursors forcing dissenters into the ritual made it all go wrong. or maybe the ritual would never have worked anyway bc the resentment was always there and their quest for unity was not born out of enlightenment but desperation.

idk. less than 3 days to go everyone 😭

[gurlgallade]

@whatvioletdoes-blog Alright! Angst fic dollhouse scene! Minimal context! Enjoy!

(Notes: Blue swearing per usual, neglect of physical needs, general implication that Vio is Not Coping Well with things. He’s not the only one, but he’s the focus guy here. Also Vidow mention.)

💙 • 💙 • 💙 • 💙

A purple-painted floor is pressed up against Blue’s face. Not water-proofed, a little rough, smells kind of like dirt and dead leaves.

Where the fuck is he? When he scrambles to his feet, woozy patches of darkness and colored spots speckle his vision. Did he faint? Or, did whoever was in here before him faint? Link’s body feels so bad! He’s hungry, and his hands have writing cramps, and he feels weird-shaped.

Fuck, those aren’t even hands. Why does he have paws. Why does he have a feathery Minish tail!?

Blue staggers over to the nearest window. It doesn’t have any glass; he just sticks his head out without any problem. The enormous leaves of a bush block most of the forest from view, but the trees are mountains to him, and the nearest inky-capped mushroom is at least twice his height. He has to be in a dollhouse.

His eyes widen. The fact that he can be Minish-sized again would be awesome, if he didn’t feel like death!

But how did this...?

Wait. He knows the answer. It was staring him in the face when he woke up. There is exactly one part of Link with the dedication and nerdery necessary to pull something like this off.

He turns around, glowering into the lavender walls of the house. Every one has scraps of torn paper tacked down to it. Some are connected by mauve sewing thread; the spool is being used as a side-table, holding a thimble half-filled with viscous green stamina potion. Is... is that all he’s eaten today? How long has he been here?

The little doll bookshelves are filled with tiny Minish-made tomes, and shrunken books from the Royal Library (oh that’s why Maggie’s been nagging at him), and stacks of paper with even more notes scrawled down.

Based on the open books on the dining table, one half-filled Minish journal and one from the library, it looks like a certain someone is trying to make copies.

Really, it looks like he passed out doing it.

Goddesses, Violet, you fucking freak. Somebody’s been hard at work.

Blue... also feels something weird in the air, now that he’s paying attention. A familiar dread. It feels a little like the darkness carried on Vaati’s winds, and a lot like the name he can’t think about at all costs if he doesn’t want to deal with Vio right now — the smirking boy that he absolutely did not kiss (eugh). Not this him, anyway.

Blue creeps around, vaguely eyeing Vi’s notes. Blah blah blah, Minish portal incantations, something something The Banished Tribe, portals to other worlds, yadda yadda yadda. Shit he won’t get without a verbal summary by someone more in the know.

Oh, there’s stairs behind these shelves.

Blue takes them two at a time, curiosity powering through his exhaustion. The dolly attic door feels flimsy as he pushes it open.

There’s exactly two things in the room. The first is a messy bed-nest made of leather shreds and scrap fabric, topped with a couple open books. The second is a jagged fragment of liquid black peeking out from under a handkerchief. It reflects his uneasy scowl, eyes cut off; his hair is getting pretty long.

Wait.

That’s a mirror, isn’t it.

Blue scrambles back downstairs, swallowing his panic.

Nope. Nope! NOPE. That is NOT a piece of the dark mirror, he refuses to belive it. Vio did not somehow manage to get his grubby hands on fuckery like that!

He’s going to visit Festari and Gentari, eat a berry or something, and then go back to the dollhouse for a nap. Somewhere besides the attic bed. He’ll sleep on the floor if he has to, because he’s done. He’s fucking done. Either Vi can wake up without realizing that he’s been caught, or one of the other two can deal with this shit.

“What the FUCK is my life anymore!?”

[gailynovelry]

I think people know by now how to tell if an image of a person is AI-generated. Count the fingers, count the knuckles, check the pupils, yadda yadda. I've seen several posts circulating about what to look for. However, I think people are a LOT less educated about backgrounds, and about the specific distinctions between human error and AI error. So that's what I'm going to cover.

Now, don't feel bad if you've reblogged or liked any of the images I'm about to show you guys. This is just what's crossed my blog, so it's what I have to work with. (Actually, thanks for providing the examples!)

I also generated a few images from crAIyon purely for demonstrational purposes, because I didn't have anything on-hand to show my thoughts.

Firstly — Keep in mind that AI has a difficult time replicating "simple" styles. Think colorless line-drawings, cartoony pieces with thick lines, and pixel art.

Looks unsettling, right?

Why is this? Well, when a human makes art, we're more prone to under-detailing by mistake than over-detailing, because adding detail in the first place place is more effort. A skilled artist should be good able to capture an idea with minimal, evocative shape language.

But when an AI makes art, it is the opposite. An AI doesn't understand what it's looking at, not in the way that you or I do. All it can do is search for and replicate patterns in the noise of pixels. As a result, it is prone to mushing together features in ways that a human artist . . . wouldn't intentionally think to do.

It also over-details, replicating what it knows over and over again because it doesn't know when it's supposed to stop. Blank spaces can confuse it! It likes having detail to work with! Detail Is Data!

Again, this is why we count fingers.

These general principles still apply when we're looking at styles that an AI is better equipped to imitate. So . . .

Secondly — AI's tendency to over-render details makes it easier for it to pick up heavily detailed styles, especially if the style will still hold up when certain details are indistinct or merge together unexpectedly.

Scrutinize images that utilize a painterly, heavily-rendered, or photo-realistic style. Such as this one.

Thirdly — An AI piece that looks pretty good from a distance falls apart up close.

The above image looks almost like a photograph, but there is architecture here that you wouldn't find in a real room, and mistakes that you wouldn't find in the work of an artist that is THIS good at rendering. Or most beginner artists, even.

Can you see what falls apart here? Hint; we're counting fingers again.

Check the window panes. Isn't the angle that they all meet up at a little off? Why are the panes sized so inconsistently? Why doesn't the view outside of them all line up into a cohesive background?

Count the furniture legs. Why does the farther-back case have a third leg? Why does the leg on the closer case vanish so strangely behind the flowery details?

Examine the curtain(?) fabric at the top of the window. What on earth IS that frilly stuff?

Another mistake that AI will make is drawing lines and merging details that a human artist would never think of as connected. See the lines crawling up the walls? See how some of the flower petals glop together at hard angles in some places? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.

You can see more strange architecture in the outdoor setting of this image.

A lot of the AI's mistakes are almost art nouveau! We recognize that buildings are consistently angular, for stability reasons. An AI does not. (Also look at the trees in the background, and how they tend to warp and distort around the outline of the treehouse. They kinda melt into each other at some points. It's wild.)

Fourthly — An AI will replicate any carelessness that was introduced into its original data set.

Obviously, this means that AIs will make fake watermarks, but everybody already knows that. What I need you guys to look out for is something else. It's called artifacting.

Artifacting is defined as "the introduction of a visible or audible anomaly during the processing or transmission of digital data." To put it in layman's terms, you know how an image gets crunchy and pixelated if you save it as a jpg? Yeah. That. An AI with lots of crusty, crunchy jpgs fed into it will produce crunchy images.

Look at the floor at the bottom of our original example image;

See the speckles all along the glass panels, table legs, and flowers in shadow? Artifacted to hell and back! This shit is crunchier than my spine after spending half a day hunched over my laptop.

Again, legitimate art and photography may have artifacting too just because of file formatting reasons. But most artists don't intentionally artifact their own images, and furthermore, the artifacting will not be baked into the very composition of the image itself. The speckles will instead gather most notably on flat colors at the border of different color patches and/or outlines.

Cronchy memes; funny. Cronchy AI art; shitty jpg art theft caught red-handed.

That's probably all the lessons I can impart in one post. Class dismissed! As homework a bonus, consider these two sister images to our original flower room. Can you spot any signs of AI generation?

@wolven-writer I hope this helps!

You know those aesthetic image posts that float around tumblr? I'm . . . starting to see a lot on my dash that are obviously ai-generated. Are non-artists having trouble telling the difference between AI images and real photos, or are people starting to stop care about the stolen art that gets fed into those programs?

[quickwaysloseweight]

SAGNOF: Early Bird Closer Specials

What’s poppin, Razzpimples? I did one of these last year and figured it was a good time to sling another one of these your way. ADPs are starting to take shape, plenty of you nerds are drafting already, yadda yadda. I don’t like drafting this early (Frankie Montas owners know what I’m talking about), but the industry leagues I’m in (TGFBI and RazzSlam) will be starting soon enough, so I gotta put…

[starryflix]

25th of January 2023

Pattern Recognition

Having incredible pattern recognition is both a blessing and a curse but one of the things I have mainly realised is that even though all of my interests and things I can obsess over for hours on end seem disjointed they usually have a few simple points in common. To others, who view the list as something odd or rather a trivially weird combination of media, this red thread through it all is quite impossible to see.

My aunt, who also works as a team coach and helps students find their own way (talent coach-ish but not really), has by now recognised most of these patterns or at least remembered me naming a few of the points that are quite obvious within these things. So whenever I bring up something or someone new she tends to be right on the money on the exact reason of why it has peeked my interest.

Now what brings this on yadda-yadda… specifically at 2 in the fucking morning is a, and I kid you not, lord of the rings edit.

I have yet to actually dive into the books, more deeply than I have tried before, but I have seen all of the films including interviews and any other media you can think of and I have absolutely adored the aesthetic,s characters, storyline and about anything else that has to do with filmmaking and storytelling. I am a jack of all trades when it comes to the arts and have a very broad interest on that topic alone… and that isn’t even the top of the iceberg of my entire list of interests. But why this specifically made me realise things is because of Frodo. In a way I am similar to him in character. As many (tumblr users) know there’s always a character you relate to in one way or another. And it just made me think of his journey.

The way I tend to view patterns or organise stuff in my head… at least. Besides all the more emotional-feely type of relating I do to Frodo’s character.

The way I trace patterns in my head is quite alike to a journey. When I analyse (conscious or subconscious) I tend to take one point as the start of the journey and I trace it forwards or backwards in time. Anything that I come across gets put together like different towns and then somewhat divided in parts. Sometimes at first the line and the journey make no sense until further inspection. In a way my brain is able to group the words within these towns, these spots and is then able to figure out the word groups that are similar or alike. Then I tend to zoom out again and see the bigger picture, pull some cross references and all that.

The worst part? This all quite often happens without me even thinking about it. The pattern recognition is so so so ingrained in my brain that I sometimes barely even have to think about it. The same goes for recognising other people’s habits and tics. I create this mental picture entirely by accident and am able to point out a lot of things a lot of people would not be able to point out at all, especially not after just meeting someone. My friends have grown rather used to it by now but sometimes I surprise myself a little bit when I am doing it, because sometimes I feel a bit creepy.

I think what also plays a role here is just a general interest in psychology and sociology. And also that I like to draw. People that do art tend to observe the world in a way that is not entirely logical to non creatives. I once tried to explain that I don’t really look at a face as a whole but rather at its unique shapes, the way shadows shape it and then usually the ‘oddities’ of it; what makes someone’s face special. It helps when accidentally analysing people because you look at someone with a more attentive view to details before seeing the bigger picture. At least that’s it for me and even this is not an entirely correct description because it is very hard to put to words.

Anyways… pattern recognition something I am just apparently eerily good at.

And it helps me, and it makes me see the important lines and sometimes the most useless connections. But it’s a thing and it’s weird once you get conscious of when you do it.

[royalreef]

{ fstbmp​ }

Ugh, peachy. Well, at least Scourge could take solace in knowing it was in fact the princess having a hoot and holler. Assuredly at her expense, as well. It’s enough to make that pleasant smile she’d been keeping on her face finally dip to a scowl. Sure, she’d never say the laugh itself was unpleasant, but when it’s laughter at her then it’s grating and a half.

Why the hell was the name so damn funny? Perhaps it came partly due to it not having any weight here… There’s the slightest noise of discomfort, jutting their neck sideways with an audible pop to try and keep the anger downwards. Maybe a bit too upfront about it, but it’s not particularly like she cared, either. Not when the crackle of chaos energy through her quills made it all the more obvious whether she wanted it to be or not.

‘It befits you’, yadda yadda. She merely crossed her arms when they arrived at the room at last. Scourge watched with minor confusion at the note of her unlocking the door. That wasn’t so strange in and of itself, of course, but then she saw the flicker of candlelight already inside the room. When this Princess Miranda said she had one ready to go, Scourge certainly hadn’t expected it to mean nigh-set up.

Everything about this interaction was off. In that subtle way where you’re staring at an optical illusion and you know it’s fake, yet your eyes can’t find the trick to it. A slight exhale, glancing about as something gnawing her chest was trying to make her scared, of all things.

For all she knew, of course, this sort of interaction was perfectly commonplace around these parts. …Which, mind, didn’t actually make the situation any better. There’s that hesitation to actually enter the room as Scourge tried to gauge what else was inside there. Furniture, allegedly, but trying to peer into the already dark with tinted darkness in front of your eyes doesn’t lead to the best of vision.

The hedgehog idly tugged on either fingerless glove to pull them on tighter, glancing the princess’s way with what can only be described with a look of mild annoyance at best. Either way, she’s in this far, and so she merely started approaching to breach that darkness.

“Every room in this place come with mood lightin’?” If the mood was 'horror flick’, that is.

      “Nope! Just this one!” Miri was still laughing, still giggling, still so amused by something that only she was privy to, only she saw and only she knew about. None of it was helping. If anything it drew up the tension in the air into a tense, taut line, a spring held at its maximum and waiting to snap into place. Like standing before a precipice, knowing the push was coming, knowing what was about to happen, but not being able to guess when, left only in the gasping wait that did nothing except fill the mind with dread of what was about to happen, what it would feel like. Fear needed a hand to be held in, after all. And while it could be dropped as other things were instead held in its place, without something else to cling onto, the terror was enough to fill both palms, heavy in the arms.

      Miranda stepped in behind Scourge. For a moment, she could see the silhouette the mermaid cast across the floor, see the light pouring in from the fluorescent hallway with its humming bulbs, see the shape of the princess as she stood there.

              And then the door closed, lock clicking into place, and there was only darkness.

        It was easy enough to find the circle again and to keep it in view. Its candles were still lit and flickering in the air, giving off a faint oily, black smoke, but they did little else to illuminate what was around them. The door, as suddenly as it had been opened, was gone. Sure, Scourge might be able to feel her way around and find it again, but there wasn’t even a crack of light coming from beneath it to tell where it was, and without any further tell and with just that endless pitch closing in around at all sides, it might as well have been a simple figment of the imagination. There were no tells at all, in fact, and the lines of the symbol on the floor were too symmetrical and simple, too easy to get lost in. It produced a disorientating effect, an untethering on all other physical reality, so that nothing else might exist besides the singular source of light and what it illuminated.

        Scourge’s guide had likewise vanished. It was odd, that a bright pink mermaid the size and shape that she was could suddenly be unaccounted for, but her specific hue was what it was to absorb light, after all. This was an abyssal predator in her element, and no shape nor curve of her could be seen in the deep dark, no noise made by her breathing nor her steps, and not even a brush of air to tell when she might have passed by.

       When Miranda spoke, her voice came from all around, lost without a direction, seemingly divorced from her body, too loud and too quiet and right next to Scourge’s ear all the same. Nothing moved within the area that was lit. Nothing could be told at all, what was happening beyond that circle.

      “Go ahead and sit inside the circle. It should not take long to change the ritual marks, and you shall be back in no time.”

[flowerypeaches]

Mothership

“What is that?”

Hero stopped their approach, a positively bored expression on their face. “What are you doing?”

Their nemesis, who was currently pointing behind Hero with an incredibly overexaggerated look of surprise, rolled their eyes, “Uh, giving you your cue?”

“My cue?”

Villain sighed loudly, dropping the egregious pose. “You're supposed to turn your head, in a suitably dramatic fashion of course, search for what I was pointing at, only for it to be revealed a ruse, granting me the opportunity to strike you unawares so I may gain the upper hand in our skirmish.”

“Mhm, and why would I fall for something so stupid?”

“Because you are stupid?”

“...”

“Ow, okay, okay!” Villain held a hand to their nose, grimacing as it came back bloody from Hero’s rather crude punch. “See, this is what I was trying to avoid. No story, no drama, no excitement. What if I let you get a few good hits in afterwards?”

Hero replied by kicking Villain’s feet out from under them, knocking them onto the cold and cracked pavement. “Looks like I’m already getting a few good hits in.” They leaned over Villain, arms crossed. “Now, are we going to actually fight, or are you going to keep trying to direct your own personal soap opera?”

Hero waited for Villain’s patented snarky response, specifically about how soap operas are a valid form of art and Hero would be wise not to disrespect it, yadda yadda, but none came. In fact, Villain wasn’t even looking at them.

“Uh, Villain? You still with me?” 

Villain’s voice was barely above a whisper, “What is that?”

“Seriously? It hasn’t even been a minute and you’re really using the sa-”

“I’m not screwing with you, Hero, there’s something in the sky!”

Hero had to admit, Villain’s acting had gotten much better in the last thirty seconds, but no matter how real it looked, they weren’t going to fall for it. Villain might be messing around now, but Hero couldn’t forget that they were a criminal, and a dangerous one at that.

They reached down, pulling Villain, who was still staring into the sky, up by their collar. “Look, I get that you never got the lead role in the school play or whatever, and want to make the world burn because of it, but could you, just this once, take our fight seriously?”

“I think it's getting closer.”

Hero ignored them, “I’m tired of the other heroes telling me I have it easy because my nemesis would rather focus on projecting their monologue to all of the hostages than actually rob the bank they broke into to begin with.” Sure, Hero was thankful Villain’s obsession with the dramatic kept them from causing too much destruction, but they had their own reputation to uphold, and constant stalemates with the theatre school reject did not help! “Let me tell you what. If you go down to the station without a fuss, then maybe I can get you into one of the nicer cell blocks. You know, the ones with the view of the hills. Does that sound good? Villain? Are you even lis-”

Blinding light filled Hero’s eyes and ears, cutting off every train of thought and any plan of action they might have had before then. They looked up, and despite the harsh light making their eyes water, they could make out the vague shape of a disc floating directly above them.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Told you.”

Hero looked back down to their nemesis, who looked much too smug for the situation at hand, and sneered, “Maybe if you didn’t insist on playing drama club, I might have actually taken you seriously.”

Villain had the courtesy to drop their grin, squinting up at the…  “Is it getting brighter?”

It was, and that meant it was too late for Hero to prevent what was about to happen. Familiar cold heat ran through their veins as their limbs locked in place.

A safety precaution.

Definitely not to prevent anyone caught in the beam from escaping.

“Hero? I-I can’t move.” Villain said.

Villain.

They shouldn’t be here.

Hero’s eyes widened, realizing just how screwed they were. They tried to relax their hands, to let go of Villain, to shove them out of the beam, anything, but only managed to twitch their muscles, as if they were encased in a steel mold.

Villain seemed to be doing the same thing, though the trembling may have just been the fear. Any other time, Hero would have loved to see Villain’s mask slip. To force them to acknowledge that, yes, Hero was a real threat to their criminal livelihood. Instead, Villain acted as if Hero was a fellow actor, asking for Hero’s thoughts on new scenes they came up with, or excitedly talking about whatever had happened in their soap that day, a neon flashing sign that indicated they were in desperate need of friends. Did… did that mean Villain thought they were friends?

Not the time.

Hero gave up on their efforts, and let the looming dread wash over them. This wasn’t acceptance, no, they were just giving themself a moment to rest before they faced what was up in the ship. Oh, they weren’t ready.

Two enemies, encircled and entrapped in an ever growing light, locked eyes. 

“We’re so f-”

And as quick as it had appeared, the burning light and mysterious ship attached to it, along with Hero and Villain, vanished into the night.

.·°·.·°·.·°·.

Light surrounded Villain. The ambient noise of the city was replaced by a low, droning hum. Any sense of direction was lost as gravity no longer affected them. They were weightless, and, even in this world of superpowers, nothing made sense. Where did the city go? Why couldn’t they move? How were they floating? The light was all-consuming, and Villain would have thought themself lost in it if not for the deathgrip Hero still had around their collar. 

Slowly, the light faded, and Villain felt their own weight return to them. Their legs wobbled, and in an instant, whatever force that held them in place disappeared. They would have fallen if not for Hero, who still held them in their grasp.

“What just happened?” Villain said, though not really expecting an explanation.

Looking around, they could see they were now in a circular, silver chamber. Dials and switches and lights and symbols dotted the walls, communicating something or other, and the floor was, what was that, carpet? Villain shuddered. Honestly, it looked a lot like a cheap sci-fi set for a tv show that should have been cancelled three seasons ago than a futuristic aircraft capable of teleporting human beings.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Villain jumped at Hero’s voice, and stumbled as their anchor let them go to run over to a wall.

Not a wall. A window.

Villain blinked.

A window that showed… Earth? No, that couldn’t be right. If they were looking at the earth, that could only mean...

“Shit, we’re already in orbit.” Hero said.

Villain blinked.

They were in space. Space. That was impossible, right? They couldn’t actually be in space. But here they were, staring at the little blue marble with their very own eyes. Was the room spinning? Or was it the spaceship?

Villain ran their hands through their hair.

They were in a spaceship. A spaceship. That was impossible, right? They couldn’t actually be in a spaceship. But here they were, having been abducted by the UFO just seconds ago. By what? Aliens?

Aliens.

Villain forced their gaze away to keep themself from spiraling, instead focusing on Hero, who has since moved on from the window to the numerous switches and lights, tapping the wall and looking at the symbols that popped up. Villain didn’t understand what Hero was trying to do, it wasn’t like they could understand what any of it meant.

Three deep breaths, and Villain made the best plan ever made in 24 seconds. They stepped up next to their nemesis.

“Hero?”

Hero’s hand was covering their mouth, muttering something to themself, and clearly not paying attention. Nevertheless, Villain continued, “Now, as much as I hate to say it, I think we may have to work together to get back on Earth.” Truth be told, in any other circumstance, Villain would have been ecstatic to work with their nemesis. Whether to defeat a worse villain or take down some other hero that had become corrupt, they would have welcomed the opportunity wholeheartedly. 

Why? Well, Villain would argue that it was more interesting, that their relationship, and subsequent fights, would have more dramatic tension. Definitely not because of any other tension that may arise from spending time together.

Villain puffed out their chest, “Lucky for you, I have decided to put aside our differences, and your lack of charisma, to take the initiative and save us both from peril. Yes, this does go against my better judgement, and yes, it may possibly be my most difficult role to date, but if it means I get to go back home in time to watch my soaps, then it’ll be worth it.”

Hero finally turned towards them, “Do you ever shut up?”

“Only for dramatic effect.” Villain said with an award-winning smile, earning an eye roll and a huff of annoyance. “So… what do you think we should do?”

“I thought you said you’d take the initiative?”

“Yes, the initiative in proposing we work together.”

“...”

Villain held up their hands, “Hey, hey, before you go punching willy nilly, why don’t you tell me what you were doing over here? Get anything useful from the flashing green triangle you were poking at?” They would have teased more, but Hero’s lack of response made them move on. “What are you thinking?”

Hero’s eyes flickered to the wall and back to Villain. “You need to leave.”

Villain blinked.

“Well, obviously we need to escape. We were abducted!”

Hero shook their head, “No, you need to leave. I’ll stay, and deal with-”

“What? And how are you going to figure out how anything works, huh? Even if you do, why wouldn’t you just come back with me?”

“It’s not that simple, I can’t re-”

A low, loud beep interrupted the enemies, and Villain turned their head in time for a wall opposite the window to open up and let someone through. Someone distinctly… humanlike. 

The person, an older woman by the looks of it, smiled brightly and opened their arms. “ .·°¯°·.·° .·°° ?”

That was distinctly not humanlike. It was like hearing someone speak through water, and an undercurrent of static scratched the inside of Villain’s ears. 

The woman—were they even a person?—walked closer, and Hero quickly stepped in front of Villain, shielding them.

She paid no mind, however, and spoke again, “ .·°¯°·.·° .·°° ,” looking expectantly at Hero, who, after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward. Her smile widened, and Villain was hit with a sense of deja vu. She pulled Hero close, and, were they hugging? Why was Hero letting her? What was happening? 

The woman whispered something to Hero, but it wasn’t like Villain could understand even if they tried. Hero turned back to Villain, giving them an apologetic smile before, “ ° .·°° ° .¯ .”

Villain’s jaw dropped.

Hero was replying to the woman. Which meant they understood her. Which meant they knew whatever language was being spoken. Which meant… which meant… Why were they abducted in the first place?

The danger presented itself fully to Villain.

They had been taken off the face of the earth by their mortal enemy, or someone who was well acquainted with them, at the very least, and had no possibility of escape. Villain considered themself clever, but trying to figure out how alien—alien!—technology worked was beyond them. They had to rely wholly on Hero, who, although Villain was loath to admit it, hated their guts. Hero could be plotting in front of Villain right now and they would be none the wiser.

Hero wouldn’t do that. Villain tried to reassure themself, because Hero wouldn’t send them off with some unknown alien being. They’d want to arrest Villain proper, right? Arrest and put them in some high security cell they’d break out of a month later. It was their thing. Villain didn’t want their thing to end.

Huh.

Villain shook their head, they’d have to examine and repress that particular line of thought later, because the woman was suddenly standing in front of them, startling Villain out of their thoughts. She reached out, clutching Villain's jaw with cold fingers, turning them this way and that. As if they were being studied. Was Villain wrong? Was Hero really getting rid of them?

“ ¯ .·°°·°¯ .” She said. Villain’s ears itched worse now that the woman was closer.

Maybe Hero thought they were doing Villain a favour, sending them off on an adventure, letting them create their own melodramatic space opera. Or maybe this was punishment for all the dated Space Trek references. Both were a possibility.

Familiar hands pulled Villain away from the woman and into Hero’s chest. They were not blushing.

“ .·° .¯°·°° !” Hero’s voice was raised, clearly upset at whatever the woman had said.

She, however, was unaffected by Hero’s outburst, gesturing between the two enemies with raised eyebrows, “ °·.°·.°¯°·. .�� 

Hero shook their head, and Villain felt Hero’s grip tighten ever so slightly, “ °·.°¯ .·°°·.°°¯ .”

A strange noise came from the woman, sounding almost like… bubbles? It was clearer than the other times she spoke, and it was the way she moved that made Villain realize it was a laugh. She was laughing at Villain. Or Hero. Both?

Hero’s hands were shaking, and Villain couldn’t tell if it was with anger or fear. 

“ ·° .·° .” Hero was curt with her, and Villain recognized the tone from when they threatened to blow up City Hall. The tone that preceded their fights.

The woman seemed to recognize the tone as well, as she backed off a little, holding her hands up in a placating way. She gave Villain a small wave before nodding at Hero, “ ·.°.°¯°°¯° .· .·° .” and left, the wall closing up behind her.

The pair stood in silence.

Hero let go of Villain, letting them step away. Except, they didn’t. In fact, they did nothing of the sort. Villain spun on their heels and stepped forward, “What on ear–ugh, what just happened?”

“There, um, might be a slight problem.”

“Slight problem? You call this”—Villain gestured wildly around them, narrowly avoiding hitting Hero in the face—”a slight problem?”

Hero leaned away from Villain, avoiding their eyes.

“Care to explain? Anything? At all?”

“Where do I start?”

Villain’s theatrics, for once, wasn’t uncalled for. “Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that we were abducted? That we are in space? Or, or!” Villain backed off, giving themself room to pace around the circular room and project their panic to an audience of one, “That there is an alien speaking to you, Hero, in an alien language, because no human could actually sound like that, acting like she knows you, and you, you reply to her? As if you know her too?”

“Yeah, that would be my… mother.”

“Your mother.”

Hero nodded.

“Your mother who lives in a spaceship. Who speaks an alien language.”

“Who is an alien.”

“Who is an alien.” It took a good second for the words to sink in. “Your mother is an alien?! Like, an alien from an alien planet?”

Hero nodded again.

Villain felt their brain short-circuit. “Does that mean…”

“That I’m an alien from an alien planet? Yes.”

Villain felt lightheaded. This was okay. This was manageable. This world-shattering, insane truth of the universe was perfectly manageable, and they were not going to spiral, not for one second. Deep breaths. One… two… three… Villain stopped pacing, facing Hero with the calmest expression the latter had ever seen on the former. “Okay, so now that you’ve had your nice little family reunion, we can go back, right?”

Hero’s face was a cross between a smile and a wince.

Villain’s expression twitched, but held firm, “And why not?”

“Well, my mother-”

“The alien.”

Hero tried not to get annoyed, but damn, did Villain make it hard. “Yes, my mother the alien. She, erm,” They groaned, covering their face with their hands, “She may have made a fundamental mistake about the nature of our relationship.”

“And what mistake would that be?” Villain grit their teeth.

“She may, perhaps, think that, we’re… dating.”

“Louder, Hero. Speak so everyone in the audience can hear you.”

“She thinks we’re dating!”

Villain blinked, completing the rule of thirds and simultaneously breaking their composure. So much for not spiraling. “Dating?” Their voice squeaked.

“Dating,” Hero nodded, “And-”

“There’s more?!” Villain turned away, back to pacing and practically pulling their hair out from the absurdity.

“And, the reason we can’t leave yet is because she invited us to dinner.”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no no no.

“What’s wrong? I thought you loved drama.” Hero said, failing to lighten the mood. “Aren’t family confrontations and misunderstandings the bread and butter of soap operas?”

“My love of drama left me when we left the atmosphere.” Villain glared at Hero with enough ferocity to start a fire.

Villain walked up to the walls, flicking the switches and turning the dials, to see if, miraculously, they could make the ship go back to the city. The lights blinked mockingly in response.

“Uh, Villain?”

“There doesn’t happen to be an escape pod on this ship, does there?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“We’re really going to have to do this, aren’t we?” Villain said, turning to face their nemesis.

“Unfortunately yes.”

Two enemies, both flushed head to toe from frustration and embarrassment, locked eyes.

And Villain, lover of monologues and soliloquies, came up with the most profound, most thought-provoking line they could think of.

“We’re so fucked.”

Hero was inclined to agree.

[davisbette]

♥️🌌 15, 17, 19, 85 🌠♥️

🚂🚃 asks

15. Is there a song, book, movie, or other piece of media that has drastically altered your life? What was it, are there multiple?

There are multiple, yes. *cracks knuckles*

Novels:

1. The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton.

I will never be able to explain what this book means to me. It's a fabulous, ineffable feeling that no other piece of media has ever made me feel. I'm so different from Lily Bart, and yet i find her so relatable, so easy to understand. Her incapacity to reconcile two conflicting ideas, her lack of drive, her lack of self-worth beyond being a beautiful vessel; how her mother's influence has shaped her ideals, how Selden challenges them and why that appeals her so much. The world Lily's mother built for her is crumbling, and she's helpless. She's her own worst enemy.

I had to microdose this novel because it made my heart physically ache. I knew from the start she was doomed, and at the end i cried for her, and i cried for myself fearing i will suffer the same fate.

2. Notre Dame de Paris.

A shallow reading of this novel won't make it justice. The Disney movie is like: the monster is actually human / the human is actually a monster yadda yadda yadda, boring (still a good movie tho). The book doesn’t have such a stale dichotomy. Claude Frollo is terrifyingly human and terrifyingly well portrayed. I remember getting goose bumps when i read the boat scene in which Frollo —like Charon ferrying the souls of the dead across the waters of Hades— ferries Esmeralda to the other side of the shore, where he (also as the role of judge) will decide her final sentence.

3. Of Human Bondage.

The movie does not do justice to the book. Yes, Bette's performance ✨️talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before✨️, etc. But the book is better. In the novel Philip himself is incapable of understanding why he's so frightfully in love with Mildred, he's in a constant struggle to get over it. He hates Mildred, he desperately loves her, he hates himself for loving her. *Insert ouroboros encircling Cupid: love is self devouring here*. And Mildred...well, I can't figure her out, she confuses me. In the movie (as with Frollo) she is just plain bad. But in the book she's a constant ????? she's petty, she's mean and manipulative, but she is also capable of being incredibly naive, of giving in to passionate impulses and of feeling compassion. I think Mildred is far more stupid than evil, which once again makes her more human.

Poetry:

Devotions.

Mary oliver was right: You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Completely changed my view of the world and shaped me into the person that i am today.

Shows:

The x Files.

I have nothing to say that hasn't already been said by the x files meta writers on this app.

Movies:

The Sound of Music.

It somehow feels like a movie adaptation of Mary Oliver's poetry. 174 minutes of pure joy.

17. What's the most interesting coincidence you've had happen to you (or someone you know)?

Sorry to disappoint you querida but i have no idea.

Many interesting coincidences have happened to me! almost all of them related to coincidentally meeting a key person in my life.

19. In general, is there any historical event you desperately want to witness?

85. What memories would describe as your "core" ones?

My mom clumsily playing videogames just for the sake of spending time with me. My dad sleepily reading Donald Duck comics to me at night and me asking him to not fell asleep and to go on, go on! bc i was a such a restless, full of life child and couldn't understand how the people around me was so drained. My childhood summers. ABBA on the car radio while travelling. The first time my cat looked at me with his big baby blue eyes. Meeting you. My last year of highschool which was the only one good.

100 questions to talk about on the late night train at 11:04 pm

[linkspooky]

Gojo and Sukuna: The Strongest vs The Strongest

Gojou and Sukuna are both pictured lounging on top of a pile of skulls: the people they’ve climbed over to reach the top of their respective worlds. Gojou is the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, and Sukuna is the strongest cursed spirit. As they both carry the title of the strongest they actually have a lot in common, and are destined to duke it out one day - more details UNDER THE CUT.

1. Individualism

Gojo and Sukuna are both characters who base their entire identity around their individual strength. Their number one priority is the development of themselves. They need to stand out. They need to stand out on top. That’s why they share the phrase: “Throughout the heaven and earth, he alone is the honored one.”

Selfish and self-centered is a personality trait that typically has negative connotations, but being a selfish person is not necessarily a good or bad thing. All it means is you prioritize yourself first, your own thoughts, your own world view, your own sense of self. 

“I alone am the honored one” is actually a phrase of self enlightenment. It’s said that after the Budha Sakayuni was born he took seven steps from his mother and said that while pointing to the heaven and earth [x]. 

Gege has confirmed in his author comments he uses it to confirm the arrogance of the characters, and in doing so he portrays both the good and the bad of having such a sense of arrogance. See, selfishness is considered a bad quality, but what about self-confidence? Self-esteem? Believing in yourself can lead you to good things. Doubting yourself may seem humble, but it can lead you to making mistakes, or even lashing out at others. These aren’t necessarily good or bad they’re just qualities that people have. Personal enlightenment means becoming the best version of yourself that you can possibly be (if I’m WAYYY SIMPLIFYING). Gojou and Sukuna know themselves, and what they desire better than any other characters in the series. 

Gojo and Sukuna have such high confidence in themselves that they believe they can do pretty much anything, and usually they can. In their world view if you have the strength to do it, then anything is possible. 

Gojo calls this philosophy swinging for the fences. They are both like star players on the team, who do everything they can to stand out and be the best. Their are two competing needs in the story, the individual good, and the collective good. Gojo insists you don’t have to sacrifice yourself and put yourself down for the good of others, which is why he tries to assert his individual will on the world. He wants to make the world better how he sees fit. He generally thinks he’s right, and more right than others. Sukuna is the same way to a more extreme extent. 

The flaw of this thinking is that eventually they both tend to see themselves as above other people. When they stop seeing other people and cut themselves off like this, they start to believe they have to do every single thing alone. Instead of asserting their own will over others, it becomes more and more like their own will, their own ideas, their own thoughts and feelings become all that exists to them. That’s when their thinking starts becoming warped. 

Collectivism and Individualism are ideas that seem to contradict each other but that’s wrong, they’re actually complementary ideas that coexist. People are individuals. People are a collective group. Both of these ideas exist at the same time. 

Gojo’s self confidence, his selfless fighting for others always using his strength for the sake of others, trying to make a better world as he sees fit are all good things, but the fact that he believes no matter how strong he becomes no matter how hard he fights he’ll always die alone because it’s not worth becoming close to others in the Jujutsu World is just... sad. It means ever since Geto left, Gojo has trouble accepting other people and becoming close to them. Whereas Sukuna just doesn’t care. The flaw of doing everything alone is exactly that, you’re eventually alone, you become the only person on earth. 

2. Collectivism

Gojo and Sukuna both have an individual mindset, but where they differ is how they use their massive strength. Gojo believes in himself above all else but, he uses his strength for the collective good of the jujutsu world, whereas Sukuna only ever uses it for himself. Gojo parallels Yuji’s grandfather’s advice at the beginning of the manga pretty much exactly. He’s strong, so he’s obligated to help people. 

Gojo and Sukuna believes their strength makes them capable of anything, but Sukuna takes that one step further. Sukuna’s strength means he can do whatever he wants to others. Whereas, Gojo holds himself back. It’s why Sukuna is the king of curses, but Gojo isn’t the king of sorcerers. 

Gojo is at least capable of acknowledging other people in a way that Sukuna isn’t. Sukuna believes that the world should be run on strength alone. Gojo acknowledges that he’s perfectly capble of slaughtering everyone at the top and declaring himself king, but that he doesn’t really think that will change things ultimately. 

The thing is other people exist, even if Sukuna wants to ignore this inconvenient reality. No man is an island, yadda yadda. More importantly though, other people play a big role in individual identity too. If you were a person who never interacted with other people in your life, you’d just be insane. You’d be feral like an animal. You wouldn’t even have a sense of individuality. The individual ego is shaped just as much by our interactions with other people, seeing how we’re similiar and different to others than it is by how we view ourselves. Gojo and Sukuna both grapple with this idea. One thing they have in common is they both have awful peresonalities.

They’re not even lousy, they’re childish. They play games with other people. Gojo makes constant references to video games and pop culture like he’s a really hip teenager. Sukuna makes every fight into a game where he viciously mocks his opponent because he’s just so bored. The reason is because as individuals they’re also stunted, specifically because they have such trouble acknowledging other people and other people have such an influence on our peresonalities. Gojo doesn’t really need to grow up because he’s always been stronger and smarter than all the adults. Sukuna is a thousand year old spirit who acts like he’s thirteen. 

This longing to understand other people exists in both of them. Sukuna’s one redeeming feature is that when people are strong he will acknowledge them. He reaches out and connects to Jogo before his death. The problem is if you don’t meet his own personal definition of strength, then by his rules you’re basically nothing. 

Gojo seems much more aware of the fact that he’s not good enough to change things alone. What he wants is allies who are just as strong as he is, people he can rely on, people he can stand together and fight with. 

Sukuna genuinely doesn’t care about others. In fact, he views the desire to have companions, equals as a weakness. If you accept other people in any other regard, it weakens you and your individual will + desires as a person. 

But as I said, acknowledging other people is just as formative in your identity in ackonwledging yourself. Sukuna is just flat out wrong here. He’s the extreme result of Gojo’s tendency to do everything himself. For Sukuna other people just straight up don’t exist. The only people he acknowledges are the ones who meet his standards, his servants like Ura-Ume, and the one he plans on using like Megumi and that itself is a weakness. An oversight. 

3. Gojou vs. Sukuna

Sukuna has been planning, since literally the introduction chapters and the very first arc of the manga how he’s going to take Gojo down when he eventually claims Yuji’s body as his own. 

However, even if Sukuna were at full strength in Yuji’s body, Gojo would still win. I don’t think Gojo’s being cocky here it’s a genuine assessment of his strength. Which is why Sukuna has gotten crafty. We saw a long, long time ago he took an interest in Megumi the moment he learned he was a shikigami user. 

Sukuna notices that Megumi a shadow based shikigami user should have been easily able to beat a one finger curse, and asks why he didn’t. It’s after this point he takes a special interest in Megumi. He sees much more potential in Megumi, then Megumi even sees in himself. 

He places his bets in the personal development of Megumi Fushigoro. Over time, we’re reminded again and again the itnerest Sukuna has only in Megumi, and it’s slowly revealed why piece by piece. 

We learn two things about Megumi over time, that he intentionally holds himself back all the time, even though among the first years he’s the closest so far to developing a domain expansion. Number two is what we’ve learned in the last chapter.

Megumi actually has an insanely strong Jujutsu ability that he was born with. Among the Zen’in family it’s the only one that could ever possibly equal the six eyes. In the past it was a six-eyes user and a ten shadows user who fought to the death as equals. Megumi is someone who has had the capability to surpass Gojo all along, he just doesn’t believe himself capable and inententionally holds himself back. 

Which is why we learn this chapter, the insanely strong spirits that Megumi can summon with his ability we finally get a clue as to why Sukuna has taken an interset in him. Even if everything goes swimmingly and he takes over Yuji’s body, he still has to fight Gojo. 

Sukuna is keeping Megumi alive because from the beginning, being a thousand years old he knows this ancient history between the Zen’in and the Gojo families, and he knows that Megumi being a ten shadows user has the potential to be an equal, or even stronger than Gojo. 

The Gojo and Sukuna fight is going to happen eventually in the manga and when it does, Sukuna’s planning on using Megumi as a tool against Gojo. That’s what we’ve been building to all this time. That’s Sukuna’s plans for Megumi. 

[dreaminpetals]

I love how you write Andrew, could I have a little mermaid au where his s/o is a mermaid and it follows the events of the disney movie?? Or it can be a normal mermaid fic if you're not familiar with it, no pressure. Keep up the great work <3

🌊 the little mermaid // andrew kreiss

you had always been fascinated with human culture, particularly the people that lived above your aquatic kingdom. the castle you lived in was located directly under what your friend bonbon called a railway. everyday a train would zoom past, full of humans with different lives and destinations. you longed to grow legs and ride a train yourself. alas, you were stuck under the sea with seahorse drawn carriages as your main mode of transportation.

bonbon had been teaching you about conductors, the brave humans who controlled the trains, before you realized you were almost late to see your favourite train fly by. it was going to arrive any minute now and you needed to see it.

unfortunately, when you swam as fast as your little tail could take you to the railway, embers and rubble were scattered throughout the terrain as far as the eye could see. the train had... crashed?

your first instinct was to search for survivors of the wreckage. after digging through heaps of metal and ash, you found a man struggling to stay afloat. "i've got you!" you yelped, battling the debris with your tail and bringing him to the surface to rest atop a loose seat from the train.

when you got a good look at the human you saved, it was as if cupid struck you with one of his arrows. he was a man with skin so pale it was almost grey, and beautiful white hair despite looking so young. it was unlike anything you've ever seen before, did all humans look like this? his eyes fluttered open and met yours. they were a coral hue and absolutely breathtaking. looking up, you recognized his hat from the stories bonbon rehearsed to you... he was the train conductor! oh, you were so glad that he was safe.

merfolk were meant to be kept a secret from the humans lest they be hunted for their scales, so once a spotlight flashed over the man you returned home, giggling all the way back. you got to touch a human and it was a handsome one too! you couldn't wait to tell your sisters about it.

arriving at the castle, you were instantly greeted by two of your sisters, emily and vera. they both wondered why you were covered in soot.

oh yeah.

you were a bit dirty from rescuing that train conductor.

they washed you up with some soap while you gushed to them about the boy you saw, but none of them were very impressed with your actions.

"humans are the reason we lost our father, he was killed by pirates, do you not remember?" vera scolded you as she massaged soap into your scalp, "there are plenty of mermen for you to choose from so please, please stay away from the surface. i don't want to lose a sister," if she wanted to nail guilt into your head then it certainly worked, you felt awful. was saving him really that heinous of a crime? you couldn't simply ignore someone if they were about to die, human or not.

emily scrubbed at your tail and tut-tutted you, "humans are dangerous creatures and only wish to hunt us down, i'd advise seeking mental help if you find yourself attached to one... please y/n, we only want the best for you."

halfway through her speech you suddenly became dizzy. you heard the sound of a young girl cackling in your ear, and you swore you saw a flash of purple swimming away, right outside your window...

*

the sea witch, yidhra, let out a boisterous laugh when she learned of your current situation. a mermaid has fallen in love with a human? oh, this was too good!

yidhra specialized in making deals with unsuspecting merfolk, she collected their souls like an oyster would collect pearls. young lovestruck girls were the most vulnerable of targets, she could see herself winning big off of you. the daughter of miss nightingale, ruler of the seas? you being a princess in love meant you could hand over the key to the kingdom if you could spend just a day with your beloved. dangerous schemes swam through her head, this was going to be the deal of a lifetime.

meanwhile, above the surface, the train conductor who nearly tasted death was going nuts thinking about you. hushed whispers of townsfolk taught him that mermaids were ravenous creatures who only sought to lure sailors from their ships to consume their souls, but a mermaid had saved him. nobody believed andrew; they insisted he had been pulled from the wreckage by one of his crewmates and merely hallucinated a mermaid. a mermaid would never save him, they would only drag him down further.

their words ate away at andrew. were mermaids as misunderstood as he was? his entire life, andrew had been cast away as a monster. rumours circled around that his lack of pigment was caused by sucking out the souls of his train passengers for nutrients. the mystery girl he saw wouldn't leave his mind, every waking moment he heard her voice, a melodic chirp that promised to save him... if only he recorded her appearance, he couldn't remember what she looked like if he did try to find her. only her voice. he longed to meet her. he longed to repay her, nobody deserves to endanger themselves to save andrew kreiss of all people.

*

when you stirred, all of your sisters were gathered around your clamshell bed. frantic whispers filled the room as you sat up and placed a heat compress on your head. it felt like someone hexed you.

"she has a slight fever, but i trust that y/n will make a full recovery with some rest," emily explained to tracy, your youngest sister who was beside herself with worry. "she likely went into shock from seeing a human up close. fret not, demi is preparing some medicine as we speak."

soon enough, their voices fizzled out and were replaced by a ghoulish group of whispers in your ear. it sounded like several children and an old woman speaking all at once. "come to yidhra's domain, sweet princess. you will meet your human love if you follow my instructions." your human love? your ears perked up the moment you heard her mention the train conductor you had fallen for. suddenly gaining a burst of energy, you told your sisters you were going to take a breather in the castle garden and swam off. they were left dumbfounded.

before you raced to yidhra's domain, you told your feathered friend bonbon what you were up to, just in case something happened. you had no idea how much this would pay off later on.

yidhra's domain intimidated you the moment it came into view. it was a serpent shaped cave made of bones surrounded by gardens of disembodied, broken souls. they moaned and weeped as you swam past them. miss nightingale warned you about yidhra, insisting that you never make a deal with the sea witch. however... she wanted to reunite you with the train conductor, she wanted to help you! none of your sisters understood how you felt, but yidhra did.

"is yidhra here?" you called out to an empty room lined with bookshelves and potions, a cauldron brewing in the centre. then, a pale blue woman with a serpent's tail emerged from the dark.

"sweet princess, have you come to make a deal with me?" she purred, tilting your chin up with a bony finger. you nodded. "you'd go against mommy's wishes for a human boy?" this time her tone was more condescending, but you nodded anyways.

"he's a train conductor, a brave man... oh yidhra, he's perfect, you'd know if you met him!"

yidhra snickered, slithering back to her bookshelves and carefully removing a contract with a floating pen. "what if i told you that you could see him again, dearie?" she used magic to teleport the contract into your hands, along with the pen. "if you sign this contract, you will become a human for three days. if the boy gives you true love's kiss by sunset of the third day, you'll stay as a human forever and fall in love, yadda yadda,"

you nodded, it sounded like a perfect deal. who knew yidhra could be so generous?

she gave a deafening clap of her hands. "hush. i'm not done." then a devilish grin corrupted her features, "if he doesn't kiss you, then you can kiss you and your kingdom goodbye. i will replace miss nightingale as ruler of the seas and you'll be the prettiest soul in my patch. deal?"

silence enveloped both of you as you thought this through. three days was plenty of time, all you had to do was kiss. he was your true love, your soulmate, it was a naive thought but you had never felt so much for another person before.

"silly me, i forgot to mention," yidhra stifled a cackle, "you won't have a voice, sweetie. you'll be a mute. will this conductor still fall for you when you can't chit chat with him?"

damn her, of course there had to be a catch.

you gave a shaky nod, mumbling that it was a deal. the laugh she let out was unlike anything you've ever heard, what was so funny? she couldn't stop howling as she dropped various potions into her cauldron, steam and green flames overriding your senses. "sing! sing for me, you foolish girl!"

singing a lullaby you grew up with, you signed the contract and felt your voice fade away along with your consciousness.

*

when you rose, you were on the shores of a freezing cold sea, the conductor staring down at you in disbelief. thank god for the seaweed covering your shivering form.

andrew blinked at you, visibly concerned. "i ah... i... i noticed you," he reached out a trembling hand which you gladly took to hoist yourself up. your feet buckled under you. wait. feet? looking down you noticed that you were a human, you had legs and feet! you could hardly contain your excitement, yidhra was helping you! your attention shifted back to the man in front of you, pulling you close to his chest so you wouldn't fall. "you washed up on the... shore. are you okay?" he was fumbling over his words and seemed so uncomfortable around you, like he wasn't used to the skin to skin contact.

you tried to answer but your words were caught in your throat. she wasn't messing around when she took your voice, you couldn't produce any type of sound whatsoever.

"ah, you're... you're scared of me, aren't you?" andrew tried to hide the hurt in his voice, "so scared you can't walk or talk. well, run off to your family now. go tell them you saw andrew the train conductor, that he tried to eat you... i know you're thinking it," andrew. your love's name was andrew!

he tried to drop you and turn on his heel to leave, but the moment you hit the grass he had to turn back around to check if you were alright again. he couldn't leave you.

you pointed to your throat as you stood up, knees wobbly. you made an 'x' shape with your arms and shook your head. andrew had an unreadable expression, but slowly began to nod in understanding. "oh, you can't speak? i'm... sorry for assuming, the people around here are... they're... not the kindest. they're wolves."

his eyes flicked to your body and saw the seaweed barely clinging to you. did you fall overboard or something? he wanted to respect your privacy so he stared at the water beside you as he set his coat over your shoulders, still averting his gaze. it was cozy and smelled like mint. the fur lining on the inside warmed you right up. "you would have froze in that. i'm not sure where you're... from, but... ah, just follow me," you gave him a grin and he walked you back to his home which wasn't far. it was right beside the grand railway you loved observing. it felt like a dream to visit it while andrew had his arms around you, even if he didn't know who you were.

he saw your jaw drop at the sight of the railway and the parked train. "that's my family's train, folks here aren't too... nice to me, but... they appreciate all our hard work," from what you could gather, he seemed to be an outcast. you related to that.

once you arrived at his house, he dashed upstairs to what you presumed to be his mother's room, because he returned with a stunning, sequinned dress. it was the same colour as your mermaid's tail!

after you were dried off and dressed, he sat down at the dinner table with you. for dinner you two ate some beef stew, one of his favourites. it was so amusing to him how you tried to brush your hair with a fork before the meal. he wanted to make small talk with you, but what would we say? it wasn't just the fact you were mute, but he's never eaten dinner with anyone other than his mother before. she passed years ago and he was left to fend for himself in their shared house, he's been entirely alone since you turned up. what could he say..?

"may i guess your name, miss?" andrew asked after swallowing some carrots, his voice as shaky as usual.

you gave him a playful thumbs up.

"great... hm, you strike me as a galatea."

thumbs down.

"violetta, then?"

thumbs down.

"ahh, okay... strike three, you remind me of a y/n."

thumbs up, and a bright smile on your face!

"n-no way, y/n? well, y/n... i'm sure you don't want to live with a monster for the rest of your days, so... i'll contact rescue... you'll be home by tomorrow morning,"

that made you flinch. tomorrow morning? you had to kiss him within three days! you vigorously shook your head and he tried to decipher what you meant.

"do you have a home? memory loss?"

you shook your head to both.

"ah, so you... saw your home get destroyed when you washed up. i'm sorry y/n." he stirred his beverage to break the silence, but the look he gave you was nothing short of heartbroken. how would you ever tell him you were a mermaid? "a similar thing happened yesterday... a train i was on crashed, and... a uh, mermaid saved me. nobody believes me though, but i felt her tail, heard her voice..."

his words made you freeze.

"you're the only person i can say this to, but... i think i love her."

you fainted.

*

after tucking you into his mother's bed, andrew headed outside for some fresh air. the salty smell of the sea would always help steel his nerves. running his calloused fingers through his hair, he reflected on the chaotic past two days he was being dragged through.

a mute girl who lived on a ship crashed and landed right in front of his home. he could barely handle the pressure of caring for you. you were adorable, charming, and the kindest person he had met, but he wanted to find the mermaid who saved him. he wasn't sure if what he felt for you was love or not, all he could think about was the mysterious mermaid.

then, as if fate hadn't been unpredictable enough, he heard her voice coming from a few feet away. an ethereal woman emerged from the sea, silky black hair matching her pitch black dress. she looked so mysterious, but her voice was all too familiar to andrew.

"oh, my sweet conductor, i became human out of love for you... please, let us marry as soon as possible!" the woman spoke in that relaxing, life saving voice. he could listen to it all day. he didn't know that she was hijacking his mind with a powerful love spell, he would become infatuated with more than her voice very soon.

"m-my name is andrew kreiss, miss... miss...?"

"tomie yidhra. but oh, how i yearn to be tomie kreiss! i don't view you as a monster in the slightest, i only wish to nurture you and love you for the rest of my days... you're the strongest and bravest man i know, please marry me! marry me andrew!"

how could he say no to those words, dripping out of the air like honey? no, really. he couldn't say no.

"i would love to."

"the day after tomorrow, at sunset... let us be wed, andrew."

*

the next day, you woke up to the sight of andrew looming over you again. you saw him give a silent fist bump when you sat up, he must have been ill with worry all night.

"oh! you're awake, that's good, miss. miss y/n, i have something unbelievable to tell you..."

you tilted your head to a curious angle, silently urging for him to continue.

"do you recall my story of a mermaid who saved me? she grew legs last night and visited me... tomie yidhra, we'll be marrying tomorrow... i would ah, love for you to come,"

you tried to scream but it was silent.

that bitch.

that wicked, evil bitch.

she took advantage of the fact andrew only recognized your voice and impersonated you. you needed to give him true love's kiss before their wedding. he was planning to marry yidhra. yidhra would kill him!

fueled by the fear of losing him, you bravely draped your arms around andrew's neck and gave him the deepest, most desperate kiss you could possibly give. he immediately pried his lips off yours and rubbed the back of his neck in humiliation.

"y-y/n! you're... you're great and all, but... i love tomie. please don't be hurt..." it was so strange and tragic, every time he spoke yidhra's human name it looked like he was under some kind of hypnosis, he wasn't his usual self. why would closed off andrew suddenly decide to marry her? tears brimmed at your eyes thinking of how foolish you were. "i have to leave now. work. i hope i didn't... ruin anything." he hurried out the door, giving you one last sad look before leaving you alone.

silent wails and shrieks of agony were caught in your throat, glass burrowing itself inside every inch of your body. your sisters were right. bonbon was right. miss nightingale was right. you should have left andrew alone, he wouldn't be tricked into marrying a sea witch this way. you ran outside, back to the shore you washed up on, and tried to swim back home, in case it gave you a tail. it didn't. you were still a human. you wanted nothing more than to reach yidhra's domain and strangle her yourself.

*

as you writhed in despair, bonbon flew overheard and recognized you. he saw the wedding boat being prepared and assumed your dreams were coming true, was andrew already engaged? he hoped not, and headed to the wedding boat to investigate.

there, he saw a woman with raven hair taking her makeup off and preparing for bed. except her reflection... her reflection showed the wicked sea witch, yidhra. then, in your voice, bonbon heard her shout for room service. this woman andrew was marrying... it was that vile witch, disguised as the woman who selflessly saved his life.

he flung some of his fecal matter through the window out of spite, and yidhra shrieked in your voice. yup, there was no doubting it, he has to interfere.

*

the next day, wedding bells rang and all you wanted was to drop dead. none of the guests even liked andrew and of course nobody knew who yidhra was, they were only attending his wedding out of curiosity. they were curious what ill woman would marry a demon.

you dabbed away the tears with your handkerchief and noticed that andrew was looking anywhere but you as he hooked arms with the bride. they were giving their vows, seconds away from kissing, until a starfish shot out of the water and hit yidhra square in the face.

then a dolphin flopped on deck.

then several octopi stuck to the crowd.

just what was going on here?

you began to recognize some of the creatures that made their way on the ship, and if you weren't mistaken, you could hear bonbon's voice in the distance... he was shouting 'attack'?

finally, you saw your sisters emerge from the sea.

"don't marry tomie, andrew! she's a witch! y/n was the mermaid who turned into a hu-"

before martha could finish, you felt a dull pain in your legs. oh no. casting a horrified glance to the horizon, the sun was setting.

"stupid girl!" yidhra transformed back into her serpent form, and spoke in her usual vile voice. "you may have found me out, but you didn't get your true love's kiss! andrew chose ME!" she gave her usual boisterous laugh, and with a stomp of her tail, the ship flipped overboard.

"andrew!" you called out, searching for him once again. your voice was back, you couldn't believe it. he was floating on a seat, just like when you saved him for the first time. "andrew, it's me, i'm sorry... i was so stupid," a gloved hand wiped the tears from your eyes, and he gave a content smile when he heard your voice. it fit you much better than that raggedy witch.

"it's okay, y/n... so, it was you all along...?" he gave a sad laugh when you nodded. you leaned in to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated, he was actually leaning into the kiss this time and it felt magical. the moment was quickly killed when you saw yidhra holding miss nightingale, ripping off her mask and placing it on her own face. this was terrible news. that mask helped her maintain balance between all the creatures of the sea, it was her main source of strength and wisdom. if it fell into the wrong hands, the results would be catastrophic.

and it just did.

yidhra grew ten times her usual size and towered above everyone scrambling for land. storms brewed in the sky and the aura of the evening changed, everyone was in grave danger.

"idiot girl, handing off her kingdom for a boy... why don't you kiss one last time before you sleep with the fishes!" yidhra bellowed and you couldn't take it anymore. you scooped up andrew and swam to a docked sailboat with a large wooden spike at the front. andrew wasn't a violent person in the slightest, but he was the only one who could kill yidhra right now and save the sea.

he began steering, a bit rusty, and reached yidhra's blindspot. he could sense the worry in her voice as she called out her followers. they were the ones who sent you those messages, they were working under her...! andrew steered straight into them and you had to look away. what you saw horrified you even more. miss nightingale was slowly being transformed into one of those soulless creatures from yidhra's garden, and judging by the sudden jolt of pain in your tail, the same would be happening to you very soon. "andrew, please hurry!" you cried out to him.

in the blink of an eye, causing a whole lot of trauma for andrew, he crashed the ship into yidhra's snake body. she howled in pain before andrew dealt the final blow with his shovel. yidhra disintegrated into what looked like confetti, hideous scaly confetti. the sky returned to normal and from it fell miss nightingale's mask. the soul stealing process ended quickly for you and miss nightingale. she retrieved her mask and freed all of the other soulless merfolk in the garden, as well as moving andrew to the shore where he could rest. he appeared to have passed out.

hours passed and all you could do was sit on a rock across from andrew's sleeping form, watching him intently. you had one chance with him and you blew it, you were a mermaid again. he looked so serene when he slept, but the scars littering his body told you that he's fought battles you couldn't even imagine. nothing has ever been so close to you but so far.

andrew finally opened his eyes and saw you. his face lit up when his gaze met yours, but quickly returned to a frown when your tail flicked towards him. you wouldn't have legs ever again.

as you two stared in disbelief, your family rose from the water. "y/n," your mother hummed as she placed a hand on her mask, "you've grown so much."

in a flash, your tail began to sparkle and shift, but it wasn't painful like how yidhra treated you. your mother's powers came from loving you, not tricking you. your tail slowly split into two, into...

two legs.

no words could describe how you felt, your head snapped around to your girls who were wiping their eyes in awe. "go on, sweetheart. be with him." electricity filled your veins.

they finally realized how wrong they were about humans.

taking a tentative step onto the shallow ocean floor, you felt the sand squish between your toes and collapse under your heel. in a bout of pure glee, you sprinted towards andrew. he caught you in his arms and twirled you around, staring lovingly into your eyes. neither of you could believe this was happening.

"let's go home," you cooed.

"yeah. let's."

this time, when andrew walked back home with you, his butterflies were caused by complete adoration for you, not because he feared for your safety. he felt so free now that yidhra wasn't controlling either of you. he was looking forward to the life he'd be spending with you, his little mermaid.

[the-duke-of-nuts]

The Battle Over Wine

 After 3 months I’ve finally gotten around to finish writing one of the Loceit headcanons/prompts as a oneshot! This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written that’s in actual sentences and not in script form so forgive the MANY grammar mistakes and shitty plot for I am terrible at writing and don’t know how spacing works on Tumblr (*cough* Betas hit me up *cough*) ANYWAYS literally nothing in this makes sense but it’s fanfiction so roll with it. Hope you enjoy I guess!

Prompt/Headcanon by the amazing royalty of Sanders Sides headcanons/prompts @imma-potatoo: Janus and Logan constantly battle over which wine is better (they are both wine moms) Janus says red wine, Logan says white. They can and will get into hour long debates over this

Pairing(s): Loceit, Background Dukexiety

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: Alcohol, Arguing, Blood mention (Nothing major just comparing the color to wine), Remus being Remus (Let me know if there's anything else)

It was a typical day at the mindscape for the Braincell Gays. They had just finished filming a video with Thomas about helping him with his mental health and his overworking issues. Janus thought both of their inputs and solutions were a success and decided to have some celebratory wine with Logan.

"Today was a success, wouldn't you say darling?" Janus said wrapping his arms around Logan's waist. "I must admit, today was pretty satisfactory, especially since we both helped Thomas with his dilemma and we were both actually listened to for once." Logan replied wrapping his arms around Janus' neck. Janus smiled and pressed a quick soft kiss against Logan's lips to which Logan of course reciprocated. "I say this calls for a celebration." Janus said. "What did you have in mind?" Logan asked, curiously. Janus smirked and summoned two empty wine glasses "I think you know~" "Ah yes, how can I forget your traditional celebratory wine." Logan playfully rolled his eyes. 

"Oh you know you love it".

 "You're correct about that." Logan chuckled.

 Despite both of them having "serious" and "professional" demeanors around the other sides they enjoyed the little moments where they can actually goof off and make each other laugh and smile during their alone time.

 "So, what will it be for the menu for today my love? Will it be the best and most savory of flavors of Roscato red wine, or are we feeling a little fancy and want to celebrate with champagne instead?" Janus asked. "Oh, well I was thinking we should have something far much more adequate like white wine." 

The sound of glass shattering immediately followed after Logan’s response,

 "I beg your pardon?" Janus stared in disbelief trying to process what his lover had just said. Logan, his darling, the light of his life, his beloved, had just disrespectfully claimed that WHITE wine was better than red in his own home! Well, their home and the other sides' home but that's besides the point! This is wine they're talking about here! "Well, I thought I made myself clear but I shall repeat myself, I said that I was thinking we should have something much more adequate than red wine which I suggested white instead." 

Janus took a deep breath in trying to keep his composure

 "Starling?"

"Yes Janus?"

 "You know I love you right?"

 "Of course I do, you show and tell me everyday."

 "Well you're making it reeeeeal hard for me to want to show and tell you right now." 

"Why? Is it because I was simply stating facts that white wine is much more superior than red?" Logan crossed his arms raising an eyebrow. "Those are NOT facts those are lies! Red wine is much more tastier than white wine!" Janus argued. "Yeah, if you have a figurative bitter tooth! Red wine is way too bitter and the sweetness isn't as flavorful as white wine!" Logan argued back. 

"Y'know considering the fact that we have to deal with 4 other nincompoops in this damn house you'd be glad that red wine is stronger than white!"

"Janus, just because red wine contains more ABV than white wine doesn't make it the better beverage!" 

"Oh says who!?"

 "The literal personification of LOGIC and literally anyone who isn't you!"

 "Okay you know what? That's it!" 

Janus has had enough of the ridiculous bickering and decided to take matters into his own hands by summoning himself, his darling nerd, and all of the other sides back in the same exact courtroom him and Patton were in trying to convince Thomas to go to the wedding or callback. 

"We're going to settle this debate once and for all!" Janus dramatically pointed at Logan. "Janus, this is ridiculous! Who exactly are we defending for this to be a courtroom scenario!?" Logan glared at his lover. "Ourselves and the law of wine!" Janus declared. "What the hell does that even mean!?" An annoyed, confused Virgil yelled from the jury box sitting next to Remus and Patton. "Hush Virgil the adults are talking." Janus said not taking his eyes off of Logan.

"We're the same age!" 

"ENOUGH chit chat and questions." Janus made Virgil cover his own mouth growing tired of his complaining and faced Roman "Now, your honor would you kindly read off the charges please?" "Oh, we're doing this again, well alright let's see here uh, The state of Logan Sanders yadda yadda yadda, Janus, prosecuting for the state of Logan Sanders, under oath, information makes that Logan Sanders... Count one: Unlawfully and disrespectfully claimed that one alcoholic beverage was better than the other. Count two: Has terrible taste in drinks but better taste in men. Count three: Being too damn attractive for this world. Count four: Making Janus break two perfectly good wine glasses. Count five: Unlawfully not participate in self care by leaving his books all over the floor whenever he falls asleep while doing heavy research when he's supposed to be taking a break causing Janus to place a bunch of bookmarks in said books and put them away for him." Roman read off the charges Janus summoned him. 

"And how exactly were those last four charges relevent?" Logan asked. "Because they are and you know it! Your honor, continue." Janus said. "Being so charged, Logan Logic Sanders, how do you plead?" "Not guilty." Logan said deadpan. "Count six for being too confident in that answer." Janus coughed out. 

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, he didn't know who was more dramatic, Roman or his lovable self care wine loving snake.

"To make this quick and effective we're going to skip the other nonsense and get straight to the point by giving our UNBIASED views to each person and have them decide to see if Logan is truly a horrible wine 'expert'." Janus said as he arrived at the front of the courtroom 

"Alright, fair enough. Prosecution, your first witness." 

"I would like to call Remus to the stand!"

Remus appeared in the witness stand and immediately stood up and was about to jump over it and run "I can't go back to jail!" "Sit down Remus you're not going to- Wait what do you mean back?" Janus looked at him after doing a double take. "Nothing! So uh what's the question?" Remus immediately sat back down trying to change the subject. 

"Alright Remus, red or white wine?" 

"That's it?" 

 "That's it." 

"Alright, uhh hmm..." 

Remus thought about it thinking of the possible outcomes that could happen if he chose a certain answer. Janus noticed him struggling to make a choice and had an idea and smirked 

"You know Remus, if you're having a hard time deciding, just putting this out there, red wine looks like you're drinking blood and I think you enjoy that thought VERY much~" Remus gasped and instantly became excited by the thought "OOH! You're right! I could even add bone shaped ice to give it that realistic crunching sound!" "Objection persuading the witness with a biased opinion." Logan said. "Overruled. It's not really persuading since we ALL know my brother actually enjoys anything gruesome like that regardless." "I sure do!" Remus cackled at Roman's statement. 

Logan sighed a little frustrated, this was going to be harder than he thought.

"I think I rest my case your honor." Janus smirked and blew Logan a kiss as he walked back to his table to sit down. Logan blushed and shook his head to quickly snap out of it and walked to the front and cleared his throat as he adjusted his glasses and tie 

“Remus."

 "Nerd."

 "You enjoy pranking and getting on Janus' nerves is that correct?"

 "Yes that is VERY correct." Remus snickered. 

"And you despise when he forces you to partake in proper hygene as well as making you eat actual ingestible foods unlike deodorant and other non edible items?”

"Yeah."

 Remus crossed his arms hating remembering the times Janus would force him to take a bath and purposely safety locking the cleaning supplies cabinets just so he had no other choice BUT to eat regular food. 

"You also are not how they call a 'lightweight'?"

 "Nope!" 

That was a lie. Remus could drink three cups and he'd already become a drunk chaotic mess.

"Okay, so hear me out here." Logan started and Remus leaned forward becoming interested in what he was about to say. "Remus, white wine is clear therefore you can always "pretend" that you're drinking water so Janus doesn't question it for self care reasons nor harass you about it." 

Remus went wide eyed at the realization and wagged his finger at Logan. "You... I like you... Keep talking."

 Logan smirked, he got Remus right where he wanted him and continued. 

"Also if you were to spill it there would be no noticeable stain therefore making it impossible for Janus to become upset."

"Wow, you make some VERY compelling points Four Eyes."

 "Objection! I don't appreciate you persuading my son with your biased statements by using me as examples." Janus interjected. 

"Janus, Remus is not your son!" 

"You're right, my apologies. I don't appreciate you persuading OUR son with your biased statements by using me as examples."

 Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head not wanting to bother arguing with Janus about his logic. 

"I believe I've made my points your honor." Logan walked back to his table. "Alright, can I go now?" Remus asked. "Almost Remus. We just need to know your final answer, then you may leave and sit back down with the other two." Janus answered. "Okay umm on one hand I very much LOVED Jan's point about how red wine looks like you're drinking blood buuuut I would have to go with Nerdy Wolverine on this one and choose white wine because I enjoy pissing Janus off." 

"Yes!" Logan whispered victoriously to himself. 

"Oh you rat son of a bitch of course you would-"

 "Language!" Patton interrupted. 

"English."

 "Spanish! Now you!"

 "German. No! We're not doing a word association game!" Janus yelled frustrated. "Aw, what's the matter my charming smooth scaled serpent? Realizing you're losing against Logic?" Logan smirked. "NO and don't you dare flatter me using snake related petnames when you're looking like that in a suit!"

 Logan smirked at Janus' flustered expression, "Alright, then bring out your next witness then." "I will! Remus, you can leave now." Finally!" A relieved Remus announced as he summoned himself back at the jury box. Janus summoned Roman to the witness stand wanting to get straight to the point. 

"Roman?"

 "Yes Janaconda?"

 "You're the romantic one out of all of us correct?" 

"Oh my god you already know he is just get to the point!" Virgil yelled from the jury box slowly losing his patience even more. "Since you are an expert on the matter, would you mind sharing with the court which wine do you think is more romantic on a date?" "Oh that's easy, obviously red wine." "Interesting, care to elaborate?" Janus smirked and glanced at Logan. "Of course! Imagine having a romantic candle lit dinner under the stars or a picnic date watching the sunset, red wine gives those beautiful moments of being with your beloved partner a general relaxing and romantic atmosphere and it also tastes marvelous with various different foods. I'm actually quite surprised Specs didn't side with red wine considering it's good for digestion." Roman stated. "Wow, you really ARE a romantic expert! I don't think I have any further questions." Janus smirked and walked back to his table. 

Logan went wide eyed there's no way he can convince Roman, his answer was obviously clear but it's worth a shot. 

"Roman, have you ever considered white wine being just as “romantic” as red?" 

"Not really no."

 "Okay, well uh it can because-"

"Logan, I know you're trying here but trust me I know what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, white wine is just as delectable as red but I'm gonna have to side with Janus on this one." Roman interrupted and summoned himself back on the judge chair. Logan sighed and walked back to his table, he knew by the amount of confidence in Roman's answer there was no convincing him. "Fair enough..."

"Alright, Prosecution next witness?" Janus decided to summon Patton in the witness stand next and smiled innocently clasping his own hands together "Patton~" "Uh I know this is probably a really bad time to bring this up now but um I don't really drink wine so I don't really have an opinion..." Patton blushed a little embarrassed. Janus sighed frustrated and put his head down on the podium and summoned Patton back in the jury box "Of course you don't." 

There was only one person left and that person was Virgil, it was 2 out of 2 and his choice would be the one to officially break the tie and put an end to this illogical ridiculous debate trial. 

Janus summoned Virgil in the witness stand " Alright Virgil, what do you think cause I'm sure we all know you don't have an important input." 

"You wanna know what I think!?" 

Virgil was fed up and snapped his fingers causing him and the other sides to appear back at the house and summoned two glasses of wine, one red and the other white. He shoved the glass of red wine in Janus' hand and the white wine in Logan's

 "I think the two of you dorks-" 

"Dorks. Whale penises am I right guys?" Remus interupted snorting. 

"-Should actually ACT like you both have a braincell and never debate about something as stupid as this ever again!" Virgil continued angrily. "Maybe the reason why they both don't have a braincell anymore is because they both fu-" Virgil interrupted his boyfriend from finishing his inappropriate sentence by covering his mouth and dragged him out of the room. Roman and Patton followed them not knowing what else to do. 

The Braincell Gays stood in awkward silence holding their wine glasses realizing their silly little arguement was stupid after all. 

"Truce?" Janus asked raising his wine glass. 

"Truce." Logan smiled and raised his glass as well. 

They both clinked their wine glasses together and drank their wine happily enjoying each other's company and soon made it up to each other by agreeing to have a self care day together the next day.