#you will prove me wrong there probably....

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ REFLECTIONS kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids ⭢ girl, so confusing ⭢ take your mask off ⭢ carmen ⭢ untitled

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, , angst, guilt, a lot of confusion, hints of over working, more guilt, very chaewon and yn focused

the feeling of having no sleep is one of the most uncomfortable things to exist, your eyes sting as they fight to stay open, your limbs grow heavy like they’re weighed down by lead, and a strange chill settles over your skin without warning. all of it was hitting chaewon at once, and it was unbearable.

her mind was basically mush. she wondered if anyone had ever gone through this many emotions and realizations all at once, or if she had just broken some kind of world record for mental overload.

she doesn’t remember when she got up from kazuha’s bedroom door, just that somehow, she ended up sitting in the kitchen with the sun already out, pouring through the windows like it had been waiting for her.

she rests her head in her palm, one name echoing in her mind, yn.

god, how she hated her. the girl born in front of the entire country, the girl with more money than anyone could dream of, the girl who carried privilege like a second skin. everything about her felt unfair.

but she was also the girl who knew,who had lived through, the darkest, most hidden corners of the moon family’s truth. and how foolish of chaewon, really, to ever disregard that.

it wasn’t like chaewon had never heard about the moon family’s problems, everyone had. but anger has a way of clouding reason, of turning empathy into static.

if you asked chaewon why she hated yn, she’d have a quick answer ready, something clean and surface level.

“because she’s privileged. she gets all the praise, all the money in the world. she’s spoiled, and she only made it into the group because of her father’s power.”

but if you pushed a little harder, scratched past the rehearsed bitterness, her voice might waver into something far more complicated.

“I don’t know. there’s just something about her… her eyes, they’re too alluring. she has this energy that draws you in, like gravity. it got me the second we locked eyes. and it made me feel trapped. I hate  feeling trapped, from the moment we met just that energy alone made me feel like I need to prove myself, assert some type of dominance but she shut me down immediately, she knows how to play with your emotions, like she’s always one step ahead. honestly, I could go on for hours about everything wrong with her.”

but no one ever asked chaewon to go deeper.

no one ever tried to understand what hid behind the hate, except yn.

“I’m talented, and you hate that. I’m probably the most talked about person in this group. just admit it, chaewon, what’s the real reason?”

chaewon remembers that day like it was yesterday,the way the words slipped out, sharp and cruel. she said things she knew would hurt, but at the time, it felt like the only way to gain some kind of control. to tip the scales in her favor, just once.

because yn had to know what she was doing to her, right? the way she looked at her, spoke to her, existed around her, it had to be intentional. it felt like she was being taunted, like yn was playing a game only she understood.

and now, this guilt, this awful, gnawing guilt was starting to settle in her chest like something rotten.

she needed to get rid of it. fast.

and she knew she could.

chaewon flinched at the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen. assuming it was sakura, she muttered a quiet, “morning.”

“a good morning? from you? what’s the occasion?”

her blood ran cold.

she froze.

she turned around slowly and there yn stood, in all her effortless glory. even freshly woken, she looked like something out of a magazine, wrapped in a hot pink robe that hung just loose enough to reveal the edge of a sports bra underneath.

chaewon’s eyes couldn’t help but trace the length of her, head to toe, lingering far too long. something stirred in her chest, unfamiliar, uneasy. she inhaled sharply, her gaze locked on yn like it had a mind of its own.

“um?” 

chaewon snapped out of her daze, forcing herself to pull it together. she tried to shoot yn a sharp glare, but it landed weak, more flustered than fierce.

“I thought you were someone else,” she muttered, voice tighter than she wanted it to be.

“ah, that explains it,” yn said casually, opening the fridge and pulling out a container of strawberries like this was just another normal morning. “I don’t even remember last night. did you see me and zuha come in?”

her tone was light, but chaewon felt every word like a stone in her stomach.

because she did. she saw everything and somehow, it spiraled into a night of world-shifting realizations she still hadn’t recovered from.

“no,” chaewon mumbled, eyes fixed anywhere but on yn, trying her hardest not to look because looking might unravel her all over again.

stop, she’s supposed to be strong.

she snapped her eyes at yn and gave her a sharper glare that landed better, “our comeback is really soon, so don’t be late to practice like you usually are.” she said with as much hostility as she could muster.

yn paused, the strawberry inches from her lips. her soft, doe like eyes sharpened in an instant, and the shift sent a strange,   unwelcome twist through chaewon’s stomach. what the hell was happening to her?

“you’re saying that to the girl who stays and practices until three in the morning?” yn tilted her head, voice edged with amusement. “there’s a reason I’m the best so maybe let’s not question my work ethic.”

with that, she popped the strawberry into her mouth, grabbed the rest of the container, and sauntered out of the kitchen.

chaewon let out a groan, dragging her hands down her face.

partly out of frustration, because yn was insufferable. and partly because she’d been so distracted by her face, her voice, her presence, that she barely registered a word she said.

so much for getting rid of it.

the feeling hadn’t left, if anything, it had only grown louder. that slow unraveling at the edges of her sanity, the way yn consumed her thoughts like a fever she couldn’t shake. 

she let out a quiet laugh, bitter and breathless. yn had always lingered somewhere in her mind, but not like this. not in this way that felt so consuming it was almost nauseating.

yunjin’s voice was like background music to her as she looked out the window, she felt hyper aware of everything and the fact that yn was sitting right behind it wasn’t helping.

was it weird that she swore she could smell yn’s perfume, rich, expensive, and so distinctly her it made chaewon’s head spin?

or the way her voice softened when she made offhand comments to kazuha, sending chaewon’s heart into an unsteady rhythm?

yeah. it was weird. so weird it was starting to scare her.

 chaewon didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her.

this wasn’t her. not even close.

and yet, all throughout dance practice, she kept catching herself adjusting her moves, her angles, her energy all for yn’s attention. like some desperate need to be seen by her had rooted itself deep inside her chest.

it was pathetic. and it was making her sick.

this wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing.

her eyes couldn’t leave yn, even if she tried. it was like some invisible force kept pulling her back.

this was insane.

if someone had told her a year ago that drunk words from yn would flip her entire world upside down, she would’ve laughed in their face.

but now? now she wasn’t laughing. not even close.

“are you good?” she turned to see yunjin look at her with concern, “you keep zoning out.”

what chaewon wanted to say was, “no and it’s all yn’s fault.”

but instead, she swallowed the words,brushed the girl off, and gave a stiff nod. because saying it out loud would make it real and she wasn’t ready for that.

the rest of practice passed in a haze for chaewon, her body moved on autopilot, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

she watched yn take a sip from her water bottle, eyes half lidded, calm like she had all the time in the world. the others were.  gathering their things, slipping into hoodies and grabbing their bags, and chaewon already knew what yn was going to say before the words even left her mouth.

“you guys can head out without me, i’m gonna stay and practice a little more.”

the girls nodded, it wasn’t anything new. kazuha hesitated, sending yn a brief, worried glance, but left without a word.

and chaewon?

she stayed. because of course she did.

yn hadn’t even realized chaewon was still in the room not until she glanced at the mirror and caught the reflection of the leader,  standing silently behind her.

she turned, brows furrowed. “why are you still here?”

chaewon didn’t answer right away. she just stared, frozen in place, like her own thoughts were holding her hostage.

this was too much.

she couldn’t keep living like this with yn constantly in her head, wrapped around every thought in ways that felt all wrong. her presence was suffocating and addictive. chaewon hated the way her heart pounded at the sound of yn’s voice, hated how it only got worse now that yn’s full attention was on her, now that they were finally alone.

and maybe that was the real reason she stayed.

because some part of her, no matter how much she tried to deny it was starting to want that attention. to crave it.

maybe she always had.

“why do you stay so late?”

yn blinked, caught off guard by the question. her eyes widened slightly, and chaewon didn’t blame her she had surprised herself too. since when did she care what yn was doing?

well… not never.

this was just the first time that truth was slipping into the open for both of them.

“to practice,” yn replied simply, but there was a hesitation in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

it was obvious the question had thrown her off.

chaewon didn’t know what she was doing. it felt like her mouth was moving faster than her brain.

“but you already get enough practice. it’s late… kazuha seemed pretty worried.”

yn’s face twisted slightly as she turned to fully face her, the playfulness in her features gone. “zuha’s always worried.”

“yeah, but—”

“why are you really here, chaewon?”

the words cut through the room like a blade sharp, direct, and nothing like the usual yn. and for the first time that night, chaewon had no idea what to say.

chaewon’s brain was going a mile a minute.

her heart was slamming against her ribs, her thoughts tangling into knots she couldn’t undo fast enough. yn’s question echoed in her ears why are you really here, chaewon?

she opened her mouth, then closed it. panic swelled in her chest.

her throat felt dry, her hands clenched at her sides. 

say something. anything.

“because…” she breathed out, voice barely there, “you’ve been on my mind since last night.”

the words slipped out like a secret she didn’t mean to tell.

and it stunned them both.

yn’s brows lifted slightly, but her face was unreadable. frozen.

chaewon stumbled over the silence like it hurt.

“I—I don’t know how to explain it,” she rushed out, words tumbling in chaos, “I just… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

yn didn’t blink. she just stared.

chaewon kept going, unraveling by the second.

“your voice, your face, even the way you looked at me. I—it’s messing with my head. I feel weird. not like myself. and U need to get rid of this feeling but it’s getting worse. stronger. I don’t know what to do.”

her voice cracked at the end, and for a moment, she looked like a girl completely lost in her own storm.

yn’s expression changed.

not softened—shattered.

her eyes filled with something heavy, something sharp, and then she spoke, her voice like broken glass.

“you’re an asshole.”

chaewon blinked, stunned. “what?”

“do you enjoy playing with me?” yn snapped, cutting her off. her voice was louder now, but shaking. “you’ve had me on your mind? now? after everything?”

chaewon opened her mouth, but nothing came out she was too busy drowning in the sight of yn. even angry, even hurt, she was devastatingly beautiful.her chest rising and falling fast. chaewon’s eyes trailed her without meaning to face, shoulders, down her arms, her trembling hands.

“you’ve done enough,” she spat, voice breaking, “but pretending to care now? that’s the worst part.”

chaewon’s throat tightened painfully. a lump sat there like a stone, unmoving.

“yn, wait—”

“no. you know what? maybe I’ll go home.”

yn grabbed her bag, shoving things inside with shaking hands, her back to chaewon.

chaewon’s lungs felt like they were caving in. her eyes stung. her nails dug into her palms. she hated this. this loss of control. this guilt. this ache.

and worst of all knowing she caused it.

“yn—” she tried again, desperate.

but yn didn’t even look at her.

she didn’t say a word as she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out.

the door shut behind her with a quiet, final click and suddenly, the room felt too big. too silent. too cold.

chaewon stood alone in the middle of the practice room.

staring at the space yn had left behind.

and for the first time in a long time, she had no idea how to fix any of it.

[takumiraine]

So I got braces and am sick and because of both of those things I have to miss pride. So here’s a chapter.

Once Upon a Time chapter 16

<first><prev><next>

“Babs is Oracle isn’t she?” Danny asked once pizza had been ordered and Jason had been quiet for a while.

“What makes you think that?” Jason asked instead of confirming or denying his question.

“Well you had said Oracle found the…. Stuff… about me the other night. And I know Babs does computer stuff in the library a lot, the same way Tuck used to, and you two are close friends, combined that with your family being who they are….” Danny shrugged “it wasn’t that big of a leap.”

“Hm.” Jason gave Danny his best Batman impression. Danny was not phased.

“I’m not going to press it. I know secret identity stuff is important here too.” The assurance was given with a smile. “I just wanted to pose the question. And maybe let you know you should warn your family that I’m not as stupid as my grades make me look.”

“I’ll remind them. Before they all accidentally out themselves one way or another.” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew why B always says they gave him gray hair.

“And… tell your dad he doesn’t have to worry about me. I don’t give anything up. Even under torture.” Danny fidgeted. Bit his lip. Turned to look out the window, at the horizon. “If he and his fancy friends want to prove that…. They can. As long as I’m back to class on time.” The opening was given quietly, a combination of reluctant but resigned.

So used to not being trusted by anyone new. Used to having to pay for it in blood. If Danny was the main character in a novel, Jason would be expecting the love interest to sweep in and comfort him within a paragraph.

But this wasn’t a story that began with once upon a time or ended with happily ever after. There was nobody going to come by and keep Danny from being harmed ever again. Living in Gotham with black hair and usually blue eyes meant you were a target for trouble.

“He won’t do that.” Jason said instead. “Batman prides himself on being better than that.” He willed that to be the truth.

Danny just hummed. “Maybe he is, but is the rest of the League?”

Jason didn’t know how to answer that. He just made an unhappy noise. “If they try, they’re not the heroes I think they are.” It wasn’t very comforting, Jason knew, but it was…. Better than nothing.

Any more awkward attempts to be themselves rather than the carefully curated public personas they both had been doing previously was interrupted by the pizza arriving. Jason almost wished he had a camera handy for when Danny saw him come in with four boxes.

“Are your siblings coming back?” He asked, and Jason shook his head, depositing two of the boxes in Danny’s lap.

“Nah. I just know ever since I came back I’m always starving, and if we’re alike, then it stands to reason you probably are too. But if I’m wrong, you have leftovers for the next day or two.” Jason shrugged and handed out napkins before he flopped back onto the couch. He opened his first box, everything, except no peppers, and grabbed a piece, taking a big bite without looking at Danny.

The guy was so self conscious about the weirdest things, considering the Mansons were nearly as rich as B was and all of the intel said he practically lived there.

Maybe it was the attraction between them that had been muddied by all of this vigilante shit. He had been thinking about asking Danny out before this. He had thought Danny would have said yes.

Damn it. Jason had no idea how even to ask about what was going to happen between them now. He really hoped there were some deserving sons of bitches tonight. His trigger finger felt itchy.

When Jason looked up again, Danny was just looking away. At least he wasn’t alone in the “what is this?” department. He looked away again, giving Danny his space, and finally began to hear the telltale signs of a pizza box being opened.

Good.

He kept quiet through the meal, stuffing his own face in a way that was pretty obvious he was mowing through the pizza. He wondered if it was whatever Danny had said he was unconsciously doing to that broken core…thing he had pulled out of Jason’s chest, or if it was just the remnants of who he had used to be shining through, or if it was just…. Proximity to Danny that infused him with the calmness.

Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Because if it wasn’t him…. He’s not sure he’d be able to give Danny up when the man moved on.

He was a bit surprised Danny hadn’t fled after the debacle with Bruce but, he was glad Danny wasn’t avoiding him like the plague.

Jason looked up again and Danny was watching him, pizza box closed and hands empty.

“Sorry,” Danny muttered, looking away.

Jason shook his head, then paused, realizing it didn’t rattle. “Don’t be.” The answer was a bit gruffer than he intended it. “The pizza alright?”

Danny looked back up, then nodded, “yeah. Thanks. I’m stuffed.” Jason…. Didn’t quite believe him. Whether it was the way he had seen Danny eat nearly everything he could at all times or the way that his clothes still seemed to show his ribs

“Okay. Those two are yours to take home and add to your fridge.” His tone left no room for argument.

Danny still argued. “What? No. You don’t have to do that.”

“Never said I had to. But I’m doing it anyways.”

“You’re a vigilante you-“

Jason cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I’m a crime boss who has one of Bruce Wayne’s black cards.” Jason had stolen that particular one from Bruce, completely ignoring the one in his name.

Not that he often used either one, but he still possessed them.

Danny opened his mouth, then shut it several times as if he was trying to formulate a way out or argument. Eventually he gave up, looking adorably grumpy. Jason felt the urge to smile and kiss his forehead, or ruffle his hair like he would one of his younger siblings.

Both options made Jason want to throw himself out the window, for completely rational reasons.

Another minute of awkward silence passed before Jason’s eye was drawn by Danny moving. Hands on his knees instead of the pizza or the table.

“Well…” Danny began, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s getting late.”

The sun was nearly setting. He should start getting ready for patrol. “Worried about being out after dark?” He asked instead. “I can drive you home.”

“What? No…. No I’m okay to walk. You need to get ready for patrol anyways.” Was that an example of the Midwest polite thing that Clark was always going on about?

“With how many times you get mugged or stabbed this could be considered protecting the Alley.” Jason deadpanned back, going into his bedroom and starting to change.

“Really, I don’t want to be any more trouble than I have been. It’s a short walk and it’s nice enough out.”

“You’re outvoted Danny.” Jason hopped in place a bit as he pulled up his patrol pants before walking out as he slid his Kevlar lined undershirt on. Raiding the Cave on occasion had its benefits. “Either I give you a ride home or you’re followed the whole way by The Red Hood.”

Danny met his eyes, then narrowed his own. Jason felt something push at him, and it riled the Pit or his core or whatever the fuck it was, but before he could ask or comment it was gone and Danny was nodding.

“Okay. Since you’re sure it isn’t a problem.” Danny stood and reached through, not into, through, one pizza box before flattening it out and folding it up as much as an empty pizza box could be. He then stacked it on top of the other one and stood, looking somewhat awkward.

“I’m sure. Let’s go.”

The ride was pleasantly quiet and Jason drew comfort from the fact that Danny wasn’t going to get mugged for his pizza.

He didn’t see Danny at school the next day, which wasn’t abnormal. They didn’t have the exact same schedule after all, what was abnormal was Alfred bringing Bruce the phone during mandatory family dinner.

“Master Bruce, I highly suggest you take this call.” Alfred said, presenting the phone to him. Bruce raised an eyebrow and answered.

“Yes?” There was a pause and Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed and swept around the table. Jason knew that look. He was taking stock to make sure everyone was here. They were. “What do you mean you have my son?” It was the Brucie voice, over concerned and a little pitchy. Tim got up and made his way down to the cave, presumably to gather intel. “Oh no! Which son?” A pause. “Not talking? Oh no my poor traumatized baby! What does he look like?” It was disconcerting seeing the Bruce Wayne as Batman face doing Brucie Wayne’s voice without an expression beyond mild confusion and concern.

“Black hair and blue eyes? Hmmm I’ve got four like that. A little short and looks incredibly exhausted? Well that could be one of mine easily. Where do we meet?”

A knot formed in Jason’s stomach as the pit roiled within him and he stood from the table. He knew it was Danny. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. He wasn’t sure who stole Danny, but they were going to pay.

[houseofthedragonn]

Hey! Just came across your reply with the Hurt/Confort content for a sick fic with Cregan and sick!wife (I love sick fics too much aaaahh) I wonder, how would it be with a sick! Aemond bedridden and wife/reader as caretaker. How would you picture it? I think I've seen it the other way around, but I think the reversal and the shift in power would actually be an interesting dynamic. You can also do with sick!Cregan ^^ Thank you <3

MY FIRST AEMOND FIC YAY but i picture him hating it fully, feeling weak is a sore spot for him for sure so it’s angsty but i love that scary mf🫣 and you can find the sick! cregan headcanons here & THANK YOU! <3

sick love,

aemond targaryen x caretaker! wife

“YOU ARE SICK, LOVE! HELLS, HOW MANY times must the royal Maesters, your mother, and I tell you that until you get it through your thick head?” I was exasperated, at my wits end with an ailing Aemond refusing bedrest.

“When you get it through your even thicker head that I need no one’s bloody help, wife!” Aemond raised his voice for every servant in our royal apartments to hear, pacing around in only his trousers as his fever has him glistening mad with sweat.

He was never in the best mood to begin with, even when not ill, but sick he was even worse. Even with me.

As marriage he had never cared for anyway, knowing it was his duty to do so for power, not love. When our match was made between House Targaryen and mine, the richest Great House in the realm, he saw me as nothing more than a dowry. Means to an end, a way to fill his house’s coffers for war against the pretender Rhaenyra, which was proving to be expensive. But I was hells-bent on not being trapped in a loveless marriage. It proved hard at first, but there were parts of him I grew to love. The parts he did not dare show anyone else. Parts I only saw when I followed him to the places he escaped away to from the Red Keep. Finding him in the arms of a whore, I saw him for what he was: just a boy.

A boy who never knew love, and went looking for it in all of the wrong places.

Finding myself in the right one, at the wrong time. As he grew wise to my stalking him after the third time or so that I did, and I thought he would surely have me killed for finding out such an intimate secret. Not that he lay with whores, but rather that he did not lay with them. Talking to the mistress about all his troubles as she held him like a babe. But it was not until I told him that I could do that for him that things between us started to change. Not overnight, but at a slow and gradual pace.

It had been a fortnight since we made the deal, and he took me up on the offer. And we grew closer, his manner kinder.

But the sickness proved to sour his mood, and we were back at the beginning, bickering, “That’s not what you said a fortnight ago, Aemond, asking for my help with all of your problems…”

I knew talking back would only make things worse, but my patience was wearing thin, and all I wanted to do was help him.

Though I could not, as he made it impossible to.

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind… maybe I prefer whores on the Street of Silk than the touch of my wife…” Aemond spat back in between coughing, his voice sounding sickly.

“Fine, go back to them then, for all I care, husband! But if it was so easy for me to follow you there, gods only know Aegon could find you there. Heavens forbid anyone should tell him…” I gave him a taste of his own medicine, threatening to reveal his secret as I poured myself a cup of wine.

“You wouldn’t dare…” Aemond seethed, squinting at me as his sapphire, scared eye stared me down, but I didn’t back down.

Because I was not afraid of him. Probably one of the only ones in all of realm who did not fear the Targaryen and his dragon. I just smiled back at him, “Oh, I would. Now wouldn’t you rather tell me your problems in the safety of our royal apartments, my Prince? Where your brother never has to know…”

I slowly strode over to our large featherbed, sitting down in only my nightgown, cup of wine in hand.

Aemond weighed his options, as I left him with little to none. Simmering with a mix of anger and defeat, he joined me on the bed begrudgingly, grumbling, “I suppose… the first time we tried to talk like that was not so horrible… it was—”

“Nice. You won’t burst into flames if you say so, you know,” I teased, holding out the chalice of wine for him to take.

Taking the cup harshly, he drained it in one swig. Just as I had known he would, which was why I slipped medicine in it when he had his back turned to me mere moments ago, pacing like a mad man. Knowing it was dishonest, but Alicent and all of the Maesters could not get him to take it. So we agreed using me and a cup of wine was the best way to get him to take it. Gods forbid something happen to Aegon after Aemond catches his death with the illness he caught and the realm was left without a ruler to take care of all seven kingdoms.

Gods forbid I lose my husband right when we started to warm up to one another.

“I may as well have already… but you are right enough, my wife…” Aemond agreed, although I knew a part of him could tell the wine was not the same. “And you are wiser than I give you credit for… there was medicine in the cup, wasn’t there?”

“Would you have taken it any other way? I only wish to help you… my love,” I tested the waters, taking the empty cup from his hands and abandoning it on the table across our bed.

“I suppose not… and if anyone must help me, I would rather it be you than mother or the Maesters… my love,” Aemond admitted, resting his head of long silver hair on my shoulder after I sat back down on the bed beside him. Sighing, “It’s just being bedridden I hate—I hate being so weak!”

“Being bedridden is not weakness! It’s just bedrest to regain your strength, my handsome husband… and I can stay at your side and listen how I did a fortnight ago. If that is what you want, if that helps you… that is all I ever want to do, Aemond…” I reassured him, my hands rubbing soothing circles into the bare flesh of his muscled back.

“That would be… nice,” Aemond acquiesced, his lids fluttering shut as I hummed his favorite songs, holding him how I knew he liked.

I felt him shift his head on my shoulder, raising it to press a kiss to my cheek, and then my lips. Slowly, savoring the moment.

“Why don’t you rest your head on my lap and tell me all that ails you, my love?” I softly suggested, leaning back against the pillows on our big featherbed.

Aemond made his way over to me from the foot of our bed. At his most vulnerable, getting comfortable with resting his head under my palm, caressing his hair. He did not start right away, and I did not rush him. Just staying like that until he was ready.

“Where do I even begin…” Aemond angrily mumbled, muffled against me as his hands held my other one not brushing his long hair.

“Wherever you want to, love…”

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 7

Reasons to Hate Gotham City, New Jersey An Itemized list by Danny Fenton

Damian and Bruce Wayne (and the rest of their brood)

No stars to be seen

The Joker

A fuckton of pollution in the air

A fuckton of pollution in the water

Arkham Asylum and it's revolving door

Seriously, how do they survive with so little light?!

The current Robin and Batman (and the rest of their flock)

The Rogues Gallery (minus Harley Quinn)

Bat Burger

Wayne Enterprises

Can't go more than 10 feet without a getting mugged

Guns.

Sidewalks should not be that color

Where the hell is all the plant life?!

Everywhere that isn't Robinson Park

Crime Alley

Red Hood

The amount of homeless people, specifically kids

Bruce has the money, so why the hell are there still people living on the streets!?

When he next woke up, he was alone. Well, mostly. The other patrons in the Bat Burger weren't there with him, but he could tell that Jason was somewhere near-ish-by.

He didn't open his eyes, nor did his unneeded breathing change past his resting rate. By sound alone, he knew three of the walls were cement, as well as the floor and ceiling. The last one was either bullet-proof glass or metal bars. The smell in the cell hinted at the former rather than the latter.

It was storming outside, he could tell, proving that he wasn't underground. All of the buildings in Gotham, minus skyscrapers and warehouses, were made of brick, so he probably wasn't in Gotham Proper anymore.

A buzzer went off somewhere down the hall and Danny suddenly had a horrible inkling as to where he and Jason were being kept.

"Danny?" Jason whispered from the cell immediately next to his own. "You there?"

He made just the right amount of noise when moving to alert Jason before he spoke. "Right here. You have an idea of where we are?"

A beat. "Yeah," he said quietly, almost nervous, "You?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"We've been out for about three hours, I think." Jason's voice was still as quiet as he could make it while having Danny still be able to hear him. "I didn't manage to hit my panic button before it was frozen over, but three hours should be long enough for Alfred to realize something's wrong. The others'll-"

"No!" Danny growled, "We're getting out of here without the others' help."

"How do you plan to do that?" His voice wasn't condescending like he was half expecting. It was steady, still quiet, and patient.

He was waiting for him to propose a plan, Danny realized. "They really didn't tell you a thing about me, did they?"

Jason hummed. "Well, Talia said that you were to be treated like a civilian-"

Danny scoffed, "Yeah, well, I was never a civilian in the first place. I may be younger than Damian-"

"I'm sorry," he spluttered, "'Younger'?"

Danny ignored him, "-but I have just as much, if not more, fighting experience than him. Not to mention the superpowers!"

"The one's you got from dying," Jason reminded himself, "Right. So, what's the plan, ghost boy?"

Danny blinked. "'Plan'?"

"You do have a plan, right?" A beat. "Right?"

"Just follow my lead."

"You don't have a fucking plan?!"

"I what universe would I have a plan for this exact scenario or any like it? Who do you think I am, Batman?!"

"Fair," Jason conceded, "How are we gonna get out of here? It's Arkham fucking Asylum!"

Danny raised his eyebrow, fully aware that Jason couldn't see him. "You don't have the layout of this place memorized? I thought you guys locked people up in here all the time?"

"We send them here. B keeps us far away from the island itself."

"Hm," Danny shrugged, "Skill issue."

"Excuse me?"

Danny stood and started looking around his cell. Like he clocked, the wall to the hall was modified glass with no obvious weak points. The floor, ceiling, and three walls were all smooth cement, painted with some kind of frost-like gloss that made them cold to the touch. There was a single cot with a thread-bare blanket and no pillow. A single LED light in the middle of the ceiling lit up the box, and there was a vent in the far corner, bolted to the wall with so many screws it was ridiculous, and too small for probably even Damian to fit through.

"Then vents on the inner-most cells don't lead directly outside," he said to himself, "But I can hear the river." Louder, he said to Jason, "We're in the outer-most cell-block."

"How the hell do you- You have the layout of this place memorized?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

And that was the question, wasn't it? "Just in case I ever needed to break out." Or in.

Jason huffed and began pacing his cell. "I'm not gonna ask. I wanna know, but I'm not gonna ask."

Danny shrugged. Fine with him.

Jason cam back to the corner of their shared wall and the glass panes. "How do you plan to get out of here? The vents are too small."

"Well, how do your Rogues normally get out?"

"Depends on who we're talkin' about. Some blow up a few walls, some have their goons already working here, others pay off the guards. Take your pick."

Danny thought for a moment. "Unfortunately, none of those will work for us, though blowing up a few walls sounds like a lot of fun."

"Yeah, until someone has to clean up the mess." He could hear the smile in his voice.

"You want to do this the easy way or the long way?"

"There's an easy way?"

Danny let his intangibility wash over him and stuck his head through their shared wall. "Ghost, remember?"

Jason laughed. "And the long way?"

"Find out what your two Rogues are planning, wait for the others to come to save the day, and then escape on our own anyway."

Jason raised his eyebrow. "Which do you wanna do?"

"I kinda wanna explore this place."

"Secret third option?"

"Secret third option."

Part 9

[conundrumoftime]

One of my perpetual annoyances in SF/F film and tv is how often it replicates a broader cultural sexism of women not really being people any more when over 30/married/mothers. Embrace your natural narrative endpoint you are now a support role.

Writers/showrunners have such a blind spot around this. "But some women want to be mothers?" and "what's wrong with settling down with someone she loves?", as if the problem is her choosing those things rather than the assumptions at play behind what happens to women when they do.

It's probably easiest to explain this w/ examples of sci-fi that doesn't do it. Naomi Nagata in The Expanse (books & tv) gets a storyline about motherhood which is about her backstory, motivations, skills, & connections to political ideologies; it adds to her character rather than concluding it. She doesn't disappear when the existence of her son is revealed.

"Walking away is the only choice anyone ever has."

Chrisjen Avasarala is married, a mother, and a grandmother, and all of these things are important to her but none of them are her personality

"No-one starts a war unless I say they can."

By contrast: my much-adored Babylon 5 gives Delenn four seasons of active and fascinating storylines about things like devotion and belonging and guilt over starting wars... and then in s5 after she gets married, the narrative doesn't seem to know what to do with her and her one storyline like that begins with her sneaking out of her husband's bed.

"It pleases me that you care for what I have become. But never forget who I was, what I am, and what I can do."

It's not infidelity but ends up feeling like it - she's meeting someone she's very close to who's in love with her, says "we need to be discreet", strokes his face, and they talk about how her husband can't know about this meeting and whether he knows her "as well as he should." I don't think this is meant as shipper bait (although much appreciated for those of us who do ship that); I think it's an unintentional consequence of female characters getting so often written as either "has own storyline" or "is married now" as if they're mutually opposed, that if she's doing the first it's somehow at the expense of the second.

As for Star Wars and its legions of dead mothers and whatever they were going for with Bix in Andor... sigh.

But! I'll give JJ Abrams of all people credit for inverting this sort of thing in his pre-Star Wars days: Season 1 of Alias sets up Sydney Bristow's dead mother in soft-focus domestic dreamy flashbacks for ages before you find out that she's a) an undercover enemy intelligence agent b) still alive and c) baaaaaack, dun-dun-DUN...

Anyway this is why I worry about SF/F doing storylines in which someone gets into a committed relationship or has a baby despite really enjoying stories about established relationships and motherhood, because it's not in general that these shows can't do this well - they can absolutely write good female characters and often do! - it's that they'll think they are writing this in a really great way while, once again, like so many before them, proving incapable of fitting a whole woman in their heads.

(This was a Bsky thread from last month inspired by Andor and Doctor Who, which I want to expand on in more detail at some point when I have time but i’m throwing it here as-is for now so i can find it if/when ‘some point when I have time’ ever arrives.)

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #312

1. I’m looking for this fanfic. I don’t remember much about it but it was a very short one that I read years ago. Here are the two thing I remember: 1. Aziraphale and Crowley cuddling on either a couch or a tiny bed in the bookshop that can barely accommodate both of them but Crowley doesn’t mind. 2. Aziraphale keeps promising Crowley that he’s going to get a better (or bigger) bed but he keeps procrastinating. 3. The fic ends with a line that ends with the sentiment "Aziraphale could be slow, but he always kept his word". I think it may be explicit or mature but I’m not 100% sure. I’ll be forever grateful if we can find it 😭 - anon

2. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where Crowley and God are siblings and Crowley had his own "test garden" dimension in heaven where he created things like dragons and unicorns and stuff and his true form is actually a dragon, and he has his own army in heaven that still answers to him only and there is another war between the archangels on one side and God and Crowley on the other with Aziraphale as Crowleys soul mate. And I'm pretty sure it was a "Crowley was Raphael" story. And I'm pretty sure God and Crowley were a single entity before the beginning in this fic. And I can't find it anymore - @zanylawyerdeanbakery

3. Hello, so happy to have just found you! What a wonderful service you're providing, thank you! I'm looking for a specific fic, (it might've still been a WIP?), but I feel fairly certain it has disappeared/ been taken down. I hope you can prove me wrong! Rated E, human Sex Workers fic, both Aziraphale and Crowley work at a brothel each with their own assigned room they work in. They fall for each other, but the employer doesn't allow coworkers to date. The one chapter I vividly remember that sets this apart from similar fics was that a client books a threesome, and wants those two. I think the client asks to watch A&C undress each other (though that tidbit might be from a different one, not positive). Ultimately, they have the client on all 4's between them, I think Crowley is giving him anal from behind, client is giving oral to Aziraphale. Meanwhile A & C are making major eyes at each other and it's like a sex-by-proxy thing happening. After the client leaves the room, they're in dressing gowns, and they finally give in to their overwhelming attraction and kiss each other. For a very very long time (because kissing isn't allowed w/ clients and they both find it's the thing they crave the most). (This part I might be confusing with another fic, but they might also be neighbors? And they each have teenage kids. I think Adam is Crowley's little brother or adopted kid, and Pepper is Aziraphale's sister's kid who he lives with, something like that. The kids' friendship gives A&C some plausible deniability to hang out.) If you're able to find it, I'll be so grateful! (My AO3 search skills leave much to be desired!) Whether you find it or not, or answer this or not, I hope you all have a very lovely day! <3 - @laudaddysmitten

4. Hi! Im looking for a fic I read in 2023(?), I don't remember much but i know: It's set during season 2. Beelzebub is more honest with Crowley when asking about Gabriel. It's in Crowleys POV and basically a more in-depth fic about Crowleys and Aziraphales reaction to ineffable bureaucracy/boxfly. I feel like I'm going insane trying to find this, so thank you in advance! :)) - @bru1sed-apple

5. Hellooo! First I want to thank everyone here for this account, seriously, it's a blessing! Secondly, I've been looking for a fic I read, probably about a year ago but I can't seem to find it but I also don't remember a whole lot about it. It's similar to (I'd rather be) in the palm of your hand, which I read around the same time. All I remember is that Crowley made webcam videos, but I'm pretty sure that this one was a human AU because what I remember from the entire thing is that after the video was filmed, Crowley went on to take some pictures for later when everything was "still fresh" and he didn't have to fake it with coconut oil. I know that's really not a lot of information but that's all I can remember for some reason. Thank you so much in advance! - @flerken-is-not-a-cat

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[pentapoctopus]

Wedding DJ Eddie (pt. 1)

"You go to a lot of weddings, right?" Steve was enormously proud of how little he was slurring his words after a long day of drinking nothing but Bacardi and Diet Coke.

Eddie scoffed. "I work a lot of weddings. I don't know if that counts." He gestured at the banquet hall around them, devoid now of any guests other than Steve.

"Okay, but how many of them actually work out?"

Eddie grinned. "The weddings go great, thanks for asking. Because I only work with vendors who also know what they're doing." As if to prove his point, he neatly coiled a speaker cable with well-practiced hands and tossed it into the backpack at his feet.

"Not the weddings, smartass," Steve groaned, slumping over into the folding chair that the venue staff had left just for him when they finished packing up. "The marriages. Do any of them work out?"

Eddie stared at him for a second. Maybe it was the liquid courage talking, but Steve was absolutely certain that Eddie was doing his best to disguise his affection as exasperation. "I don't know, man. They pay me, I set my shit up, I play the same songs I play at every wedding, I pack my shit up again." He gestured at the stack of gear bags behind him as proof. "And then, hopefully, I never speak to them again."

"It's all such bullshit," Steve mumbled. "You probably know that better than anybody, huh?" He felt acid in his chest, with no way of knowing if it was the rum or just pure bitterness. "How many times have you heard the same dumb speech about how this is the love story of the century, or whatever? Fifty percent of those marriages will end in divorce, so, like, why do we even bother?"

Eddie shrugged. "Maybe it's not such a bad thing that so many marriages end, if the alternative is people being stuck in unhappy relationships that have run their course. I mean, nobody wants that, do they?"

For a minute Steve just sat quietly while Eddie continued packing his gear, oblivious to the answer to his obviously rhetorical question.

But Steve, poor, drunken Steve, had until very recently wanted nothing more than to stay stuck in his own unhappy relationship long after it had run its course.

He knew somewhere deep down that that was the wrong answer, but it didn't do anything to dull the heartbreak that felt like it would never end.

He was usually pretty good at putting on a brave face in the aftermath of being dumped by the only person who had ever really loved him. But then again, he didn't usually drink so much that the room started spinning. And he also wasn't usually on the receiving end of the sort of kindness Eddie had shown to him that night.

It was probably the alcohol, rather than Eddie's kindness or the question itself, that was the final nail in the coffin of his dignity.

Either way, the result was the same. In a banquet hall accompanied only by this confusingly likeable DJ he'd only just met, for the first time since the supposed love of his life had said no, Steve finally let himself cry.

[ao3cassandraic]

OH SHIT this is gonna be really really long, y'all, watch out...

All this is good and right! I think it's Ratthi's flavor of something all the PresAuxers (even Gurathin the kinda-sorta-adoptive PresAuxer) have: an absolutely primal need to be Good At Things. To be competent. To be right -- not because someone else has to be wrong (that's very not how PresAux rolls), but because being wrong oneself is very, very bad. Ideally, to be Good At Everything Ever, as though this were both sensible to want and possible to achieve.

The flip side of this need is, um, not ever being allowed to need anything from others, because if you need something it proves you're not Good At Everything and that's bad and you're bad. You might even be Useless, which is the actual worst thing you can possibly be (and I think we can all see how PresAlliance's stated resource constraints would play into that mindset).

I want to hug all of PresAux, even Gurathin who would probably hate it, because I was named a gifted kid too, I too was told that it was my job to be Good At All The Things (and probably cure cancer on the side), I too was told that a whole two points off a super-scary physics exam was a failure, I too was told that I was lucky to have been given all the advantages I had and so it was my obligation to live up to them and provide good ROI, I too was told that I had to be sufficient unto myself because after all I had no reason to need anything, I too was told that quitters never win and something is wrong with them (me), I too was ripped stem to stern for leaving an abusive Ph.D program despite being so stressed and burned out I was suffering some quite nasty psychosomatic shit. (Do not image search "severe pompholyx" unless you have a strong stomach.)

Oh, PresAux. Sweethearts. I love you all and I am so sorry for what has been done to you.

Anyway.

It is not accidental that PresAux first really sees Murderbot (rather than viewing it as unnecessary and unaesthetic furniture) after it manages an extremely competent rescue. Not accidental at all. PresAux lives for competence.

We see Mensah's flavor of omnicompetence very early on, and we're told everyone admires her for it -- she is a skillful and respected leader, she is Good At Family, she's a terraforming expert with a doctorate, she's the best pilot in PresAux, she's even a gotdang calligrapher, holy crap, is there nothing this woman cannot do?

Yeah, there's something. Admitting to panic attacks is what she can't do. Because that would be asking for help, and... yeah, no, not an option. If anybody's still wondering why the panic attacks got brought back in the timeline -- I really think it's because the writers wanted all of PresAux to have some failing (and I use this word advisedly; I don't think panic is a fatal flaw but PresAlliance society does) that they can't admit to, and the panic attacks were right there at hand.

Similarly, Bharadwaj can't admit that she needs some R&R after the millipede attack, nor can she accept Gurathin's offer of therapy modules. I still think she's got some Ph.D FOMO going on (though it's been pointed out to me that in Europe "Professor" carries more cachet than in the States, so, um, okay). It just breaks my heart that she can admit her PTSD insomnia to outsider LeeBeeBee but not to her comrades.

Going into shock in a crisis is Arada's bete noire (never mind that crisis responders are trained to the nth degree because avoiding a freeze response doesn't come naturally to most). Ratthi's is explored in the post I'm reblogging: he has to be Competent At Relationships and he's also beating himself up over the gun-training thing (he missed an opportunity for Competence because he is Not Competent at handling substance use and ouch).

Pin-Lee's chosen areas of Competence are giving everyone else (especially Arada) what they want while not taking anything for themself, not doing anything frivolous (like gitting gud at video games), and putting on a Mensah-like face of intimidation rooted in total competence. Arada, who is very emotionally aware of others, knows this about her spouse: "you're intimidating too, babe." (They, um, aren't, at least not to me. But I can totally understand why they want to be!)

And part of the whump lambasting poor Gurathin is that he has Needed Help (therapy modules!) and they all know it. His competence area is that he Knows How The Worlds Work, And Everything In Them -- he rather than Pin-Lee is Mensah's backup corpo negotiator, and he's totally not wrong about PresAlliance financing its society through debt dependence on the Corporation Rim. Yet he is being forced to admit he's wrong in key ways about Murderbot. Probably hurts him worse than the gunshot wound. And the blow to his Competence is definitely why he keeps doubling down on his suspicions.

Now. Watch how Mensah finesses this. When it becomes obvious that Bharadwaj is in no shape to check out the Unmapped Zone Possibly Crawling With More Millipedes, Mensah gives her something else to do. Mensah's no fool, Mensah is self-aware and leadership-savvy enough to understand the ironclad Competency Requirement, so Mensah ensures that Bharadwaj can save face... though they do get into that little disciplinary pissing match still, because not even Mensah is immune to Competency Requirement.

This is not the only time Mensah offers alternate routes to competence! She does it with Gurathin, to ease the sting of how often the poor guy gets left behind. She does it with Arada when Arada can't handle dragging freshly-shot Murderbot back to the hopper. (I'm wondering if "why couldn't you land a shot on that EvilSurvey bitch?!" is gonna come up next ep, because if it does, it'll be devastating.) And it's one of Mensah's first gambits with Murderbot: she asks it to analyze the messed-up maps, a bit gingerly so as not to step on Gurathin's or Pin-Lee's toes.

And letting them all save face is a kind, generous response! It's the response of a true servant leader out to encourage and foster the people she leads! I respect it! The thing is, though, it doesn't dismantle or deconstruct the sick system all of them are trapped in. It leaves them to continue uncritically worshipping Competence.

Humaniform wrecking ball that Murderbot is, it is constantly wrecking this system. First it's a janky decrepit piece of corpo shit that pulls off an impeccable rescue. Then it's manifestly incompetent at personal-relations stuff like graciously accepting compliments and eye contact. Then it accepts help from Mensah without going into an emotional tailspin over doing so -- it even calls her "an intrepid galactic explorer" in its most-approving (which is maybe not very, but that's our Murderbot) tone.

And in e6, it readily admits its fuckup with the hopper specs and accepts Mensah's justified ire calmly and undefensively. (It defends its show, but not itself!) About as un-PresAux as it could possibly get. Then it offers her the help she needs without thinking any less of her for needing it -- indeed, while showing her that it's needed the same kind of help any number of times. Then it trusts her, despite the vulnerability she just showed it, to do a procedurally and emotionally difficult surgery she's not trained for!

Murderbot isn't omnicompetent and doesn't try to be. Murderbot freely admits that, to Mensah and to itself. Murderbot accepts help and gives help without judgment. Murderbot accepts its own fuckups (less calmly internally than ex-, granted, but still). Murderbot rejects humanity, in so doing rejecting the PresAux omnicompetence ideal.

Murderbot is what PresAux needs. Which is not to say that it's responsible for fixing them, or even that its example will suffice to fix them. It's not... and I doubt its example is enough to topple the PresAlliance omnicompetence ideal. But just in showing them a different way to be, it's opening a door for them.

Yeah, sorry, this was really long. But I've been thinking about it for a while, and I do think it's one of the steel thematic cables tying the whole show together.

Not to psychoanalyze Ratthi from the Murderbot tv show, but he seems to me to desperately want to be part of something.

Like, you know that quote from The Incredibles, “if everyone’s special, then no one is?”

It seems to me like in Preservation, everyone is part of the community, everyone is welcomed, and probably for some people it must also feel like they are part of the group not because of who they are, but because it’s the norm. Like… do they even like me, specifically? Or am I being treated as part of the community just because I’m here and it’s the norm, but actually I did nothing to earn that?

In another parallel to SecUnit, albeit a subtler one than is the case with Gurathin, I feel like Ratthi is yearning to feel like he belongs.

Like, it all fits. The way he tries too hard to be hyper-friendly to the point it comes across as annoying. The way he cheats at video games. How he wants to be the hero, the one who saves the others (even tho he doesn’t know how to use a gun). The way he goes super hard on not just “Gurathin is 100% one of us and we love him!” but also “SecUnit is 100% one of us and also my bff! That’s right I’m friend with a SecUnit ☺️ you guys probably wouldn’t, like, get it.”

Not to mention the entire mess with the throuple. He is trying so so so hard to belong to something, to have been chosen by someone for something, anything.

(He also gives big “youngest sibling who knows his family likes him but isn’t sure it is because they like him or because it’s their responsibility to like him” vibe but let’s not spend too much time on that).

[vivid-bad-brainrot]

Feel free to rant about VBS WL2 gang I gotta know now

why vbs wl2 is bad - a pathetic little rant

HIHI thank you for giving me an opportunity to rant holy moly do I have thoughts on vbs wl2..... most of them negative uhhhhh I think what I liked about it was Touya's chapters. they were probably the strongest (actually if I have to rank them on best to worst it bed touya--->an--->kohane--akito). I did enjoy an's whole "it was selfish of me to have dragged Kohane into this" spiel because its something that means a lot to her character and I cried from joy when she was talking about it!! The only think I liked in Kohane's chapter was the whole "it felt nice to BE an's partner" because that mentality stems from insecurity, which again, I wish her chapters dove into more.

Pretty much: I feel like this event wasn't individually character driven enough??? obviously these stories ARE angstbait written by a corporation to get money but we KNOW that PRSK is capable of making stories that are so impactful and beautiful so when they churn out slop like this its kinda insulting yk????? akito would hate the PRSK writers please stop half assing this!!!

most criticism I've seen for this even were "it only focused on the aibous!!!!!" and while that is a valid complaint that's not what made the event so ass. To me, the whole aibous braking up schtick wasn't a lame idea, it's actually really compelling! The main issue is that we didn't LEARN anything new about these characters from how they were acting (except maybe touya. Touya's chapter felt like a genuine character study of him and the fact that it focused more on his relationship with MUSIC primarily is what made it so strong for me!!!

i don't wanna be a whole "why is the author acting like he know so much" but genuinely the way an and akito's chapters were handled.... didn't feel right to me. Akito especially because WHY did he go to America (to get a fresh start???? bro IDK at least touya had a REASON to go to Austria) where he has no connections and cant speak a lick of English?? What was the point of sending him to America if all it did was give us the whole "hey Akito wanna team up" "no" thing??? Personally, I think it would have been stronger if it focused on the original fallout between akitoya (also. WHY THE HELL ARE THEY IN THEIR THIRD ANNI OUTFITS LIKE HAS THAT MUCH TIME PASSED???? I think that amount of time passing hinders the emotional impact also it poses a lot of logistic issues for the whole "it was all a dream" thing but I will get into that later BYE) if they really wanted to go down the America route, I think it did have a LOT going for it.... the writers kinda just did nothing with it? I want to see Akito transitioning from a community-driven-place to NEW YORK FUCKING CITY.... I want him to think this change will be so good for him only for him to totally realize he screwed up. He is a sixteen year old boy!!! Give him an actual REASON to go home because I don't think he'd give a fuck if some random guy from Kamiyama hit him up like what????? (Same goes for touya, in my rewrite I make TSUKASA call him and ask for him to visit! why would he go back for a random guy from school????). Also, we SAW how badly Akito overworked himself in sbd when he isolated himself from touya and vbs. He should NOT be okay in a touya-less world this early game!!!! He's all alone in America goddammit!!!! Touya told him that his dream is bulshit this kid is about to dedicate his life to proving him wrong!!!!!! Anyways. Sorry Akitos chapters pissed me off BAD and Akito is the character I care least about in vbs that's how you know its bad.

moving on to AN's chapters and.... Let's be real, the moment I saw that An's chapters were both five minutes long I knew this event was gonna be bad. First off, I thought an accepting Kohane's break up was pretty interesting (because she has the ingrained idea in her head that Kohane will inevitably leave her, so an is honestly thriving off of the skill gap. can we pls talk about how this kid manages to have both a superiority complex and an inferiority complex at the same time???) but then I thought. Hey. this is AN SHIRAISHI girl you need to fight for your partner!!! Obviously an is emotionally mature enough to know "hey, if singing is gonna make Kohane wanna die I probably shouldn't push her to do it right????" But I would like to see An, who wants to be so so cool in front of Kohane, become completely desperate!! I need to see her go through the five stages of grief within 10 minutes over this girl she's formed a codependent relationship with and known for like two weeks!!! Again, this is where the time skips hinder the emotional impact a lot. ALSO. WHAT WAS THAT SHIT ASS ADVICE THAT KEN GAVE HER??? HELLO??? KEN????????? I believe that after kiuan they replaced ken with his evil twin because this guy is bulshitting parenting (which again. I would like to explore how ken has slowly morphed more into a mentor figure than a father figure but that's a 20k word fic for another time) An: "Hey dad I feel like I cant sing right ever since Kohane left" Ken: "Move forward" An: "Type shit" bro. that literally did not progress the plot at all I'm fucking crying. Anyways, An shiraishi in an aibou breakup scenario probably has the most going for her . can she please realize that her self worth is tethered to everyone she's been attached to??? That she's been chasing shadows her entire life???? Can we take a look on her relationship with music and how its shaped her into who she is??? CAN WE PLEASE DIVE INTO THE CONCEPT OF BEING NATURALLY GIFTED VS HAVING TO WORK TO EARN SKILL????? BECAUSE SHES BEEN TOLD HER ENTIRE LIFE THAT SHE'S A NEPO BABY SO---

Sorry. Anyways. There many possibilities for an abandonment issues shiraishi. ten minutes didn't do shit him sorry.

ok okay and then kohane's chapter was suchhhh a nothingburger it was kind of sad I genuinely don't remember a single thing that happened in that chapter because it was a whole lot of the same sentiment repeated like 10 times. Anyways the route that I would have taken with her chapter was her feeling totally hopeless/?? In my rewrite at least I'm making her jump fully into academics to study and get a "safe" job to counteract her time w/ an. or even better Kohane still yearns for that connection she had with an, she still WANTS to feel special. like hear me out what if anhane were friends, but not singing partners. what if kohane's dreams are literally at arm's length and she refuses to take the leap and try again?? how would an feel about this?? but no lets make her talk to ichika and then make her think about an without diving too deep into her underlying insecurities of course!! /sar.

Also I wonder what the heck was going on in the street sekai when all of this was going down????? like is it falling apart?? are rin and len arguing all the time now???? When An and Akito talk they are all "I'm gonna surpass rad weekend" AKITO HASNT FESSED UP TO COVERING FOR KOTARO'S SABOTOGE YET BTW. LIKE AN SHOULD BE KICKING HIM IN THE BALLS BECAUSE IN HER HEAD *HE* IS THE REASON KOHANE BROKE UP W HER oh my gof

okay and then we get to the part of the event that truly made this event abysmal. I can accept lazy writing but the "it was all a dream" thing was just straight up BAD WRITING???? If their clothes are telling me anything, these characters have been in this "dream" FOR OVER A YEAR. MONTHS HAVE PASSED. you're telling me that when they find out they've been living a dream that felt so real their reaction is "hm.... I wonder if kens coffee will taste in this dream?" EXCUSE ME????? THIS IS MAKING ME SO MAD I MIGHT BREAK MY KEYBOARD. BUDDY YOU HAVE BEEN DREAMING FOR OVER A YEAR WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR EXISTENTIAL CRISIS??????? and then when they get out of the dream they are like "wow I'm so glad that isn't real" ??????? HELLO???? I did enjoy what an said "well that was sad but doesn't it make you happy knowing that we all come together no matter what happens????" WHY IS NOBODY CRYING> BOY. and then everything that happens in this event has ZERO implications for the plot. it will never be mentioned again. hello. genuinely what.

if anyone read this through I am so sorry I put you through that but that sums up why I'm 20k words into a rewrite lmaooooo please tell me ur thoughts!!!!!!!!!!!

[aurescentia]

For the @corrodedcoffinfest Somewhere Over the Rainbow pop-up event - prompt: violet

ao3 || Song: Keep It Warm by Flo & Eddie || WC: 2,456 || Rating: T || CW: language, mild violence, references to weapons || Tags: Season 4 Rewrite, Fix-It, Coming of Age, Friendship, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, References to guns 'n' stuff, Not Canon Compliant, Background/kinda foreground Steddie

"Stick another grape in the juicer Or fill your guts with grease and get looser You are what you eat, so eat it warm"

March 27, 1986

Something’s wrong.

Okay, that’s… probably the biggest understatement of Frank’s life, because something’s been ‘wrong’ all fucking week. Honestly put a real damper on what should have been an awesome spring break, and– shit.

Not the point. Anyway–

Something’s wrong in a way that has him scaling up a telephone pole at one in the morning to break into the j-box, which, he supposes, as he opens the panel hidden inside, isn’t that out of the ordinary for him. He’s habitually checked the tape recorder once or twice a month since he started tapping it back in ’83.

What is out of the ordinary, and what led him to where he is now, tossing pebbles at Gareth’s bedroom window, is that the tapes aren’t empty like they usually are. And, yeah– since it’s a voice-activated recorder, no secret government calls meant no secret (i.e., illegal) government recordings. Which meant normally, they were blank.

Except for when they weren’t. Like in fall of ’83 and ’84, when those kids went missing, or last year, when the mall blew up and the whole town was crawling with feds. Except for now, when the whole town was calling Eddie a murderer, and there was nothing Frank could do to prove him innocent.

Until–

Gareth’s window finally opens, and Frank can see him peering out behind his bedhead mop.

“Psst!”

“Dude. What the fuck are you –”

“Can you come down?” Frank whisper-shouts up at him. Jeff’s head pops up beside Gareth’s, looking rumpled with sleep.

“Oh, Jeff’s here too? Sick, that saves us a trip.”

Gareth opens his mouth, probably to ask, ‘who’s ‘us’?’ but then Jeff’s shoving him out of the way to call back to Frank.

“We’ll be down in a minute. Wait there.” And then the window slides shut again.

For the record, it takes way longer than a minute for them to sneak through the side and out to where Frank’s waiting, but he doesn’t have time to waste moaning about them dragging their feet. They have, as Eddie would put it, negative time to get moving, and that’s under the optimistic assumption he can convince them to come.

But Frank doesn’t get to start explaining before Gareth’s shambling over, kicking at the backpacks he left scattered on the lawn.

“Why do you have– Frank, are those guns??” he asks, staring slack-jawed at the shotgun poking up through one of the bags.

Frank nudges it aside with his foot, placing one hand on either of their shoulders, desperate for their attention.

“And a couple of M72 LAWs, but ignore that for a sec and just listen to me,” he urges, shaking Gareth when he tries to argue again.

“Listen! I found Eddie, and he’s in danger. Like, full-on end-of-the-world, government conspiracies, danger. There’s too much to explain, and I’m probably going to seriously regret this, but I– I wanted to ask you guys to come along. Help save him.”

“And the whole world, probably, but that’s sort of a secondary concern,” Frank adds, unable to help himself.

“Whoa, hold on. Can I ask –?” Jeff shakes his head, rubbing at his temples.

“Whatever. I’m going to ask anyway. Is– is this shit tied to your CIA dad?” Jeff asks, lowering his voice.

“Former CIA dad, how many times do I have to tell you?” Frank mutters. “And… kind of? In a super roundabout way that also involves interdimensional monsters, and, more importantly, saving Eddie’s life. Which means I just need a yes or no response.”

“Wait a minute, this –”

Gareth starts to talk, but Jeff interrupts him with a hand to his shoulder, closing their circle in.

“Can you explain on the way?” he asks, nodding once at Frank.

“Uh, yeah– what else are we going to talk about on the way? The weather? That chem assignment you haven’t started?”

“Yes, of course I’ll explain,” Frank mutters when Jeff shoots him an expectant look.

“Alright. In that case, I’m in,” he says after a moment, shrugging when Gareth shoots him a betrayed look.

“But the guns –”

“I raided my dad’s closet for all the beefy shit he can’t sell at the store,” Frank says, waving away Gareth’s protests.

It was less ���closet’ and more ‘underground bunker,’ but the less they knew about that, the better. Whatever shit his dad sold outside the War Zone (i.e., off the records) was his business. Literally.

“Are you in or not, Gareth?”

He glances warily from Frank’s earnest expression down to the bags, and back. Sighs heavily, like this is all one big inconvenience instead of life or death.

“Fine, yeah. I guess I’ll tag along for the suicide mission.”

Frank slaps him on the shoulder cheerily.

“That’s the spirit.”

Thirty minutes later, they’re rolling Forest Hills, bags heavy with all the shit Frank had to haul solo on his initial ride. He’s done his best to fill them in on everything – his dad’s paranoia, tapping the j-box outside the nondescript building the feds didn’t want anyone to know they occupied when shit hit the fan in Hawkins, how often shit hit the fan here; all of it.

They only had to make one pitstop along the way to pepper spray the absolute shit out of Jason Carver and his cronies. And, yeah, it was possibly (mostly) unprovoked, but Frank figured there was no way they were out this late to do anything good.

And besides, they fucked up Gareth’s drumkit, so Frank assumes they deserved it.

But now that Carver’s taken care of and everyone’s up to speed, there’s a lull in the conversation as the three of them drop their bikes on the familiar steps leading up to the Munson trailer. Maybe less familiar, as it currently stands, with the windows vacant and dark. With the knowledge that Chrissy died here, and knowing that, without understanding how, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault.

“And you’re sure this is where Eddie’s hiding?”

“Seems like the last place he should go in a situation like this,” Gareth mumbles, eyeing the graffiti-covered trailer. 

“He is here… kind of,” Frank says firmly, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

From what he’d gathered from listening back to the recorded calls, the feds were aware of something they were calling ‘exits.’ That they’d been popping up everywhere the kids– where Chrissy had died. Didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out the rest.

And while the feds were too busy circle jerking to finish assembling a ‘task force,’ that meant Eddie could have slipped through unnoticed. Which meant they were about to follow.

Any further questions were met with a resounding, terrifying answer – one that took the unfortunate shape of a ‘YES’ spread out in a jagged chasm across the ceiling. The three of them stared at each other, at the anomalous sheet-bend ladder dangling from nothing.

There might have been a moment of second-guessing, of wondering if they were getting in too deep, but then they could hear voices coming through the chasm, and that was enough to get Jeff reaching for the ladder.

He pauses for a moment, just before he begins the climb, looking back at Frank and Gareth with an air of grave solemnity. 

“If I die, tell Rebecca Ives I’m in love with her.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, but kneels to give him a boost up anyway.

“Like we’d let you die without us.”

Gravity goes weird as Frank hauls himself up (down?) the ladder, everything shifting, flipping as he falls into the awaiting mattress landing pad. He thinks, god, the trailer’s seen better days, huh, even as they’re picking themselves up and following the voices toward the not-Munson-trailer front door.

He doesn’t have time to contemplate the nightmare reverse quality of everything here, or even worry about the spores floating in the air that have him itching for the inhaler he left at home, because Gareth’s already at the door, flinging it open with one hand. He’s got his other hand firmly latched around one of the tire irons Frank had brought.

The earth – if they’re even on earth anymore – seems to stand still. Because there’s Eddie, alive and mostly unharmed. Eddie and Dustin, and– well, shit. A whole fucking gaggle of others.

At the sound of the door opening, everyone outside whirled around to face them, hands on their weapons like they were expecting a fight. Which, yeah, they might well have been. Wasn’t that the whole reason the feds had been calling each other like crazy? Why they were out there, somewhere, assembling a task force at this very moment? The reason Eddie was here at all?

Because there was something out there, too large and inhuman to comprehend. Something that was just that – too much – and they needed to fight it. Had to kill it.

 “Jeff?” Eddie asks after a long pause, glancing surreptitiously back at the older group, as if making sure they could see them too.

“Eddie– Holy shit, dude,” Jeff breathes, taking an aborted step toward him.

He stops when Wheeler – yes, Nancy-goddamn-Wheeler – lifts her shotgun and aims it directly at the three of them, still smushed together in the doorway. Harrington shoots her a scowl, and she lowers it a little, but her fingers stay locked, ready to fire.

“How’d you get here?” Nancy asks warily, eyeing the three of them suspiciously. Frank wonders what else he has missed in the tapped calls – what other tricks of the mind the rest of the group experienced before they got there.

“Uh, we used the front door?” Gareth mutters, side-eyeing Frank like maybe Wheeler had a few screws loose.

“And the rope, don’t forget the rope into another dimension.”

 Wheeler frowns at this, opening her mouth to say argue – probably ‘go back, it’s too dangerous’ or some other noble, heroic shit, but Eddie’s already lifting a placating hand.

“We don’t have time to ask why they’re here. They’re here, and we need all the help we can get if we’re going to stop Vecna –”

“– the DnD guy?”

“– if we’re going to stop him before he gets Mayfield,” Eddie continues, ignoring Gareth’s muttered outburst. “And I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’ve seen enough kids die in the last week to last me a lifetime.”

“Go. Do your job. And make sure you get that fucker.”

The three of them – Wheeler, Buckley, and Harrington – all nod in eerie unison, resolidified by Eddie’s conviction. And they’re about to take off, head toward some unknown, separate danger, when Jeff nudges Frank’s shoulder, nodding to the bag of weapons. Right.

“Wait!” he calls to them, closing the distance with the bag of offerings held out. Wheeler’s eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, is that a bazooka?” Robin sputters, taking a step away from them.

“It’s an M72,” Frank and Nancy say in unison, then eye each other appreciatively.

Seems like Wheeler knows her shit.

“Where’d you –” Nancy cuts herself off with a shake of her head, accepting the bag Frank thrusts into her hands. “This is– wow, thank you. Honestly, it’s impressive.”

“What good would we be if we showed up empty-handed?” he says, grinning at her.

Feels good, knowing all this work wouldn’t go to waste. Nancy smiles at him, shyly, before hoisting the bag over her shoulder. Nods once, and then Wheeler, Buckley and Harrington disappear into the woods beyond.

Frank’s still staring after their retreating forms when he hears Eddie come up from behind, clapping an arm over his shoulder.

“As much as I’d love to bask in the warmth of this surprise reunion, we’re kind of busy preparing for battle,” Eddie says, smiling down his nose at him. “So, if you don’t mind a little walk-and-talk crash course, we can get each other up to speed.”

Frank laughs because, despite everything, it feels right being here with him. Together. Ready to fight for their town, for each other.

“Yeah, man. Let’s get to work.”

THREE DAYS LATER

They’re fourth (fourth!) in line to visit Eddie in the hospital once he wakes. The first and second positions were obvious – Wayne first, because yeah, they’re family; followed closely by Dustin, who was already here for Mayfield this morning when she woke.

But Gareth’s been moaning nonstop about the third person, who currently stood somewhere beyond the closed door of Eddie’s hospital room. His federally guarded hospital room, Frank might add, which was making his skin crawl, reminded of the very tapped, very illegal recordings he had stashed somewhere at the bottom of his bag.

“I just don’t get it,” Gareth’s saying for probably the tenth time since they got here. “We go through all that trouble – bringing the weapons, saving everyone’s ass, crushing all those interdimensional bats into bits–”

One of the feds gives Gareth a wary look, which he waves off with an annoyed flick of his hand.

“Look, buddy, I’m not breaking any NDAs if you pencil-pushers are the only ones to hear me,” he mutters.

“Anyway, point being! All Harrington does is ride in at the last second like a goddamn knight in shining armor, performs a little CPR on Eddie, and now we’re playing second fiddle to him? Where’s the rationale in that!”

Frank and Jeff share a look over Gareth’s shoulder, knowing that’s not… exactly how it went down, and he knows it, too. Frank certainly wouldn’t call what they saw Eddie and Steve do, pressed up against the driver’s side door as they left for the hospital, CPR for CPR’s sake.

More like the ‘holy shit, I almost watched you die’ and ‘holy shit, I almost died and now you’re carrying me, bridal style, to safety’ kind of embrace. One that included a lot of crying. And tongue.

“None of us broke our ankle saving him,” Jeff supplies drily. “I think that’s earned him a little favoritism, at the moment.”

More than favoritism, if Eddie’s blood loss induced, romantic whispers to Frank on the way to the hospital could be believed. But Frank was currently saving that embarrassing piece of blackmail for a rainy day.

“Sorry we were good at saving everyone’s lives and didn’t need to break anything to get the job done,” Gareth mutters sullenly, checking his watch again.

“Hey. Sunglasses,” he snaps at one of the guards, nodding at the closed door.

“Can you knock or something? Tell them their time’s up or–”

Gareth’s interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing a rather pink-faced Steve Harrington, beckoning them in.

“Sorry for, ah. For the hold up, guys,” he mumbles, scrubbing at the back of his neck.

“He’s ready for you now.”

please check out @corrodedcoffinfest for all the other entries, or to generally see what they've got goin' on over there. always tons of cool shit! and if you want to follow along for the rest of the week, you can find my posts here on tumblr, or saved to the Spectra series // Corroded Coffin Fest Collection on ao3 for everyone's submissions.

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

The Kill the Moon discourse irritates me so much because even if we are to take it as a one to one abortion metaphor, the fact is it is still a PRO CHOICE episode

The decision is not for the Doctor, he ran off in completely the wrong way and absolutely deserved Clara’s verbal beat down but the core sentiment was correct and he would go about it better in Thin Ice (he is at the service of the human race)

The decision is for the (metaphorical) mother, humanity and the women who were directly faced with and affected by the decision.

Even if the pro-life implications exist that is NOT BAD. The point is that THEY had the agency to make the choice. If the Doctor had for, one moment, stepped in and done his usual Doctor act, that would have undermined everything the episode built up.

Instead, we had 3 women at 3 stages of life all try to decide. All of them clearly conflicted, so they asked humanity and humanity voted mercilessly.

And still their choice was theirs, Clara and Courtney made the call, yes against the commander but ultimately the decision was made by the group in charge.

The above argument also proves the point about the nuance of the episode. I think it’s very pointed that Clara is the one asked about whether she wants kids, because ultimately Clara’s s8 arc is deciding between the Earth and the stars and despite herself this episode is a prime example of it, she always chooses the stars. But we can also examine the phrasing of the question; when the commander asks her this she asks her condescendingly, in a manner that is familiar to every woman who has experienced criticism for remaining childless or for perhaps physically deciding (through a hysterectomy) that they will remain childless. The interpretation of this episode symbolising Clara’s “aborted” children really supports the larger narrative, and I feel like the fight at the end of the episode further reinforces it; the control freak who keeps spending all her time trying to box herself into a Normal Earth Life ™️ ultimately made a decision that could have endangered it. Part of her anger is no doubt the fact that she was made to confront that impulse of hers, which is probably what made her lash out so hard and even overcorrect (by saying she wouldn’t travel with him again) but even in the midst of it there’s a smidge of her pride again as she tells him “don’t you dare lump me in with the rest of the tiny humans that you think are so tiny and silly and predictable.”

She betrays how she thinks, she is not so different from the Doctor as she sees them all as tiny and silly too, but beyond that she demands respect because she is above them, she wants to be above them. Even in the midst of her freak out we see her true nature, she is not and does not want to be like the rest of them.

kill the moon isn't pro-life. it's not even particularly pro-choice. it is explicitly pro-abortion in that it is actively opposed to the ideology of reproduction itself.

the episode doesn't just stage a moral dilemma about saving a "baby." it pits that against the entire future of the human race.

kundvik appeals to clara's potential children as justification for blowing up the moon. clara chooses not to, not because she knows it's safe, but because she rejects the idea that preserving humanity's reproductive continuity should always win.

the moon creature isn't a stand-in for a fetus; it's unknowable, massive, and cosmic. calling it a "baby" is rhetorical. what clara really does is abort the obligation to reproduce, to prioritize human offspring above all else.

and the show rewards that choice. it rewards the choice that goes against the idea that the moral default is to ensure life continues. you can't argue for letting the moon baby live without also accepting the risk that every child on earth, born or unborn, might die.

it completely rejects the idea that protecting unborn life is always the top priority. the flip side is: if you kill the moon baby, you save the kids. but kill the moon makes its choice loud and clear.

[bluerasbunny]

alright, since the last one went swimmingly,

as always, i'll draw the result once the poll is over!

[the-kinning-hour]

I like to think about the impact that being isolated as a teen had on Shigaraki as a person.

I don’t mean angst, not understanding his own feelings or awkward social life. I mean that he definitely has gotten most of his non-hero related facts about society and people from the internet.

imagine; Shigaraki genuinely not understanding the concept of gender or sexuality because he’s only ever seen it discussed in reddit debates. He is baffled when he meets Magne but accepting. That night he searches “how to support trans employee professional easy”

Shigaraki asking Quora, “Why is my father so insistent on me making friends? It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like people.” And having 20 moms in his replies telling him to get out of his room and join clubs

Shigaraki not knowing basic things about women (seeing as he was not raised around any) and awkwardly googling the phrase “PMS-ing” when Toga complains about cramping, expecting it to be teenage slang and instead going down the rabbit hole of the horrific experience of periods

Shigaraki not knowing why Sako is bowing his head toward Kurogiri and saying “itadakimasu” every time he eats with the League and wondering if the magician is trying to usurp his spot as Kurogiri’s favorite via boot licking

Shigaraki taking a “Do you have autism” quiz on Quotev and expressing his concerns to Kurogiri at 2 am when he scores 100% (he doesn’t know what autism even is)

Overall, I think people don’t take advantage of how funny it could be to interact with the ultimate antisocial dweeb Shigaraki who has a total of zero normal experiences

[rowanthestrange]

For me the funny thing about the Rani calling herself a Time Lady, is that of course she does. The Rani has always very clearly liked being a woman. She's no 'pure being totally devoted to science' - then she'd have worn reasonable science clothes, have short hair that needs minimal upkeep and can't get in her eyes in a critical moment, wouldn't have tits on the basis that they risk getting in the way, certainly wouldn't wear the deeply impractical giga cunty boots she always does because she knows who she is.

She didn't name herself The Ruler or something that could ever be applied to a man or neutral being like everybody else does just in case, no, she is a queen, a rani, she is The Rani.

Not only does she like being a woman, you know damn well she thinks testosterone makes you stupid, has scientific papers (and it being the pre-existing Time Lord bias) to back that up, and if she accidentally regenerated into a man she'd chop her balls off and consume oestrogen like skittles, insist on everyone knowing she's she/her and dress the part accordingly regardless of whatever dysphoria her brain would then start cooking itself in. Because she thinks being a woman is to be objectively smarter. Believes being seen as that sets her apart and above. Time Lady is not the species it is a class and you will treat her as superior because of it.

(This should not, however, be confused with ‘femininity’, which as we all know is a repulsive social construct of weakness, and she could absolutely draw a scientific objective unbiased line between that and what being a woman is, she’s just never got round to it. Does she believe in gendered social roles? If you mean women should be in The Science Lab/Council/The ones making decisions, then yes. But if not, then that’s on them being personally slavish enough to do so, that’s their problem, and they deserve to be stepped on because of it.)

She thinks The Boys are stupid in large part because they are boys and being adversely affected by their hormones and wouldn't even let her fix their disability. If she met Missy and Thirteen she'd treat Missy better than she's treated the Master at any point in his entire life with her (though wouldn't let her get away with calling herself the queen of evil); and she'd be more disgusted by Thirteen than any other Doctor as a betrayal to Time Ladyship, would watch her still eating dirt and want to beat her to death with a sonic hammer. You know it in your heart to be true.

The draw to the Doctor and Time Lords in general is this sort of gender-fluidity that's not entirely nonbinary but isn't not either, but leads itself to complexity. There’s not an emancipation from gender but something has been Attempted. They don't have segregated outfits or education, and while there's probably biases in there, there's some complexity in that being a choice, and most Time Lords will at least try something new once and we’ve now made that abundantly clear from our main characters to the bit parts of the Corsair and General.

But the Rani's a rogue which means she chooses to ditch at least some of their concepts. Just so happens that in this case it's the thing we usually like about Time Lords nowadays, and one of her rebellions is Being A Woman Is Always Better Actually.

In a world where gender is supposed to be mostly a non-factor she not only made that choice but made it her whole appearance from hair to boots, made it her name, inextricably joined it to her identity. While Time Lord society may in fact agree with her underlying bias this is still considered Going A Bit Far. Maybe this is partly why she comes off as so camp - to a time lord she's a drag queen. The Drag Rani.

Support Women’s Wrongs.

[Do I think making her originally not a ciswoman would take something away from the meta of ‘one’s personal biases and the attempt to prove them to be scientific reality as both modern, bigoted, transmedicalist, and fascist critique, and a direct nazi parallel’? I do. But also would it be funny to have her and Theta meet just after initiation, “when he was a little girl”, both sitting and waiting for an appointment with the Nonregenerative Medical Specialist, where she understands why she “wants to” be a girl - it is of course her hyperintelligent brain craving and crying out for the correct hormones and telling her to fear the oncoming train that will be ruinous testosterone, but here’s this other — not actually unintelligent just refuses to apply it — child, deliberately saying “please oh god please hit me with the traincar”, and she finds herself inextricably drawn to trying to understand him and failing for the rest of her life? That would also be very funny.]

Are we at a place socially where we can enthuse over a person really enjoying a) being a woman and b) finding a style aesthetic she likes and going in hard on it, cus I kinda want to be enthusiastic about the Rani and her life choices.

[frostgnawdraws]

failure and futility

for day 2 of campfire fest! prompt: third eye (and i guess could also count for explosion, or a lack thereof lol) @outerwilds-events

[whoruntheworld-lesbians]

One of my favorite parts of eah is that there is so much ship potential. Literally everywhere. You throw two names together, I'll have a list of headcanons on your desk by Monday.