#which is something we don’t see enough of!!! it’s important history!!!

[livelovelaughlin]

Thinking about how even though Hawk got everything he wanted (or was told to want) the career, a wife and kids, money, success, he still ended up unfulfilled (“That sounds really empty.”) because he spent so long hiding himself in order to achieve success and keep himself safe.

Conversely, even though Tim had the safety of concealment where it concerned working in government ripped from him, essentially losing his career, and came out at a time when the social and political landscapes of America never ensured queer safety, and I’m sure, at certain points made his life harder, he still lived a life that was happy and fulfilled, for a lot of reasons, yes, but I’d argue mainly because he didn’t have to hide anymore

Obviously the two characters work romantically but narratively they also foil each other so interestingly and so WELL. Hawk got everything he wanted!!! It wasn’t enough!!!!!!!!!! Tim lost a lot!!! But he also stood up for something larger than himself and got to live his life openly!!! He didn’t have to hide! He was Happy!!!

[rueclfer]

Can I request a best friends brother touya plssss :)

Ur loser Touya who, canon to your fics, writes in a diary journal is so good and needs a comeback 😭💗

Okay thank you byyyyyeee :P

god i love todosiblings tomfoolery in touya fics!!!! ily anon thank u for loving this loser as much as i do

open up the door // touya todoroki

“Knock knock.” The voice interrupts yours and Fuyumi’s chatter from the other side of her bedroom door.

“What?” Fuyumi calls out, cueing Touya to poke his head through the cracked door, eyes meeting her before your own, in which you quickly darted away. “Can we help you?”

“Yeah, you can actually.” He returns the tone, fully swinging the door open, leaning against the frame. “I hear you losers giggling and shit from all the way down the hall. Don’t you think you two should shut up and go to sleep?”

You look him up and down, eyeing the stretched out flannel pajama pants hanging low on his hips and distressed band tee over his lanky frame. The glossy sheen over his eyes and the state of his hair made it apparent that he had just rolled out of bed, woken up from yours and Fuyumi’s night time antics and gossip.

“It’s barely 12am on a Friday night, Touya.” You cock your eyebrow at him. “Nothing more important to do than to bother us?”

“Tell me, Y/N, what exactly am I interrupting?” He walks into the room, being careful to step over the scattered containers of various beads, rolls of string, and a couple pairs haphazardly throw scissors laying across the floor. “Friendship bracelets? Are you guys 12?” 

You were laying on the floor on your stomach as he approached you and stepped over you with a leg on each side. Touya leans down and looks past your head to see the unfinished bracelet in your hands.

“Whatcha spelling out, huh?” 

“Fuck off.” You huff, slapping his calf to shoo him away.

“Leave us alone” Fuyumi groans. “We’re gonna go to sleep right now, okay?”

“Sleep, don’t sleep, I don’t give a fuck. Just be quiet. Especially you, loudmouth.” He flicks the back of your head before stepping over you towards the door, clicking it behind him.

You and Fuyumi meet each other’s eyes before simultaneously letting out an annoyed sigh.

“Sorry, you know how he is.” Fuyumi huffs. “He’s so annoying sometimes.”

You had a long standing relationship with the Todoroki family. Your friendship with Fuyumi flourished in middle school when you had accidentally snapped her glasses in half during gym class. Luckily, for you two, you were a wizard with duct tape which had not only effectively fixed her frames, but made you two inseparable since. 

“Sometimes?” You scoff, beginning to shove the craft supplies to the side, making room for your floor mattress. “I was seriously planning on marrying into the family one way or another, but you gave me some shit options, Fuy. Introduce me to a cousin or something.

“Settle for him to be with me forever.” She sighs dramatically and shoots you a pout. “If you really loved me, you would.”

Another thing that lingered since you two were kids- the concept of setting you up with her older brother. The idea had always seemed so perfect for her. There you were, someone who got along with the family, the sister she never had, and most importantly, was “good enough” for her brother, who notoriously had a shitty dating history. However, Fuyumi’s fantasy quickly crumbled midway through high school, when Touya suddenly decided that he was too good for anyone- especially his little sister’s best friend.

“Touya’s a fucking prick, Fuy. I really do want to beat the fuck out of him, no joke, and I’m pretty sure the feelings are mutual.”

“Watch it!” She scolds you. “He’s not that bad, or at least not as bad as he used to be.”

“Not as bad? ‘Hey ugly’ is his go-to greeting for me. He acts like my presence is the most inconveniencing thing ever. If we're alone in the same room, he'll avoid me like the plague and then once there's anyone else around, suddenly he wants to annoy me at any given chance.”

“He’s going through a life crisis or something. Be nice.” She warns. “Or else I’ll kick both of your asses. Wake me if you’re up before me, okay? But only if it’s after 10am.” She yawns. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah whatever, g'night." You say and roll your eyes, knowing that you will definitely not be waking her up.

Now with the lights off and you two in your respective beds, all you could do is look up at the glow in the dark stars plastered to the ceiling, and think back on all of your interactions with Touya from the moment you met him to now- from your raging infatuation with him when you first met as children to the growing resentment and annoyance into your late teens.

-

The glaring sunbeam peaking through the curtains hit you right in the eye, effectively waking you up from your deep sleep. Your phone reads 6:54AM. You mentally groaned to yourself before rolling out of your mattress, exiting the dark bedroom with a soft click of the door behind you. On an early Saturday morning like this, the Todoroki household had its rare moments of silent solitude

Padding your way to the bathroom, you were still in a drowsy state, eyes lidded, and the heaviness of a deep sleep weighing on your shoulders. Once the door shuts behind you, you lean against the kitchen sink and rub the sleepiness from your eyes,

"The fuck, Y/N?" The familiar voice snaps you awake. Your vision focuses on the figure standing near the shower. "You pervert, what do you think you're doing?" He exclaims with a growing amused smile.

"Jesus, Touya!" You exclaim, taking a step back against the door. "Ever use a fucking lock before?" You lowly huff, trying to keep your volume down.

"Why would I when no one's ever up this early? Don't you walk around with your eyes open?"

"I just woke up like two seconds ago." You groan. "Why are you just hanging out in the bathroom?"

"Well I was going to shower. Unless you're here to 'beat the fuck out of me?'" He leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"Listening in on our conversation? Who's the pervert now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Involuntarily, with your loud mouth and all." He takes a step closer, almost closing the gap and leaving just mere inches of space between you two. "Sounds like you don't like me very much, huh? What happened to that little crush in middle school?" He kept his voice low.

"Fizzled out a long time ago when you started thinking you were too cool for everyone." You press your finger against the middle of his chest. "You're full of yourself, stuck up, infuriating to be around, and you have no reason to not like me when we've known each other for damn near a decade. You're such a dick for no reason."

"You done?" His amused smile grew even wider, making the fury in your stomach grow stronger. "Because I don't have to explain shit to you."

You rub your face in your hands in frustration. "You know what you act like? A 13 year old who thinks being mean to his crush makes them like you back." You cross your arms, almost tip-toeing your way closer to his face. "That must be it, huh? Can't navigate your feelings?"

Touya bit the inside of his cheek.

Before he could retaliate with another venom filled comment, someone on the other side of the door was knocking. Had you two been so loud this early in the morning?

"Y/N?" You recognized the groggy voice. "Are you in there? Can I come in?"

You froze and quickly realized how the situation looked- you and Touya almost pressed up against each other in the bathroom. Alone. After you had just told her all about your disdain for her brother the night before.

You locked your eyes with him. He opened his mouth, ready to respond in your place, in which you quickly slammed your hand over his mouth, and the other on his shoulder. You start pushing him back towards the shower.

"Yeah! I'm in here, give me a second!" You called out over your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" He mouths, taking a step into the shower before he could trip over the ledge.

"Shut up." You whisper back, closing the shower curtain. "Stay." You warn.

You took a glance at yourself in the mirror, silently hoping Fuyumi doesn't notice your flushed cheeks.

"Sorry I was getting ready to shower. Was I being too loud?" You open the door to see her sleepy state of lidded eyes and tousled hair.

"No." She yawns. "I got a migraine, I just need my medication."

You step aside for her to dig through the medicine cabinet for a moment, sending subtle glances to the shower every now and then, hoping Touya doesn't decide to make an appearance.

"By the way," She mumbles. "I was serious about last night. Be nice to Touya, okay? You know he kinda has a crush on you."

"What?" You exclaim a bit too loudly, slapping your hand over your mouth.

She shushes you, putting her finger over her mouth. "You'll wake him. He's a light sleeper." She warns. "But yeah, Natsuo read his diary last week and told me. I think I kinda knew though, since he's so emotionally constipated." She softly chuckles, lightly shaking the migraine medication into her palm.

"What the fuck, Fuyumi?" Your mouth hung open. "Diary? You tell me this now?"

"Well I didn't realize how much you disliked him." She smiles. "Just thought you should know. We'll talk more later, though. I'm going back to sleep. Think about it, and have a good shower."

"Okay.. thanks." You mumble, closing the door behind her.

If you really wanted to, you could let yourself feel mortified for Touya and make an agreement to pretend like that conversation didn't just happen, but you could feel the disgusting pride and ego growing larger by the second as you digested this new information.

Touya rips the shower curtain to the side, stepping out of the shower with a new layer of blush dusted over his cheeks and his wide eyes filled with embarrassment.

"Shut up." He huffs, running a hand through his hair.

"Didn't say anything." You shrug, pressing your lips together to suppress a smirk.

"Keep it that way, then."

He begins to make his way towards the door, in which you promptly block with your body.

"Y/N. Move." He demands, one hand on the handle and the other pressed against the door next to your head.

"Guess I got you figured out after all. You write about me in your diary often?" Your let your smirk grow. "You'd have better luck if you were nicer to your crush, don't you think?"

You could see that pompous facade of his crumble by the second with the way he bit down on his lower lip, cheeks growing into a deeper shade of red, and eyes darting away to avoid your own.

"It's a fucking journal. Not a diary. Let me out. I'm going to go smother that fucking brat with his own pillow."

"Why don't we unpack this here, instead?" You lean back onto the door, preventing him from pulling it open. "If you like me so much, why are you such a dick?"

A beat of silence passes as he releases a long sigh.

"I-" He starts, staring down at you with a sheepish expression. "don't mean to be an asshole. I just get nervous, okay?" His voice falters towards the end.

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Nervous? How does that make sense or justify anything?"

"Because I can't think straight whenever you're around. Which is all the fucking time."

You didn't think far enough ahead as to how you could navigate this. You questioned if this could even be considered a confession or where things would go between you two when you eventually let him out of the bathroom.

"We were fine when we were kids, though?"

"I didn't like you when we were kids." He huffs.

"So a few years ago? When you started acting like an ass?"

"I guess." He mutters. "Can you move over now?"

"I give you one chance." You cross your arms.

"Huh?"

"To apologize, confess and ask me out. Properly."

"Right now?" His eyes widened, mouth gaped open.

"Yup, or forever hold your peace and watch me get with one of your cousins or something."

"You'd actually go out with me?" He asks under his breath.

"Ask me and find out." You shrug.

He pressed his lips together, continuing to stare down at you with furrowed brows- of course you stared back in annoyance. You thought that he already had the easy way out, thanks to Fuyumi, so this hesitation only made you more anxious.

A voice in the back of your head had started pounding through the front. It was your 10 year old self. They're making your stomach twist in anticipation. They're making your heart race. They're making your hands clam up. They're hoping he'd do it.

But he wasn't.

"Okay, guess not then. I'm leaving." You suddenly blurt out, turning to grab the handle.

"Wait." He places his hand over the door frame, preventing it from pulling open. "Give me a fucking second okay? I feel like I can barely breathe."

He puts both hands on your shoulder, expelling a long breath of air to the side. You tense at the sudden physical contact, feeling the warmth of the palms of his hands melt into you.

"I'm sorry for being a dick to you. I'm sorry for not knowing how to act around you. I'm not sure I deserve it, but can you... give me a chance?" He spills out through clenched teeth, all in one breath.

His face was still flushed and expression was almost pained. You knew you backed him up in a corner but if he had this crush for a few years, was he ever planning on telling you?

"I know you had a crush on me when we first met as kids, and I know you definitely don't anymore, but if you want to give me a chance then I guess that would be.. cool." He sheepishly says, sucking in the inside of his cheek.

"You guess?" You cock your head to the side.

"You're fucking killing me, Y/N. That's seriously the best I can do at 7am right now." He deadpans. "Yes or no- before I start panicking."

You pause for a moment, taking in the weight of his hands on your shoulder and intense eye contact.

"I'll go out with you."

"Really?" His eyes widen, and grip tightening. "After everything? You will?"

You nod your head, slightly taken off guard by his surprise.

"Cool. Cool. Okay." He takes a step back, bringing his hands back to his side and shoving them in his pajama pants pocket, giving you space to take your exit. "Um. I'll keep you updated on that date then? When I figure it out?" He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"Cool." You say, still standing idly.

"Cool." He responds, pressing his lips together in a tight line

"Don't make it weird, okay?" You huff. "I don't want to tell Fuy yet."

"No weirdness here." He awkwardly smiles, now fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Okay we're done here." You teasingly roll your eyes. "You're being weird, so I'm leaving. See you in a few hours, loser."

You two exchanged shy smiles and glances before you made your exit, letting out an audible breath of air after shutting the door behind you. Later that morning, after his shower and getting ready for the day, Touya would find a beaded bracelet hanging on his bedroom's door handle, reading "T O U Y A < 3" in which he slipped over his wrist and would glance down at all day, reminding himself not to fuck it up.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR

A/N: And another one-shot with my precious Logan. This has angst and some fluff. Enjoy!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant! female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff

Words: 3700+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR

It was a wild, exhausting day. Well, more like five days. The last time I visited my parents was almost a year ago. They knew nothing about my new life, only the lies I told them.  That’s why I didn’t have time to see them as often as they wanted to. 

I missed them. That’s why I came back. I thought my short vacation with them in my home town would be without incidents and fights. Oh how wrong I was. 

It was eleven in the evening. I was sitting on the front porch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. The night was cold. Autumn hit with full force. I wished I could return to the place where I felt more at home. Unfortunately, the school was over four hours drive away from my hometown. 

I had my phone in my hands, contemplating whether to call the person who could make me smile or not. My eyes were on the contact name, and I was not sure whether to press the button or forget about it and head back to bed. It was too late for a phone call even when I knew he’d be up. After a couple of deep breaths, I decided to tap the screen and call my boyfriend Logan. 

<< Hey baby. 

Hearing his voice made me smile. Logan picked up the call quickly. “Hi. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” 

<< No, of course not. I’m reading that book you got me before you left. Damn, good choice, baby. 

I laughed. “Yeah, it’s that good? Glad you like it. Maybe I’ll get you to read more. Even if they are historical memoirs or anything that has to do with history. We could start our own club, just the two of us.” I heard him laugh. Quickly, he changed the topic.

<< So, how’s the visit going? Everything good? 

I sighed, not knowing what to say to him. I didn’t want to complain. I already told him something about my parents - how they treat me even when they care about me. My relationship with my family was complicated. “It’s okay,” I said simply. “It’s okay. Really, okay.”

<< One more and I’ll believe ya.

“It is what it is. I always believe it’ll be better and it’s not,” I admitted. “Only two more days and I’ll head to the mansion. I have the bus tickets and everything planned to get back.” 

<< What happened, darlin’? You know you can talk to me.

“I know,” I kept shaking my head, nodding to no one. “I just don’t want to complain. I hate complaining. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” 

<< I get that you hate it. But maybe it’s time you did complain a little. I am here for you, darlin’. I’ll listen and we can talk about it. I don’t want you to feel miserable. Just… can’t believe you decided to visit them when they treat you like shit. 

He was right. They always treated me like shit. As an only child, I was the black sheep of the family. Or they saw me as one. My parents didn’t mind ridiculing me in front of our other relatives or their friends. Even as an adult, they continued to do this to me. I was dumb enough to let them. 

<< Tell me what happened, Y/N.

“We visited my relatives, my father’s sister, and they all ganged up on me,” I said. My voice was low. I whispered most of the time, not to wake anyone up. 

I didn’t trust anyone from my family. They didn’t know I was a mutant, where I was working or that I saved the day multiple times since becoming an X-man. They lost my trust the moment they decided to invade my privacy as a teen and snoop around my messages, diaries and stuff. It wasn’t just that. I was ridiculed for liking books, and for being too excited about the little things in life. My taste for music was weird and laughable. My lack of interest in boys was concerning. It was a whole story. 

“My friend and I wanted to go to a concert in a few months. I got excited someone wanted to attend with me - no, baby, you don’t listen to that kind of music -  and they decided to make me feel miserable for my excitement,” I explained. 

<< Darlin’, why do you always let them do this to you? 

“Because I am dumb,” I rolled my eyes. “Because I hate fights and any type of quarrels. I don’t like conflicts.” 

Logan knew I never mentioned to my family that I was seeing someone. I wasn’t ashamed of the relationship - the opposite, honestly. My family didn’t deserve to know anything about me. 

<< I think it’s time you cut contact with them. I know it sounds horrible when I say it. As If I tried to influence you in some way. Just, fuck, I hate when they make you miserable. Baby, to me, it seems like they don’t care and don’t give a shit about your well-being. 

I knew he was right. And yet, I was afraid to do that step. “They are my parents-”

<<Whom treat you like shit, Y/N. I am so fucking angry at them. I should have come with you. I’d be there to teach them a fucking lesson about respecting the woman I love. 

Those words made me smile. Never in my life have I had someone to defend me like Logan would. The grump, my grump, was there for me when no one was. He was mine for over a year now. 

“You love me, yay,” I said happily. 

<< Baby, you know damn well I love you. I should have been there tonight. I should have been there to let them know how shitty they are. 

I hummed. “That’s okay. I know you’d defend my honour. And I love you for that. I need to survive two more days before I head back to school. The bus drive will be the best thing from this trip.” 

<< The school is your home. So, come back home. Change the bus tickets and leave. I want you here with me, darlin’. 

“No,” I shook my head. “That would be rude. I need to toughen up and survive these last two days. Afterwards, I’m done. Besides, I don’t have a good emergency story.” 

<< You don’t need one. 

“Logan, come on,” I sighed. “I’ll be back in two days. I miss you. Can’t wait to be with you. I’m staying.”

<< Miss you too, darlin’. Two fucking days.

I had to laugh. He was cute and he didn’t know that. After that, we ended the call. I remained sitting on the porch swing, looking at the silent street. Everyone was asleep. The whole neighbourhood calmed down as their residents rested for the night. 

The air got colder, so I moved from the porch, back to my old room and headed to bed. What if I was exaggerating the problem with my parents? What if it was me creating conflict when there wasn’t any? With a heavy sigh, I went to bed. 

The next day was a chaos. Around lunch, my father’s aunt and her family came to the house. “Didn’t your mother tell you? We’ll have lunch together and we wanted to be with you some more before you leave again,” my aunt chuckled at her words. 

“Great,” I said, but I wasn’t thrilled at all.

Her kids were loud, spoilt brats. They’d let them do anything they wanted. It pissed me off. I knew they were my cousins. Unfortunately. As much as I wanted to teach them a lesson and tell them no, their mother would always allow everything. 

Both boys were running around the house, screaming and throwing toys around. To calm them down, they got tablets to do whatever they wanted -  a movie, a game? Why not both? 

Logan was right. I should have left. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day with them. And with lunch approaching, I knew it would be a stressful one. All the yelling, the bitching and moaning…

We were about to head to the dining table when we heard the doorbell ring once the food was ready to be served. “I’ll get it,” I said. I was the closest to them. 

As I walked to the door, I put my hair in a messy bun, to keep them away when I’d eat. I expected to see a neighbour or another family member that I wasn’t interested in seeing. When I opened the door, I gasped.

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Logan was leaning against the doorframe. He had black sunglasses on his face, dressed in those damn jeans and a green-blue flannel shirt. A brown leather jacket was resting on his shoulders. Dressed to kill… me. Fuck. He looked hot.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” My eyes widened, lips twitched because they wanted to curl into a smile. I grabbed him by the leather jacket to pull myself closer to him. He smelled like cigars and nice minty body spray. 

“I came to rescue my princess from this hellhole,” he said, voice firm and serious. 

I coughed. “What? Baby, we’re having an unexpected family lunch,” I made a face. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you are here,” I hummed with a smile. “Wait, did you ask Charles to help you get here? You went through my file!” 

“I needed to get here somehow,” said Logan innocently. “And it seems I am on time for lunch. I am starving.”

My mouth dropped to the floor when I heard him say that. I wanted to say something, anything. Unluckily, my mother decided to make herself present by approaching us. “Oh, hello, is everything okay?” she asked us. 

Logan put down his glasses and grinned at my mother. “I came to see your daughter.” 

“Oh?” 

I looked up at the ceiling, cursing mentally. I felt stress crawl up my back. Not because Logan decided to show up. It was my mother’s subtle reactions. How her brows rose, how I could sense the tension in her body. Or was it thrill?

“This… is… Logan,” I lazily turned to my mother. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

“You have a boyfriend?!” she squealed. “And you didn’t tell us?” It seemed she was offended. “You never tell us anything! Ah! This is a big deal. Oh my god!”

Deep breath in and slow exhale. I did it multiple times. Immediately, Logan approached me as I tried to calm myself down. He rested his hand on my lower back. 

One last deep breath. “Uh, we’ll be right there. I need to talk to Logan for a moment, okay?” 

My mother nodded, grinning like a maniac. She clapped her hands and ran back to the dining room. I knew she would let her mouth run wild and comment on what she saw. Lunch was about to turn into a nightmare. 

“You okay, baby?” Logan asked me gently. 

I pushed him outside and closed the door behind us. I was panicking a little. “This day is crazy,” I mumbled. “Oh my god.” I panicked a little. 

As I got closer to Logan, he wrapped his arms around my body, pressing me to his chest. “Everything will be fine,” he assured me. “You angry at me?” 

“No,” I said. “Quite the opposite. I’m glad you are here,” I inhaled his scent which helped me calm down a bit. “Fuck, you are like a gift from heaven. I should have listened to you and headed back to school. I’ve been receiving shit since the very morning. And now, my aunt and her family are here and… I want to run away.” 

He pressed a kiss on top of my head. “So, let’s go. Fuck them,” he said. “I’ll get your stuff and we are out of here.” 

“It’s not that easy,” I sighed. 

He growled, thinking. “Okay, listen to me,” he pushed me enough to look into my face. “Here’s the deal. One shit, one stupid thing from them, we are out. I don’t give a shit they are your family. They will not disrespect you. I won’t allow that.” 

I didn’t have the chance to say something. Logan took my hand and led me back into the house. He trusted his instinct which led him to a room filled with my family members. The moment we stepped into the dining room, all eyes were on us. 

First came the introductions. My father tried to be intimidating. My uncle used his dumb intelligent humour to impress Logan. Neither of us found it funny. My aunt was too touchy. I wanted to step on her foot for that. My cousins didn’t give a shit. They were interested in their mobile games. 

“How long have you been together?” 

It was the first of many questions. Logan and I sat next to each other. My mother brought a plate for him. One of his hands found my thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s been over a year now,” he said, voice low and gruff. 

“Where did you meet?” my aunt asked. 

“At work,” I said quickly. “We work in the same building.” 

“Really?” My father didn’t believe that. “He doesn’t look like someone who would work in a big corporate company.”

“Dad!” I glared at him. 

No one knew what I was, what was my real job. I told them a story about my life in New York, working for a big company. For them, I was the daughter who moved to New York. I wasn’t the mutant, the whiny girl they used to call me. Of course, Logan knew it all.

My aunt eyed Logan once more. “They take you seriously with that hair?” she asked him. 

My eyes almost popped out of my head. I couldn’t believe she dared to say it. “Excuse me?” was all I got out of my mouth.

And it got worse. 

“We always believed our Y/N would move to Europe and live her life there. Empty promises how she’d become a writer, leave the country and live a better life,” my mother laughed. “We believed she would be the one to leave the county and do great things. And here we are.” 

“Still can’t believe she didn’t settle down. But what do you want from someone who’s not fond of kids? She always hated kids, so be prepared she wouldn’t want a family with you,” said my aunt. 

“She never went to college. She lied to us about applying, her interest in decusation.” 

“Always complaining and crying.” 

“She was a sensible child.”

“She suffered from depression and anxiety.”

Logan smashed a hand against the table. All the plates and cutlery rang. I closed my eyes, ready to release my last breath from all the humiliation. My family went rampage - saying shit that even they knew was not true. But here we were. 

“Everyone shut your goddamn mouths,” he snarled, slowly rising from the table. “She is your goddamn daughter and you’ve been treating her like shit the moment I sat behind this damn table. How the fuck do you think you make her feel?” 

“Language!” my aunt glared at him. “Children are present.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your two spoilt bastards,” Logan glared at her. “You can’t even make them put the damn tablets down while eating.”

“Who do you think you are?” my mother asked. She was offended by Logan’s behaviour. 

“I am the guy who needs to put you in your fucking place. You do not respect your daughter and you keep humiliating her in front of me. Instead of saying something nice, something positive, you’ve been running your mouth off with a lot of bullshit and I am sick of it.” 

Logan grabbed me by my arm and helped me get up. I barely listened to a word they all said. My mind was spiralling. I felt like the biggest loser, the black sheep of the family. Someone who shouldn’t be born.

“Don’t you fucking dare say one more word about her,” Logan spat at them. “Or I swear, I will make your lives miserable. She’s the most amazing woman in this godforsaken world. She means the world to me. She’s the definition of goodness, kindness and love. And fuck, I don’t deserve her. But I will defend her and show her how worthy of love she is because it seems you never loved her in the first place!” 

Silence. Everyone was glaring at Logan, shocked by the words he said. As if they all forget how to speak. 

“Y/N? How can you be with this rude man?” 

“Rude?” I raised a brow. “You’ve been rude to me the whole week I was here. Logan defended me when no one else did. Even I couldn’t stand up for myself and send you to hell and back! You are the rude here, not him.” 

“That’s not true,” my uncle chimed in.

I got up from the table. “I’m gonna go pack and we’ll be on our way.” 

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” said Logan, quickly pressing a kiss to my temple as I walked by him. 

The packing took me less than five minutes. I threw everything into my suitcase. I made sure I had my documents. The moment I got downstairs with my belongings, my mother was the first by my side. 

“You can’t be serious,” she said. 

“I am.”

“And with that man?”

I stopped and glared at her. My feelings were battling inside of me. I wanted to scream, shout nasty words and throw a tantrum like a child would. However, I would never do that. I hated conflicts. I hated this moment.

“Bye, Mother,” I said and left the house. 

Once I stepped out of the house I grew up in, I felt relief and grief. A chapter, that was supposed to end sooner, finally closed. It was not a happy ending, but it had to happen to move on. Without Logan’s help, I wouldn’t be able to do that. Thank god he came here so unexpectedly. He got my back.

Logan was leaning against the car, cigar in his mouth. When I approached him, he took my suitcase and put it inside the car. 

“Thanks,” I whispered. 

I ended up in his tight embrace. The cigar long forgotten. He had to put it off on his hand. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get going.” 

“Take me home,” I said with a broken voice. 

“Home?” I knew he was smiling when he said that.

“Yes,” I nodded. “ Like you said - the X-mansion is my home. You are my home. Not this, not here.” 

Logan lifted my head by pressing a finger under my chin. Our eyes met. “I’m sorry they never treated you right. I’m sorry they saw you as something damaged, broken, now worthy of their time” He took a deep breath. “I’ll do everything to show you, that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You…” Logan sighed. “You are the love of my life.” 

“Logan,” I gasped. We told each other many times the three beautiful words. This was something new, deep. It was an undiscovered territory that didn’t feel intimidating. 

His lips found mine in a simple kiss. I tasted the cigars and the coke he had during unfinished lunch. It was perfect. Like a definition of our relationship. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.” 

[badly-drawn-doflamingo]

Brook’s Past, Military and Everything Between [ An Essay kinda ]

Brook’s past is not a thing many people seem to mention or think about, at least in full, however it’s something that's plagued me. Not only as a Brook fan, but simply out of the odd implications it has towards the future, if any. Oda’s planted too many seeds for it to utterly be nothing; there’s so much odd and seemingly out of place comments and facts stated by Brook and others towards this missing history. However, knowing that the show is beginning to near it’s end, due to time, I am unsure of what exactly will be done.

I believe however, for folks' interest and so we can have everything in one place, that compiling everything found so far can be beneficial, so, I have.

Starting with what we know for sure, Brook is from the West Blue, born 90 years ago to a certain kingdom, the same kingdom he was a military convoy leader from. We know this due to a few factors, however it’s still open to debate if it *is* the same kingdom, however seeing as he was shown as a child to already know what fencing is, practicing moves with his bow, I am just going to say he probably was. In any case, other things worth noting, on the topic of childhood, is that Brook seems to have had money. At least, stability.

Compared to a lot of the other strawhats, Brook is shown dressing very nice. No tatters, no tears, shined shoes and a full violin and bow. He also, as already stated, seemed to be exposed to fencing enough to mirror the moves. If this comes from his kingdom, it means he was exposed to it at a young age. Knowing that he was a military convoy leader, this could be taken that perhaps there were military demonstrations, perhaps the kid saw castle guard or other displays; it’s really up in the air.

We know Brook, again as stated before, became a military convoy leader. Now, the definition of what exactly that means can differ.

Wikipedia states; A convoy is a group of vehicles, typically motor vehicles or ships, traveling together for mutual support and protection. Often, a convoy is organized with armed defensive support and can help maintain cohesion within a unit. It may also be used in a non-military sense, for example when driving through remote areas.

This could mean Brook’s job could’ve been accompanying ships for protection, being a knight for his King, mediating information and goods that come in and out of the kingdom. This would make sense on why his speed was needed, a 9.2 ft man being a great choice for a leader.

His weapon also would make sense for this kind of mission, perhaps secrecy being important or at least the ability to be discreet. His cane sword, a ‘Shikomizue’, is not unique however to just him in the show, one other man using one that has been confirmed so far, that being Fujitora. The pair also share a sea, the west, and both utilize iaijutsu (quick draw techniques.) Fujitora blinded himself with said sword because of something apparently so cruel and inhumane that he rather not see anguish. This may be related to Brook’s departure from his kingdom, which is addressed later in this essay. (Fig 3-5.)

Another thing that’s worth mentioning here is Brook’s attack patterns, being unique even for his kingdom apparently. Once again, during the Ryuma fight, Brook states, and I quote;

“Ryuma: “Now tell me, what part of that wretched excuse for a body would you like me to severe with my special ‘Arrow Notch Slash?’ Brook: You don’t know a thing about that move, so do not use it’s name. I use to serve in my kingdom’s raider squad. The quick draw attack that I was most skilled at was ‘Requiem Lebanderole’. My comrades-in-arms renamed it in regards to my fighting technique.”

(Fig. 1, Brook explains his raider squad and move names. A banderole mind you is a long flag for BATTLE crusades. )

This sets up a few interesting facts. 1. Brook was in a raider squad, a kingdom’s group of marauders, as well as if not the same job as convoy leader. 

2. His techniques were unique to him, or at least specialized to a degree of having a nickname. 3. As expected, he seems to have been close to these men he commanded, adding another layer over Brook loosing the Rumbars. Being in both a raider squad and being a convoy leader at one point, if not the same point, implies either Brook was simply versatile, acting in both in separate years or periods. Or, the most likely, that he was higher ranking than expected, making him a CO, or commanding officer. (Lieutenant Colonel is another equal rank for scale, making Brook just below a Major.) This makes him quite the important figure, especially for a kingdom that seems to value its military so much, so much so that a child of Brook’s age would already know about their style of fencing, as expressed already. Brook’s devil fruit is worth mentioning here, the revive-revive fruit not likely to be found by a crew like the Rumbars. It is spoken about as if he has always had it amongst the crew, being a fact of life. However, when did he get that fruit and why? I propose where it would be useful; in combat. If your military convoy leader, your best swordsman could be shot and come right back to protect the king, would he not be utterly invaluable? You would never let him leave… But he DID leave. It’s not said why, however we have some extra tidbits of information that may tell us why, and that ALSO may tell us the answer to what kingdom he means.

( Fig. 2. Brook states his leaving of the military for unknown reasoning, the word certain being used in an odd way, establishing his bounty.) This bounty mind you all is in fact, using inflation method, 297,000,000 berries. That is a MASSIVE bounty for just a pirate. Perhaps a certain blond stole a treasure a kingdom could not replace; their convoy leader. Lets rewind for a moment and cover something that may be seen as off topic however I will come right back to the subject at hand; Calico Yorki. Yorki is an odd bird, pirate wise. He makes his crew read his bounties and information, is never shown to play an instrument/sing but makes his crew preform/they all do, and makes Brook make him dinner. (Steak, and Brook continues to be able to make it as confirmed by an SBS.) What is oddest yet, other than his large crew and shirtless habits, is his nature. A man that set to sea to play music for “orphans and crying children” as stated by himself; a crew made for “any men who love music.” Now, I could be reading into this too hard, however from his speech patterns, to this apparent need for a large family, it seems that singing to orphans may be a very personal goal. An orphan turned pirate perhaps, with lofty dreams and a heart of gold, it reads to me that Yorki may have been just that. Knowing this, orphan or not, we now can compare these facts to Brook’s life up until their meeting. A child who probably grew up being taught to fight, being around access to education, expenses and the kingdom’s training. Why would a man like Brook ever join a man like Yorki, and if it’s only music, would that not make Brook a deserter? I do not think that is the case. I will now bring forward some interesting evidence regarding Brook’s kingdom and WHY he would leave. Germa 66. During Zou to Whole Cake, a few mentions of Germa are made with Brook around, garnering interesting reactions indeed.

( Fig. 3. Brook listens but chooses not to add anything utter than silence, his music pausing as well.) This silence could be take as simple ignorance, however Brook later admits he knows of the kingdom, in fact, he knows a lot. A lot more than anyone else did, Reiju admitting interest in his knowledge and once again, Brook brushes it off.

(Fig 4, 5, Brook speaks about Germa 66.) He seems to underplay or simply not elaborate a LOT on his kingdom, as if something happened. Perhaps joining Yorki was not out of simple cowardice or need to be free, (which again if he did would both reflect poorly upon his entire character and not be in character for him what so ever,) but in fact, out of necessity. It could have been Germa 66, it could have been some other grouping, however I believe this will come to be something important. The kingdom possibilities are interesting as well, and I will list the following LIKELY possibilities. (Other options are known to not be military, like Ohara, or literally places like Thriller Bark itself.) - Toroa - God Valley - Illsia Kingdom - Soja Kingdom The most likely candidates, because again, it is labeled as certain kingdom (Fig 2.) is Toroa or Soja, however I will personally lean into Toroa. This is because of a man by the named of Byron.

(Fig 6. Byron and his information.) His nose and face shape vaguely resemble Brook, however honestly that is a stretch. What is NOT however is his familiar attire, family line and the placement of his kingdom. This could easily be Brook’s home, however again, this is just speculation. Brook very well could belong to God’s Valley, or the same kingdom as Issoh, fleeing because of something he did not agree with or literally could not stand any longer. But, that falls under possibility, not fact. This concludes the facts section, now comes the final question; What does it mean for the story? And, honestly, that can be debated. What Oda has done is plant odd seeds of information about the man, similar to Sanji and his ties to Vinsmoke, that have not been addressed nor talked about in full, or so I’ve found sufficiently. These seeds MAY bloom into what I hope will be a tie into some huge reveal, perhaps aid from a past member of his convoy or kingdom, or perhaps this will only spark conflict. Perhaps it will be minute, Brook being able to aid due to his knowledge, the man already in Thriller Bark showing his prowess by being able to command the strawhats into defeating zombies via salt and tactic. In any case, we can only hope these things mean anything, tied into some huge story that could explain why a man like him would quit for a redneck like Yorki, other than perhaps love, and what kingdom would let a man like him go willingly.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Over the last few years, I’ve begun to heavily encourage people to think of a zoo or aquarium or sanctuary being accredited as conveying important information about their ethos / operations / politics - but not as an inherent indicator of quality. Why? Because accrediting groups can be and are fallible. There are issues with all of the accrediting groups and programs, to varying degrees, and so they’re just a piece of information for a discerning zoo-goer to incorporate into their overall opinion. I just saw a news article go by with some data that proves my point.

First off, good for Houston, no commentary that follows is directed that them.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a headline like this - there was one a couple years ago, about Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in Colorado also getting a perfect inspection. But here’s what bugs me about it.

If you see/hear the phrase “Facility X has been accredited by Y organization, which holds the highest standards in the world for this type of facility”, it kind of implies that facility X meets all of those standards, doesn’t it? Not most of them, not the majority. When you hear that a zoological facility has gone through a rigorous process to earn an accreditation branded (by the accrediting org) as “the gold standard” in the industry… the general public is going to interpret that as saying these facilities are in compliance with every single rule or standard. And what these headlines tell us, alongside the commentary from AZA in the articles, is that it’s not only not true - it never has been true. Most AZA accredited facilities apparently don’t meet all the AZA standards when they’re inspected, and that’s both okay with them and normal enough to talk about without worrying about the optics.

Let’s start with the basic information in the Houston Chronicle article, which will have been provided to them by the zoo and the AZA.

“Since it's inception in 1974, the AZA has conducted more than 2,700 inspections and awarded only eight perfect evaluations throughout the process's 50-year history. Houston Zoo's final report is 26 pages long — and filled with A's and A-pluses."

Okay, so… doing that math, less than one percent of AZA accreditation inspections don’t meet all the standards at the time of inspection. But, wait, that’s not just what that says. That bit of information isn’t talk about AZA accredited facilities vs the ones that got denied accreditation: this is telling us that of facilities that earned AZA accreditation, basically none of them meet all the standards at the time. This isn’t talking about tabled accreditations or provisional ones where they come back and check that something improved. Given that math from earlier, this information means that most - if not all - AZA accredited facilities have repeatedly failed to meet all of the standards at one point in time … and have still been accredited anyway.

That tracks with what was said about Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, back in 2021 when they got their perfect accreditation.

“Cheyenne Mountain Zoo has earned an incredibly rare clean report of inspection and its seventh consecutive five-year accreditation from the Association of Zoos and Aquariums (AZA). In nearly 50 years of accreditations, CMZoo is only the fourth organization to earn a ‘clean’ report, which means there wasn’t a single major or minor concern reported”

Seven consecutive accreditation processes - and only one of them where they actually met all the standard at the time.

Here’s what the AZA CEO had to say about Houston’s accreditation achievement in that article, which reinforces my conclusion here:

"AZA president and CEO Dan Ashe says the multi-day inspection process, which occurs every five years, has been described as "comprehensive, exhausting and intimidating."

"We send a team of experts in who spend several days talking to employees, guests and the governing board. They look at animal care and husbandry. They look at the governance structure and finances. They look comprehensively at the organization," Ashe explains. "For a facility like Houston Zoo to have a completely clean accreditation and inspection is extremely rare. These inspectors are experts, it's hard to get to the point where they can't find something.""

Now, here’s the rub. We, as members of the public, will never have any idea which standards it is deemed okay for a given AZA facility to not meet. All of the zoological accrediting groups consider accreditation information proprietary - the only way we find out information about how a facility does during accreditation is if they choose to share it themselves.

On top of that, it’s complicated by the fact that last time I read them AZA had over 212 pages of accreditation standards and related guidance that facilities had to comply with. Now, AZA doesn’t accredit facilities if there are major deviations from their standards, or if there’s an issue on something important or highly contentious. So - based on my completely outsider but heavily researched perspective - this probably means that most zoos are in non-compliance with a couple of standards, but not more than a handful.

To make trying to figure this out even more fun, it is also important to know that AZA’s standards are performance standards: whether or not they’re “met” is based on a subjective assessment performed by the accreditation inspectors and the accreditation committee. This means that what qualifies as fulfilling the standards can and does vary between facilities, depending on who inspected them and the composition of the committee at the time.

So why do I care so much? Because when it comes to public trust, branding matters. AZA has gained a reputation as the most stringent accrediting group in the country - to the point that it can lobby legislators to write exceptions into state and federal laws just for its members - based on how they message about their accreditation program. How intensive it is, how much oversight it provides, what a high level of rigor the facilities are held to. That… doesn’t track with “well, actually, the vast majority of the zoos meet most of the standards most of the time.” People who support AZA - people who visit AZA accredited zoos specifically because of what it means about the quality of the facility - believe that accreditation means all the standards are being met!

To be clear: most AZA zoos do meet some pretty high standards. It’s likely that what are being let slide are pretty minor things. I expect it’s on stuff the facility can improve without too much hassle, and it might be that doing so is probably part of what’s required. There’s not enough information available to people outside the fold. But I will say, I don’t think any zoo is getting accredited despite AZA having knowledge of a serious problem.

Where I take issue with this whole situations is the ethics of the marketing and branding. AZA frames themselves as being the best-of-the-best, the gold standard, when it turns out that most of their accredited zoos aren’t totally in compliance, and they know and it’s fine. They seem to be approaching accreditation like a grade, where anything over a certain amount of compliance is acceptable. The public, though, is being fed a narrative that implies it’s a 99/100 pass/fail type of situation. That’s not super honest, imho, which shows up in how there’s zero transparency with the public about it - it goes unspoken and unacknowledged, except when it’s used for promotional gain.

And then, like, on top of the honesty in marketing part, it’s just… something that gets joked about, which really rubs me the wrong way. Like this statement from the media releases for the Cheyenne Mountain accreditation:

“Another of our ‘We Believe’ statements is, ‘We value laughter as good medicine,’” said Chastain. “To put this clean accreditation into perspective, when I asked Dan Ashe, AZA president and CEO, for his comments about how rare this is, he joked, ‘A completely clean inspection report is so unusual, and so unlikely, it brings one word to mind — bribery!’“

So, TL;DR, even AZA accreditation is designed so that their accredited zoos don’t have to - and mostly don’t - actually fully meet all the standards. I’d love to know more about what types of standards AZA is willing to let slide when they accredit a facility, but given the proprietary nature of that information, it’s pretty unlikely there will ever be more information available. AZA accreditation tells you what standards a zoo aspires to meet, what their approximate ethics are, and what political pool they play in. When it comes to the quality of a facility and their animal care, though, sporting an accreditation acronym is just a piece of the larger puzzle.

[gay-dorito-dust]

could you do asexual reader x Jason Todd headcanons?

I know this hdc won’t resonate for most in the ace community, cuz it’s a spectrum, but I hopes it at least resonates with some, even if it’s one person. That’s more enough for me. (Also sorry for the shit writing as usual)

Jason doesn’t mind that you’re asexual. You were still you at the end of the day, so he doesn’t understand why some people tend to make a big deal out of it.

It’s not like you being asexual was hurting anyone but he guessed that some people just harbour vast amounts of hate for things they don’t/refuse to understand bc they’ve been conditioned into thinking that it’s a bad thing.

Others are just cunts that Jason gladly beats the piss out of in your honour. (Acephobes plz die disrespectfully thanks)

He will not tolerate any sort of disrespect towards you and needless to say having a six foot something man who’s built like an absolute tank is enough to silence those types of people rather quickly.

He’s more then willing to do this for anyone that you knew who was ace, aro, or was in the LGBTQIA community in general, that he becomes a someone that a lot of them could come to when in need of help, or was just in need of a safe space.

He’s unbothered by it because as long as he’s helping someone in need, he’s more than willing to offer his shoulder for them to cry on.

(I just like the idea of Jason being a protector of LGBTQIA youths.)

After all he once took joy in beating the absolute piss out of a biphobe for Tim. Sure he may not have a great relationship with his siblings, but he’s not one to ignore when they’re being treated like shit for being who they were.

He respects your boundaries and will always ask whether or not it was okay for him to kiss you, to which you’d always have to tell him that it was more then okay for him to kiss you.

He understands that asexuality was a spectrum and would ask which part of the spectrum you were apart of, and acts in accordance to make sure that you’re more than comfortable in your relationship.

He’s always finding ways to constantly learn about asexuality and more. He’s even got a whole bookshelf dedicated to LGBTQIA history because he wants to better himself and do right by you and other people who look up to him to protect them. He takes that shit seriously.

He just loves you very much and wants you to feel as though you could tell him anything that’s bothering you and he’ll gladly bring you its head if you’d like just to prove it.

If you are okay with kisses and the like, be prepared to be swarmed by it at every possible opportunity with this teddy bear, for he will smother your face in kisses as he holds you against him, smiling upon hearing you laugh and poor attempts in pushing him away. It’s a highlight of his day because when you’re happy, he’s happy.

You don’t like sex? That’s okay! He’ll make you have Junk food dates with him where you stuff your faces either pizza with stuffed crust (you can eat it in reverse) and garlic bread and watch shitty movies as you cuddle on the couch.

You: you don’t think I’m broken?

Jason; no. Why, who’s told you that you were broken because it’s a bunch of bullshit. You’re the most important person in my life and I’d do just about anything for you, no matter how big or small it may seem because at the end of the day I want to see you happy. So listen to me sweetheart and listen good, you are not broken. You are perfection incarnate in my eyes, you are everything I could’ve hoped to have by my side for you’ve never judged me, so I don’t see why I should judge you for being your truest self. Thats a bit hypocritical don’t you think?

Jason: So don’t ever think you’re broken when you’re far from it, you are whole and you are more than enough. I don’t care if we have sex on occasion or not at all, your happiness is all I care about. I want you to be happy for the rest of our lives together because now I’ve got you I’m not letting you go. Ever. I couldn’t care less about anything else but when it concerns you, I’d move mountains to make things better for you. I love you chipmunk, please don’t ever feel like you’re broken when you’re so much more than that, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.

[copperbadge]

Before I left for vacation I did my usual “tidy for the petsitter” routine, and there was some paperwork that I thought should probably get put away, so I stashed it in a storage bin I had out. Because I know me, I put a note in my to-do list for when I got back that said “There’s important stuff in the bin, remember to go get it.”

So I did, but I thought I should deal with the other stuff in the bin too, and I’ve just been popping the lid and dealing with one or two things every time I go past it. Most of it is paperwork, and I’ve just hit some records from high school that my mother recently gave to me without either of us going through them.

There’s a bunch of report cards, which are heartbreaking and hilarious. I graduated a semester early and my last semester was cleanup -- two classes to complete graduation requirements and one to maintain status as a “full time” student. Two were math-based which I was notoriously bad at, and sure enough at the midterm I was getting a D+ in one and a C- in the other. We’d just begun digital grade recording, so the teachers would keep their grades in a paper book and then log into an extremely basic database and enter the grades, which would spit out on our printed report cards. They could put in a grade plus three “codes” which would print next to our grades as status updates, stuff like “disruptive in class” or similar. 

My English course, in which I was getting an A, said “Exceeding expectations” which was kind of Mr. G because I remember him and his expectations were exceptionally high for me. 

The other two have the same catechism: Missing Assignments, Does Not Pay Attention In Class, and of course...Achievement Not Up To Ability. Guess now we know why. 

Reading through these old cards with the cushion of time, it’s fascinating to see my young brain at work. My math and (math-based) science grades tank so hard, at the same time I was getting As or Bs everywhere else -- history, civics, econ, english, spanish. There are documented questions about whether I’m going to pass enough math to graduate high school, dated the same semester as my perfect Verbal SAT score and my fives in AP Comp and Lit. The first semester after I was put into the Gifted program, I failed Remedial Algebra.  

I did say at the time, to my mother and my teachers, there’s something wrong here. My mother, in her defense, had her hands full with my brother; my teachers just didn’t know what to do with me. The school district was broke and didn’t have disability testing available. By the time I got to college I’d simply internalized the idea that I was a neurotypical kid who got stubborn when asked to do something I found pointless and boring, and that was a personality flaw to be corrected, not a symptom of something bigger. My therapist for my last few years of high school agreed, and thought I should probably learn more anger management techniques. Although it turns out you can’t breathing-exercise your way out of undiagnosed ADHD. 

In any case, here in 2023, there’s no solution or tidy resolution or anything to be done about it, it just is what it is: a sheaf of paper from the late 90s about a smart fuckup who could have used a hand. I’m here now, alive and employed and medicated and a homeowner, so it’s a bunch of numbers that don’t mean anything. I’ll scan them into my digital archive, then toss the paper and never look at the archive again, probably. 

Achievement not up to ability. Boy, no kidding. 

[zhukzucraft]

Wild Life - Chapter 2

A fan-made Life SMP session project by Zhuk and Schmomo

>Chapter 1< or >Read it on Ao3<

“So you’re breaking up with us,” Martyn said, matter of factly.

“Is this supposed to be shocking?” Cleo asked, “You leaving to go be with Etho, instead?” She laughed a little, cycling through her inventory for her iron pick. 

“It’s nothing personal!” Bdubs insisted, quickly, “I just feel bad for the guy, you know?”

“He is washed up,” Grian agreed, his voice carrying from up high where he was building up their tower of cobble. 

“Exactly. Wait, no! No, he’s not!” Bdubs huffed, “But it was harsh how we all ditched him.”

Yesterday had been a mad dash for resources, like all first days in the Life games tended to be. Bdubs’ plan for starting the Life game challenge had remained the same as always: stick to Etho. But that hadn’t really played out the way he wanted it to. When he’d circled up with his group near the exposed iron vein on the side of the mountain, everyone had realized at the same time an important fact: He, Impulse, Cleo and Skizz were all dogs. 

Etho was not. 

“He’s a cat, Bdubs,” Martyn said, his tail swishing about in warning behind him, “A filthy feline, if you will.”

“Shouldn’t we be building bridges?” Bdubs tried, his own short tail quite flat against his body.

“No, we’re building a tower,” Grian called from above. 

Cleo snorted, trying to cover her smile with her free hand. 

“The man is lost without me,” Bdubs continued, “And I really just want to check on him, is all. Don’t you trust me?”

“Not at all,” Cleo said with a smile, “But go on then, find your cat boyfriend if it’ll calm your anxious heart.”

Bdubs rolled his eyes, turning away and padding to the edge of their platform. After the iron had run dry, Skizz and Impulse had ventured further up the mountains. Bdubs knew his history with fall damage well enough to stick to more solid ground. Cleo had decided to join up with Martyn and Grian who were discussing some grandiose plan to take control of the entire lake. He had followed them without a second thought. 

Now, he stared out at the vast expanse of water before him, “You know, we really should build a bridge–”

“No bridges!” Grian shouted, “That’s the whole point!”

Bdubs threw his hands up in the air, defeated with his teammates–former teammates? It was unclear at this point. Bdubs was about 65% certain he would come back to them. Maybe less so now that this base Grian and Martyn were insisting on would prevent him from any kind of sustainable horse travel. 

He pinched his nose and jumped into the water, shuddering as the cold temperature hit him. He pushed through, diving down past the many salmon and cod to head to shore. By the end he was doggy paddling, which was fitting he supposed. When he reached the shore line he shook himself out, his ears floppy atop his head and smacking him ever so lightly. 

His comms buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. 

Solidarity has made the advancement [Diamonds!] Smallishbeans > ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Smallishbeans > HE’S THE FIRST ONE?????? Smajor1995 > just wait for the swimming in lava message to appear soon enough Skizzleman > i don’t have anything to contribute but as another S name i felt the need to say something GoodTimeWithScar > same! Grian > Your username starts with G, scar GoodTimeWithScar > are we starting our own train now, G? Solidarity > DOES ANYONE HAVE FOOD THEY CAN THROW DOWN MY HOLE?

“Poor fella,” Bdubs sighed out without even a hint of pity. He put his communicator away. He glanced around, seeing the remnants of other players from the falling leaves and missing dark oak trunks. He decided to keep to the edge of the forest, just in case. After a few hundred blocks, the dark oak gave way to a plains biome and–

“HORSE!” Bdubs shouted, sprinting over to the magnificent herd of beasts. There were six of them, all deep browns and blacks. Some were even spotted with white. “What beauties,” he praised as he petted one of the wild mares, who shook her mane out at him. He hauled himself onto her back, only to be bucked off. He was no stranger to the process, however, and kept at it, taming the entire herd by the time the sun was shining directly above him. 

“Now I just need a saddle,” Bdubs said aloud, before frowning. Right. He needed a saddle. What were the odds he’d stumble upon a dungeon anytime soon? He wondered if they were using the leather recipe in this game. That would be oh-so-fortuitous. 

He hadn’t been paying attention, and the horse he was seated upon had wandered further into the plains, toward the great big snowy mountain they’d all pillaged for iron yesterday. He wondered if Skizz and Impulse were still up there. Why were all his friends moving into such horse-hostile environments? Bunch of scum, the lot of em. 

The land opened up in front of him and he let out a surprised shout of terror. He quickly jumped off the horse, only to land precariously at the edge of the gaping ravine. 

That was a close one, Bdubs thought to himself, imagine being the first to die. And to fall damage too. 

He scurried backwards, giving himself a few blocks of distance. Sheepishly he looked around to see if anyone had seen him shrieking. Luckily, no one was around. 

Where the heck was everyone? Had no one decided to settle in these plains? He frowned, turning all the way around before getting himself dizzy. How was he supposed to find Etho with everyone hiding? Everyone was still green for void’s sake! There was no need to be so un-neighborly yet. 

“Cowards! All of ya!” he shouted out to no one in particular, cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure his important message carried. 

“Is someone out there!?”

Bdubs startled, looking around for the owner of the voice. 

“Hello!?” 

He narrowed his eyes, following the voice several blocks to the right. He stopped right before the ground gave way to another hole. 

“OH THANK THE VOID!”

All the way down below, surrounded by dripstone, was Jimmy. In full diamond armor. 

“BDUBS YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Jimmy shouted, “I'VE GOT HALF A HEART AND NOTHING TO MY NAME!”

“I don’t know about that,” Bdubs called back, sitting down on the edge of the hole, “You’re covered in diamonds.”

“I’ve got no wood, no tools and no food,” Jimmy lamented, “Please, do you have any food to spare?”

“How’d you manage this?” Bdubs asked, his ears perking up.

“There was some mild panicking when I dug into lava,” Jimmy said, “Very mild. I may have thrown half my inventory into it. These are minor details. Anyway, can you spare a mutton? I’d take it raw at this point.”

Bdubs cringed, “You’re lucky Scott didn’t hear that. He’d never let you live it down.”

“Scott’s dead to me!” Jimmy shouted back, “He and Joel and Etho found me just to laugh! The nerve!”

“Etho?” Bdubs blinked, honing in on his mission with laser focus, “You know where he went?”

“You get me outta this jam, I’ll take you straight to him, I swear on my half of a heart.”

“And one of your diamond pieces,” Bdubs added, standing back up. 

“You’d take the shirt off my back in my most trying time?”

“If it’s made of diamonds? Of course!” Bdubs replied, rummaging through his inventory, “After all, my hand might slip and grab my lava bucket instead.”

“ALRIGHT!” Jimmy shouted, “Just please! I can’t live down being yellow first again.”

Bdubs chuckled, taking mercy and flooding the hole. Jimmy quickly swam up, clawing his way onto solid ground and giving himself a firm shake to dry himself off. His long fluffy golden tail rained water droplets everywhere.

“Ah, a fellow dog of culture, I see,” Bdubs noted.

Jimmy cracked a smile, “Once a big dog, always a big dog. Woof, woof.” He picked himself up, taking off his diamond boots and handing them over. “Now please, some meat would be nice.”

“Oh I don't have any food on me,” Bdubs replied casually, slipping the armor on. “Should have probably grabbed some before leaving my crew, now that I think about it.”

Jimmy let out an anguished cry, hands shooting out to take hold of Bdubs shoulders. He dug into the iron armor there, “Are you KIDDING ME?” he shouted, close to tears, “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through!? Wave after wave after wave of creepers and zombies hounded me down there. Half a heart, Bdubs! I could trip and it’d be the end of me.”

“I’ve got a bed if you want to set your spawn here,” Bdubs offered with a bright cheery smile. Jimmy screamed out in aggravation. Bdubs patted his shoulder.

“Oh, that explains it.”

Jimmy and Bdubs turned at the sound of a third voice, and emerging from one of the rolling hills of this biome was Mumbo Jumbo of all people. 

“Mumbo!” Bdubs exclaimed, giving a friendly wave. “And on top of a mound!”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes! Once a mounder, always a mounder,” Mumbo replied with a grin, carefully hopping down the blocks to make it to their sides. His skin black and white tail shot out for balance. “Although, I’ve graduated to new heights this go-around. You could say I’m a mountaineer, now.”

“Well, ain’t that nice,” Bdubs complimented, “Are Skizz and Impulse with ya then?”

“Oh yes!” Mumbo assured, “BigB too.”

“Lovely catching up,” Jimmy interrupted, eye twitching, “But we have pressing matters at hand! Mumbo, do you have any food on you, bud?

“Hmm? Oh. Oh right, food. That would have been a good idea, wouldn’t it have been.” Mumbo realized aloud, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“YOU PEOPLE ARE IMPOSSIBLE!” Jimmy screamed.

Bdubs laughed, patting Jimmy’s shoulder and spreading his other arm out over the horizon, “Look, we’re in a plains biome, I’m sure we can find ya something to munch on.”

“All the animals are gone already!” Jimmy snapped, “This is the life series not Hermitcraft!”

“There’s plenty of horses,” Mumbo pointed out, unhelpfully. 

“I CAN’T EAT A HORSE.”

“Not hungry enough, eh?” Mumbo replied. 

Jimmy paused mid scream to laugh, “Alright, that’s a good one.” He then returned to screaming, “I’ve got two ticks left in my hunger bar before I starve to death. And that’s gonna be on both your consciences now, I hope you know.”

“I’m sure I can convince Etho to part with some snacks when I find him,” Bdubs assured.

“Isn’t Etho a cat, though? At least, that’s what Impulse told me,” Mumbo said, “Why are you looking for him?”

“Because I’m me, Mumbo, that’s why,” Bdubs snapped. 

“Right,” Mumbo said, “Should have expected that. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me I need to collect some redstone down in that ravine. No reason, of course.”

“Of course,” Bdubs played along. He waved as Mumbo pushed past them, black and white spotted tail wagging behind him. He turned back to Jimmy, “Now which way did Etho go?”

Jimmy sighed,  “He went further up, toward Scar’s place, I think. Have you been there yet? Last I saw him he was making some sort of shanty on the lake edge.”

“And that’s where we shall go,” Bdubs announced. 

“I can’t sprint,” Jimmy said, looping an arm around Bdubs’ as a preventative measure. “Don’t you dare leave me behind.”

Bdubs laughed, but acquiesced. Slowing his pace down as they walked through the peaceful meadows. It was strange to see so few mobs and people. Eerie, really. But eventually from the fog appeared a new structure at the lake's edge. A fishing hut made of oak and spruce, already with a nice pier jutting into the water. 

Scar came into view first, arms waving about as he spoke to three other players. Even before he rendered, Bdubs could tell the tallest silhouette to be Etho, most likely standing beside Joel and Scott based on Jimmy’s previous recollection.

“ETHO!” Bdubs shouted, abandoning Jimmy completely to sprint over to him. 

Etho’s head shot up, and there was a soft crinkle around his eyes as they lit up in recognition. “Oh snappers, it’s a Bdubs!” he exclaimed, lifting  his hand to wave at him. 

“Why, hello there, Bdubs,” Scar intercepted, coming in between them before Bdubs could go in for the hug, “Welcome to my dock.”

“Right,” Bdubs nodded. “It’s a nice dock.”

“Thanks, I made it myself. Took all my wood,” Scar continued proudly, his gray and black tail swishing dangerously behind him.

“That’s not even true,” another voice snapped, and Bdubs quickly saw Lizzie coming into view. She was munching on a fish, her small ears folded close to her head, “I made the dock. You only made the shanty.”

“Details,” Scar waved off with his ever present smile. 

“Food!” Bdubs shouted, pointing at the half eaten cod in Lizzie’s hand, “Jimmy needs some! Lizzie can you spare a fish�� for the starving man behind me?”

“Oh, Bdubs,” Joel groaned, his striped tail drooping in disappointment, “You actually helped him?”

“He was supposed to stay in the hole.” Scott clicked his tongue, shaking his head. 

“Dogs, amiright?” Joel offered cheekily. Bdubs couldn’t help but let out a petulant little huff at that. 

By that point Jimmy had finally staggered over to them, doubling over to rest his hands on his knees. “One tick! One tick left and I die before your callous eyes!”

“I’ve got food, Jimmy,” Lizzie assured, digging through her inventory, “But you’ll have to swear your undying loyalty to me first.”

“FINE!” Jimmy agreed. 

“See, this is how you get into so much trouble, Jimmy,” Scott commented, “You agree too quickly to things.”

“The man’s on death’s door, Scott. You can’t blame him,” Scar defended, even as he took out his own cooked cod to eat in front of him.

“To seal the deal I shall give you this!” Lizzie announced, handing over a bone. 

“Am I joke to you?” Jimmy growled, holding the bone, “You expect me to eat this? Just because I’m a dog? Har, har, har, everybody.” He pretended to give the bone a bite, only for his jaw to snap right through it. He blinked, surprised, nostrils flaring and bringing the bone to his mouth to properly chew on it. 

And then he ate it completely. 

“Oh,” Lizzie said, dumbfounded.

Joel started to laugh, “Did he seriously just–”

“There’s a terrible bone joke just waiting to be made here,” Scott snickered, politely covering his smile with his hand. 

Jimmy’s face colored, “Shut up! Just hold on a second,”

“Did it work?” Bdubs asked, intrigued. His floppy ears did their best to perk up.

“It…worked,” Jimmy confirmed, eyes widening 

“So I can punch you now? Thank void I’ve been having to hold back this whole time–” Joel started, pushing his way forward and winding his arm back.

Jimmy screeched, high pitched. Etho’s arm shot out to grab Joel by the scruff of his shirt while the poor golden retriever quickly ran behind Bdubs. “It didn’t FILL me up! I’m not anywhere close to healed yet. Get away from me, Joel!”

Lizzie stared at one of her bones, appraising it. Carefully, she raised it to her mouth and gave it an experimental gnaw. She grimaced.

“Let me try it,” Bdubs pawed at the bone, curiosity having gotten the best of him yet again. He immediately managed to snap it in half with his teeth, despite missing several. His eyes widened, “Huh. It’s not half bad!”

“This must be a dog thing,” Lizzie murmured, putting a finger to her chin, “I mean you can feed bones to wild wolves so it sort of makes sense.”

“Wait a tick,” Jimmy said, straightening up, “Wouldn’t that…Wouldn’t that mean…” He let his voice fade off as he rifled through his inventory to pull out a piece of rotten flesh. 

“Oh that is vile, Jimmy!” Joel snapped. 

Jimmy took a bite. His eyes widened. “NO WAY! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Bdubs tilted his head to the side. Jimmy handed him another piece of the zombie flesh and he took a brave bite. An explosion of flavors hit his tongue all at once. Savory rich barbecue with just a hint of heat at the edges. He could feel himself salivating for more as he gobbled up the supposed rancid meat. “Oh my! This is gourmet!” 

“Are you telling me, I’ve been panicking for the past few hours when I could have eaten any of the 40 pieces of rotten flesh in my inventory!?” Jimmy cried, sinking down to his knees. 

“This is amazing,” Joel snickered, “I’m glad you dragged us out here, Scott.”

“I’m full of great ideas,” Scott preened, flicking his hair back to emphasize the point. His blue gray tail swished behind him for added effect.

“Anyway,” Etho said, finally making his way to stand by his old friend, “Fancy seeing you here, Bdubs.”

“Etho!” Bdubs shouted, remembering the whole point of the day. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your pack?” Etho faux sniffled, turning his head to the side. 

“I came to check on you!” Bdubs insisted, pushing toward him. “Sure, I was led astray momentarily, but here I am in the end! That’s got to count for something, right?”

“I’m not letting more people move in with me,” Joel growled, putting his foot down. 

Etho patted Joels’ shoulder, lifting his other hand to scratch the back of his own neck, “Ya see, Bdubs, after that whole debacle, I kinda joined my own alliance. A Fe-liance.”

“Oh.” Bdubs took a step back, wounded. “Oh, I see.”

“Aww man, Joel,” Etho caved immediately, turning to the tabby cat, “Can’t we keep him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But look at him. How could you say no to that face?”

“Easily,” Joel said. Scott laughed. 

“Gentlemen,” Scar clapped, grabbing everyone's attention once more. Lizzie made a loud ahem, her tail lashing out in warning. Scar quickly amended, “And Lady. Although this has been quite the joyous reunion, I do believe you three came here for business?”

“We came for information, actually,” Scott cut in, taking a step forward, “From Lizzie, really. I hear you’ve got quite the advantage in this game, this time around.”

Lizzie blinked owlishly, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, she’s good,” Bdubs whispered to Jimmy and Etho, who were standing closest to him. 

“That’s the same look you pull half the time,” Etho huffed, crossing his arms.

“Game recognizes game,” Bdubs nodded. “Did I say that right? Gem taught me that one.”

“Joel told me everything,” Scott said bluntly. Joel’s ears pinned back, betrayed. 

Lizzie scowled, turning to her husband, “Joel! You had one job!”

“I didn’t know it was a secret!” Joel snapped, tabby tail lashing behind him.

“Of course it was a secret!” Lizzie huffed. She crossed her arms, glaring up at Scott. “Well, you already know, then. No fall damage.”

“No fall damage?” Etho repeated, eyes widening a fraction. 

“At all?” Bdubs added. “Well, wouldn’t that be nifty.”

“Interesting,” Scott continued tapping his chin, “What else do you know?”

Lizzie glowered, “Maybe that’s all I know.”

“Oh, come on now,” Scott started, his tone lilting as he bent forward to get closer to Lizzie’s face,  “You expect me to believe the great LDShadowlady spent all of her imperial days as a cat and learned only one thing?”

“Oh, Scott,” Lizzie said, turning her head shyly to the side, “You’re gonna make me blush.”

Joel visibly scowled. 

“Anybody got blocks?” Etho asked, “I gotta try this no fall damage thing.”

“Oh, it’s amazing Etho,” Joel egged on, eager to latch onto any distraction from his wife’s annoyance at him, “I went all the way to the height limit. You saw!”

“I did see,” Etho agreed with a light laugh. 

“Lizzie’s got cobble in her chest,” Jimmy pointed out, uncrouching from the chest he’d been rifling through.. 

Lizzie whirled around at him, “Jimmy! I saved your life and you’re going through my things?”

Etho grabbed two stacks easily, turning towards Bdubs, “What do you say, wanna give it a shot with me?”

Bdubs reddened, but he took the offered stack, “Oh, well, when you ask so nicely how could I possibly refuse?” Then he pocketed the stack and put his hands on his hips, “Are you CRAZY? I’m no cat! You think me a FOOL?”

Etho cackled, “Just keeping you on your toes, is all.” He wiped at his eye, and hopped up onto a block, “I’m still gonna check it out for myself, though.” 

Bdubs watched with growing wariness as Etho ascended upwards. He could hear the bickering around him start to die down as all eyes veered toward the white cat in the sky. 

“You know, this has me thinking,” Scar started, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “We could be a whole traveling circus. Think of all the trapeze arts! No safety nets. It’d be spectacular. People would pay a fortune to see it. And there would be absolutely no clowns.”

“Shh,” Joel shushed, “He’s gonna jump. Jump into my arms Etho!!” he extended out his hands, only to be nudged in the side by both Scott and Lizzie adding up to one solid tick of damage against him. 

Etho did jump and, without a drop of water,  landed on his feet before them. His tail pointed straight out for balance and his own eyes were wide like even he couldn’t believe it. Then he turned toward his audience and asked, “Did that make you jump?”

“Oh, BROTHER,” Bdubs lamented, rolling his eyes. Hopefully, his lambasting would cover up the jealousy and admiration festering just underneath the surface. 

“I didn’t go that far up,” Etho admitted sheepishly after a moment, stepping away from his stack, “But you know what, Bdubs? I bet you could water bucket clutch from that height.”

“No way,” Bdubs said.

“Perhaps we should change the saying from scaredy cat to scaredy dog,” Joel goaded. 

“Good one,” Scott replied flatly. 

“It was NOT,” Jimmy snapped, “Don’t listen to them Bdubs! You don’t need to prove nothin’.”

“Of course I’m not doing something that stupid,” Bdubs assured. 

“I’ll give you this saddle,” Etho offered. 

“Alright,” Bdubs sighed, pulling out the stack of cobblestone and starting to hop up into the sky. He ignored Jimmy’s squawking and Joel’s cackling, instead focusing on not slipping off his precarious tower. As he reached the halfway point he realized very quickly how stupid he was being. “Committing to the bit never did me wrong before,” he murmured to himself. He blinked and then snapped aloud, “Except for every time it did! What the heck am I doing up here!?”

He stared down at his audience and pursed his lips. He couldn’t mine down to them now. He’d never live it down. He’d bring great shame not only to himself but to all of dogkind. Plus, he really did want a saddle. 

“You’re a professional, Bdubs,” he reminded himself, shaking off his nerves and squaring his shoulders. He pulled out his bucket of water, counted to three, then counted to three again, and then finally psyched himself out enough to just jump at the number two. 

BDoubleO100 fell from a high place. ImpulseSV  > OH NO! IntheLittleWood > First Blood TangoTek > Jimmy you can breathe now! ZombieCleo > I let you out of my sight for FIVE MINUTES

Bdubs opened his eyes at spawn and let out a frustrated scream. He stomped around trying to let the anger out. Oh, he was going to murder Etho, his eternal alliance be damned. He started hoofing it to the otherside of the lake, lamenting his lack of horse. His lack of anything. Especially with the sun already starting to set. It wouldn’t be long until night befell them. 

“Bdubs! Over here!” he heard Jimmy shout. He turned his head to see that both Jimmy and Lizzie were running toward him, meeting him about halfway. 

“We grabbed your stuff,” Jimmy said quickly as he started chucking items out of his pockets and onto the ground. 

“I gave Etho quite the tongue lashing too,” Lizzie assured, “Put the fear of the void in ‘im for messing with my dogs like that.”

“Your dogs?” Jimmy questioned. 

“I gave you each a bone, didn’t I?” Lizzie reminded him. 

“I’ve got a bone to pick with a certain someone,” Bdubs interrupted, pushing past them after accounting for his relatively small amount of things.  He sprinted the rest of the way and in no time he found exactly who he was looking for. 

“ETHO, WHAT THE HECK!” Bdubs shouted, glaring as the white cat seemed to curl in on himself nervously. His white ears pinned so close to his head they became lost in his unruly hair.

“I swear I was gonna put down some water as a safety last minute,” Etho muttered, not looking him in the eye. He rummaged through his inventory and pulled out a horse saddle, “You still want the saddle?”

“I don’t want your BLOOD SADDLE!” Bdubs bellowed, stomping his foot for added effect. “I want my life back!”

“Uh,” Etho started, glancing over to his alliance for help. 

Joel stepped in easily enough, “Sorry, Bdubs, we don’t speak dog.” He grabbed hold of Etho’s arm, pulling him away, “Etho! Scott! Uh, we should go work on the base! That isn’t here!”

“Right,” Etho agreed as he allowed himself to be dragged, “We’ve got a tree to build.”

“You’re even building trees without me, now?” Bdubs called out, “I hate you!”

“Quite the tragic break up we’re witnessing, huh boys,” Lizzie commented, shaking her head solemnly where she stood between Jimmy and Scar. 

“What, you and Joel?” Scar blinked. 

“What? No! Bdubs and Etho!” Lizzie snapped. 

“But you’re sticking with me right? Not following your husband out there? I take loyalty very seriously here, Lizzie,” Scar warned. 

“Of course!” Lizzie waved off, “That man’s dead to me.” She ignored the strangled cry of I heard that from Joel, instead giving Scar a bright cheery smile. He echoed it and the atmosphere seemed to grow a bit tenser, enough for Jimmy to take a wary step back. 

“Timmy, where are you going?” Scar asked, turning towards him.

“Yeah, Jimmy, you’re one of us now, remember?” Lizzie cautioned. 

Jimmy swallowed, “Uh, right, about that. You know, you two being cats, and us being dogs–”

“The circus doesn’t discriminate,” Scar waved off. 

“You took the bone, Jimmy,” Lizzie reminded him sternly.

“Erm, Bdubs, what do you think?” Jimmy tried, turning desperately to the silent pug still watching the trio retreating in the distance.  

Bdubs ignored him entirely, instead screaming out “WAIT!” at the top of his lungs. 

Jimmy blanched as he watched his fellow dog sprint away from him, calling out a desperate plea of, “Don’t leave me here alone!”

Bdubs caught up to the cat trio easily enough. He stood right in front of Etho, who still looked too sheepish to meet his gaze. With his sternest glare he demanded, “Give me the saddle.”

Etho gave a nervous chuckle but handed over the item all the same. “So…we’re good now? No hard feelings?”

“Nope,” Bdubs answered with a cheery smile, “You’re absolutely dead to me!” He then swiveled round, racing back to  join Lizzie, Scar and Jimmy where he left them. 

“Oh, thank the void you didn’t abandon me,” Jimmy sighed out in relief. 

“Abandon you? No! Never!” Bdubs assured, throwing an arm around the taller dog, “We’re bone brothers now.”

Lizzie cheered and Scar gave his own approving cackle as he swept them all in for a group hug. From within the inner circle, Bdubs continued, “Alright, new family, here’s the deal. I’ve got intel I can share about a whole host of these TRAITORS on this server.”

Still, even as he shared all he knew about the locations of the other players and their species, he couldn’t help glancing behind his back every now and then, just in case. And each time his eyes met only the empty landscape, he felt the cold wrap around his heart just a little bit tighter.

[agathasvidal]

below the cut is a short theory/deep dive into how i believe agatha all along is going to end between agatha and rio. it is inspired by one theory that is doing the rounds, and is the one i originally theorised myself after watching episode six last week, but i wanted to depict the how and the why of why agathario is important to the show, and why i don’t think a ‘final battle’ will be clearly cut between a ‘good’ and ‘bad’ side

like many others, i think it’s reasonable to predict that rio is there to take billy, but she does not actually know who billy is because of the sigil. small things to back this up include:

1. agatha asking rio why she’s there in episode one and rio replying “my job”. agatha is like boom she is here to take someone away, and it can’t be me, and there’s only one new person who’s recently appeared in my life so who the f is this kid why is he important

2. rio saying “did you hide evidence?” to agatha. ironically, someone is being hidden in the closet from her…

3.. rio telling lilia “go on tell them what you saw” in the beginning of episode five. we can infer that rio knows that lilia knows who rio is. perhaps we could go one further, and suggest that rio knows lilia helped hide whoever she is looking for, and is almost taunting lilia in an ‘i really do see it all’ way

3. agatha’s “don’t” to rio in episode four, when teen is injured. it’s obvious, and has been spoken about so much, but i really think this is a moment of confirmation from agatha that rio is there for him, and she needs to beat rio in discovering who he is. it’s confirmation that the two are working against each other, but it is so hidden between their flirtation and tension.

4. there’s been a big debate about why rio would be a witch, whilst she’s also *potentially* death, but i think it was important for the show to portray rio as a witch so the audience know that a sigil would also work on rio, so she cannot discover teen’s identity. why else would they make it such a big deal about sigils only working on witches?

5. the significant of the no. 3 and agatha/rio in the show all hinting at the cycle of life, birth and death: maiden, mother, crone; agatha’s shirt in ep 5; the clocks being on 3.33 when rio arrives in ep 1, the amount of rabbits we’ve seen (3 rabbits/hares represent birth-life-death cycle in christianity and egyptian hieroglyphs)

SO,

to agatha, seeing rio means something is about to be taken away from her. i think that is their entire dynamic within this show, and their entire relationship in general, after the loss of nic. agatha is presented with rio which means she must work out what rio is there to take. that’s why she suspected teen was someone important, because rio was there for either her or teen. teen had to be one of two people. that’s why agatha viscerally protested the idea of coming close to death in the first trial. because she does not want confirmation that rio is there to take this boy from her. she does not even know who he is, but he is important enough for rio to involve herself in agatha’s life once more. he is important enough for rio to go out of her way and resurface old feelings that they both know, the other should not be resurfacing. he is important enough to be seeked out.

by rio taking away billy, she not only repeats her and agatha’s history once more, but she completely takes away the possibility from agatha that she could ever find a way to be reunited with nicky. agatha needs billy, like she needed wanda, to end the quest she’d spent centuries on. rio is not JUST taking another child away from agatha, she is completely breaking the entire, vicious cycle of longing and hope for the son they lost.

i think that rio thinks that is for the best. for her agatha. to stop this endless chase for something rio knows she cannot have. rio is doing it out of love, even though it tears them apart more than anything else ever could. that is the lesson that agatha needs to be taught: the cycle of birth, life and death. (yes i could then start hypothesising about agatha dying, but i think it’s been overdone)

so that is our potential final battle. a battle between death and life. they are made for each other, but that is ultimately what tears them apart. one spends their life bound to defying death, and the other does not get life, but is bound to upholding it.

agatha is Death’s life. but all death can do to life, is take from it. in the end, rio will always be agatha’s death. they have always been doomed.

[no-gorms]

Steve/Tony, Hanahaki, UST, open ending

It is an unfortunate fact of Tony’s history that he’s familiar with the longing disease. Lung gardening. Hanahaki, or whatever other euphemisms they’ve come up with lately to describe it.

Naming conventions aside, Tony’s knows well enough what the affliction feels like – the warning sting at the back of the throat that’s followed by the pressure of something more personal, more vicious than mere phlegm. The body’s breathing apparatus has decided to betray its owner, and Tony’s had it enough times that he could be embarrassed, if he were the sort of person to be embarrassed by that kind of thing.

A cough, a heave, and then petals are cascading in a disgusting shower onto the tabletop. At least the tabletop is glass, which is easy to clean, and Tony’s reflexes were fast enough that he’d pushed Hill’s paper folder of printouts clear away.

Most people would be grateful to have their symptoms manifest in privacy. Those who do not, get used to the shocked silence that follows.

“Oh no,” comes Bruce’s voice from Tony’s left. Quiet, worried.

“Maybe—” Natasha clears her throat, businesslike, “—we can take five?”

“Ah, shit.” Tony straightens up and dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief. He eyes the pile of petals with a scowl, noting that they’re bright-colored blooms, as if he’s twenty years old all over again and doesn’t know any better. “Fantastic. Just what we needed today.”

“Yeah, we can take five—” Clint starts.

“As if we don’t have enough to do.” Tony sighs. “Goddammit, Steve.”

“What?” Steve says.

Being an old hat at surviving Hanahaki also means that Tony knows the faces he’ll see when he looks around the table. There’ll be surprise, concern, empathy, and discomfort in various combinations, and Tony gets all of that and then some, because the Avengers have so far rolled with a number of far greater inconveniences with grace.

“Look.” Tony takes one last cleaning swipe of his face with the handkerchief and drops it on the pile. “It’s not your fault, I’m not blaming you, but you gotta step up on this if we’re gonna make the flight out in time to follow Thor’s lead.”

“I, what—” Steve blinks twice, quick and robotic, before those same eyes widen.

Ah, so this is a surprise to Steve, which might be even more irritating than the Hanahaki itself. Tony could try to be half-full-cup about it and take it from the angle that this means that he hadn’t been too ridiculous openly about his burgeoning crush on the good Captain. But that would take more effort than he’s willing to expend.

It was supposed to be just admiration. Idle feelings to be nurtured like a baby bird of a side hobby. Good fucking going, Stark. What had Steve even been doing to make it tip over? Squinting at Natasha’s slide with that stoic yet judgmental purse of the mouth that usually has Tony internally clapping his hands with glee?

That could do it.

“Yeah, I know, it’s stupid,” Tony says, waving it off. “You don’t even like me as a human being, but I’m a masochist that way sometimes. Good news is, I’m also fickle, so it probably won’t be that hard to make me hate you. By this afternoon, hopefully? Or whenever you’re ready, I’m sure you’ll figure something out, but anyway this is still…” He eyes the pile of petals. “This is way early stages, we’ll have weeks, but the sooner the better.”

“What do you mean I don’t like you as a human being?” Steve says, as though that’s the most important part of what Tony just said.

“You need to be mean to me, okay?” Tony says.

Bafflement animates Steve’s normally poster-handsome face. Bafflement, and then offense, as though Tony just asked him to kick puppies, which Tony would never do, and anyway Tony isn’t a puppy. Steve can be mean, sometimes by accident and sometimes on purpose, and those glimpses of candid moments are so rare – for Tony, at least, since the others know Steve far better than Tony ever could – that Tony has and does treasure every single one.

Unfortunately, this thought sends a wave of affection rolling through Tony’s brain, which is followed by a wave of petals rolling out of Tony’s mouth. And this time they do destroy Hill’s folder of printouts.

He recovers faster this time, which may or may not be helped by Bruce patting his back gently.

“Sorry, correction.” Tony wheezes through an inhale. “You need to be mean to me, and not in a sexy way.”

“What—?” Steve starts.

“Stark means that you need to be cruel to him to stunt his feelings for you,” Thor says, nodding solemnly. “But to not use language that he’d find appealing. ‘Tis a fine line, indeed, I understand the challenge there.”

“Thor,” Bruce says.

“What?” Thor says.

“Right,” Clint says, “I think we should not be here for this.”

“We were finishing up anyway.” Tony stands up and shoves all the petals into the folder that will be going into the trash pronto. “I need to do a health scan but you guys can keep going with that entry route, and let me know what you’ve decided before suit up, yeah?“

“Tony,” Steve says. “You’re—that’s dangerous—”

“Yes, yes, I am aware,” Tony says irritably. “Romanoff, have my back?”

“We do face death on the regular,” Natasha says. “This is manageable.”

���See.” Tony points at Steve. “I’ll work on my part, but you have to do yours. Mean. You can do it, I believe in you. Just maybe… don’t use Howard?” He sighs. “No, you should probably use Howard. Anyway, I’ll be in lab, give me a buzz if there’s anything.”

Tony goes with a careless wave over his shoulder, and waits until he’s out of the room and the door is closed before he lets himself wince.

Could’ve gone worse, actually.

[elsweetheart]

saw rin @coeurify write some roommate!abby so i decided to write some too cos i’m feeling #inspired

slutty!roommate!abby short fic / drabble below the cut 💋 minors dni & don’t ask for part 2

It’s not like you were dating. Just living together — roommates, that’s all it was. A shabby and cozy little apartment, tucked away in a nice enough area. There’d be a new problem each week— AC busted, closet door swinging off, flickering light bulb, and you were lucky enough to live with a 6ft blonde walking talking ‘Don’t call the plumber / electrician / whatever, I got it’ machine. Things worked out pretty well.

The two of you were close. Almost too close. Your friendship bordered on simmering sexual tension whilst always keeping it just respectful and distanced enough for neither of you to make a move. You liked to think she enjoyed it, keeping you just out of reach like this. She knew you wanted her, but where was the fun in giving in?

Abby got around. It was no rumour that she had a history of being the community strap, and whilst her crazy days had died off a little — you’d still be awoken once or twice a fortnight to the sound of a new girl with the same shrill moan, headboard thumping against the wall. All you could do was sulk, snuggle down further into your bed covers and will yourself to sleep with your stomach twisting in jealousy at the thought of Abby curled next to someone else for the night.

The two of you liked to have ‘bonding night’, you know — watch a movie, drink wine, eat snacks, sometimes a face mask would make an appearance. Abby had insisted on these nights when you’d first moved in together, so that the two of you could get to know eachother, and since then it had become a tradition every Friday night that the neither of you would miss for the world. Infact, it became such an important tradition that plans were often rescheduled around it, dates postponed, ubers cancelled. Just you, your good friend Abby, and a bottle of something pink and tangy.

“See, I’d let you pick the movie we watch more often but… everytime you do the movie sucks.” She was muffled by the popcorn stuffed into her cheek like a squirrel whilst she scrolled with the remote for an appropriate choice. Abby had real audacity to look this good tonight. She was spread out on the couch, greeny-grey tshirt so tight it was ridiculous, hair down and a little damp from her shower, black sweatpants on (and fuzzy socks, not relevant to her hotness but you couldn’t not mention them.) It took you a second to reply as you pulled your legs beneath you from your curled up position on the chair, subconsciously tucking yourself smaller.

“They don’t suck. You don’t give them a chance! You just talk over it the whole time and ramble about how bad it is.” You shrug defensively, not seeing the way her eyes flickered over to you and lingered with an adoring smile at the way your forehead scrunched and lips pushed forward in an irritable pout. She looked away when you glanced.

“Maybe they don’t suck but they’re always the same. Always a rom com with bad jokes and like 10 minute sex scenes. Is that why you like ‘em, perv?” She nudges you with her spread knee, jostling you which makes your eyes widen slightly — face prickly and hot.

“You think I only watch movies for the sex scenes? Get your mind out of the gutter.” You snicker, fingernails picking at the blanket because, no — it’s not the reason, but she didn’t have to bring that up.

“Hey, I’m not the one picking dirty movies.” Her voice drags in that flirty and sarcastic way that makes your thighs press together. She always did this. It was your thing, you could say. She winds you up, takes the conversation down a sexual route and you just sit there and take it, always scared to make a move. You just couldn’t bring yourself to, what if she was just making fun of you? You live together, if you misread things there was potential for some major awkwardness.

“If I wanted to watch something dirty I’d just… look at porn or something.” You try and combat her teasing, but it comes out stuttery and awkward and you still can’t look at it. Her smirk deepens, intrigue washing over her. You hear her put the remote down and the scrolling on screen halts as she gives you her full attention. Busying yourself to buy more time, you reach forward and take your wine glass — taking a long sip.

“What, ‘you telling me you don’t watch porn now?”

You turn a little, giving her a look. One that read as ‘you’re not seriously asking me that.’

“Do you?”

“I don’t have to. I have sex.”

You scoff, turning your body toward her now with a finger pointed ready to defend yourself.

“I have sex.”

“Oh yeah?” You hate the way she’s smiling and tilting her head.

“It’s just… been a while.”

She sighs casually, leaning back into her seat.

“Same, to be honest.”

“I literally heard some girl screaming your name like two weeks ago.” Your eyes are practically touching your brain from how hard they roll and she laughs cheekily with her tongue pinched between her teeth, a cute roll forming beneath her chin from the position of her head. Your stomach flips.

“Exactly, two weeks ago. I’m trying not to do that so much anymore. Sleep around. Gonna delete the dating apps.” She clarifies, a look of dignity in her expression as she announces this making you narrow your eyes sceptically.

“And why is this? Who is this new and improved Abby?”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “I dunno. Just don’t think I should anymore. Think I’d rather be having meaningful sex with one person now. You know, the type where you press your foreheads together and tell her you love her when you make her cum and stuff.” She just says it so casually, like it doesn’t make your stomach bottom out into your cunt at the thought of being that one person, whilst simultaneously making your heart stammer at the idea of the person being someone else.

“Y—yeah. Me too I suppose. That’s why I’m just waiting.”

You feel that your response is put together and mature enough for the conversation to come to a natural end so that you can continue bickering over what movie to watch before you embarrass yourself, but she stares at you anyway — contemplative and analytical.

“You’ve been waiting a while, huh?” Abby talks softer, sympathetic and her fingers that were resting along the back of the couch reach a little further and stroke your shoulder briefly. You can’t tell if it’s kind or patronising. Because of this you purse your lips with a shrug.

“Yeah. Haven’t had sex since my ex-girlfriend was still around so that’s…”

“A year and half.” She raises her brows and you mirror her, surprised at how fast she knew the answer. “You’d just broken up when you moved in here.”

“Oh… yeah, that’s right. I suppose that is a long time.”

She breathes out her nose, long and thoughtful before turning her body back to the TV. You do too, because you think it’s over — but the conversation is never quite over until Abby says so.

“Well, if you ever need your fix you know where my door is. You deserve to feel good too.”

She’s kidding, right?

Like, that’s not a serious offer. It can’t be. Because if it were you’d be on her bed sprawled out with two thick fingers up your cunt and not here on the couch getting wine drunk and horny. Your eyelashes are kissing your brow at how wide your stretch your eyes for a moment as you stare ahead, saying nothing. What do you say? How do you seize this glorious potential opportunity without coming across as totally desperate and ruining things? She is kidding, she has to be.

You open your mouth, maybe just to let out a meek ‘really?’ for some clarification, but she speaks again — totally ripped from the moment. “Why do I keep getting recommended only Lindsey Lohan movies? That’s you on my Netflix account right? I swear, I’ll change my password.” She chuckles, like she didn’t just offer to pity fuck you, and you weren’t just considering take her up on it. You shake yourself free of the moment and you don’t talk about it again.

Abby really did stop sleeping around, and you knew that from the lack of moans waking you up in the night. You could have been imagining things, but she’d gotten flirtier too. Wearing tighter fit clothes around her muscles, making sure to always squeeze behind you in the kitchen with her hands on your hips, chest practically to your back with a low ‘scuse me, sorry’ in your ear as she slips by, the lot of it. You felt you were running up the AC, constantly trying to fan yourself off after she worked you up. It was two fridays since she made the offer, and you decided now was the time you’d act on it. You poured yourself a glass of pink wine and waited on the couch, getting in a few gulps before she arrived for confidence.

You drank the whole glass, and she still hadn’t arrived home. Abby had never missed a ‘bonding night’ since moving in, and now she wasn’t showing up at all? No text, no apology, just total absence. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and pissed off, drinking half the bottle before curling into the couch and falling asleep.

You awoke to the sound of giggles and jangling keys, and your bleary eyes cracked open — flickering to the clock on the wall ticking quietly. 2:54AM. You were about to lift your head, sit up on the couch and call out for Abby, questioning where she’d been, why she missed bonding night. You were halted by the sound of two voices, only one belonging to your roommate.

“Shh, gotta be quiet or you’re gonna wake my roommate, baby. Rooms this way.” Abby, and the tottering sound of high heels behind her. You felt sick. Why did you feel so sick?

You close your eyes again when Abby’s bedroom door clicks shut, feeling your lashes grow damp as you pull a cushion over your head — trying to block the inevitable moans and will yourself back to sleep. This wasn’t the first time Abby had come home late after hanging out with friends and found you sleeping on the couch having wanted to hang out, but you’d usually atleast receive her hushed apologies as she lifts you and carries you bridal style to your own room where she’d leave you as you mutter a goodnight half awake to her. She’d never missed bonding night though, because that was off limits.

The next three days you avoided her. You felt more stupid the longer time passed, because you actually didn’t have much reason to be angry. Yes, she missed your Friday tradition but life happens, right? You were certain if it were you she’d be totally fine with it. But it would never be you, because you’d never miss it. It was a vicious thought cycle.

When you’d ignored her on the way out your door for work, she’d put it down to you not hearing her or maybe being in too much of a rush. When you’d come home, you’d spent the evening in your room, only emerging into the kitchen to heat up some noodles before retreating. She figured you were tired. When you’d shrugged her off the next day when she brought home your favourite type of chocolate — she knew something had to be up. She couldn’t work out if it was her, or you were just going through it at first, but when you’d snapped at her on day three — it became crystal clear.

“Can you stop fucking using my towel?” You emerge in the kitchen, and honestly — for the first second before she registers the anger, Abby is just relieved to hear your voice. She turns around from the counter slowly, sucking some salad dressing off her finger from her lunch she was preparing. You looked adorable — still damp, oversized pyjama t-shirt and sleep shorts, comical cartoony oversized slippers on your feet. Despite your appearance, your expression was as serious as ever, brow pinched in stress.

“Sorry.” She shrugs simply, because you’ve never had a problem with her borrowing your towel in all the time you’d lived together.

“Like, can I just come home and not have you all in my stuff?” You huff, going to walk away but she frowns, following you like a big buff lost puppy.

“Hey, hey? What is this? It’s just a towel.” She nearly whines, because why are you being like this? Your usual sweet soft self has gone grainy and abrasive on her and she didn’t like it. You were shutting her out.

“Whatever Abby, I’m just telling you.” You back down a little now, taking a few steps and she gently takes your arm in her large hand. She’s always gentle, aware of how much stronger she is than you.

“You’ve been off lately, you wanna talk about it? You know I’m here for you, right?”

You don’t look at her.

“Yeah, here for me and every other damn girl that walks through your door. Let me go.”

You don’t mean to say it, because God is it telling — you want the ground to swallow you up whole and you scrunch your face in embarrassment as you walk away, shoulders tense and face all hot. You were not this jealous, petty person. She missed your tradition, it was her fault.

Abby gave you your space for the rest of the day, and by evening you’d wound down — anger subsiding as you plonked down on the couch and curled up sulkily, just feeling humiliated and sad. You missed her.

You stared ahead when you heard her bedroom door click open, heavy slow footsteps approaching the living room along the smooth wooden floor. You don’t look, but you can see her standing there at the side, looking at you sadly, henley top and braid adorned.

“Hey.”

Her voice is smooth and low and warm like hot chocolate and you want to bathe in it. You pull the blanket over your thighs tighter over you.

“Hi.”

It was truly an honest mistake on Abby’s part. She’d woken up filled with regret (and a steaming hang over) beside the girl with lilac-y platinum hair, stretching and muttering out a ‘Happy friday’ to break the tension. The girl cracked open an eye with a tired smile and rasped “It’s Saturday, sleepyhead.” making Abby’s heart drop after a beat. Friday’s. They were your days. She was sure you wouldn’t mind missing one out though, you were always kind and gracious like that. The whole bonding night was Abby’s idea after all, it probably wasn’t all that important to you, right? She reassured herself before politely kicking out her bed-mate.

Abby slowly sits down on the couch beside you, and the weight in the room shifts like it always did when she’d join you. She held such a presence that the air would feel thicker and warmer the closer she got, almost to the point where it could be stifling. “I’m sorry I missed bonding night. Manny dragged me out to get drunk and I swear, I thought it was a Thursday—”

You cut her off, which surprised her.

“I thought you were done with bringing girls home.”

She’s silenced for a few seconds, staring at your profile. You’re beautiful even when you’re mad.

“Why does it matter?” It’s soft, like a whisper because she doesn’t want it to come off as defensive or rude like it potentially could do. She genuinely wants to know. Why were you so mad about it?

You were all tense and huffy when you reply and it makes Abby’s heart clench, just wanting to squeeze you.

“Because… because don’t offer something to someone if you don’t mean it. I’m not… I thought we… ugh, whatever. I’m not having this conversation.” You made a mental note to jump back online after this conversation and search for somewhere new to live.

Abby thinks back, and it doesn’t take her long to land on the thought of her telling you she’d be more than happy to take care of you if you needed some relief. Her shoulders relaxed in realisation and brow untensed, and she reached out to stroke a thumb along your arm, body twisted to you.

“Okay, I understand.” She soothes and you want to tear up, maybe in embarrassment or maybe from her tone of voice making you feel small and cared for. You attempt to hold off and fight the feeling. “I thought you weren’t interested. Thought I’d made it weird so I just figured… if I bring someone home things could be normal again. I dunno, it doesn’t make sense now I say it out loud.” She sighs, shaking her head with her eyes closed and brows raised at her own stupidity. You glance at her, shy and still hot-faced and look down at your lap. “Just tell me how you feel. I think… I want what you want. Just need to hear it, sweetheart.”

She can’t make you say it, not after the embarrassment you’ve already faced. So, you settle on another complaint to tell your story. “You don’t know how hard it is… being so pent up and just hearing you… hearing them get to enjoy… you. I wanna feel like that.” You feel pathetic, but your stomach curls anyway at the feeling of her coarse hand sliding up your arm and shoulder to cup the back of your neck, aiding you in looking at her.

“Yeah? I’m sorry. I think you just feel… left out.” She cooes and you preen into her touch, shifting in your seat a little. You say nothing, just let out a little air from your nose. She shuffles closer to you, bringing her warmth. “You forgive me yet? You want me to help you forgive me?” Her other hand fiddles with the blanket on your lap for permission to slide it away, and she’s so close now that you can sigh and lean your head on her strong shoulder, nodding silently. She pulls away the pink fluffy cover up and rests a hand on your bare thigh.

“You know I’d never miss bonding night. ‘D never neglect you on purpose. You’re still my number one, yeah?” She strokes the skin upwards, constantly craning her head down to look at you, watchful of your expression. “I didn’t know you wanted this, sweet girl. I would have taken care of you like you need ages ago if I knew.”

She drops a kiss to your temple and you shudder, your own arm wrapping around her strong bicep to cling to it as your thighs fall open wider. “Yeah? Can I?” She’s quiet and gentle, and you whimper when she cups your hot cunt through flimsy pyjama shorts.

She rubs a sloppy circle over the material and you whine, the sound of wetness already present from your quantity, filling the quiet room. She’d barely touched you, and you were already soaked — it was astounding. “God, you are pent up aren’t you? I’m sorry.” She chuckles in a sympathetic way, free hand coming to smooth down your furrowed brow. Abby stares you down when she slips your thin shorts to the side, fingers slipping and sliding through your drenched folds to circle your clit making you moan softly. “I know.” She hums, eyes on your lips. “You want a kiss? Will that help?”

You can’t talk, so you just nod and she brings you in whilst she languidly rubs your clit, gently sucking on your bottom lip and pressing pecks to it before finally rolling her tongue over yours. With this, she’s pressing a middle finger against your hole and easing it inside, curling up to press against your tight upper wall. You cry out a little against her mouth and she shushes you. “There you go, so fucking tight huh? S’been that long?” She grinds the ball of her hand against your clit and you hump against it, the waistband of your shorts hugging her wrist as the shape of her hand moves up and down.

“Just—needed this.” You struggle, your warm breath heating her lips making her lick over them.

“I know. Gotta use your words next time, let me know yeah? If you said the word I wouldn’t have been sleeping around.” She presses a kiss to the centre of your forehead, lips lingering there as you let out a string of moans and embarrassed pants at the sound of your own wetness against her finger. She slides in another, stretching you.

“Not gonna last long. S’been too long.” You cry and she nods, free hand sliding beneath your lower back when you arch it off the couch.

“I know. S’okay baby.”

When you cum, Abby presses her forehead to yours.

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag, @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba @heartstringsduet @carlossreaders 💝

This is from my upcoming TK's birthday fic, "The December Baby"

“TK! TK!” Jonah exclaimed, like TK was halfway down the block and not holding Jonah in his arms. “Sit with me!” He hit TK’s shoulders with both hands. “TK! Sit with me! Sit with me TK!”

“Jonah, easy,” Enzo said, reaching over and taking one of his son’s hands. “Jonah Frederick. Soft touches. And what do we say when we want something?”

“Daddy,” Jonah whined.

“Jo-nah,” Enzo said, imitating his son’s tone. “What’s our magic word? Can you show TK and Carlos your good manners?”

“We want to see them,” Carlos added. “We’re very big on manners in Texas”.

Jonah gave the biggest sigh at the utter inconvenience of having to use manners before he started stroking TK’s face. “Pwease!” Jonah exclaimed. “TK sit me with pwease!”

“I would love to sit with you, Jonah,” TK smiled as he opened the back door to the car. “And what good asking that was!”

“TK, you want help with the carseat?” Enzo asked as TK loaded Jonah into the backseat.

“I can figure it out I think” TK grunted. “Which does… ow!” He ducked out of the back seat and moved to let Enzo adjust the straps, shaking his hand with the bright red finger he pinched.  “Yeah, I should have let you do it”.

“It’s okay,” Enzo said as he buckled Jonah in. “It’s a learning curve”.

“Let me see that”. Carlos said, taking TK’s right hand and kissing his red thumb.

“Thank you baby,” TK smiled, kissing Carlos’s cheek before he joined his little brother in the backseat of the car.

“TK got owie?” Jonah asked when TK slid in next to him.

“Just a little one,” TK shook his head with a smile. “It’s okay”.

“I make it better?” Jonah asked. TK smiled and scooted close enough so Jonah could kiss his hand. “Jonah, you did it!” TK exclaimed. “Now it doesn’t hurt anymore!”

“Jonah, you keeping an eye on your brother?” Enzo asked as Carlos got in the passenger seat.

“Okay, Daddy,” Jonah nodded, taking this job seriously as he started chattering away to TK.

“Enzo, I gotta say,” Carlos said as they started to make their way out of airport parking, “Jonah talks really well. Both of my sisters have three kids each, and I don’t remember anyone speaking in sentences when they had just turned two”.

“Thank you,” Enzo said, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses. “He's definitely a chatterbox. Truthfully, I can’t take too much credit. The boys’ mother, before she…” He cleared his throat. “When she was still here, right after Jonah was born, and we were shuttling him between our houses. She told me to make sure I was talking to him as much as I could; that it would help his verbal skills develop”.

“Huh”. Carlos nodded. “Was it just baby talk?”

“Not exclusively,” Enzo said as they waited to turn right. “Some of it was, but Gwyn had told me it was most important to be talking directly to him. Which, after we lost her,” he sighed, “was a lot of this shouldn’t have happened, I can’t do this, is there precedent to get delivery bikes banned from the city altogether. But it seems to have paid off,” he added, looking in the rearview mirror, where TK was nodding as Jonah told him a story. “I have him in daycare twice a week now, and whenever I pick him up, the teachers always tell me he’s coming for their job; he always wants to greet and say hi to anyone who comes in the room”.

No pressure tagging - I tag @anewkindofme @laneybishop89 @nancys-braids @kiankiwi @firstprince-history-huh @the-flaming-nightmare @eclectic-sassycoweyes and anyone else who wants to do it - open tag 🫶

[autolenaphilia]

If your main argument against any proposal is “it’s bad because it will destroy existing culture, tradition and religion”, you are not a leftist, you are a conservative. The very definition of a conservative, in fact. And yet I see people who self-identiy as left-wing radicals who get angry whenever an actual communist criticizes religion or proposes family abolition. Even something as minor as suggesting abolishing circumcision, you know the radical idea that we shouldn’t literally cut off parts of the genitals on babies, is enough to bring them out.

Frankly if I were asked to define conservatism, “Preserving tradition, culture and religion is more important than the welfare of the people who are oppressed by such instittuions (such as women, queer people and children)” is as succinct and accurate a definition of its main value I can make. And like if you hear a proposal of family abolition for example, and react with what’s essentially a screed about how evil soulless leftist communist queer feminist globohomo are trying to destroy sacred culture, religion, family and traditions, I’ll view you as a reactionary.

Reactionary anti-imperialism

And I don’t care if you are trying to put such reactionary opinions in “anti-imperialist” terms, and calling actual communists “cultural imperialists” and “cultural christians.” All such accusations reveal is just a deeply idealistic understanding of what imperialism is on the side of accuser, a lack of understanding of the material basis of actual imperialism. Imperialism for these people is not caused by capitalism, but by ideology, and apparently the imperialist ideology is people thinking some things are good (like socialism) and other things are bad (like misogyny).

This “anti-imperialism of fools” is not based on the theory of imperialism made by Rosa Luxemburg, or even Lenin, Mao or Hobson for all their faults, but Henning Eichberg’s neo-fascist concept of ethnopluralism. The central value of such anti-imperialism is the ethnonationalist creed that “Every ethnic group has the right to preserve its traditional culture in its own territory.” I’ve complained about this before. This kind of anti-imperialism is what happens when you just don’t defend “the nationalism of the oppressed” in the name of anti-imperialism but “the conservative ethno-nationalism of the oppressed”.

Why conservatism is wrong

The problem is that any kind of conservative values about preserving traditional culture is that it’s impossible. And it’s even more impossible to want to do that while being a communist or a socialist. You can’t want to preserve traditional culture and also call for socialist revolution. Not without abandoning communism.

This is obvious to anyone who, in the vein of Marx, has a materialist understanding of how history and society works. As Marx put it, “The mode of production of material life conditions the general process of social, political and intellectual life. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness.” This means culture and religion are based on a certain mode of production, the economic structure of the society in which it is based, such as capitalism or feudalism. And what communist revolution is, is a revolutionary change in this economic structure. “The changes in the economic foundation lead sooner or later to the transformation of the whole immense superstructure. “ This means a socialist revolution will inevitably destroy existing culture, transforming into something new, more fitting to a socialist society.

You can’t call for a radical change in economic foundation of a society, and also want to preserve existing culture, because the latter is very much dependent on the former. This is why conservatives are violently opposed to any idea of socialism, or any kind of radical economic or political change. The traditional culture they want to preserve is dependent on the economic system it is based on.

And the problem with this is that the status quo, capitalism, is itself constantly in flux, and destroys and transforms culture as itself transforms. As Marx put it in a famous passage from the first chapter of the Communist Manifesto. “Constant revolutionising of production, uninterrupted disturbance of all social conditions, everlasting uncertainty and agitation distinguish the bourgeois epoch from all earlier ones. All fixed, fast-frozen relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions, are swept away, all new-formed ones become antiquated before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses his real conditions of life, and his relations with his kind. “

The reactionary political forces are of course to some degree aware of this, it’s obvious. And from this comes criticism and opposition of capitalism from the right. This is what Marx calls “feudal socialism” in the third chapter of the Communist manifesto. This right-wing anti-capitalism arose from the feudal and religious elites whose power were usurped by capitalist forces. This is a criticism of capitalism that is devoid of any liberatory qualities and is a reactionary call for a “retvrn” to the class society and hierarchies of pre-capitalist societies. It’s frequently openly anti-feminist and anti-queer, seeing feminism and queerness as creations of capitalism.

Fascism’s anti-capitalism is of this nature. This is also why the pope sometimes criticizes capitalism, because he like any catholic reactionary longs for a return of the feudal medieval pre-reformation europe where the Catholic Church was at the peak of its power and influence. And the central folly of the anti-imperialism of fools is to defend this kind of reactionary anti-capitalism when it comes from outside the western world.

Why communists criticize religion

Now let’s talk about what communists believe instead, what we think will happen to religion, family and nations.

Let’s talk about religion first. Engels’ the principles of communismexplains it succintly “All religions so far have been the expression of historical stages of development of individual peoples or groups of peoples. But communism is the stage of historical development which makes all existing religions superfluous and brings about their disappearance“

This is maybe explained best in Marx’s famous lines in A Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right. “The foundation of irreligious criticism is: Man makes religion, religion does not make man.” Religion is not some expression of some mystical supernatural truth, instead “This state and this society produce religion.” Religion does not just explain the world, but is the “moral sanction” of class society, “its universal basis of consolation and justification.” And why do regular people believe in religion? It’s because religion is a coping mechanism for the sufferings of class society. This is what Marx meant when he wrote that religion “is the opium of the people.”

This is why religion will disappear in a communist society, there is no need for religion in a class-less society. We won’t need to ban it using state violence, it will disappear on its own. This is also why communists criticize religion: “The struggle against religion is, therefore, indirectly the struggle against that world whose spiritual aroma is religion…. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call on them to give up their illusions about their condition is to call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore, in embryo, the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo. “

The abolition of the family.

As Marx put it, “Abolition of the family! Even the most radical flare up at this infamous proposal of the Communists.”

But it’s actually fairly simple, as Engels explained in The Principles of Communism: “It will transform the relations between the sexes into a purely private matter which concerns only the persons involved and into which society has no occasion to intervene. It can do this since it does away with private property and educates children on a communal basis, and in this way removes the two bases of traditional marriage – the dependence rooted in private property, of the women on the man, and of the children on the parents. "

The final line perfectly explains why communists oppose the family, it’s hierarchical. It’s an institution based the patriarchal rule of men over women, and of the adultist rule of parents over children, and it’s based on private property.

To any objections, I can just quote Marx’s wordsd in the Communist Manifesto, “the real point aimed at is to do away with the status of women as mere instruments of production“ and more caustically: “Do you charge us with wanting to stop the exploitation of children by their parents? To this crime we plead guilty. “

Communism and national/ethnic differences

Again Marx put it perfectly in chapter 2 of the Communist Manifesto. I have really nothing to add here, it explains pretty much everything:

“The Communists are further reproached with desiring to abolish countries and nationality.

The working men have no country. We cannot take from them what they have not got. Since the proletariat must first of all acquire political supremacy, must rise to be the leading class of the nation, must constitute itself the nation, it is so far, itself national, though not in the bourgeois sense of the word.

National differences and antagonism between peoples are daily more and more vanishing, owing to the development of the bourgeoisie, to freedom of commerce, to the world market, to uniformity in the mode of production and in the conditions of life corresponding thereto.

The supremacy of the proletariat will cause them to vanish still faster. United action, of the leading civilised countries at least, is one of the first conditions for the emancipation of the proletariat.

In proportion as the exploitation of one individual by another will also be put an end to, the exploitation of one nation by another will also be put an end to. In proportion as the antagonism between classes within the nation vanishes, the hostility of one nation to another will come to an end.”

Final notes

I’ve been relying a lot here on rather basic texts, like the Manifesto, The Principles of Communism, and the introductions to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy and A Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right.But that’s because this is rather basic communist theory.

For some heavier reading to actually understand imperialism, i suggest The Accumulation of Capital by Rosa Luxemburg and her “anti-critique”

And in conclusion, yes I am a transfeminist queer radical communist who wants to abolish capitalism, patriarchy, the family and religion and all traditional culture. “Everything you say we are, we are. And we are very proud of ourselves.”

[adickaboutspoons]

Oh boy. Okay. Here we go

A totes calm and measured response to this post over here by @themetabridge. Forgiveness for the whole new post. I had too much to say to fit into what Tumblr apparently thinks is an appropriate length for a re-blog.

First? I mean. Text just means the words and actions as they are said and shown in a given piece of media being analyzed. Which is what I’m here to do with my meta – textual analysis. That’s why I insist on textual support for any argument interpreting the media in question. Naked assertions do nothing to explain how you arrived at your conclusion. Vibes aren’t good enough. Show me what IN THE TEXT made you think what you think, and I will do you the courtesy of the same. Otherwise, I don’t see how we could possibly have much to say to one another.

The fundamental breakdown we are having is that you have failed to provide a textual basis for why you think Ed is a bad person. While I respect your assertion that a person’s essential goodness is predicated on the actions that they perform, I cannot respect the corollary supposition that there are actions that are either “good” or “bad” in a vacuum, as this completely ignores circumstance and motivation. WHY someone does something is AT LEAST as important as WHAT they did.

For example - Stede killed Ned Lowe in cold blood. Does it matter that he did it because Ned “shit-talked [his] friend and damaged [his] ship,” and “fucked Calypso’s birthday”? Does it matter that Ed, the person whom Ned’s shit-talk actually impacted, told Stede not to do it? Twice? Does it matter that Ned was a subdued enemy combatant, and as such could have just as easily been gagged like Hornberry and the overtly racist Wellington, who survived imprisonment and went on to watch Ed and Stede sign the Act of Grace? Do we compare Ned to the French Captain who got flayed for his racist rhetoric, though Ned’s comment was, strictly speaking, about Ed’s class rather than his race? How far are we going to go to disentangle class and race when one absolutely informs the other?

How about a more straight-forward example; Stede set an unnamed man on fire and quipped about it like some asshole 80's action hero. Does it matter that he threatened Stede’s life? How about if, when he did so, he was twenty feet away, armed only with the bottle he had just broken over his head, and there were half-a dozen pirates between him and Stede who all thought Stede was hot shit, and so Stede was in no immediate danger? What if Stede has a long history of people making attempts on his life, and being unsure that he even deserves to live, and this is meant to show that, now that he has something to live for, he’s done with the part of his life where he lets anyone try to take that away from him?

This is what I mean when I say that the show is careful to never outright condemn the use of violence. The narrative tells us clearly that, within the context of the show, some things are more important than an unnamed or one-off character’s life – preservation of one’s own life or the lives of one’s loved ones, dignity in the face of racially-based persecution, resistance to colonial oppressors. The reasons for and direction of violence matters. Context matters.

And speaking of context, you misunderstand me when you suppose that only what literally appears before our eyes counts can be “read into the text”. I refuse to give extra-textual sources of information (such as the historical reality of sergeant recruiters and being pressed into service or the historical Golden Age of Piracy) any weight unless they can be validated by in-text support, because the show itself cares fuck-all about historical accuracy. But extrapolations about the in-show universe based on in-text support are fine.

So, considering that the very first thing we hear in the show is Frenchie’s little ditty about the violent reality of a pirate’s life, and considering Jack’s comment at brekkie about how pirating is an "ugly profession”, and considering what we see of the raids in 1x5 and 2x2, we can reasonably conclude that pirate culture is steeped in toxic masculinity where the expectation of performing violence is de rigueur. Because Ed has carved out a successful reputation as Blackbeard, and because we see the ease with which he can go from being casually conversant with Stede to “giving it some oomph” to scare the location of the treasure out of the French captain in 1x5 with the THREAT of violence, we can reasonably conclude that he can successfully perform the required violent displays of piratical society (or at least, given that we know by his bathtub confession that he has not personally killed anyone since his father, he can adopt a convincing enough posturing that no one would doubt he COULD). From his interactions with Jack and familiarity with “yardies” and “whippies”, and his ruminations about “the old days” of “drinking all day and biting the heads off turtles or making some poor bloke eat his own toes for a laugh”, and Fang’s assertion that Ed made him kill his dog, we can reasonably assume that Ed has a history with casual violence for the sake of fun and cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

However.

I think “the old days” is an important qualifier there. Season 1 Izzy may be frustrated that Ed is not performing Blackbeard sufficiently well to suit him (on that point we can agree), but even by his own deathbed confession “for YEARS I egged [him] on, even though I knew [Ed] had outgrown [the Blackbeard persona]” (emphasis mine, and pin in that for a moment). In 2x1, Fang is crying into his cake saying “I’ve never seen Blackbeard like this” - indicating that the conditions of the Kraken era are NOT the norm. The slivers of Ed we see in 1x3 before the Spanish raid are marked by him speaking calmly and rationally to Izzy (in stark contradiction to Izzy’s insistence that he’s half-mad) never even raising his voice much less using threats or any actual violence to get Izzy to do what he wants. In fact, it is Izzy who suggests a course of action involving very normative piratical violence (“Do we open fire? Or would you rather we just attack them, kill them, throw them out to the sharks, sir?”), which Ed counters with a genteel proposition - inviting (not even ordering!) Stede aboard for a face-to-face meeting. Izzy being comfortable enough to push back against orders (“Oh, Edward, can’t I just send the boys?”) even suggests that he feels no threat from Ed at all. Every indication is that by the time we meet Ed, well before he ever meets Stede, he’s already well past done with violence for violence sake.

When Ed does meet with Stede, before he’d fallen in love (Even though the are the U-Hauliest, I would argue “fascination” with a possible side of “infatuation”, but certainly not yet love), one of the early conversations they have is about the depiction of Blackbeard in Stede’s book of pirates. Ed expresses revulsion and anger that the persona that he’s worked so hard to cultivate has been twisted into a hyper-violent parody - a “Vampire Viking Clown” that’s barely even human, with a head of smoke and overladen with weapons and hardly bears any resemblance to the real man. We’re meant to understand that this is not a valid or accurate representation of who he is. Violence is a normative part of pirate life, but he has “one knife, and one gun JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE” (emphasis mine, again) - he doesn’t shirk from using the tools of violence when it’s necessary, but he is NOT excessively or wantonly violent. 

And we SEE the evidence of this because of how Stede reacts to the way Ed acts around Jack. Jack keeps Ed drunk all day, decoupling his inhibitions from his decision-making processes and, in spite of Ed explicitly saying that he’s mellowed out, Jack eggs him into the kind of hyper-violent Jackassery that is excessive even for pirate society if the nervous reactions of Stede’s crew are any indication. Of course, this is all part of Jack’s plan - to manipulate both Ed and Stede and force them apart - and the reason that it works is because the way Ed acts around Jack is NOT the way he chooses to act under his own volition, hence Stede’s frustration and disappointment.

While I agree that piratical violence is not political praxis, I would argue that, considering that every raid we have witnessed Ed participate in has been against a representative of colonial power and, more often than not, specifically the enforcing arm thereof, it’s not unfair to conclude that Ed’s reasoning goes that if piratical violence is to be done, better against someone who deserves it than not - i.e. those who perpetuate the violence of colonialism. Regarding instances of violence outside the context of raids, here’s where we take that pin out of Izzy. Izzy and Ed are locked in a cycle of abuse over the first season, wherein Izzy decides that Ed is not Blackbearding hard enough, and, because he feels entitled to controlling Ed’s actions, bullies and harasses him into capitulating  - typically in the form of performing violence. Afterwards, Izzy performs some form of deference - apologizing and/or acting as though he’s going to leave, which Ed “talks him down from” and mercifully allows him to stay. It’s why, when Ed sees Izzy packing up a dinghy (lol. With what? It’s not like he’s on his own ship or would have brought his things with him, or sacked plunder from the Revenge. Clearly he was just stalling until Ed noticed him and swooped in to do his part of the cycle) he tells Stede he “should deal with this,” as though it’s tedious, but normal occurrence. I think an important part of this cycle as the season progresses, though, is how Izzy keeps upping the stakes.

So by the time we get to the end of the season, when the last iteration of the cycle starts up again (when Ed is once more insufficiently Blackbearding by being emotionally vulnerable and open with the crew following his return to the Revenge and his stint in the pillow fort (note that Izzy is apparently FINE with Ed not being Peak Pirate, just as long as he hides it away from everyone), and Izzy once more bullies and threatens Ed) this time it is especially cruel - Izzy is a thumb in the wound, attacking Ed at his most vulnerable and saying it would be better if Ed was DEAD than “pining for his boyfriend.” This iteration now also brings with it a history of escalation (first in Izzy bringing Fang and Ivan in to force Ed's hand about killing Stede, lest he look "weakened by the love of a pet" before his crew, and therefore in danger of mutiny, and then by bringing in the British Navy to force Ed to take Izzy back - or rather, to force Izzy back into Ed's life because the terms of the agreement see Ed remanded into Izzy's custody as though he is property to be distributed at the will of the Brits) - an established pattern of the lengths to which Izzy will go to get what he wants, and so a very real threat implicit in Izzy’s warning that “Ed had better watch his step” as Izzy serves only Blackbeard. So Ed gives him what he wants. He Blackbeards it up just like Izzy insisted, and lets Izzy know in no uncertain terms that the insubordination is done. It’s not a "frat boy prank" when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him, or even something from which he's deriving pleasure as he might have in the old days; it’s a calculated, proportional response, done under duress and against his own inclinations, but exactly the tool required to get the message across clearly.

As to the question of why it matters if Ed is bad, first and foremost, because saying that he is bad requires you to explicitly read contrary to the text. If you’re not going to engage with the text on its own terms, I don’t see how you can do any analysis of what story it’s trying to tell. I already discussed the ways in which the narrative is specifically about how Ed is NOT bad, even when he himself thinks he is. I have also discussed how, while “violence is never the answer” may be broadly understood to be the correct way of comporting oneself in real life, the show never condemns violence across the board. The show condemns cruelty, both on an interpersonal and societal level, but positions the use of violence as an acceptable and reasonable response thereunto. It treats circumstance and motivation with nuance and weight. Living within this context, Ed’s use of violence by the time we meet him is well within the normative acceptable application thereof. Judging him by standards outside the context of the story within which he exists makes as much sense as judging the Stede from the show for being a slave owner because that’s historical fact - that’s just not applicable to who he is in THIS story.

But more importantly, it matters because Ed is a POC character. Describing him as “cruel and perverse” for utilizing violence, particularly when the violence he uses is NOT excessive or impulsive, perpetuates negative race-based stereotypes about hyper-violent men of color. Characterizing him as “bad” for his use of violence when other (white) characters, such as Stede, use violence in similar ways, or are cruel or petty, but can still be considered, on balance, “good” means that Ed is being held to a different, higher standard than those white characters, and perpetuates the frankly racist criteria of expecting POC exceptionalism for POCs to be considered for the base-line assumptions of acceptability that are afforded to their white counterparts. Saying that Stede’s love is what changed Ed’s behavior from cruelty to wholesale abandoning piratical principles is not only antithetical to what actually happens in the show, but suggests a read that POC Ed needs a good white man to show him how to behave, a real white knight to tame his savage heart. That’s some real White Man’s Burden shit there, bro. I highly recommend you put it down.

[who-is-page]

Consider Community Writings

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 920 Summary: Page talks about the importance of personal writings, but acknowledges that they may not be for everyone (including himself). A discussion on the oft-overlooked relevancy of community writings and why you, the person reading this summary, should try to make some.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

There are thousands upon thousands of intricate, detailed writings about individuals’ personal alterhuman experiences and identities. These intimate pieces are a foundational part of our community: in recording its history, in leaving tracks and marks of the ways we’ve changed it (and in turn been changed by it), and in inspiring others to do the same. I can’t emphasize enough how important these types of works are to the very essence of alterhuman subculture and its continuation. As an archivist, I always strive to encourage people to talk about their unique experiences for these reasons. After all, if you don’t write about your experiences, no one will.

But, as an artist myself, only a small fraction of my works talk about my own personal alterhumanity— on my website, only 11 of the 33 pieces that I’ve written go into detail on specifically my alterhumanity (these numbers are excluding essays posted elsewhere that haven’t been posted on the website yet, but let’s assume that the 1 out of every 3 ratio holds). For such a big proponent of folks writing about themselves, at first glance it would appear that I’m not practicing what I preach! Most of what I write isn’t about me!

But that’s the thing: for all that I encourage and want to see people writing about themselves, I also want everyone to recognize that the community is not owed sensitive or intimate information about you if you’re genuinely uncomfortable with sharing it. You don’t have to expose your sensitive underbelly for acceptance. You can write about yourself as much or as little as you want, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. There is the caveat that you won’t be able to experience the euphoria of being understood by others unless you submit to that mortifying ordeal of being known, but how much of yourself you want to put out there is always your choice to make. And for all that we rightfully celebrate personal writings within the community, there are other extremely important types of written work that I don’t often see talked about in this regard enough: perspectives on community phenomena, history, terminology, and similar.

One-off works that discuss the community and aspects of it are invaluable time capsules. They let us glimpse into the ways the community has changed or stayed the same and they show us what people found important, when, and what aspects of it. They show the rhetoric and discourse that was actively being used, and which may not still be in use five or ten years down the line (or may be used in radically different ways). And years in the future they sometimes provide sources and links that would have otherwise disappeared to the sands of time, or otherwise by themselves go on to be used in dozens of other projects and works. While they’re something that can’t necessarily be written by someone who’s only just found the community for the very first time and doesn’t understand it well, that factor also makes them that much more vital for not only historical preservation, but also for folks who are still learning and exploring about it. It gives them information into the community side of alterhumanity, a glimpse into the things that are interwoven collectively between us all and why and how we see ourselves as a community.

It used to be that it was much more common for individual otherkin to have their own F.A.Qs and personal glossaries on their blogs, but nowadays it isn’t something you see often, if at all. And I wish it weren’t the case! I want there to be more F.A.Qs, more personal glossaries, more introductory resources, more discourse essays, more guides, more satire pieces, and more timelines. I love the ways we celebrate ourselves individually, but I also don’t want people to feel like they have to restrict their non-fiction writing to only ever being strictly about themselves. The commentary that people have on the community around them and their place in it is important and relevant— even if it’s the same subject by different people! It’s all useful, it allows us to preserve more of our community history, and at the end of the day, it’s also just downright fun.

I’ve made so many things that boil down to: please write. And this essay might be wearing a different shirt than some of my others, but its message still stays the same. If you’re shy, or anxious, or just don’t want to talk about yourself in detail, that’s fair and understandable. I don’t want people to feel pressured into putting information out there about themselves that they’re uncomfortable with, though I do want to empower everyone to say “fuck you!” to respectability politics and flaunt their unique perspectives and experiences. But if that is something that’s just never going to gel with you (or even if personal writings are something you enjoy writing), I want you to consider every time you’ve had a strong opinion about something in the community, or every time there was a community event or group or time period you found especially fascinating or emotional to experience, or every time you’ve seen someone ask a question that you’ve seen a thousand times before and felt compelled to answer. And I want you to give writing about it a shot. Because if not you, who? And if not now, when? You might end up finding these types of things more fun or satisfying to write than you could’ve ever imagined.

[mooneln0ne]

LUFFY WANTS TO FLY A KITE AU QnA!!! Thank you for supporting my mini comic, as a ty I compiled a bunch of questions below.!

it’s a long one, so beware!

Q (Anonymous): What inspired you to write this comic? Outside the horrors what are you trying to tell?

A: Inspiration would probably be the frequent hallucinations I have and my longing to go back in the fields... I miss my cows 😭 As for the story i’m trying to tell.. It’s a bit hard to explain without spoiling the story….

Q: (@oddity-txt): For your kite au- what do ace and sabo see when they look at luffy?

A: Clearly something that isn't Luffy, but it looks like Luffy

Q: (Anonymous): Since Vivi is introduced would she play a key role or would she appear for like just a few parts, would she have a blog like Sabo?

A: She's important to the story!! She's child of the pastor in this au-- Sabo and Ace used to be Altar servers for his church so they have history of working with her before... As for a blog.. No not really. Though if you look close enough you'll find that you can contact Vivi just before the events of the story to pry information.. But unfortunately whatever happens to her is set in stone •ᴗ• Q: (@washingmachineonfir ): Can you elaborate in religion topic in the city? About the house, why its like this? How many kids disappear?

A: The religion in ASL's neighborhood is simple, you know it already. Now about the house? You don't wanna know. As for the kids... hm.. Depends on how many kids can fill a school bus Q: (@courtroomac3): Hi

A: Get outta here boy Q: White boy Flavor of the month...

A: idk Q: (@humoofsegsual) Is there a possible ending in which everyone dies?

A: nods nods, when that happens everything disappears . Don't forget to say goodbye before it happens!!!! Q: (@plastirk): What kinds of trigger warnings are we gonna see?

A: everything in this list

Q: (Anonymous): Why does Nika go after Ace and Sabo?

A: Because Luffy wants to be with them . But Nika doesn’t want to let go of Luffy.

Q: (Anonymous): Does Nika hate Ace and Sabo?? all their interactions with them are with malice 😭

A: I wouldn’t say malice I suppose… I’d say maybe frustration?

Q: (Anonymous): Where are other characters in this? Like Garp, Dragon, and etc

A: They’re living their normal lives somewhere else!! Koby and Helmeppo are employees at the store Sabo often goes to. Vivi is a librarian, her father is a priest in the town’s church, she met Ace and Sabo a lot because they were altar servers back then! Law is one of the brothers’ neighbors, he frequently leaves though. (Copy pasted from my discord)

Q: (Anonymous): Is it true that one of the brothers might die ☹️

A: . Yes! Im cheering for their downfall! but you guys aren’t 😞

Q: (Anonymous): Are ASL biologically related here?

A: …No

Q: (Anonymous): What does the kite have to do with this au?

A: It’s something Luffy owns!!!! Don’t worry about it too much ;]

Q: (Anonymous): Is there a symbolism with the ghost costume? It makes me wonder what was it for other than to scare A and S

A: It’s by far the biggest hint in the first part 😵‍💫 I wonder if anyone caught it at first

Q: (Anonymous): Are Luffy’s friends going to appear? (Zoro, Nami, Sanji, and Ussop?)

A: mhm! You’ll see one or two of them sooner or later

Q: (Anonymous): What wouldve happened if we chose the other option in the first two parts?

A: The first poll would’ve decided on who runs the ‘blog’ ^w^!!

the one who wasn’t pick was cursed to run a tumblr blog lmao

Last Question:

Q: (Anonymous): Why are Luffy’s friends here if Nika just wanted him?

A: Luffy treasures his friends.!!

Bonus:

Q: (Anonymous): Will Detective Chopper have the same horror elements as the Kite au?

A: Yeah, but I suppose it’s more drama oriented