#writing this took way longer than expected

[hyvyinjie]

hi! Can I ask for a headcannon about Minamoto teru x childhood friend reader? Where teru is really over protective and gentle towards the reader. Reader is a lazy person, and often sleepy, the things he likes are reading comics and playing game in their phone. They also refuses teru's invitation to join the student council. Thank you! :)

why of course! it’d be an honor to grant such an ask. apologies for taking quite a while to do so—though i hope my work meets your expectations, wonderful nonie!<3

—LOST IN THE HAZE OF YOUR DREAMSCAPE.

featuring ; minamoto teru & you as our star.

+ small akane & aoi mentions.

ah, minamoto teru; the very embodiment of perfection—as he was hailed and as he carried himself with utter conviction.

a master of powers, a paragon of academic prowess, and a maestro in all things extraordinary. could there be anything he did not conquer?

yet, his persona, a labyrinth of complexities, as if harboring a multitude of souls within his very being.

now, here you arrive in his peculiar life—meeting with the intricacies of his existence.

when your paths converged, it ignited a tempestuous collision, a clash of peculiar forces.

initially, your mere presence held no sway over him. in truth, he perceived you as an encumbrance, burdened by your languid nature. for he, a relentless pursuer of flawlessness, demanded nothing less.

but lo and behold. fate—that cunning trickster—wove its intricate threads, meticulously mending the frayed tapestry of your connection.

through the passage of time, a tapestry of happenstance encounters and the subsequent flourishing of interactions—a nascent camaraderie took root. he slowly, but surely grew attuned to your idiosyncrasies, harmonizing with your rhythm. while the power to surmount every obstacle at your side eludes him still, he persists, striving to offer his utmost.

oh please have mercy on this young man—forever enmeshed in the whirlwind of his exorcist duties. and yet, even amidst the chaos, his devotion knows no bounds when it comes to those he holds dear.

one might assume that quality time would be sacrificed for the trivial, but fear not, for you found yourself on the fortunate side—the one he’d willingly carved out moments to be with.

initially, your encounters were fleeting, brief snippets of time. however, as the sands of time trickled down, these fragments transformed into meticulously planned sleepovers. he meticulously orchestrated these occasions, ensuring they did not encroach upon his demanding schedule.

your bond thrived during these cozy gatherings, or tranquil rendezvous, where he wholeheartedly immersed himself in your passions—comics and video games.

though not extensively versed in these realms, one might imagine that you—with your infectious enthusiasm to the field—was the catalyst for his exploration and understanding of the realm of entertainment. this was evidenced by the gradual increase in invitations to game nights and his newfound willingness to engage in discussions about captivating narratives. perhaps, you both even exchanged recommendations for comics, as kindred spirits often do.

as the both of you and the world grew older—it became evident that he honed his social skills; presenting himself as a complete package. every aspect of his being held an irresistible allure, captivating the hearts of women, and even some fellow men. many yearned and openly expressed their desire to be the chosen one by his side.

however, even amidst the clamoring crowd, his gaze remained steadfastly fixed upon you.

of course, as the old adage goes; with great power comes great responsibility—the price of his popularity gradually revealed itself.

certain students, teetering on the edge of obsession, noticed the distinct tenderness he displayed towards you, surpassing his general kindness towards all. seizing upon this perceived vulnerability, they occasionally resorted to devious methods, seeking to eliminate you from the equation, taking advantage of moments when slumber claimed you.

naturally, he swiftly uncovered their plot, intervening before they could execute their nefarious intentions.

needless to say, the number of such audacious attempts dwindled significantly. what exactly he did to deter them remains a mystery known only to him and his would-be victims.

still, worried that the possibility of a recurrence and his absence to intervene, he took it upon himself to practically implore—some might even say beg—you to join the student council. this would ensure that he, or even akane if needed, could keep a watchful eye over you with greater ease.

however, true to your nature, you steadfastly rebuffed each futile attempt to persuade you. despite his persistent efforts, you remained resolute in your refusal.

eventually, your golden boy relented, recognizing that his endeavors were in vain…but that was just because he found an alternative solution.

he encouraged—forced—akane to be the one to look after you discreetly whenever he couldn’t. only choosing to partially reveal his intentions to avoid alarming you at the time, as you were unfamiliar with akane’s existence.

or so it had been until he observed that you and the school’s vice president shared a rather unique bond.

although akane would occasionally scold you for being so excessively somnolent, mistaking it for you being irresponsible, hence, occasionally comparing you to the greatness of his lady aoi—teru—ever vigilant and mindful of akane’s every interaction with you, ensured that his usual brutal tendencies were significantly tempered. still—it remained a part of the deputy’s essence, defining his very being, just albeit subdued in your presence.

it could be surmised that akane once attempted to tease—or rather, foolishly inquire, about teru’s subtle yet perceptible shifts in behavior whenever you were involved.

“it’s almost as if you like them.”

in an almost immediate reaction—the president paused, slowly turning his head to gaze at akane, a shadow casting a smile that concealed the upper portion of his closed eyes.

the ginger-haired vice executive, feeling an ominous presence despite the absence of visible eyes, found himself sweating profusely as he cautiously added,

“—to the point where anyone could mistake you for family!"

sensing the gravity of his words, akane mentally vowed to never broach the subject again. he restrained himself from ever mentioning it whenever he witnessed the two of you together.

curiosity gnawed at you as you noticed his all-knowing gaze transform into one of horror whenever you turned your head, as if peering behind you; at none other than the pretty blonde himself, who seemed to be doing nothing wrong, merely proven to have been innocently smiling the whole time, or so he put up whenever you looked back at him.

oblivious to the truth, you always dismissed it as ‘akane’s peculiar moments of ptsd flashbacks’ whenever he saw teru.

however, let me share a little secret with you.

did you know the true reason behind teru’s death stare? no? well, do you wanna know?

then do allow me to spill it for you.

it was simply because akane, using the keyword; "like," insinuated that teru had a ‘liking-only level’ romantic feeling for you. the misconception provoked such a reaction from teru, for he wanted to correct that statement because he loved you, not just liked you.

seriously, can’t people let him finish what he’s saying?

[kusanagihaku]

running in love in the season of you 

⭢ haru x mc, 4.4k

k is for kindergarten. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3 for @aayakashii!

Children typically speak their first words between 12 to 18 months of age (Zubrick et al., 2007). 

The first time you meet Haru, it is in a blaze of fire and light. 

Or rather: the first time you meet Haru, he is lit by the bright of a summer bonfire, eyes crinkled up in amusement and laughter shimmering in the air between him and his friend. His hair is messy and wind-swept; as he runs his fingers through them, the fiery red catches the light and catches your eye. 

You nudge your roommate. “Who’s that?” 

She squints in his general direction, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the bonfire. “Haru Sagara, I think. I heard he’s an Early Childhood Education major. Lives on the third or fourth floor, maybe?” 

Before you can ask her anything more, though, she is swept away by an enthusiastic acquaintance, disappearing into the noise of the dorm welcome party like smoke in the night. 

You sigh. It shouldn’t be surprising, with the way she’s always been a social butterfly, but you feel some shade of helplessness all the same. Maybe she was right – maybe you do need to make some new friends at this party.

You sip slowly at the cup of Coke you’ve been nursing so far. The cold condensation on the outside of the cup leaves your hand dripping and uncomfortably wet; you hope nobody asks to shake hands. 

Your eyes return again to the man on the other side of the bonfire. His head is thrown back in laughter this time, cackles floating through the crowd as his conversation partner, a tall blonde man in a black turtleneck far too thick for the summer, regales him with some story or another. 

In the heat-shimmer of the fire between you he looks almost like a mirage. 

You watch as he lifts his cup to take a sip, then makes a little frown. He pouts at the man opposite him, who laughs and motions for his cup before standing up and walking away. 

He turns back to the bonfire. 

His eyes meet yours. 

All at once the roar of the bonfire fills your ears, a crackling hush that dims the rest of the party to a dull murmur. Your cheeks burn with the embarrassment of having been caught; yet there is something in the way he holds your gaze, lips lifted in the beginnings of a smile, that stops you from looking away. 

Haru tilts his head. It is as much an inviting question as a quick puzzlement, but before you can decide which one it is his face splits open in a blinding smile. It reminds you so much of a puppy you barely have time to register it before you’re smiling back. 

Perhaps, perhaps you should—

But his friend returns, red cup in hand dancing at the edge of your vision, and just like that the moment shatters in a spit of sparks.

He looks away, mouth rounding out a response to an unheard question. 

You stand, and leave. 

(Or rather: the first time you meet Haru, he is lit by the flickering glow of a bonfire and a radiance of his own making. He sends the thump of your heart racing faster than the rush of summer wind, his smile a glow that will suffuse through your dreams for nights to come.) 

—

Children typically develop two-word combinations between the ages of 12 to 26 months (Brown, 1973).

The second time you meet Haru, it is in a dingy elevator lazing its way to the basement. 

The elevator slows to a stop on the third floor, red digital display flashing twice before dimming. You shift your laundry basket to your other hip. 

The door dings open. 

You come face to face with a shock of fiery red, tamped down by a cream white hoodie emblazoned with the name of your university, similarly balancing a laundry basket on his hip. 

His eyes meet yours, half-formed smile already dancing on his lips, and it slips a laugh out of the both of you as you shift to make way for him.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is far brighter than the artificial warmth of the elevator lights. “I’m Haru.” 

You grin back. “I’m Y/N.” 

He hefts his laundry basket higher. “You were at the dorm welcome bonfire, weren’t you?” 

“Oh, yeah. Good memory.” 

Haru hums. “I remember wanting to introduce myself! You left before I could, though, and I couldn’t find you afterwards.” 

The elevator slows to a stop. You try to keep the sudden loud bumping of your heart under control, try to keep the stray spark of his grin from landing on where your throat has suddenly been lined with gasoline. 

“I decided to turn in early,” you say, carefully. The doors slide open. 

He waves you forward. “Healthy sleeping habits?” 

You snort. “As healthy as sleeping at three every night can be.” 

“Eh?” He looks at you incredulously. “Here I thought I had the bad sleeping habits.”

You learn, as you’re putting your laundry into the washing machines, that Haru’s not only a double major (Early Childhood Education, of course, along with Animal Studies), but also a volunteer with at least three different clubs. His schedule is more packed than you expected from a college student – he spends his Wednesday nights building huts for turtles and feeding owls at the local animal sanctuary, then his Sunday afternoons conducting book readings in the warmth of the children’s library, not to mention the occasional nights he delivers food scraps from the university dining halls to the nearby animal shelters. 

It makes you feel like your twenty four hours aren’t quite the same as his, and when you tell him this, shovelling armfuls of clothes into the cranky white washing machines, he laughs, loud and boisterous.

“Can’t help it, I guess,” he says. He dumps the last armful of clothes into his front-loader and shuts the door. “I’m interested in far too many things to give any of them up.” 

“I’m sure they appreciate your help, though,” you say. You slip the last pair of pants into your washing machine and reach for your detergent. 

Haru hums. “My grades sure don’t!” 

It pulls a laugh out of you. “What classes are you taking, anyway?” 

Haru squints at the level of liquid detergent he poured into the washing machine. “Marine Conservation… Ecological Policies… Literature of Children and Adolescents… what’s the last one…” 

He drips a little more blue liquid into the washing machine, then leans back, satisfied. He caps the detergent bottle. “Ah, Child Language Acquisition!” 

“Oh,” you say in surprise. “I’m taking that.” 

Haru turns to you, eyes widening. “No way!” 

“I didn’t see you last week at the first lecture, though?” 

Haru looks thoughtful for a moment. “I usually sit in the back row. Where do you sit?” 

The washing machine under your hand starts with a groan. You set your empty basket atop it. “Front row, but all the way to the right.” 

“Huh,” Haru says. “A good blind spot. They never pick on students sitting in the aisle seats… I should try that.” 

You laugh. “You’d catch anyone’s eye no matter where you sit.” 

Too late you realise the implications of your words; Haru’s ears flush red as you sputter a retraction. “I mean, with how bright your hair is and all, it’s hard not to notice you!” 

Your tongue stumbles along to the beat of your heart, but thankfully Haru buys it. His responding laugh is slightly awkward, but warm, “Gahaha, can’t refute that!”

“Anyway,” you say, trying to pull away from your inadvertent compliment, “I heard that class is pretty content-heavy.”

“It’d be nice to have a study partner,” Haru hums in agreement. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Neither of you make a move to leave the laundry room, despite having already started your machines.

You run your thumb along the tooth of your keys. You don’t want to overstep, given that you’ve just introduced yourselves to each other, but there is something in his easygoing smile that glints so hopeful it sends a rush of words out your mouth. 

“We could study together,” you say, and watch his eyes light up. 

You realise, heart sinking and hopeful, all the reckless things you might say to get him smiling at you like that again. 

“Maybe I can get your number,” Haru says, and he beams so brilliantly you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse even if you wanted to. “That way we can figure out some sort of schedule?” 

The offer is taken up, of course – you input the digits into his keypad with hands you barely remember moving, and are rewarded with the soft September warmth of his smile. 

It stays with you long after you part ways in the hazy grey of the elevator, and lingers in your memory for the rest of the week like the tail-end of summer, sweet and sparkling on the tip of your tongue. 

-

At three years of age, children begin to play beside one another engaging in the same activity (Stagnitti, 2021). 

Haru, as it turns out, is notoriously busy. 

Every time slot you suggest is occupied in one way or another by the others’ classes, club activities or volunteering work. You had no idea it was even possible to fit so many activities in one day – if you didn’t believe so ardently in the sincerity of Haru’s offer you would have suspected long ago he was avoiding you on purpose. 

It takes a bit of back and forth to settle on a time, but it opens up the opportunity for semi-regular texting, at least. 

Did you know, Haru says, in the bruise-purple of Friday twilight, that red foxes have an extra toe on their front paws? Isn’t that amazing? 

Dining hall ran out of eggs (´Д` ) nooooo, comes bright and early Saturday morning. It coaxes some form of fondness from the morning fog of your brain – you can almost hear his voice through the text. 

Read Ten Fat Sausages to the kids at the library today, arrives in the slant of Sunday sunset. One kid asked me if she could listen to it since she was vegetarian… 

Every text he sends sends a jolt up your fingertips; every piece of himself that he shares spreads a giddiness along your veins. If anyone else notices how much you’re smiling at your phone and jumping at notifications in the past few days, well, no they did not. 

How’s Thursday night sound? Your phone buzzes. 

You swipe to check your calendar. Bingo! 

That’s my laundry night, you tap back. If your laundry basket is full you’re welcome to join. 

Amazing!!! ψ(｀∇´)ψ I’ll get my detergent ready!! 

If you were alone you’d be kicking your feet and giggling. But your roommate is asleep, as is the healthy thing to be at two in the morning, and so you settle for closing and opening your messaging app a few times just to give the butterflies in your stomach time to settle. 

Gotta make it through tomorrow’s lecture first! You tap back, then watch as the three dots above your message bar dance and pause, dance and pause, dance and pause. 

Can I sit beside you? 

Your heart jumps a little too high, and lodges somewhere between your last two braincells. Before you can reply, however, another message pops up. 

Just so we can cross check study notes, of course!! 

And then– I promise not to call too much attention to myself!!!! 

You think your cheeks might cramp from smiling so hard. As long as you pay me back for compromising my blind spot. 

Haru’s reply breezes in seconds later. Deal! ٩(˃̶͈̀௰˂̶͈́)و

Payment comes the next morning in form of a warm white paper cup balanced precariously on the edge of a tiny lecture chair table. Haru slides into the seat next to yours with a grin, rust-red hair tucked under the hood of his jacket, eyes waned into crescent moons. 

“I wasn’t sure what you would like,” he admits, sheepishly, “so I made a guess.” 

You crack open the plastic lid. The moment the smell of coffee hits your nose you lean back into your seat with a satisfied groan. “God, just what I needed.” 

His eyes crinkle up in amusement. “Coffee addict?” 

“You have no idea,” you say, taking a sip. “Mm, is this the honey oat latte from round the corner?” 

Haru beams as he sets his laptop on the table. “You’re so well-versed in their menu! Or is it your favourite? Did I get it right first try?” 

You laugh. “Unfortunately not.” 

“Aw.” His face falls so quickly you briefly think about saying that now it will be, but before you can, he’s smiling again, leaning his cheek into his palm as he turns sideways to face you. “Well, good thing I get to keep trying!” 

Your cheeks burn, and you spend the entire lecture telling yourself it is from the heat of the coffee and not at all from the sun of him, bright and radiant and all too breathtaking for the muted dim of morning. 

-

Children begin to develop the grammatical use of additive conjunction ‘and’ at age three (Glória et al., 2016). 

It becomes an all-too-regular thing – you and Haru, front row on the right, matching Monday take-away cups and coffee-tinged sighs. 

Your study sessions turn more-than-weekly too; you find yourself side by side with Haru more often, textbooks cracked open and lit by the soft glare of your laptops as you sit without the groan of washer-dryers in the back of your minds. Not that you spend much time studying when you’re with him – most of the time is spent talking about something or another, basking in the light of his laugh. You learn more facts about marine animals over the course of the weeks than you ever thought possible. 

In some ways, you do spend time studying – you learn that Haru’s favourite colour is orange, and that he takes his coffee with way too much sugar. You learn that he is way too popular with everyone, with people from different clubs constantly waving hi or coming up to ask him about something or another, and that he talks to them all with the same dazzling smile on his face, welcoming and tireless. 

(He complains to you about his club members sometimes. You learn the way his voice slips into a whine when he tells you about how Ren can’t clean the rabbits’ cages properly, and learn the way you can’t take your eyes off his lips when he pouts.)

You learn that Haru smells like morning rain and linen, a gentle sort of clean, and that he types quicker with his left hand than his right. You learn the jangle of keychains he keeps on a metal loop, the sparkle of his hum when he’s distracted, the glint of the hoop piercing on his left ear. You learn the four-beat vibration of his phone he set specifically for his roommate so he’d never miss a call from Rui. 

(You learn, then, that Rui is astonishingly bad at remembering to bring his keys out, and that Haru is very good at picking locks.) 

And, oh, between the two of you you learn that his hands are always rough and warm, that his ears tint pink. You learn how dark red can be when he meets you after a shower, and how rich it can be when he is fluffy and sleep-mussed. You learn the angle at which his eyebrows tent whenever he’s worried, the lop of his frown whenever he thinks too hard, the curve of his eyebags whenever you decide it’s time to turn in but somehow cannot bring yourselves to leave. 

You learn the way Haru looks at you. You learn the way it makes you feel like you’ve been holding the stars in your lungs, too much and not enough. When your roommate asks you for your weekend plans, the “Haru and I” that graces the start of your sentences leaves you that sort of glowing, breathless, weightless. 

It makes you wonder if maybe being with him is how flowers sound like, all slow and soft as they grow into what they are meant to become. As the semester melts into the cold of October you begin to wonder what it would be like to bloom. 

-

At 3;6, children begin using subordinating conjunction ‘because’ (Glória et al., 2016). 

Sunday finds you in the cosy, sunlit reading room of the library next to the park. It is full of caregivers and their children, bustling with laughter and yells of children excited for book-reading time. 

It is more packed than you expected when Haru invited you to his weekly volunteer session, and you seek to tuck yourself into a corner, sitting cross-legged on a cushion underneath a painted display of The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

Haru sits at the front of the room. He has two books resting on his lap as he chats with the children sitting in the front row, eyebrows dancing through expressions as he gasps and exclaims in response to their clamouring. The delighted giggles of the children in response to Haru’s dramatic begging for them to go one at a time sends a strange sort of fondness through the swell of your heart. 

But at last it begins; Haru claps his hands to be heard over the noise, and the din hushes instantly. 

“Deep in the fridge, and behind the green peas,” Haru starts, “way past the tofu and left of the cheese…” 

If he wasn’t already the centre of your attention, he would be now – when he reads, dancing through the pages in different voices and pausing to ask the children questions, his hands arc through the air, animated and bright as he pulls laughter and gasps from his young audience. The story is appropriately entertaining, you think, but you don’t remember a word of it.

Instead, as his eyes alight on yours again and again, bright and twinkling, you find yourself smiling in time to the rise and lilt of his voice. The sunlight sings through a nearby window; it paints Haru in the glow of the afternoon and sends tangles of fire-gold through the rust-red threads of his hair.

The image of him just like this, haloed and gentle and looking at you from across a room that is too big and too small all at once, freezes and melts, stretches and folds in the space between you, and then collapses, neat and sweet under the tip of your tongue. It dawns on you, slowly, that maybe you were wrong all along – Haru has never been sparks and summer, has never been the scorch of fire and sun. He has never been the blaze of midday, but the gradual warmth that creeps in with sunrise, the quietness of dawning light. 

The promise of him blooms over you as you sit, still and quiet, amongst the muted shout-laughs of the children. Maybe loving Haru, all along, has been like spring – like the arrival of the season he has wrapped himself around you, slowly, completely and surely. Without you noticing the thought of him has already sunk its roots into the crevices of your days despite the business of his own. 

You exhale, and with it comes the sudden undeniable certainty that yes, yes, yes, you are in love with Haru and the way he is filled with love. The way he gives so many parts of himself away and still manages to find more. The way he has been fitted with a heart five sizes too big, the way he will stretch himself thin to make time for all the things he cares about. The way his hands and arms are scarred from things that have hurt him, over and over again, but the way he will not keep himself from reaching back out to help. 

There are a million reasons to love Haru, you think, but perhaps they all boil down to this – when his eyes meet yours again at the end of the storybook, crinkled up and flitting across the thrum of the room, his gaze feels like it is sliding home. 

-

Speech intelligibility is expected to reach nearly 100% at four years old (Coplan & Gleason, 1988). 

“Maybe I should just drop out,” Haru says forlornly. He drops forward, resting his cheek on his arms as he tilts his head to look back up at you. 

You laugh, and set your pen down next to your coffee cup. If you cross your arms maybe you won’t feel as tempted to run your hand through the fluffiness of his hair. “Come on, two chapters to go.” 

“I can’t cram anything in my brain anymore,” Haru whines, and he looks so adorable you give in. 

You rest your fingers on his head. You ignore how soft his hair is under your fingers, and ignore how close he’s sitting, with your thighs nearly pressed together under the table. “You’re already doing so well. Just two more chapters!” 

Haru blinks up at you, small pout forming on his lips. “You’re so encouraging… maybe you should be the kindergarten teacher instead.” 

You pull your hand back – if you don’t, you’ll never stop threading your fingers through his hair. You focus instead on the smattering of freckles across his nose bridge, studying the constellations of sun that have painted themselves across his cheek. “That’s not true. You’re going to be the best kindergarten teacher your kids will ever have.” 

“They’ll never have a kindergarten teacher if I don’t graduate,” Haru grumbles. His cheek is still smushed against his arm, slightly slurring his words. You bite back a smile. 

“You’re going to graduate just fine. You’re perfect for this job, kids love you,” you say, softly. You can’t imagine anyone not loving him. 

(Yourself included.) 

You fish a small plastic-wrapped sweet out of your pocket. The wrapper crinkles between your fingers as you free the yellow candy from it, and when you nudge the sweet at him he opens his mouth obediently for you to slip it between the soft pink of his lips. 

“You’re going to be their favourite teacher,” you continue, and leave the wrapper next to your cup. 

“Will I be your favourite teacher?” Haru says, and he smiles a little, a sweet grin that bursts behind your teeth and makes your next breath feel all sorts of fragile. 

The way he looks at you, wide and trusting, hitches in your throat. You daren’t speak for fear of shattering the moment, the anticipation in his eyes glass-thin, but the words build themselves in your tongue anyway– 

You will always be my favourite. In a room full of people you will always be the only one I’ll be drawn to. In a crowd your voice will always be the first I will hear. 

But Haru tilts his head, looking up at you, and something bubbles in you with a reckless confidence. 

You lift your hand. Your fingertips brush along the soft of his cheek. 

“You’re already my favourite,” you say, quietly. “You’ve been my favourite since the moment we met.” 

He sits up, then, a slow unfolding of himself, sunflower-like. 

“From that day at the bonfire,” you say. You let your hand and your gaze drop back into your lap. “And that day in the laundry room, and every day ever since. You’ve always been my favourite.” 

There is a huff from your right. You look up, half-expecting another self-deprecating laugh as Haru is wont to do, but you are met with eyes twinkling and soft and fond. The bright grin that he gives you as he leans in is warm, like cloudless days on rolling hills, all blue skies through the clear of a window, all Haru. 

“Come on,” Haru says, and as he takes your hand, carefully and gently, it fills you with the sort of dizzying, giddy golden you can only imagine fields of daffodils shine with. “You’re my favourite, too.” 

-

By four years of age, children are able to compare things using words like bigger and smaller (Sheldrick et al., 2013).

The first time you meet Teacher Haru, it is in a riot of colours and clamour. 

Or rather: the first time you meet Teacher Haru it is across a small wooden childproofing gate, painted a delightful blue and littered with misshapen origami flowers. The wattage of his smile the moment he catches sight of you matches the blinding yellow of his apron, but he barely opens his mouth before he is swept away again by the cacophony that accompanies playtime in a kindergarten class. 

You squat down next to the child for whom you’ve been called in to do a speech assessment. You wait until he looks at you, then smile kindly. “Hi, Boo.” 

The boy’s eyes round. He stares warily at you for a moment, clutching a small, red toy truck between his hands, before whispering, “Hi.” 

It takes a while for him to open up to you, but you are nothing but patient – you eventually get him to respond in longer sentences at the end of fifteen minutes. 

You prod at the toy truck that now rests between you. “Who’s your favourite teacher, Boo?”

Boo gives you a shy smile, then glances away to the front of the classroom. “Teacher Haru.” 

You can’t help it – your eyes slide back to where you know Haru is standing. The sunlight streaming through the open classroom windows haloes him, basking the red of his hair in a familiar, golden sort of warmth. His head is thrown back in laughter, hands fending off crayons from a gaggle of enthusiastic preschoolers as they clamour for his attention.

In the sea of noise between you he looks almost like a mirage. 

He turns, slightly, to look at you, his gaze brimming with a familiar fondness, a magnet finding its way home. 

His eyes meet yours. 

“Guess what,” you find yourself saying. The toy truck drifts from your fingertips as you smile back at him. “Teacher Haru’s my favourite teacher too.” 

[burstfoot]

Figured I'd make a post outlining Arknights' auxiliary material for those who want to see more of the universe and aren't aware of all that's out there! ANIMATION Arknights Prelude To Dawn (S1) and Perish in Frost (S2, currently airing): [Crunchyroll]

A straight up adapation of the main story, up through Chapter 0 to Chapter 6! It's much more fast-paced than the story, so I wouldn't use it to replace actually reading it, but it's very cool to see some of these scenes in full animation. Lee's Detective Agency: (Youtube)

A mini-series animated in a chibi-style with a comedic tone focused on the adventures of the Kuroblood-illustrated Lee's Detective Agency! Distributed by Crunchyroll globally, but entirely free to watch.

Closure's Secret Files: (Youtube)

A cut-out styled series of shorts hosted by Closure which outlines a lot of the game's basic mechanics!

Holy Knight Light: [Youtube]

A short Youtube OVA focusing around Penguin Logistics delivering a package, celebrating Arknights' first anniversary!

[Upcoming]: Kay's Daily Doodles: (Twitter Annoucement)

Another free youtube mini-series that starts airing December 1st, focused around Ceobe! Here's some additional animations! Each event usually also has a 15 second 2D animated preview of the event, but there's so many of those that I can't list them all. Official Anniversary Event 3D Animations: Lone Trail Where Vernal Winds Will Never Blow Il Siracusano Ideal City Stultifera Navis Invitation To Wine Near Light Dossoles Holiday Under Tides Bonus 3D Animated Shorts: Legend of Chongyue Arknights Special - IL Siracusano Lo Scontro Youtube Shorts: Ch'en and Lin's Watermelon Splitting Game Part 1 Ch'en and Lin's Watermelon Splitting Game Part 2 Amiya's Siracusan Food Guide Part 1 Amiya's Siracusano Food Guide Part 2

Comics, Manga, Manhua

Officially Translated Rhodes Island's Records of Originium: Rhine Lab: (Offical Website)

A canon manhua centered around the circumstances that lead to Silence falling out with Saria and joining Rhodes Island with Ifrit, as well as Ifrit's attempt to save a dying infected stowaway on the landship. Essential reading for understanding the Rhine Lab storyline and characters - read it right after Mansfield! One of the characters, Darya, is mentioned in both Ifrit's module and briefly in Lone Trail.

Rhodes Island's Records of Originium: Blacksteel: (Official Source)

A short story focusing on the lives of the Blacksteel operators aboard the landship. While it often gets overshadowed by the Rhine Lab manga which is bigger in scope, this is a great read especially if you're interested in Franka or Liskarm.

Rhodes Kitchen -TIDBITS-: (Official Source)

An anthology story related to the cuisine that's important to a variety of operators. While it might seem unassuming, the art is gorgeous and it's really well-written. I particularly recommend the Goldenglow (Chapter 4) and Rosa (Chapter 5) chapters.

Unofficially Translated

Arknights Comic Anthology: (Mangadex)

As the title says, a series of non-canon anthology stories regarding the cast of Rhodes' Island! Note that the link provided only has complete translations up to Volume 4 (and Vol. 4 is missing Ch. 7), and most of the chapters avaliable after that point were MTL'd, so I can't vouch for their accuracy. Chapters I'd recommend are: Volume 1: Chapter 12 (focused on Myrrh trying to improve her medicine), Chapter 14 (focused on Saria and Silence trying to put apart their differences to take Ifrit on vacation, afaik the only place where they are directly referred to as her "moms") Volume 2: Chapter 1 (Manticore tries to make friends), Chapter 3 (The LGD gets drunk), Chapter 11 (Texlapp and Mosexu yuribait), Ch. 13 (Magallan tries to find a pet), Chapter 16 (Ethan spies on the interior lives of Rhodes operators) Volume 3: Chapter 6 (Snowsant, Ifrit, Nian and Shaw are forced to make friends), Chapter 7 (Gummy flashes back to Chernobog), Chapter 10 (FEater and Shaw yuribait), Chapter 13 (Blackout on the landship, as well as Ayerscarpe and Leonhardt yaoibait)

Volume 4: Chapter 4 (Thorns tries to make friends with Weedy [this one is my favourite]), Chapter 6 (Tomimi tail spankings), Chapter 9 (Elysium helps Frostleaf get along with Dur-Nar) Volume 6: Ch. 1 (Whisperain opens up to others) [this one isn't MTL'd afaik]

123 Rhodes Island: (Mangadex)

A series of non-canon gag 4komas! Many of the games' offical stickers are done in this series' art style.

Arknights: Operators!: (Mangadex)

A compilation of 4komas posted on the official ArknightsJP twitter account! Thank you to @sleepywoodscans for their work on translating these, please show them some love!!

[Edit: For clarities sake, the only stuff here that has used MTL is later chapters of the Comic Anthology! Sleepywoodscans’ work on Operators! is all done by hand (they’re a native Japanese speaker). Again, I really appreciate their work!]

Arknights: A1 Operations Preparation Detachment: (Mangadex)

Part of the Terra Historicus website and not yet officially translated, focusing on Fang, Kroos and Beagle, and a catastrophe striking the Columbian city of Tkaronto. Unfortunately, only translated up to Chapter 6, but one of the characters (Elba) has a brief cameo in Light Sparks in Darkness! Edit: Chapter 7 has been translated by @pooce-art, and they're working on Chapter 8!

Angelina: Sketches of THIS Messenger's Journey: (Mangadex)

Also published as part of the Terra Historicus website and not yet officially translated, focuses on the adventures of Angelina travelling across Terra as a Messenger! Recent chapters relate to the upcoming Sami event & IS4, as well as the upcoming So Long, Adele.

Prelude Suite: Unrestrained Play: (Wiki)

Unfortunately, I can't find a full translation for this one - an epilogue to Hortus De Esscapismo focusing on Arturia's background. Of course, major spoilers for Hortus apply - if you can find a full translation yourself.

As well, an upcoming manhua focused on the Break the Ice cast was annouced during the 4.5 Anniversary stream. As far as I'm aware, chapters have not begun releasing yet!

Other:

Arknights Ambience Synesthesia: (Youtube)

A series of concerts (3 so far), focusing around Arknights' music! A live performance has been done every year, with skins released in-game for the concert's theme & 3D animations produced featuring the skin's cast in 2022 and 2023.

Monster Siren Records: (Spotify) (Official Website)

Arknights' official (and-in-universe) record label publishing game OSTs, themes for almost every 6 star operator that releases, and occasional bonus songs.

Arknights: Endfield: (Twitter)

An upcoming 3D action gacha game from Hypergryph, set in the far future of Arknights' universe on another planet. Currently in closed beta testing for their CN servers!

Arknights: Nomad City: The Founders: (Youtube)

A to-be-released CN Arknights board game! Unclear of if it will ever be translated or released globally, unfortunately...

Terra: A Journey: (Wiki)

An upcoming CN lore book focused on the intricate details of Terra's worldbuilding. As well, unclear if it will be translated or released globally.

UNOFFICIAL:

Some fandom-developed tools that might be of use to you are the Arknights Terra Wiki - which just transferred from FANDOM to wiki.gg, and has very detailed information on both game mechanics and world-lore.

As well, the Arknights Story Reader can help you catch up on stuff you don't want to or can't read in game!

Finally, Aceship's Toolbox provides access to a variety of tools, including a levelling calculator, a calculator to ensure the best recruitments, and all the CGs, backgrounds and character sprites that are avaliable in-game.

Conclusion:

Thank you for reading! I hope this provided some new information to you or at least provides an easy reference resource in the future. There's a lot to check out even outside of the game, and I hope you find some stuff you enjoy!

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

Color Symbolism in Newsies

Newsies (1992) is much beloved for it's use of color. From the pastels of the ensemble newsies to Jack's distinctive red bandana, the use of certain colors in the film do an excellent job of helping to tell the story. Exhibit A: the contrast between Jack's bandana and David's blue shirt which creates a visual representation of the contrast between the personalities of our two main characters.

Coupled with historical context and meanings, there are many connections between and insights into characters that can be gained by paying close attention to how Newsies uses color.

For the sake of brevity, I'll just be analyzing the colors in Newsies as they are used in costuming and ignoring set design or we could be here all night.

Red

In political history, red has often stood for revolution and rebellion. It's no wonder then that the leaders of Brooklyn and Manhattan both wear red. Red also indicates passion and bravery, which are key to the strike.

Besides Jack and Spot, Pulitzer wears red when Jack is brought to his study and attempts to bribe Jack to scab. Aka, Pulitzer is dressed in red at the height of exercising his power over Jack.

Center: Jack And The Beanstalk. Illustration for unidentified book of children's nursery literature, with Kronheim illustrations, c 1870

@sarahjacobs has an excellent post that talks about red symbolizing power in Newsies which you can read here.

Another interesting meaning for red comes from Jewish belief where the color red is linked to sin, but also to sacrifice and redemption. Jack scabbing to protect David and his friends after Pulitzer threatens them comes to mind.

You could consider Jack dawning his bandana again during "Once And For All" as symbolic of his redemption and reconciliation with the Jacobs and the newsies.

Red: Uncovering the Historical Significance of a Bold Color - Symbol Sage Political colour, Red - Wikipedia What colors symbolize Jewish culture?, Red

Pink

When most people think of pink, they often associate it with femininity. However, pink being a "girl" color is actually a modern idea which only gained significant popularity in the 1950s. Before this, pink was worn beginning in the 1700s by European aristocrats and became a color of success and class.

This meaning makes pink fitting for Miss Medda Larkson, the Swedish Meadowlark.

In the later half of the 19th century in particular, pink was also tied to youth, which is why we see Sarah and several newsboys alike in the color. As The Art of Dressing Well (1870) dictated, pink "is only fitted for the young. It is a charming color, and those to whom it is suited look very graceful in it."

Because it was also seen as a "paler shade of red", pink had masculine connotations that were also associated with red. Pink therefore occasionally shares the meanings of passion, aggression, and bravery with its parent color.

The first time Sarah wears pink is when she discovers Denton's article and becomes directly involved with and passionate about the strike.

Oscar Delancey, arguably the more aggressive Delancey, wears a pink undershirt. You also have Kid Blink in a pink shirt who is known for being very passionate and short tempered.

The shade of pink that Blink wears is the same shade as Sarah's shawl which she wears when she punches Morris Delancey in the face. Medda too isn't afraid to fight back and speak her mind at the rally. She and Sarah both exhibit bravery.

Refined, rebellious and not just for girls: A cultural history of pink | CNN Tickled pink: colors in the Victorian era - Recollections Blog The complicated gender history of pink | CNN

Blue

You've likely heard the phrase "true blue" before, this is because blue has a reputation stretching far back in history for representing loyalty and trust. Blue also often represents intelligence and tranquility. It's extremely fitting then that David Jacobs is always seen in blue, especially because he values honesty and prefers peaceful means of protest to violence whenever possible.

The color blue, specifically tekhelet or a shade of blue described in the Torah, holds significant weight in Judaism. It is sometimes referred to as the 'color of God’s Glory’ in Rabbinic literature and has been used in ancient and modern Jewish symbolism alike. This connects the color blue to the Jacobs family as a whole.

Even without the association to Judaism, the Jacobs family puts high value in education and truth. After all, it was Mr. Jacobs who taught his children not to lie and who insists on David and Les returning to school.

Left: King David with the Lyre, 18th century Sebastiano Conca (1680-1764)

Left: Tekhelet (תְּכֵלֶת) or "sky blue" tzitzit; Right: King David. Psalterium et horae ad usum Sanctae Capellae Parisiensis, 1360-1400

Because blue was historically both an expensive dye and pigment for painters, blue was worn by and used in art for only the most important subjects. Thus, blue became symbolic of nobility.

To the Renaissance artists, there was no subject more important than the Virgin Mary. While blue had been tied to female figures and goddesses previously across several cultures, Renaissance depictions of Mary led to blue becoming widely associated with humility, grace, and femininity in the Western world.

Left: Periwinkle flower, a symbol of grace and femininity and a Christian symbol of the Virgin Mary

Pastel shades of blue in particular became commonly feminine colors suitable for women and girls in the 18th and 19th centuries. Hence, it makes sense that Sarah would wear blue at the rally.

All You Need to Know About What the Color Blue Symbolizes | Slightly Blue What does blue mean in Judaism? | Slightly Blue The Secret History of the Color Blue — Google Arts & Culture The History of Blue as a Women’s Color

Purple

Because of its rarity in the natural world, and the labor historically needed to create purple dye, purple was highly prized and was considered a symbol of high status and honor.

Spot Conlon is the only member of the our main cast of newsies to wear the color purple, which visually symbolizes the newsboys' respect for him, his reputation, and his involvement in the strike.

The purple detailing on Medda's costume when we first meet and are introduced to her by Jack is also an indication of the respect other characters have for her.

Purple can also denote ambition and independence, characteristics that suit both Spot and Medda well seeing as Spot has "moved up in the world" and Medda owns her own theater.

Why is Purple Considered the Color of Royalty? | HISTORY Purple: Color Meaning, Associations, and Effects

Black and Grey

What about lack of color? In Newsies, we can easily tell our heroes from the villains through the use of color. Or can we?

The villains or "opposing forces" are all dressed in dark greys or black as opposed to the pastels and shades of brown that the newsies and their allies wear. Jack Kelly is an interesting exception, dressed head to toe in dark hues with the one color being the red of his bandana. Visually, Jack could fit into a crowd of newsboys, or of scabs and goons.

Black has long been associated, for obvious reasons, with darkness and secrecy. Similarly, grey is often seen as representing foreboding, moral ambiguity, and evasiveness.

The use of grey and black for Jack clues us into the fact that he is lying about his past and his family and also foreshadows his betrayal of the strike.

Which Colour represents evil?

[holysadwetcatbatman]

My Favorite Tropes I've Seen in Batman Fanfics (Ao3)

This is not in order btw:

Social Media fics

twitter, reddit, tiktok, youtube or in universe press also Reality TV fics (also also that one bachelor fic)

Independent Gotham

there's not alot of fics about this which is sad but basically gotham is its own state now, this is usually tied in with No Man's Land so yeah :)

Sentient Gotham

so gotham the city is alive and maybe cursed, and depending on the fic she can be protective and loving towards batfam, or manipulative and cruel. Either way I find and eldritch city interesting

White Collar Crossovers (X and Neal Caffrey are the Same Person)

haven't actually watched white collar lol but basically a dc character usually dick is undercover as neal caffrey a criminal informant to the FBI and shenanigans ensue or angst thats cool too

Identity Reveal (a classic)

identity reveals along with their adjacent tropes such as identity porn or identity fail is always entertaining to me. theres alot of drama and intrigue with a secret identity being revealed and its interesting to see how others react especially with many members of the batfamily having public personas. this usually occurs with other dc superheros though and very rarely with civillians or the public at large which i find unfortunate because i find the idea intriguing with all the fallout a public reveal would entail

The Malones

i like how this trope has bruce/others juggle yet another secret identity. i especially like when the rest of batfam have an identity corresponding the the Matches Malone identity. I think its interesting to see how they act as criminals. also worth a mention is the mafia/crime empire au which is related

Time Travel (another classic)

time shenanigans are always fun, but also time travel fix its are chef's kiss

Dimensional Hopping

could be very interesting comparing different characterizations of characters. the reactions of characters when facing their counterparts or another version of someone they know intrigue me

Body Swap

I like the "Walk a Mile in My Shoe" kinda situations. I also like body sharing, but that isn't as popular.

Cryptid Batfamily

i just enjoy the batfam being BAMFs and being creepy.

Isolated Batfamily

i think i enjoy these because and isolated batfamily is usually a tighter knit one and thats always cool. seeing how they develop as a family and vigilantes without the intervention of the community as a whole is cool

Platonic Soulmates

I like soulmates as a trope in general in romance but batfam for me is all about the found family dynamics and platonic soulmates hit that mark. i love a fic where bruce has like 10 different soulmates when he expects to be a loner

Omega Bruce (Gen Fic A/B/O)

as i just said batfamily for me is all about the found family dynamics and this trope is all about that. omega bruce just highlights the protectiveness and motherly instincts I enjoy seeing with his kids but most general rated omegaverse fics are interesting to me. I also like omegaverse a plot device and the social commentary that can come from it

Asexual Bruce Wayne

I think its interesting to see him written that way when his public persona is so wildly different. I also like to see it because I could kinda get to see how asexuals experience things through the lens of a character I enjoy

Slut Bruce Wayne

opposite end of the spectrum lol. its just as entertaining to see how much he plays into his role. it think it being juxtaposed with him being batman and all broody like is interesting

Brucie Wayne

i just love that dumb himbo billionaire. there are many flavors of brucie, but i think seeing him act out in outrageous way is very amusing especially at the expense of others

Tim Drake (or other :D) Joins the Batfamily Early

with tim this usually involves his parents being wildly neglectful (as opposed to absent in canon) to downright abusive and then Bruce gets custody yay :D. ive also read ones where both tim and jason come early and those are pretty nice. I think what's appealing is that tim and jason don't interact until after everything goes to shit so its nice that young tim can interact with young jason and dick and bruce. its also nice that they could save a little heart ache by coming to bruce earlier rather than later.

Outsider POV

could be unreliable narrator which is nice, but also seeing what others not in the know think of batfam's actions could be interesting. having a normal random person interact with the crazy that comes with being a vigilante is cool

Jason and his Goons

not sure if its actually considered a trope and kinda falls under outsider pov. i just think its neat

Batman and Rogues Friendship?

ive read a couple fics involving bruce & harley or bruce & harvey (would bruce & selina count? lol) and I just think exploring the relationship between bruce and his enemies is interesting. it really speaks to his character, or atleast what i think which is second chances, seeing the good and hope in the damndest of cities and its people. its one of his core philosophies and a part of what makes him batman.

Bruce Whump

everyone loves a good whump, right? right? woobified batman ftw amirite. angst is good yes :>

Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent

also Bruce Wayne Tries to be a Good Parent. kind of a given, but i just love batdad. the opposite trope of bruce being a bad parent could be interesting, especially if you like other members of the batfam, but I don't think my heart could take it. I think bruce should always be at least trying to be a good parent, and possibly failing because angst, but him just being bad just makes me sad :C. its good when done correctly and him failing despite how hard he tries but I came here for the good family feels not ASB&R

CPS involved

kinda funny with my previous one, but I like it because it tests how bruce cares for his children. its a plot device for drama but also its a very real thing that he should deal with because we want the best for the bat children. I think its also an excuse for them to be outraged on behalf of him. I think of a comic panel i saw of bruce crying while talking about jason when talking to a social worker.

Bruce Wayne Kills the Joker (DCU)

i know that not killing is his whole thing, which i agree should be a thing and is valid, but i also like the thought of him killing for his kids, sacrificing him morals, or even him mental well being for them, especially Jason because that is kind of their whole dichotomy and wouldn't that be great, for bruce to do the one thing that jason asks and them being happy again? Technicially if memory serves right bruce does kill the joker in Death in the Family but then it might of gotten retconned? maybe he stopped himself inbetween the comics, or somehow joker survived the murder attempt, but either way the intent was there. anyways I like the moral dilemma and potential fallout it may entail.

Bruce Wayne is a Troll

bruce having a sense of humor yes. bruce fucking with people even more yes. I love me those fucking with the JL fics. I love me some crack <3.

De-ageing

good for angst, good for fluff, just good overall i guess. Similar to time travel in that people have different amounts of information. 10/10

Truth Serum

another good plot device for angst, also for fixing shit. the best way to force emotional conversations when the whole family is emotional constipation™

Young Bruce Wayne

I love the exploration of his character before becoming batman. I think there should be more fics about his childhood. Fics with him and alfred are <3

[amphorographia]

Something interesting about Pathologic that I don't see people talk about very often is the fact that technically none of the protagonists are doctors and, of the three, it's actually Artemy that's the closest to a real physician.

The fact that Daniil is specifically referred to as a "Bachelor" of medicine is something that was always sort of confusing to me but is actually extremely telling when put together with all the other details we get about him.

There's an excellent video essay about Daniil's character by Horror Game Analysis which goes into more detail about this [x], but he points out two things about thanatology that I think are really significant:

It was first conceptualised as a field of study in 1903 by Ilya Mechnikov, a Russian-Ukranian immunologist and microbiologist, who felt that there was not enough known about the phenomenon of death itself; and

Thanatology straddles the line between the humanities and the sciences because it's investigations grapple with the physical, psychological, socio-cultural, philosophical, and spiritual elements of death

With all that in mind and Pathologic's ambiguous time period, Daniil could very much be read as the in-game world's equivalent of Mechnikov. Despite his (sort of) alignment with the philosophically-minded Kains, Daniil is consistently shown to be very much focused on the physical components of death. He came to the town hoping that "[Simon's] tissues will help [him] defeat death." Rubin, Artemy, Victor (and Lara, Yulia, Aspity, Anna, and Clara) all need him to collect and examine blood samples for evidence of the disease. Once the plague begins, his focus in on the creation of a vaccine - a tool for immunisation - instead of a cure.

All of the evidence points to Daniil, at his core, being a microbiologist and researcher. His medical knowledge, while far above average, is highly specialised and doesn't indicate that he has any practical experience as a physician. He's not a doctor, he's a bachelor of medicine using his theoretical and academic expertise to fight an impossible disease in the only way he knows.

Now, Artemy does have some practical knowledge. Isidor taught him about the traditional medicine of the town while he was growing up before sending him to "study modern medicine in the academy" when he was 16. However, in his opening description, all we are told is that Artemy is returning from several years of "travelling from town to town learning theoretical and pratical surgery." In Pathologic Classic, Artemy is canonically 26 years old so if he spent 6-7 years travelling, his formal medical education was likely either short or incomplete. Not to mention that the emphasis on Artemy as a surgeon and menkhu (much like Daniil as a bachelor and thanatologist) implies a very specialised area of expertise which, although closely related to practical medicine, is not the same thing.

This is reinforced in a number of ways. For example, while there are multiple dialogue options which let you dismiss the town's local medical practices, they appear mostly (or only) in conversations with outsiders - responding to Daniil's admission of underestimating the value of "steppe medical knowledge" with "there's nothing medical in their knowledge" and telling Block that he has "an education in the civilized world and ha[s] forgotten two thirds of the specific local practices." Ultimately, Artemy is more consistently aligned with the Kin's more bodily approach to medicine. That distinction between Kin and Town is important, since the traditional medicines Artemy makes are not valued or trusted by townspeople and the kin refuse almost all of the modern medicine (specifically antibiotics) sold in the town.

He also seems to be either unfamiliar or seriously out of practice with the more formal language of science and medicine a university-educated physician should know. At several points, Artemy is shown to be dependent on Daniil's medical knowledge, and various members of the town poke fun at him for asking clarifying questions - Boy: "You graduated from a university and this is your question…?" Rubin: "I thought you were [away] studying." Artemy's story is about trying to fill his father's role and, while he succeeds in becoming a menkhu, his position as the town's doctor is less clearly defined even after the plague. While he begins the game with the most practical experience of the three protagonists, the fact that he's not qualified to be a physician but has to act as one is what drives his story forward.

I won't go into Clara since it's obvious she's not a doctor. If anything, she's more like a personification of a cure for this one specific disease (just like her 'twin' is the plague). She couldn't reset a bone or diognose the flu any more than she could synthesise antibiotics or distinguish between bacteria in a blood sample. Still, she's an interesting comparison point and does serve to remind the player that the protagonists don't really represent different approaches to medicine, but different approaches to healing.

The Bachelor is the modern healer of formal scientific practices who sees healing as the result of understanding the body, disease, and their interactions.

The Haruspex is the traditional healer with the spiritual or ancestral right to protected knowledge and practices who sees healing as a reflection of cultural duty, customs, and community.

The Changeling is the divine healer chosen by a Deity (or Deities) to carry out their will on earth who sees healing as an act of religious faith and demonstration of the existence and power of God(s).

[kaye-go-moo]

Shapes and Strange Ciphers AU: Need a hand? Pt. 2

SaSC by me

Shapes and Pines by @/void-dude

Next Part

Jheselbraum, on the rare occasions she saw Bill in town, noticed his behavior gradually becoming increasingly strange over the span of a few weeks. At first, his movements were clumsy and awkward, stumbling through the streets like a child learning to walk. She initially assumed he was drunk, but as time passed, it became clear something else was wrong. His walk became more refined, but completely different from his usual stride—his head held high, his steps confident, and his hands clasped neatly behind his back. However, this wasn't nearly as disturbing as his newfound hostility towards others. Bill, who had always been somewhat stand-offish but never rude, acted arrogant, treating those around him as if they were beneath him. 

Bill also appeared disheveled; his hair was long and tangled, his clothes dirty, and his face gaunt. There was also something off with his eyes. Jheselbraum couldn't place it, but they just looked wrong—dark and empty, like something had crawled inside of Bill's skin and was poorly imitating him. Jheselbraum was filled with a growing sense of unease, the feeling in her gut that had kept her in gravity falls returned, leading her to pay Bill a visit.

-

When she entered his house, Jheselbraum was taken aback by its state. The place was a wreck—papers strewn everywhere, cobwebs draped over the furniture, and dust filled the air. Is Bill really living here?

She called out his name, but there was no response. She ventured down into the basement and found him working on the portal. He looked awful. With his long hair tied into a messy ponytail, revealing his condition was far worse than Jheselbraum had initially believed, "Bill?"

Bill jumped and looked up in surprise, “J-Jhesel? What are you doing here?”

"I was worried. About you." Her gaze lingered, examining his decrypate from, her face a mix of shock and concern.

Bill’s expression darkened as he turned to continue his work., “Im fine. You can leave now.”

"Fine? You call this fine?” Her anger surged, “Bill, what the hell is going on with you?" 

For once, Jheselbraum didn’t hold back. Normally, she would leave in quiet frustration, wanting to avoid confrontation, but not this time. She had reached her limit. If escalating was the only way to get Bill to listen, then so be it.

She unleashed everything—her concerns and frustration from the last year, picking apart his every action. She questioned his sanity, asking if he was having a mental crisis. She tore him to pieces before threatening to contact his family, “Is that what it will to get you to pull your head out of your ass?”. However, this only managed to anger Bill and send him over the edge.

Bill had been frozen in stunned silence, but the mention of his family caused him to snap. His face contortinf with rage as he yelled, “Leave them out of this!”

He unleashed a barrage of cutting insults, using her insecurities and regrets as amunition. In his rage, he grabbed a nearby tool and flung it at her.

It missed, bouncing off the wall behind her and clattering to the floor. Jheselbraum stood in shock, face pale and eyes wide. She stumbled back, turned, and bolted up the stairs, fleeing the house and driving away.

Bill sat there, paralyzed, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. He wanted to chase after her, but his legs wouldn’t move. Minutes passed before he managed to stumbled to his feet and up the upstairs. The front door was open, left ajar by Jheselbraum. He reached outt, his hand hovered over the doorknob. I should apologize.

“You should stay here,” Bill shifted his attention to Ford. “Things will only escalate if you go after her.”

Bill, deflated, slowly closing the door. He stood in silence, staring blankly at the knob, fog clouding his mind. “You should rest.” Ford glided in front of Bill, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Bill silently obeyed, numbly turning and walking to his bedroom. He slumped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he feel fast sleep, unaware of what Ford did while he rested.

When he woke, he back in the basement, a sticky note left by Ford sitting in front of him: ‘There's nothing to worry about. The problem is solved. Continue fulfilling your legacy.’

A pit formed in Bill’s stomach and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, let out a shaky breath. Rising to his feet, he turned back to the portal, but a chilling anxiety brewed in his chest as he forced himself to continue working.

-

A week had passed with Bill tirelessly working on the Portal and Ford taking over his body at night. But eventually, something clicked in Bill's mind. Why wasn’t anyone banging down the front door? Why hadn’t anyone called? Knowing Jheselbraum, she would’ve definitely told his family about their fight. So why was no one there?

A cold shiver ran down his spine as Ford’s words flashed in his mind ‘the problem is solved’. What did that mean? Bill thought back, remembering all of his doubts, doubts he had kept hidden—doubts Ford had somehow known. Ford knew exactly what to tell Bill to keep his fears down. To keep him down. Something wasn’t right.

Unable to shake the feeling, Bill raced out of the house and into town. Heading towards Jheselbraum's apartment, he spotted her wandering the streets. Relief washed over him as he ran up to her and began apologizing, stopping when he noticed her confused and worried expression.

"Do I know you?"

Bill’s heart sank. His face paled as he looked her over. She was wearing the same clothes from when he last saw her, but no coat or shoes—in the middle of winter. He quickly wrapped his jacket around her, ushering her towards his car and out of the cold. But she recoiled in fear, wriggling out of Bill’s grasp before running away.

He tried to chase after her, but his exhaustion slowed him to a wheezing crawl. Bill spent the rest of the day searching, but the cold forced him to stop. Desperation pushed him to ask the police for help, but all they could offer was a vague promise to “keep an eye out.”

Bill had no choice but to return home. He needed to call the Jheselbraums family and tell them. Tell them... what exactly? That their daughter had gone mad? That she lost her mind and was now wondering underdressed through the cold? Thinking about it, he realized he didn't even remember their numbers. He couldn’t remember anyone's number. Bill never could, always having to rely on an old notebook with the everyones contact information listed.

Bill frantically searched the house, but the notebook was gone. Even his phone had disappeared.His breath quickened, becoming ragged, as the world collapsed in on him. Nothing was where it should, no one was acting how they should be. Nothing was right and he had no one—not his friend or his family. He was alone.

Bill crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap before waking to a familiar cosmos. Ford hovered above him, trying to explain away all of Bill’s doubts.

Bill stayed quiet, listening to Ford try and rationalize what Bill saw. Then Ford paused, seemingly interrupted by a silent voice. He looked down at Bill, examining him with a narrowed eye.

"I want the truth." Bill's voice was cold, his eye fixed on Ford.

Ford sighed with annoyance, looking at Bill with disappointment. "I'll give you this one chance, Cipher."

With a snap, the dream unraveled, and Bill was bombarded with flashes of creatures and places he had never seen before, inventions he could never dream of creating.

"This will all be ours, my protégé.” Ford gestured towards the images, “Anything we desire. Everything we deserve."

Bill's head was spinning. Overwhelmed, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, "No! I asked for the truth, Stanford! Give me the truth!"

Ford's eye darkened, and a flash of red anger painted his shape. He closed his eye, recollecting himself before he raised his hand, fingers bracing against each other. His eye reopened, staring at Bill with a cold indifference.

"To think I would've let you join me."

Snap

-

Ford took control of Bill's body, forcing it up from the floor and over to the basement door. First, he changed the doors passcode before heading down to the lab. There, he grabbed one of his secret side projects: a pin lock, which he installed on the closet door. Afterwards, he turned his attention to the portal, picking up where Bill had left off. He worked until Bill’s body reached its limit, its hand’s trembling too much to use. Finally, Ford locked himself in the closet. Now, Bill was trapped—only able to leave when Ford possessed his body.

-

Ford continued working on the portal, knowing it would be complete in a few more days. However, Bill didn't make it easy. When awake, he tried breaking down the door, leaving his body too exhausted for Ford to use, delaying the portal's completion. Bill’s continued escape efforts lead him to work his frail body past its limits. In a desperate attempt to slow Ford's progress, he restored to hurting himself. Forcing Ford to work with broken bones and trembling limbs. Ford tried reasoning with Bill—through flattery or insult—doing everything he could to break him down. But Bill held strong.

After a few days, Bill finally managed to break down the door and weakly climb upstairs, only to be met with another lock installed by Ford. In that moment, Bill nearly gave up. His body was wrecked, the pain being the only thing keeping him conscious. Ford tried encouraging Bill’s weakness, insisting his actions were pointless. But Bill fought off his desire to quit and steeled his resolve. 

He tried kicking down the metal door, but his legs were too weak. Taking a moment to assess his surroundings, he realized he could just break through the wooden wall instead. With renewed determination, he shuffled back down to the lab and grabbed his tools. He spent hours tearing at the the wall, all while enduring Ford’s manipulation. Eventually he broke through.

Bill raced to the front door, only to be halted by a raging blizzard. It was too risky to push through the snow—he could die of hypothermia or pass out, giving Ford to the chance to regain control or manipulate someone else into finishing the portal. He had no choice but to find a solution inside the house.

Bill frantically searched for something—anything—that might help him deal with Ford. It was a feverish attempt made more difficult as night fell. Ford had taken the time to remove every light bulb in the house, leaving Bill in the dark and forcing him to return to the basement. There he found a busted old torch that he used to light his way.

During his search, he came across an old photo of him with his friends. A heavy pit formed in his stomach as he stared at the picture, a reminder of forgotten memories and broken friendships. Before he could dwell on it for too long, another photo caught his eye.

In it, a younger Bill smiled proudly as he held up a first-place prize from a science contest. Beside him stood someone he hadn't seen in almost a decade—his old babysitter, first friend, and big brother, Tad. Tears welled up in Bill’s eyes as he realized just how much he missed Tad. How much he’s needed him—now more than ever.

Suddenly, an idea grounded him. Bill jumped to his feet, rifling through drawers until he found an unfinished postcard addressed to Tad. “What good will that do?” Fords voice cut through Bills thoughts “He abandoned you, Cipher. What makes you think he’ll come back?” Bill paused. Ford was right. And even if he wasn’t, who was Bill to ask Tad to travel all the way to Gravity Falls just to help him? They hadn’t spoken in years. Did Tad even remember Bill existed?

Taking a deep breath, Bill steadied himself. I won’t know unless I send it. He wrote “PLEASE COME!” followed by his home address. Once the blizzard died down, he bundled up and made his way into the woods, placing the letter in an old, rusted mailbox. He lifted the flag and left, hoping—praying—Tad would receive it.

-

While waiting for Tad, Bill loaded up on caffeine and energy medication, trying to stay awake for as long as possible. He couldn't risk Ford taking over his body and locking himself somewhere he couldn't escape. Bill continued his search for something against Ford, but he couldn’t find his journals. He nearly tore the house apart, but there was nothing—Ford had either hidden or destroyed them. Defeated, Bill shifted his focus to dismantling the portal.

It was far from an easy task. Bill's body was weak from a lack of food and sleep, and with his journals gone, he had to rely on scattered notes and his foggy memory. He gathered what he could find, but between Ford’s constant badgering and Bill's sleep deprivation, it was hard to focus. Things only got worse when he started to have hallucinations—or what he convinced himself were hallucinations.

Every bump and creak sent Bill into panic, scrambling to find its cause. The only way he could get any work done was by tricking himself into thinking everything was fine. As long as he saw Ford, he was safe, his presence brought Bill a strange sense comfort. He could keep and eye on him and didn’t have to be completely alone—though its debatable if being alone would’ve be better than hanging out with your captor.

One night, after ignoring a series of thumps upstairs, Bill was startled by the sound of breaking glass. He looked around and realized Ford was gone. He’d been so focused on the portal that Bill didn’t notice his absence. Grabbing a long metal pipe, he raced upstairs, slowing as he neared the source of the noise. He was chilled to see a decaying body crawling through the broken window, its eye glowing a golden hue.

"Stop with these games, Cipher." The corpse’s voice was raspy, its words disturbingly familiar. Ford. "I gave you the opportunity to do one worthwhile thing in your pathetic life, and you wasted it."

Bill froze, trembling as the corspe staggered to its feet. "This is your last chance."

A bloody hand reached out toward him. Bill's grip on the pipe tightened.

"Cipher, my protégé, don't—"

Before Ford could finish, Bill swung the pipe down onto the hand, then back at Ford’s face, landing with a sickening crack. The corpse slammed into the ground. Bill stood panting, waiting for Ford to get back up, but the body lay still. Shining his flashlight into the dead man's eyes, Bill saw no glow—the pupils small and unreactive.

Bill dragged the body outside. It took him a while, but eventually, he managed to lay it beside the back porch. He stumbled back inside and returned to the basement. He tried dismantling the portal, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. Shaking so violently he could barley hold a tool without dropping it. He told himself that he was just the cold, but even after an hour of sitting in the warm basement, his hands pressed tightly against his chest, the trembling wouldn’t stop. And then came the tears.

-

At one point, Bill toyed with the idea of blowing up the house. It would be the quickest solution and would set Ford back significantly. The idea intrigued him, but the intrusive thought of being inside when it exploded quickly snuffed out the plan. Besides, it was only a temporary fix. Bill needed something permanent. And then there was Tad. If he comes—when he comes— how would he feel, finding nothing but the ashes of Bill’s homes?

-----

Lore Comments

[cringearenachamp]

She's Mine: or, patriarchy as capitalism's pressure valve

Journey is fun, sometimes pretty, sometimes melodramatically-pretty arena pop rock. Steve's first solo album stripped out a lot of the melodrama (not all of it tho hehe) to focus on his more R&B/soul-style roots. He also embodied a more masculine image, and perhaps also tried to step out of the "boy next door who never gets the girl" (as Jon describes it) lil angel-boy persona he would use-- perhaps less and less comfortably as he aged into his thirties-- with Journey. He fully focused on his tenor range and belted from there, wore that goofy-ass fedora, and while he sung his more typical fare of star-crossed yearning, trying to avoid said yearning, and attempts to save loves that are likely already over, he also has.... She's Mine.

Journey isn't a stranger to using patronizing or possessive misogyny in songs: they were a 70s/80s rock band made up of dudes. That sort of thing is sadly standard fare. Journey doesn't actually have a lot of examples that REALLY get to me, though Line of Fire is kinda eyebrow raising as a cheeky little ditty about a guy threatening a woman with a shotgun (with the woman being the villain of the song just for MAYBE cheating on the guy with the shotgun-- but then again, this is just kind of The Beatles' Maxwell's Silver Hammer in a way). Backtalk, from Frontiers, has a lot more of a serious tone, and while there's no guns involved this time it's still very much about a man trying to reassert his masculinity by threatening and condescending to a woman he feels has castrated him (to get Freudian with it again) by being Too Mean. Backtalk is a phrase you usually associate with children or teenagers: trying to put a woman back in her "place" by talking to her like a child. Hmmm... even if she isn't treating you fairly, I don't think this approach is going to make her any nicer to you (in fact, I think this approach simply continues the cycle of meanness more than it's any real fight back against it!)!

She's Mine is closer to Backtalk's threatening/possessive tone than it is to Line of Fire's cheeky one. This time, the addressee is another man, with the main thrust of the song being, simply, "my girlfriend likes you but she's MY girlfriend not yours so go away". Okay! Very common theme in music-- women sing their own versions of it: Dolly Parton's Jolene for example is basically the gender flipped version of this. The tone of Jolene is far more pleading, though: she's begging her to not take her man, literally, while also talking about how beautiful she is, lol. She's Mine, on the other hand, is sung very masculinely, and it's to another (heterosexual) man, so he has to speak their language: in other words, begging and pleading are off the menu. The woman in this song is an object between men, who are both given subjectivity. She doesn't get a say in who she chooses or what she wants to do; she's there to be owned and for the narrator to claim ownership of her.

While the lyrics of She's Mine aren't full of blatantly hateful misogyny, the idea that men are supposed to own women, women are supposed to belong to men, and that men control the relationship are ALL extremely misogynistic ideas and they're insidiously commonplace! Backtalk is stained with these sorts of ideas as well: hence addressing the woman as if she's a misbehaving child. Under patriarchal capitalism, The Family as a structure-- alongside being a space of personal and financial support-- is something of an engine designed to naturalize and perpetuate men's authority over women and parents' authority over children (and, more broadly, this structure also serves to naturalize and support the economic hierarchies that currently run our world). Conservative forces want to make "the family" line up with this ideal as much as possible and to take it to its extremes: liberals might also accept the "nuclear family" as more natural than it really is, but conservatives want to make the most of it as a tool of control over women and children for their own purposes (ex: banning same-sex marriage, banning abortion, banning divorce, cutting funding for public schools, etc).

Walter Herbert, Journey's manager, often conceptualized the band as a "family", with him, naturally, as the patriarch. He unsurprisingly had a very conservative view of what family entailed in this particular instance: he was the man with the vision the money and the power, and the band were supposed to be his loyal lackeys. In his own words, "I put the band together, absolutely, man by man. Personally hand-picked each person, and it was, you know, it was MY band - no doubt about it. It was my band and I had total authority, and total autonomy and total control, and nobody minded one fucking bit.". If The Family is supposed to be about upholding the power of the patriarch and Herbie's the patriarch, then this quote can't be seen as much of a surprise, but it IS extremely telling as to his approach and even as to some of his worldview (it certainly makes me worried about how he treated any women in his life, for one thing). Most of the men in Journey were fine upholding this particular patriarch's power: as I mentioned in other essays, the "perks" from buying into Herbie's family system were easily attainable to people like Neal.

Steve, of course, didn't buy into this system and seemed to really start to chafe against it by the time 1982 rolled around. This was when he started really limit testing: rallying the rest of the band to cut the '82 tour short (which might be an example of a little collective labor action of a kind!) and getting his own cover art chosen for Frontiers, for example. He even tried to get a different TITLE for the album: something he failed to do here, but had enough leverage to achieve the next time. There's no real reason or motivation for the last two things, in my opinion, except for trying to poke holes in the idea that Herbie should have ultimate authority over creative decisions. A press conference held during this time-- where Steve stresses that "without a song, you don't have none of this [fame, money, etc]" and "too many people in this industry believe that they're driving the ship, but let me tell ya [...] the song, the performance, and the band is where it starts"-- lends even more plausibility to this reading of the situation.

Steve's personal relationship with Sherrie was, in his words, "at best, difficult" (from the VH1 behind the music doco). If Backtalk is autobiographical, then he was dealing with a lot of fighting with her while ALSO fighting against his BOSS. If you're a man struggling against a man that has more power over you-- if your boss is also "castrating" you-- then you might seek to reassert the masculine authority patriarchy promised you by controlling the "weaker" people patriarchy also "promised" you: that is, women and children. If Steve was the "defiant" one that refused to buy into Herbie's system, Sherrie seemed to be "defiant" in her own way! Yet, sadly, she also seemed to buy into patriarchal ideas: for example, calling the Separate Ways actress a "slut" for... existing? So she likely also expected Steve to "measure up" in a hetero-masculine sense, and may have even internalized the idea that being "owned" by him was a good thing: he just had to be disciplined into a worthy "owner". So in that sense, both Herbie and Sherrie were trying, in their own ways, to discipline Steve into a Proper Man. Steve at this point seemed to think that the answer was to get one over on her by saying "um you're not being a WOMAN right, actually" so he could win against *SOME*body without having to question anything about himself or his own worldview. This was, of course, a losing answer to a trick question.

(and it goes back to this again!)

Both patriarchal masculinity and capitalism trap people within roles that harm them and those around them in order to ultimately benefit a very few at the top. Everyday people with certain privileges can buy in to certain benefits of patriarchal masculinity and capitalism, of course: that's part of why these ideas are as ingrained as they are. If it was all stick and no carrot, it wouldn't be worth it. Patriarchal masculinity is in itself used as a sort of pressure valve: direct working men's anger towards those weaker than them instead of those that actually have power over them, so they feel strong and FEEL in control. Steve is someone who was very insecure and always wanted to feel in control. It isn't surprising to me, then, that at least for awhile, patriarchal masculinity was something that was seductive to him. Yet despite trying to buy into it, he never seemed to be convincing enough at it to please Herbie OR Sherrie. Maybe the winning move is... not to play?

Within She's Mine, there's one potential solution within the lyrics to the trick question of "do you control or be controlled?". In an interview about the song, Steve describes the type of man the narrator is threatening as one that has a "magnetic pull". The narrator also fantasizes about going over to his hotel himself to threaten him, and freaks out over his girlfriend saying his name in her sleep and stuff. Like, he says that, but HE'S the one obsessing over him for the entire song! In this reading, the woman is objectified in order for the narrator to project his own feelings for the mystery man onto her, because owning her is far more comfortable than owning his feelings. Realizing HE'S the one getting "pulled in" would destroy his conception of himself, a conception built upon heteronormativity and normative heterosexual masculinity. But maybe that kind of destruction can be a good thing? Maybe it's not a destruction at all, but a kind of creation? Maybe it's a way OUT?

Throughout the beginning of the Oh Sherrie video, Steve stresses about being placed in roles he feels don't fit him. He doesn't want to be an actor, he doesn't want to be a husband, but that's what's expected of him, so at first, he tries to go along with it all. Yet before the song even kicks in he throws off his prince uniform, states that he "can't do this", and later states that this isn't even him, that he doesn't need it.

I think he was more right than even he knew at the time. Did he ever realize JUST how right?

[jackabbot]

Wip Word Search 🔍

rules: use this generator to generate three random words (or however many you'd like to do) and share the lines where they show up in your WIPs

my words: affect, great, opposed

1. affect from the mudslide fic ☔️

He watched as Eddie got up from the couch, carefully depositing Christopher’s legs from his lap before turning back to him and planting a soft kiss onto the top of his soft curls. He was getting too old for these kinds of affections when awake and — as much as he couldn’t wait to see Christopher become his own, independent person — Buck desperately wanted to halt time. It wasn’t a fair thing to think; Chris wasn’t exactly his kid to begin with and regardless of what Eddie’s will said would happen after his death, Buck's place in their lives wasn’t set in stone, so he savored every tiny moment he could. Somewhere along the last handful of years, Eddie and Christopher became Family, with a capital F. Buck loved Chris like he was his own and his feelings for Eddie were clear as day — only if not for the man himself. It was better that way, Buck reasoned. He probably wouldn’t let Buck hang around all the time, if he’d have known. Eddie probably didn’t think of them that way anyway. Buck ran his fingers through the curly hair tickling his cheek and pulled the kid’s small frame just a fraction closer, relishing in the moment of stillness.

2. great from the jealous eddie fic 🧇

“So uh t-tell me about yourself, you know, hobbies, pets, family, whatever.” “That’s pretty broad.” Jason chuckled and Buck felt his cheeks heat up immediately. Wow, he really hasn’t been on a proper date in such a long time that apparently he lost the ability to make conversation. Great. “Sorry I—” “Relax, Buck. It’s alright.” His shoulders sagged a little at that. “I guess cycling is a hobby, right? I’m not allowed pets at my place and uh… Two sisters, parents live in Nevada.” “Uh great, that- that’s great! I have a sister too, my parents live in Pennsylvania though.” Jason assessed his face for a long moment before he leaned back in his chair with a small sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem much more nervous than before. Is everything alright?” “Uh yeah— yeah, I’m fine, just…” Buck sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Eddie, my uh my partner at the 118, he’s been acting kinda weird about us going out. I just… I don’t know, I guess I got a little into my head about it.” A disapproving frown tugged at the patch of skin between Jason’s eyebrows for a moment, before it disappeared with a sigh. “So he’s one of those guys then.” Buck knew what he meant instantly; the type of guys who were just too macho not to feel threatened by even the mere mention of two men dating. Of course, it couldn’t have been further from the truth —  and Buck was quick to make that clear. “N-no, not at all! He’s a good guy, great actually. He’s my best friend.”

3. opposed from the breeding kink fic 🛏️

“You might be right,” he breathed, leaning over Buck and slipping his hands under his thighs for more leverage, “maybe we should just stay here like this forever.” Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment when he bottomed out again. It wasn’t a plausible or in any way realistic idea, really, but Eddie found that he still wasn’t opposed to the fantasy of it. Especially not when Buck’s warmth enveloped him so perfectly, while he got to watch his chest rise and fall quicker and quicker, listen to his quiet whines and grunts as Eddie sped up his movements until he hit a steady rhythm and smell as fresh sweat broke through the lingering scent of their shared body wash; tea tree and mint. His hair was still damp from their shower and that was one thing they didn’t share; the shampoo — and god, Eddie was grateful that it never became something that he’d lose on the account of getting used to smelling it on himself, so now he could let the fruity and fresh scent of green apple, and something that uniquely belonged to Buck wash over his senses.

tags under the cut 💛

I was tagged by @hippolotamus @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @fortheloveofbuddie and @wikiangela thank youuu 💛

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @eddiebabygirldiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @ladydorian05

[scalira]

I'm somewhere outside my life, babe

“Nancy,” Murray says once he’s reached her. He looks even more disheveled than he did a moment ago. “The mice… asked me to give you a message.”

Nancy looks at him, then looks over her shoulder to Robin. Robin looks as confused as Nancy feels.

“The… the jumping mice?” Robin asks.

Murray doesn’t even look at Robin as he continues, “They’re saying… don’t go through the little door. Does that make sense to you?”

[carelessflower]

The flowers, albeit powerful, were abundant in their clan, as long as foxes proved themselves to Heart of Alicante Tree, their flower would bloom, ready to pick. Foxes must prove themselves, by using the power their clan had prided themselves on for thousands of years - successfully seducing and making at least two people fight over them.

Alec rested his head on the table, suddenly tired.

Of course he would struggle at something most foxes pulled through with ease.

Prompt: fighting for @animalecfest

Read one smile, a kingdom fall on AO3

tag list:  @magnus-the-maqnificent @literallytypogod @ukisteria  @wildesummerchild @sociallyineptbibliophile @queenlilith43 @khaleesiofalicante @wandererbyheart  @raziyekroos  @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @alexandergideonslightwood @andrwminward @noah-herondale-lightwood @elettralightwood @dustandducks​ @deliciousdetectivestranger @delightfullyterrible @letsgofortacos​ @kita-no @mxtthew-fxirchild-apologist  @thelightofthebane @secrettryst @pocketoffeels @cityofdownwardspirals @stupidfuckindinosaur @i-have-not-slept @rinadragomir @potato-jem @kasper-tag

[toy-pigeon]

MY DESMOND FIC . IS FINALLY FINISHED.

there will be accompanying sketches tomorrow once people have had time to read it. but for the time being have a couple memes under the cut

[devilsrecreation]

The Death of Piga

The view was gorgeous. Nothing like Kiburi had ever seen. The water shimmered in the sunlight, only adding to the luscious green trees and rolling hills. He closed his eyes as he felt the wind brush against his snout. He opened his eyes, grinning.

“Wow….”

“You like it?”

The hatchling looked up at the burly crocodile next to him. He was dark-skinned with dark brown eyes and was covered in battle scars, the most notable one being inches away from his left eye. His face remained unchanged since they both left Lake Matope. That was his father, alright. He always had the same sort of annoyed face. Kiburi didn’t really understand why he wasn’t impressed. But he didn’t care at the moment.

“How’d you even find this place?”

The older crocodile, Piga, gave a little smirk. “Your mother brought me here on our first date. Said it was her favorite place to swim. So, that’s what we did.” he sighed somberly. “She was so graceful in the water.”

Kiburi didn’t remember much about his mother due to how young he was when she passed, but what he did know was that his father always got lost in his own thoughts whenever he talked about her. As unreadable as his expression was, he seemed almost sad and he hated it. He nudged Piga’s leg with his snout.

“Hey, I thought we weren’t allowed to show emotion.” he half-joked. “Especially not during a fight.”

It was impossible for Piga not to smile at those words. Words his own father said to him which he had passed down to Kiburi. Only his son could cheer him up like that. He was a gifted boy for sure, unlike his other siblings. He could see right through him and manage to crack a grin on his face, no matter what. He gave Kiburi a single nod.

“Uh-huh. And you know why?”

“Cuz we’re crocodiles! We don’t let emotions get in the way!”

“That’s right.”

“And if we do, then we can’t do this!”

Kiburi lunged forward, biting a spot on his father’s tail. Piga lifted it, making Kiburi lose his grip. He let out an amused scoff.

“So, that’s how it’s going to be?” Piga playfully challenged as he stepped into the water. “Let’s see if you can give your old man a new battle scar.”

“Bring it on.”

Kiburi swung his tail at Piga, causing the older crocodile to let out a playful “oof!”. He retaliated with a snap of his jaws, barely missing the tip of his son’s tail. Kiburi pounced, clawing Piga’s jaw and standing over him. He chuckled smugly before glancing up at the shadow looming over them. His face fell.

Piga frowned upon seeing the younger crocodile become distracted. He rolled his eyes, getting up.

“What did I say about letting your guard down?”

Kiburi’s eyes locked with his father’s. “Sorry, I—it—there—uh-”

“Come on boy, spit it out.”

“Look.”

Piga turned around to see a ginormous bull hippo towering above him. A long scar ran diagonally across his snout, just below his beady red eyes. His long, grotesquely yellow teeth formed an evil, almost psychotic scowl. He snorted.

“What’re you doing here, crocodile?”

His voice was deep and raspy, enough to send a shiver down Kiburi’s spine. His father, however, kept his signature neutral expression.

“Kiburi,” Piga said without taking his eyes off of the hippo. “Stay behind me.”

Kiburi obeyed as his father continued,

“My son and I were spending time together. You want to make something of it?”

“I do.” the hippo replied. “Everyone knows this river is my territory.”

Piga scoffed, “No, it isn’t. You can’t own a river. Rivers are for every animal to drink in the Pridelands.”

“Of course you’d think that. Typical crocodiles. Always disobeying the rules.” the hippo chided.

“We crocodiles live by our own rules,” Piga said matter-of-factly. “And given yours is a stupid ‘rule’, we’re going to ignore it. Aren’t we, son?”

Kiburi smiled, stepping out from behind his father. “Yeah, it’s the crocodile way.”

“Now leave us alone, hippo-”

“The name’s Hatari.”

“Fine. Leave us, Hatari…before one of us gets hurt.”

Hatari got closer to Piga’s face, snorting. “You think I’m gonna let some reptile tell me what to do? You think you get to drive innocent animals out of their territory just because you’re a predator? You crocodiles make me sick. Nothing but big ugly brutes who threaten the circle of life.”

Kiburi stepped forward, glaring. “Hey, no we’re not!”

“Quiet, brat!”

“HEY.” It was Piga’s turn to get in Hatari’s face. “You watch your tone with my son, got it?”

“You crocodiles just love causing problems, don’t you?” Hatari sneered, ignoring the threat. “I’ll give you one more chance. Get. Out.”

“I told you, it’s a public place and we don’t intend to leave.” Piga said, curtly.

“And if you want us to, then you’re gonna have to make us!” Kiburi added.

Kiburi’s brave face quickly turned fearful as the scarred hippo lifted his foot, wearing an evil grin.

“Gladly.”

Kiburi gasped, causing Piga to lunge in front of him and clench his jaws around Hatari’s leg. The pachyderm roared in pain and slammed Piga to the ground in an attempt for him to let go. The crocodile immediately jumped back up, able to latch onto Hatari’s body. His grip unfortunately didn’t last long, as Hatari was able to throw him off with his snout.

Kiburi, who thankfully had rushed out of the water the second his father stepped in, just watched the fight from afar. His eyes focused on Piga as he snapped and clawed his psychotic opponent with all his might. He could count all the fighting techniques his father was using: There was the Tail Whip….and the Leg Chomp….and his father’s favorite, the Super Jump. Kiburi smiled as Piga clenched his jaws on Hatari’s left ear, tearing half of it off and causing another roar of pain from the hippo. That was one of Kiburi’s favorite things about him: his bravery. Bravery beyond what was expected of any crocodile, but that of a honey badger. However, that hippo seemed just as brave and strong as he was. But no, that wasn’t possible. No hippo was stronger than his dad.

Or was there?

Kiburi’s eyes were glued to his father, swimming around and diving to avoid Hatari’s snaps and stomps. Piga was no longer attacking as often, but focusing on his defense…at least that’s what Kiburi saw. It was difficult to tell from this distance and Hatari’s constant splashing, but it seemed as though the older crocodile was almost trying to escape; especially after he watched him being thrown from the tail.

“Come on, Dad,” Kiburi thought aloud, “you can take him.”

As soon as Piga had opened his eyes, he found himself being lifted in the air. He squirmed, only to feel a sharp force digging into his rough skin. He hissed in pain before finding himself thrown back into shallow water. He began to rise back up but was held down by Hatari’s foot. He grunted, locking eyes with Kiburi.

“Kiburi, get the rest of the float!” Piga ordered, struggling to move under the weight. “And make it quick!”

“No! I’m not leaving without you!” Kiburi shot back.

“Don’t worry about me, son! Just go!”

“But-”

“NOW!”

Kiburi nodded as he turned around and made his way back to Lake Matope as fast as he could. He was stopped short when he heard his father’s roar behind him. He glanced back to see Hatari crushing Piga’s back with his foot. His eyes widened.

“NO!”

Kiburi knew that was a bad idea the moment he said it. The hippo’s head shot up, causing him to frantically jump behind the first bush he saw. His heart racing, he stood perfectly still. He no longer knew what exactly was happening with his father nor did he want to. He didn’t dare sneak a peek out of fear that the monster would notice and go after him. A series of crocodile roars and hisses echoed through the air. First it was hissing, then a roar followed by a hard thud. Then another roar immediately after. The cycle kept repeating until it became a pattern. Hiss. Roar. Thud. Roar. Hiss. Roar. Thud. Roar. Hiss. Roar. Thud. Roar. It eventually became too much, as Kiburi squeezed his eyes shut hoping the noises would stop any minute. A roar louder than the previous ones snapped his eyes open.

Then silence.

Hatari held his head up high, scanning what was for sure his territory for any more intruders, particularly the small disgusting little crocodile that accompanied his opponent. The second he’d see that little brat, he would certainly teach him a lesson. Fortunately for him, it was nowhere to be found as far as he knew. Whatever. That thing was as good as dead anyway, so it was good riddance. He gave a single victorious nod and turned around, sinking into the water while mumbling something about how those crocs deserved it.

Kiburi peered his head out of the bush, checking to see if that hippo was still out there. Once he learned the coast was clear, he slowly stepped out.

“Dad?”

No answer.

Kiburi walked towards the river again, eyeing his surroundings.

“You okay, dad?…..Dad?”

Then he saw him. His father was lying motionless on the ground, his upper half on land and his lower half in the water. His body was oozing with blood thanks to several deep wounds caused by Hatari’s sharp teeth. All four of his legs were horribly bent, laying there uselessly. Kiburi gasped.

“Dad!”

Piga slightly lifted his head at the sound of his son’s voice. “Kiburi…”

“Your legs.” was all Kiburi could say at the moment.

“Yeah,” Piga gave half a nod. “that hippo busted me up pretty bad…”

“But you can get up, right?”

Piga sighed in defeat, “I don’t think so, kid…”

“We gotta go get Pua. He’ll know what to do.” Kiburi said, lowering his head down to one of his father’s front legs. “Here, I’ll help you!”

Kiburi then proceeded to grab Piga’s leg and pulled it as hard as he could, attempting to drag the older crocodile out of the water to no avail. Piga didn’t budge, instead looking down at the ground and closing his eyes for a moment.

“Forget it, son.”

Kiburi stopped. “What?”

“It’s no use.” Piga continued, taking in slow shaky breaths. “You’ll have to go on without me. Heh…didn’t think my journey would end so soon.”

Kiburi’s eyes widened. He knew full well what that meant. Granted, death was no stranger to him. He had experienced it as a toddler when his mother passed, then again with other crocodiles for various reasons. But this was different. He wasn’t as close to the others as he was to his father. He was more important than the rest.

He mattered.

“No…” Kiburi kept shaking his head. “No, don’t say that. You’re gonna be okay! You’ve been through worse, right? You’ll live just like you always said so!”

Piga frowned, “Not this time, kid.”

“No!” Kiburi repeated, feeling a lump form in his throat. “You’re gonna make it no matter what! You have to…”

“Kiburi, listen to me.” Piga started, “I know I’ve been tough on you and your siblings, but that was only because I love you. I wanted to push you to be the best version of yourselves, I hope you realize that—Don’t you dare start crying. It won’t do you any good. You gotta be strong, especially in front of your siblings. You’re the oldest, after all. You need to watch over ‘em, you got that?”

Kiburi did his best to keep a brave face, yet his eyes still began to tear up. “Dad, I…I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.” he bewailed.

Piga gave a weak smile. “You’ll manage. You’re very smart for your age, son. It’s one of the things that makes you better than all the other hatchlings.”

Kiburi smiled tearfully as Piga went on.

“You’ve got so much potential, you just have to live up to it. You keep making me proud, okay?”

“I will, dad.” Kiburi nodded, “I’ll be the best and the strongest and the bravest crocodile in the Pridelands! Just you wait!”

“That’s my boy.”

Piga finally let his head rest on the ground, his eyes closing and his warm, but weak smile fading away. His injuries had finally caught up with him. If it wasn’t the many broken bones in his body preventing him from moving, it was the massive blood loss he had sustained. This was it. He had completed his journey in the Circle of Life.

Kiburi could do nothing but stare at his now deceased paternal figure. The entire ordeal felt like a bad dream, yet it was all too real. The scarred, once a hardcore and stone faced warrior of a reptile was gone. The crocodile whom he respected more than the current leader, Pua. The crocodile whom he cared about the most. His father—his hero was no longer a part of his life. He felt his eyes getting misty again, but quickly blinked. There was no way he would cry in front of his father, not even in death. He had to be brave. He walked up and gently lay his neck over Piga’s head.

“I’ll make you proud. dad. I promise.”

The walk back to Lake Matope seemed much less cheerful alone. Kiburi didn’t even pay attention to the life surrounding him. He no longer cared. He just wanted to go home without anyone to bother him. It wasn’t until a familiar voice snapped him out of his trance-like state.

“Hey, Kiburi! You’re back!”

It was his little sister, Ucheshi. A sweet, light green crocodile with aquamarine eyes whom Kiburi cared about more than anything. Oh heavens, he didn’t even want to think about her reaction to the news. She most likely wouldn’t get over it for years.

“How was your trip? Did you have fun?”

Other young crocodiles in his float followed his sister.

“Where’d you go again?”

“What did you see?”

“What’d you do?”

Kiburi’s best friend, Makuu, grew a concerned look. “Kiburi, are you okay?”

Kiburi could only shake his head in reply, followed by an “mm-mm”.

“That’s enough, kids.”

Pua moved forward in between the little crowd forming around Kiburi. The other crocodiles obediently stepped aside to let their leader through.

“Come now, give him some air.” he turned to Kiburi. “Now Kiburi, tell everyone about your trip to Jua River.”

Kiburi merely looked down. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t want to talk about it’? You seemed so excited when your dad invited you to go.”

The word “dad” only made Kiburi shut his eyes, unable to look at anyone right now. Though he was not the only one with a reaction to the word. Makuu had immediately started looking around. After a moment, he finally spoke,

“Hey….where is your dad?”

Ucheshi perked up, “He-he’s not here?”

“He’s comin’ back with ya, right?” Tamka asked.

“Yeah, is he okay?” Nduli added.

“Kiburi…” Pua said softly, causing Kiburi to look up at his leader, “Where’s your father?”

That did it. Kiburi’s lip formed a deep frown, his legs starting to shake. Tears started to trickle down as a sob escaped from his lips. Before he knew it, he was nuzzled into Pua’s neck as all he could do was weep.

The End

[nazmazh]

I don't think it's a thing, or at least not as pervasive of a thing as previous iterations of it, but it seems like True Crime Podcasts never really got the full Moral Panic(TM) treatment that other dark/lurid media got in their times.

Like comics were put under the yoke of The CCA, which effectively killed the crime (true or otherwise) genre, because it was believed to be a corrupting force.

Rock music, TTRPGs, and video games got an extra dose of Satanic Influence flavour in their panics, without even necessarily being all that lurid anyway, but especially with HUGE variability in tone and style between works in the same medium - Like KISS and others leaned into the "Ah! We're so strange and scary!" vibe. And several rockers intentionally pushed the boundaries of "acceptable" sexuality and expression for the times, sure. And much of the demonization of rock is rooted in racism because it was developed from African-American music styles (with certain genres, where the influence, and popularity with Black people was more obvious, got hit especially hard because of this). But like, the freaking Beatles were seen as potentially "dangerous" and "unwholesome" (the scandal of it all!) even before they leaned fully into New Age and other general weirdness that I could see as being especially off-putting to the kinds of people that go on these moral crusades.

Violence and any sort of sexual expression/depiction in movies and TV was blamed for corrupting the nation, especially the youth - and to some extent still is. Doubly so for video games.

Computers, the internet, and social media are still seen as direct pipelines of filth into vulnerable minds.

Heck, even Novels were seen as a craze that would drive the women and youths towards inappropriate behaviours, back when they first started being published - Too easy to print and distribute (way more possible for people with ill morals to publish material!), too conviently accessible by anyone - Not needing as careful of handling or storage, and much less likely to get damaged being carried around than previous printing methods; they'd distract from duties and anything could be published in those books, and they'd be easy enough to conceal from disapproving guardians due to how compact they could be

But I can't say that I've really seen much, if any real targeting of True Crime Podcasts with these sorts of accusations in any sort of very visible way. Not even from the usual moral crusader suspects (though I'm sure some of them no doubt are out there railing against the podcasts, because that outrage against everything is what sustains certain kinds of fundamentalists), and certainly not in the mainstream media - The most I think I've seen is a few mild, often self-deprecating, jokes, said with genuine fondness, in a few more trope-savvy works here and there.

And that's despite the presence of many of the crusaders' favourite punching bag traits:

- Lurid subject matter

- Often sensationalized presentation

- New form of media

- Easily consumable by the masses

- Incredibly popular, especially paired with a rapid rise in popularity

- Especially popular among women (who, as we know from previous panics, clearly have such delicate sensibilities and fragile, malleable minds that they absolutely, positively cannot be trusted to make their own decisions about media consumption. CLEARLY.).

I would make a note about it definitely being popular with young women, which it is, sure. But honestly, I'm reasonably certain it's not especially more popular with them than with older audiences. The podcast format specifically may not necessarily be the favourite medium for a older potential audience member, especially compared to a younger potential audience member, but there's plenty of people middle aged and older that happily listen to podcasts. However there is an absolute glut of true crime shows on TV, often marketed towards women. The Investigation Discovery spin-off channel is pretty much all true-crime shows and documentaries (with maybe some Based on a True Story- style dramatizations thrown in for good measure). And even though it's not specifically, explicitly a women-focused channel in the same way, say the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime are, much of their shows formatting and much of the marketing material definitely leans toward targeting and retaining women specifically as an audience. I can remember my grandma contentedly watching the channel all day long. And let's not forget the archetypical "Lifetime Movie" is generally taken to mean a True Crime "It Could Happen to You"-cautionary tale-dramatization.

Heck, even the collection of books inherited by grandma when her mother passed away included a large amount of non-fiction books about "Tracking The Murders of [such-and-such] County" and suchlike. So, no, I don't believe the True Crime fascination is exclusively a young person phenomenon. It's been around in some form for quite a while and maintains its appeal across age demographics.

So, what gives, moral crusaders? Where's your campaigns declaring True Crime Podcasts a danger to society? Where's your press tours? Why don't you have politicians taking the floor in meetings/council/congress/etc., to declare this media to be the scourge of the nation and the latest existential threat to Western Society? Won't SOMEBODY think of the children?!?!

I know we as a society aren't all stuck watching the same news/media sources anymore, and in many ways we're not as beholden to the control/influence of the, often (but not exclusively) Evangelical, Christian institutions that used to really push this stuff as an issue to the forefront of public discourse, but I can't believe that they'd've just completely gone away and stopped trying to force everyone else to adhere to their sense of indignation and live under their moral code.

It's almost as though they're not stirring up as much outrage about this because they found something else they think is a bigger problem and/or stands a better chance of catching on with mainstream audiences.

And... oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Well.

Shit.

I started writing this ramble upstairs, watching TV with my parents. They've been watching that "Based on a True Story" show. And that's what got me thinking about the pop-cultural niche True Crime Podcasts have found themselves in, and reactions to them compared to reactions to other forms of media that have discussed/depicted violent crimes and other controversial subject matter in the past and present (See also: Only Murders in The Building).

This was supposed to be an all-"Haha, isn't it kinda silly how things are?" little quip about how "Outrage ain't want it used to be". From my very privileged white dude point of view. But I think I stumbled into something here. Something that I might not even be the best person to talk about. So I won't go too in-depth on subjects I'm very much out of my depth on, but, I do kinda wanna get to my conclusion.

So uh...

Yeah, okay.

The Moral Crusaders are busy with other topics.

They've found bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

They're out there railing against favourable and even neutral depictions of queerness in media, especially children's media.

They're out there railing against social justice, racial equity, historical rectification, truth and reconciliation.

They're out there railing against science and education and instilling earnest curiosity in people.

Against secularization, diversity, and inclusivity.

Against correction of their own misinformation and indoctrination.

They put it all under one banner these days, and rail against it all as though it were a conspiracy to deliberately supplant them.

They're too busy crusading against "Wokeness" - Their idea of what that means, anyway.

I don't think it's the only reason there's not a big crusade against True Crime Podcasts, as I've said above, Christian morality has reduced official and unofficial influence in so-called Western society than it did in times past. And there's much better access to resources for getting different information and opinions on a subject than the people immediately around you and whatever the handful of news channels and papers you have access to tell you. That is to say, sources that require very little effort on one's own part. It's a heck of a lot easier to google something or check wikipedia than it would have been to have to trek down to the library and ask if they have any books or journals or magazine or... any sort of information about a subject.

And it's not like their boogeyman of "wokeness" isn't anything new for them to crusade against. They've always complained about it in some form or another - Who could forget the outrage against children's media back in the day?:

"Is Bugs Bunny gay?" "Is Spongebob gay?" "Is Tinky-Winky gay?"; "This book discusses subjects that should only be talked about between a mother and her daughter! It's disgusting!"; "I couldn't let my kids watch anything with magic in it - That's the devil's work! That's why I don't trust these mainstream educational programs!"

In terms of more outrageous complaints about children's media.

That's not to mention complaints about other media - Those expressly intended for adults. Or complaints about progressive actions taken in society in-general. Some of these have typically appealed only to the most vocal of cranks - The kind of things complaining about depicting characters who do un-Christian things in works, or that students are being taught proper sexual education or that vaccination is mandatory for entry into institutions like public schools.

But there's plenty of complaints that don't garner immediate pushback from less-extreme conservatives or even so-called moderates: "Why is there so much diversity in casting these days? Why can't they just make their own shows?", "Why are they coming after that comedian for telling edgy jokes?", "Why are they pushing this global warming crap down our throats so much anyway?"

In "wokeness", they've found something that seems to not only unite everything under one banner, but resonate more strongly with some people than the old canards of "liberal" or "politically correct". Sure, there's always been people who have said those with the same contempt and venom that they use for the truly heinous things of the world. But in co-opting "woke" from the original meaning among Black people expressing solidarity with each other and encouraging others to to remain aware of the social and political issues that definitely, almost-always negatively, affected their lives, the moral crusaders have found something that strikes a nerve with a large swath of people who might otherwise have not agreed that several of their bugbears actually needed opposing. Now, there's a single enemy ideology that pervades all culture-war issues. It's all connected, you see. Something you thought was harmless? No! You see, that's just how they're going to infiltrate your mind! Your childrens' minds! Don't give them any ground at all!

Awareness of an issue was and still is basically the mildest thing to ask of someone else. As a call to action, "Stay Woke" is a pretty small request.

The crusaders make it out as though it's a battle-cry, a command - A decree that all aspects of all things must adhere to the most progressive, indeed, transgressive views, opinions and approaches on all subjects. That this is upending the previously established status quo just for the sake of upending it. And that this interpretation is the one adopted by all powerful entities in society - Government (especially including the education system), mainstream media, big businesses, etc. And that these entities have oppressive reasons in mind to force those beliefs on society. And that dissent against this woke "nonsense" is the objective truth in a world gone mad! It's an imperative to preserve your way of life!

And, uh. No.

Whatever world they're living in where that's actually happening is quite different from our reality, of course.

Honestly, though? It doesn't need to start out seeming like a big conspiracy - Even asking for honest awareness, in good faith, might be enough to infuriate non-crusaders. People don't often voluntarily to entertain the notion that things they do, things they've done, and things done in their name by others, that they continue to benefit from, are indeed "bad" actions.

Because that now feels like a personal attack against them. They're bad people for not pushing back against this. They must be considered complicit. How dare you think that of me!?!

And then, then the crusader-types just need to introduce the notion that this consideration being "demanded" of this otherwise passive group is the result of a slippery slope of this entire progressive, questioning mindset. Acknowledging any part of it means accepting all of the crusaders' hyperbolic claims about what that ideology actually means.

Through the magic of "Wokeness", it's all connected - It's all out to get you.

Where does it end? Didn't you see how they treated that one guy? Surely, he's no monster. If they can go after him for something so harmless, what's stopping them from coming after you next, for something that's probably even more innocuous?

Moral crusaders know the value of a good persecution complex.

It's not just asking you to be aware of how your presence in the world affects it. It's targeting you. Right?! That's surely the point of this is to find a guilty party and punish them! They're going to make you take the fall for this and directly suffer the punishment for it! You can't let that happen!

It's not even as explicit of a line of reasoning as this.

But either way, the moral panic is spreading and the crusaders are getting a bunch more people loudly on-board with their crusade.

They're banning books and calling for show cancellations under the whole banner of "woke ideology".

They're getting their press tours. Speaking with friendly talking-heads to puff themselves up, then going on with people unwilling to challenge their claims in the interest of fairness - And even if the commentators do push back, the crusaders will spin it as "the woke mainstream media trying to suppress our beliefs" and use that as a recruiting tool.

They're getting their politicians going on rants in city council meetings. During campaign rallies. In congressional/legislative sessions. In published opinion pieces.

In judicial rulings.

In enacted legislation.

The crusade continues. In many ways, it's as pervasive and successful as it's ever been.

It's not True Crime Podcasts that have been the subject of a moral panic this time around.

They must not be "woke" enough to bother with.

[youngpettyqueen]

ok I need to get into bed I was hoping to fill out the other prompts I got but they will have to wait until tomorrow! stay tuned...

[teeto-peteto]

Fun question: Pick five random champions and take them on a road trip. Do they make it to their destination?

im back from the dead

OKAY This is funny and in order to make it completely random i'll let this league randomizer pick the champions.

So we got: Akali (Oh no) / Gragas / Leona (Mother of the team so far) / Shyvana / Caitlyn.

Okay this is an interesting group and there's more girls i have imagined.

Alright, so, roadtrip. On car. I assume we are talking in a very funny scenario of champions being their clunky selves but with a nowdays car wich is already amusing.

Leona drives clearly, she's responsible, she's a bit of a mom. She has the playful snarkyness and the responsability.

Gragas and Caitlyn argued about getting the copilot seat but Leona ended up picking Gragas.

Gragas IS a passanger princess. He would listen to the gossip, talk gossip about freljordian comrades. He would point to take the left path and then get it wrong so they have to pull back. He eats the snackies and then fall asleep for the 80% of the trip. A true king in my eyes.

Akali is of course the child of married couple in this situation. The 'are we there yet?' 'Im hungry'. Shyvana would try to be modest, not participating much in conversation and trying not to be a bother. Caitlyn is the polite towards the rest of them but Akali rubs her the wrong way wich might make her increase her voice tone. Basically sisters coded. Shyvana being the old sister coded, Caitlyn the middle sister coded and Akali the younger sister coded.

Akali and Caitlyn would fight cause they both want the window seats but Shyvana asked for one of them, eventually she politely agrees to sit on the middle of Akali and Caitlyn.

Here's a small conversation im thinking about:

Akali: God, how long until we get there? We've been here for ages. Leona: I know, i know, but we are almost there. Caitlyn: Leona please slow down, the signs stated a velocity and we are above it. Leona: Oh, right, sorry! Akali: Do not listen to her! There's literally no one on the road we can speed up, it wont do harm! Caitlyn: God you're not only absolutely annoying but you also dont respect authority.

Akali: Fuck your authority you dont even respect it how am i supossed to take you seriously? Caitlyn: Me?! Akali: Because your thing with Vi was surely super legal... Caitlyn, visibly flustered: That's not-!

Gragas, quickly turning his head back to the backseats: Wait what's between you and Vi? I think i fell asleep during the explaination of that.

Leona: Akali, please be respectful, authority and legality are a bit flimsy in Runeterra and there's nothing bad with wanting to endorse it...

Akali: Well, you could say that, assuming your thing with Diana was also not forbidden and that you were'nt breaking any type of rule...? Gragas, quickly turning to Leona: Diana and you what? Im so lost.

Leona, gritting her teeth: How about we all stop talking for a bit and i put some music on the radio... Akali, turning to Shyvana: Arent YOU going to say anything?

Shyvana, on a low voice: Well... I guess what matters is that we arrive safely, i dont mind lowering the speed... Caitlyn: See! She's in my side! Your argumentation is weak!

Akali: Of course i asked damn Jarvan IV girlfriend...

Shyvana, flustered: Prince Jarvan and I's relationship is entirely professional...

Akali: Professional my ass! Gragas: HOLD UP. Please summarize every single ship is happening here cause im not understanding.

Caitlyn: ...whats a ship?

Gragas: Oh like... when two people have like... romantic tension and you think they're a couple...?

Shyvana: Gragas? Could you pass me some chips?

Gragas, handing Shyv a bag of chips.

Shyvana: Oh these are good, what flavour are they?

Gragas, looking at the back of the package: Mustard. Braum recomended me these he said they tasted great.

Shyvana: ...

Caitlyn: What?

Shyvana: Im allergic. Allergic to mustard.

Leona, quickly stopping the car and putting her shield up: COVER UP, QUICK!

Shyvana transforms into a dragon, breaking the car from the inside as she becomes bigger in size.

So... To answer the question: Would they make it to their destination?

Yes. Most likely. Not by car anymore though.