#mostly done while thinking about some programming problem

[venfaaniik]

various sketches of Jon found in my notebook

[fatuismooches]

cor meum, manus tuas.

synopsis: After your illness strikes again, Dottore decides to gift you a failed experi-, a new companion in order to soothe your injured heart.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: A cute fluff fic where Dottie gives you Foxttore and the pufflings as a pet (the blue monster creature from Nahida's fairy tale.) He loves you a lot. Really just pure fluff and Foxttore getting on Dottore's nerves. Enjoy!

For as long as Il Dottore had known you, you had always been one to suggest things that he had no interest in. It was a habit of yours, and sometimes he’s not sure if you’re being genuine about it or if you simply want to rile him up, as you usually do.

One such example was back in the Akademiya when the two of you finally successfully reversed-engineered one of those machines after a painstaking amount of work. It was arduous and tiring, but immensely rewarding. Oh, he had so many ideas and things to do now, but you- you had other plans.

“So, now that we’ve got it under our control, I think we should program it to have some new tricks.” Zandik had paused at your words, as for once that was a good idea. He wondered what the limit of such a killing machine could possibly be.

“Go on.”

“Alright, imagine this, it’s about to swoop in and land the finishing blow, but instead, a whole bunch of confetti pops out and-”

“No.”

“You can’t even pick up a sword properly. You know nothing about fighting like I do! Just hear me out, it’ll be a great distraction because they’d never be expecting that, and boom, that’s where the real attack comes in.”

“No.” (Later on, he found out that you’d programmed the thing to have a single flower shoot out, just for him. He swiftly removed it after you were done laughing.) 

Or when you had begged and pleaded with him to let you teach him how to cook, just once. It was no secret you were always the one on cooking duty during the Akademiya, for he had a severe lack of skill for it. Furthermore, Zandik had no interest in it, not having the time or patience for something just meant as sustenance. You, however, were insistent on at least teaching him the basics, for it was no way for a student to live (according to you.)

The slicing and dicing went well enough, but the moment you turned your back for a few moments, he had somehow set the smoke detector off, and the Akademiya’s dorm director gave you two a good scolding. You learned your lesson after this particular incident, but from your giggles, he knew you didn’t feel an ounce of regret.

Your antics were truly something he wouldn’t get used to. And now, over four hundred years later, your teasing nature had remained the same, only that it became more verbal as you didn’t have the strength to pull off your elaborate plans anymore.

Which is why lately you had been clinging to him with pleading eyes and a jutted lip, vehemently asking for a pet despite his numerous rejections, going so far as to try and recruit other segments (who, unfortunately for you, did not join your cause.)

“Please honey, my darling, my beloved, my-”

“My answer is not going to change, [Name]. I will not tolerate anything running around and causing a mess.”

“Aww, but come on. I know you love cats. I know you secretly pet them when no one’s looking. I know that-”

“That’s enough from you. Now, will you sit or should I strap you down instead?”

That line of conversation persisted for a while until you mostly gave up, only throwing the idea in from time to time with a hmph. But now, he was uncharacteristically wondering if there could be a solution to this problem. 

Lately, you had been confined to your bed and room, too physically weak to move around much. He and the segments had done their best, as they always do, to take care of you, but one did not need to be a genius to know that you were feeling down. Not only because of the aches your body gave you, but also because you were lonely for most of the day, seeing as his other selves were usually too busy to spend an adequate amount of time with you. Once again, despite his lack of care for the emotions and feelings of others, he could see straight through your feigned expressions of nonchalance.

Dottore hated it when you pretended around him.

He could raise the topic but it would probably make matters worse. Instead, it was much more logical to work toward a solution for the issue - the solution being a companion to keep a smile on your face, and your mind at ease. Now, an actual pet probably would be a hassle to maintain in the lab, knowing the kind of activities that were… well, unsafe to say the least, so he put that possible solution to the side for now.

Initially, he sought to create something mechanical, having seen the mechanical animals from Fontaine. Of course, his creation would be far superior, and it would be quite helpful with your condition and all. But upon further thinking, knowing your tastes… you’d probably prefer something softer, considering how much you liked to cuddle him and your plushies. 

It was a conundrum the scholar found himself in, making his darling lover happy was not something that could be so easily scientifically concocted like the rest of the conclusions he reached. It required much more than simply following the lines of reason. Perhaps that’s why Dottore often struggled with it. 

Yet he did not have the luxury of time to continue pondering, for he did not want to leave you by yourself for much longer. And so he continued to sit at his desk, his hands automatically filling out paperwork while his mind was focused elsewhere, still thinking about what he could possibly gift you. Something warm and cuddly with the ability to communicate with you to some extent…

That was when he remembered something he created long, long ago.

The memories of that creation came back to him rather quickly once he remembered. Dottore remembered every experiment he’d done, but some were just not very special or successful and lingered very little in his mind. This was one of those unnoteworthy results. It was no secret that he was known to… play around with the concept of life, ignoring the rules that guarded it so strictly… and it was this idea that led to the birth of a creature, one that certainly did not belong to this world.

It was a monstrous, furry black thing that hid its true self with some kind of suit, its lone eye bright and red. It hadn’t been the first time his experiments led him to the unknown, but this… was just something he didn’t care about at all. After a few tests on the creature, he lost interest rather quickly. It was the farthest thing away from the life Dottore wanted to toy with. In fact, he had planned to dispose of the thing, but the creature seemed to understand his words more than he anticipated. It quickly scurried away, creating chaos and knocking down almost everything it could, skillfully making its escape.

Dottore had contemplated searching for his odd creation but decided that it wasn’t worth the time or energy. Judging from the distaste it held for him, it probably wouldn’t come around anyway. So, it could exist in the far depths of the lab for all he cared. It wasn’t like this was the first time he threw things into the back and forgot about them. Now, he was rather pleased that he didn’t get rid of his experiment. He had known you for long enough that he was sure you’d find such a thing cute, for some reason. It checked the fluffy and easily holdable boxes too. His only question was whether it could be alive after all these years… well, it was certainly worth a shot, seeing as his solutions were limited.

The answer to Dottore’s question was a yes. It had unfortunately taken much longer than he’d liked to search the dusty rooms (although admittedly, he had gotten a bit distracted with reviewing the old things he dumped) but at long last, he had found the round creature peacefully dozing without a care in… some kind of bed it had crafted with a bunch of papers and black fur. It looked perfectly content… in all honesty, Dottore was a bit interested in what it had been up to all this time. Maybe it held more scientific value than he thought… 

Regardless, in one swift motion, Dottore grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and it immediately awoke, attempting to scramble away. Once its single eye laid on the man who so rudely interrupted its sleep, it blinked, before multiplying its strength to escape, even trying to scratch him, but to no avail. The Harbinger’s grip was far too strong, of course. Meanwhile, Dottore had already lost a bit of patience from the creature’s incessant movements.

“Stop that,” he demanded sharply, and the critter instantly went still as its eye continued to stare at him completely widened. Dottore smiled, which felt rather eerie and frightening to the oversized creature.

“What, did you think I came all the way here to finish the job? Oh no, if I wanted to, I would have done so already a long time ago. Instead, I have another use for you. Something that will benefit both of us. I’m sure you’ll agree,” he hummed as he turned to leave the room. But as he took a single step, he found himself stepping on something soft. Curiously lifting his foot, he looked down to see a small, black, round ball of fluff staring at him with a red eye identical to the creature he held in his hand. And then another came into view.

… And another. Soon at least over a dozen had popped out of the shadows, all watching at him with anticipating eyes. He had forgotten these balls of black fur were also a byproduct of creating the creature. Now quite a few had surrounded his feet and were hopping up and down, attempting to climb his pants, which he quickly shook off with a scowl. Well, it looked like these things were going to follow him regardless of what he said…

“If you all are going to follow me, be prepared to make yourself useful,” he sighed in exasperation before finally leaving, stepping on a few more in the process. (The usefulness in question, was making sure you’d be left with a smile.) Based on the odd squeaking noises the smaller creatures made, they seemed to be on board with the idea. 

—

When your husband suddenly presented you with a gift contained in a rather large box, you were a bit surprised. Not because you were receiving a gift, but because of the size of it. Normally, he would give you small trinkets and such, things he’d thought you’d like (that had no real purpose to him, retrieved solely for you. Yes, he was very cute unintentionally. You had a little shelf for his stuff.) But you had no clue what he could have possibly gotten for you that warranted the need for such a big container…

You had long discarded your book in favor of new entertainment (you were reading the same sentences over and over anyway), your hands gliding over the rough material. Dottore was looking at you expectantly, having barely said anything besides shoving the thing on your bed, with a simple “for you.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, your chest getting a bit lighter from the previously stuffy atmosphere dissipating.

“Are you going to explain yourself or leave me guessing as to what I’ve done to receive such a thing?”

“You have been lonely and tired, and I seek to alleviate your pain. Yet there are certain things I cannot always do, which is why I found a solution,” he stated simply, pushing the box closer to you as if it was no big deal. Your eyes widened as your jaw hung, speechless, before you sent a small, teasing smile to your husband.

“I… well, who knew you could be such a considerate man? Keep that up and you’ll make me blush.” You couldn’t help but heat up a bit from his concern, although he didn’t say it outright. And you didn’t really have it in you to deny his words too, he was right after all, you have been lonely and tired from being cooped up in your room all day.

“Still, I want a hint! Ah, it’s too heavy for me to even lift up…” You couldn’t guess what could be in here. “Could it be the latest new novels from Inazuma?”

“No, but those are on the way. It’s something more-” At that moment, the box slightly shifted and you blinked in surprise.

“Oh, oh! Are these new models of Beta’s miniature Ruin Machines? Did he finally make the Ruin Sentinels series?” In truth, initially, the segment wasn’t interested in creating such pointless machines, but after you oh so innocently challenged him to make them movable and fit in the palm of your hand, he took the bait and presented them to you smugly. Needless to say, you very much liked your little collection of action figures, and you were hoping he had finally made ones that could fly.

“No, it’s-” Once again, he was interrupted by even more dramatic shuffling, thumping echoing loudly from inside the box which made you scoot back a bit.

“Dottore, you sure whatever’s in here isn’t going to attack me…?” Your voice was more lighthearted than worried, but now you were squinting at him a bit suspiciously. Dottore’s expression remained unaffected, but inside he was the slightest bit annoyed. He had told those damn things not to move around. Thankfully, a sharp slap to the cover of the box caused the movements to cease, and he only smiled at you once again.

“As I was saying, it’s something you have been asking about for a long time.” He watched as your face turned thoughtful, fingers drumming when suddenly it became very obvious as to what it was. 

“Is it… is it what I think it is?” He found your expression rather amusing as he witnessed your eyes becoming sparkly with joy.

“Go ahead,” Dottore motioned and you wasted no time pulling the cover off the box, your eyes meeting a furry, blue creature whose lone eye gazed up at you curiously. You blinked at it, and it blinked back at you, but you had no time to say anything before some other unknown creatures began pouring out the box and spilling onto your bed, some crawling on your lap. This was certainly not the average pet you had expected… but you were not complaining. These things were the cutest - not to mention the little strand of hair on the top.

“Dottore,” you giggled at the fluff tickling your skin, “what exactly are these- oh!” Your words were interrupted when the larger creature suddenly jumped out of the box and launched itself into you, pawing your chest. You reciprocated the attention in delight, giving it numerous head pats and taking a closer look at it. Most of its soft fur seemed to be blue, although its head was black, and its beak was harder than the rest of its body. Regardless, it was completely adorable, and it seemed to like you very much.

“It is something I created in my lab during one of my experiments. I figured it would be something you’d enjoy.” You lit up, and the scholar couldn’t help but appreciate how you seemed to glow.

“You made these little guys for me? Oh, I always knew you could be such a romantic! I have my husband, my son, and now a cute pet. Isn’t it nice to see our family grow, Zandik?” He remained silent at your hastily made conclusion, deciding that the little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when you looked this happy. After all, he imagined your response to him keeping this creature in the backrooms of his laboratory for ages wouldn’t be very well received, considering how attached you were to it already. Thankfully, you didn’t notice the glare the creature sent him either.

“Do they have names yet?” Dottore thought back to the string of numbers and letters attached to this experiment and opted not to disclose that, shaking his head. You hummed, trying to think of what name to bestow upon your new pets until you quickly came up with something good.

“Foxttore,” you stated firmly.

“Foxttore?” He repeated a few seconds after you, rather unimpressed.

“Yes! Because he looks like a fox, and he also kind of looks like you!” You playfully squished the creature’s cheeks.

“I bear no resemblance to that creature,” he frowned, immediately refuting your statement.

“Don’t look like that,” you teased. “It’s a compliment. You’re both cuties that are the same shade of blue,” you leaned in to kiss him gently, a simple way to silence him despite his vexation. “Now as for these little ones…” you thought once more as the black puff balls clung to your arm, Dottorelings… no, that’s too long… how about pufflings? Yes, that will do nicely!” Seemingly understanding your words, the pufflings began jumping up and down in glee. You then moved closer to the man and enveloped him in a hug.

“Thank you for this, Zandik. I am very happy,” you whispered quietly as you snuggled into his neck. It was the truth - you really were happy to have some company constantly around. Your husband returned the hug and you loved how his strong arms felt around you.

“Of course. But if they happen to cause you any… trouble,” he sent a look to the thing now called “Foxttore”, “be sure to tell me.”

“Aww, don’t say that. Foxttore is a good boy! Right?” You smiled brightly at your new pet, who was kneading the blanket, watching the two of you. The contrast between its creator’s less-than-pleasant face and your wide grin was stark and rather easy to choose from. It then hopped up and practically wedged itself in between the two of you, looking up to you with a pleading eye, desperate for attention. You squealed with delight and pressed the creature to your cheek, nuzzling against it.

When Dottore noticed the cheeky look his creation sent him, he wondered if this was actually a good idea.

—

Foxttore and the pufflings were the best and cutest companions you could ever ask for.

The pufflings were always scattered about your room, resting in different locations. You honestly had no clue how many there were, nor could you tell them apart, but you swore they squeezed through the bottom of your door somehow because sometimes they’d return with random items. They seemed pretty starved for attention… they even liked it when you squished them like a stress ball.

Foxttore was equally as cuddly, but also rather intelligent. He would fetch you items so you didn’t need to get up, and he could even turn a doorknob… you were fascinated. One of your favorite things to do was give him a note for him to deliver to a segment, and he would actually deliver it. (Said note usually contained you begging a segment to visit you, otherwise you’d die without their attention.)

After a lot of cuddling and rubbing, you found out that Foxttore was just a severely oversized puffling with four legs instead. That blue fur of his wasn’t even his, just a suit he wore. It was quite funny to see him without it on. It seemed rather shy without its fox fur, but with enough kisses, hugs, and reassurance, it had no problem lounging around without it.

You read them stories, showed them everything your room had to offer, placed some of Beta’s cute pink bows on them, bathed with them - you were starting to look forward to the day much more now that you could wake up to them.

—

While Dottore knew that you would get attached to the little monstrosities he gifted you, perhaps he didn’t anticipate it to reach this degree. Even after you had gotten well enough to stroll around the lab again, the blasted things were attached to your hip the whole time.

Visiting the segments? They would come up to you, caressing and teasing you with their deliciously infuriating small touches and kisses, and then all of a sudden a small crash would sound throughout the room, the culprit being Foxttore.

Visiting him? He’d have you on his lap, about to pin you to his desk, when he noticed the pufflings watching him from all corners of the room. It was maddening trying to chase them away, but then you’d get pouty about how the creatures didn’t like to be alone. (The only segment that the creature seemed to like was Zandy, although it had taken a while - a bit of scolding from you, and many offerings of food from the child to Foxttore had done the trick.)

As much as Dottore was glad your mood had improved greatly, admittedly, it would please him if he could just chuck his creations out into the Snezhnayan snow, just to finally get some alone time with you. But you loved them too much, so he resolved to resort to other means… eventually.

Over time, your pets gradually began to not hog your attention the whole time, but you were very insistent on helping Dottore and them become friends. It wasn’t very easy, however, they seemed to have some tension between them. You weren’t really sure why, but you still loved having them together.

—

“Dottore! Oh Dottore, you have to watch this,” you puffed out your chest proudly as Foxttore trotted behind you. Your husband looked at you questioningly before you spread your arms out, directing them toward the creature.

“I taught Foxttore tricks! Watch this! Foxttore, sit!” Your pet obediently sat down, his tail wagging (although you had no clue how that worked since it was just a suit…)

“Foxttore, spin around!”

“Foxttore, roll over!”

“Now high-five me!” Dottore watched in amusement as the blue creature followed your commands with ease. Perhaps it really was smarter than he thought. Regardless, all he cared about was that you were occupied with something, rather than being by yourself.

“Okay, now fetch Dottore’s secret stash of sweets!” At that, Foxttore began making its way over to one of the numerous bookshelves in Dottore’s office before the Harbinger quickly realized what you said, and stopped the creature in its tracks.

“I knew there were too many pieces missing,” he stared at you humorlessly, while you sweated nervously.

“W-What? You said I was allowed to take some!”

“I said you, not this… thing,” the man then picked up Foxttore by its strands of blue hair, which the creature fought at, and dropped it in your arms like it was some pest. “I’m moving it.” 

“Please don’t! I won’t do it again!”

—

The continued pampering of Foxttore had, unfortunately for your lovers, become a norm to see around the lab. He was a spoiled lil shit, in other words, who could do no wrong in your eyes… which is why every new thing you did had little to no effect on them anymore besides an eye twitch of annoyance and a promise to bully the creature later. The current situation was one such time. Dottore had come into your room only to see many abnormally small clothes scattered on your bed, with you in the center of it all.

“Oh Dottie, you’re just in time! Look at what I got!” You then held up Foxttore in all his glory, his new hoodie substantially thinner with different patterns, a great big smile on your face.

… It was only you who had the privilege of using his time like this.

“Now before you ask how I got these, I had them custom-made! See, I wanted to sew the clothes myself, but my hands have been too shaky lately and then you’d get all grumpy if I hurt myself with the needle, so I just asked Columbina to find someone for me and she did! She’s a great friend!” You continued to ramble on. 

“See, the poor thing gets too hot sometimes, especially when he starts running on our walks,” you said sadly, while he wondered how exactly you walked this monstrosity, “that’s why I got him different clothes! And they’re stylish too! Look, he’s even got pajamas! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You looked at him, your eyes sparkling and glittering with light that dazzled him.

In all honesty, Dottore didn’t really care about the little abomination of a creature. In fact, he probably leaned more into disdain for it. But what he did care about was you, and what made you happy, what put a smile on your face since he hated for it to be missing.

“I believe your definition of cute is rather unusual.”

“Huh? How could you not think Foxttore is the cutest thing ever? Oh… I see your game. You think I’m the cutest thing ever, don’t you?” You boldly teased him which didn’t phase him, only making a confident smirk grow on his face.

“I suppose that would be accurate, yes. Nothing else comes to mind that could be compared to your beauty,” he said smoothly, plucking the creature from your hands and dropping it elsewhere, which it clearly disliked, but he was more interested in your reaction. Your mouth slightly ajar, heat creeping up your face with a flustered expression, breathing speeding up a bit.

“A-As long as you’re aware,” you mumbled shyly, turning your face away, although your slight smile was apparent.

Needless to say, Zandik was always aware of his beloved.

—

You always loved it when you were able to leave the lab. Sometimes they were frequent outings, sometimes they were very rare. It all depended on how well you had been feeling lately. Today, you had finally been able to go out for a short walk with Dottore after so long. The cold air and snow had you shivering, but feeling the wind hit your cheeks was worth it. (And being able to cling to your husband was a definite plus in your books.) But you were still happy to come back home.

… Especially when you were greeted by your little friend.

As soon as you walked through the door, you noticed that Foxttore was impatiently waiting by the entrance. The moment he saw you, he sped toward you at light speed and pawed at your legs for pets, hopping up and down. You couldn’t help but laugh as you bent down to give him some attention which he happily reciprocated, but then he pulled away and started wildly running around the two of you.

“Aww, Foxttore is having zoomies!”

“… Pardon?”

“He’s having zoomies!” You smiled at your husband before crouching down, and your pet immediately ran into your arms and settled himself there as you picked him up. “Aww, you must have missed us so much, didn’t you?” You cooed as you rubbed his tummy, while Dottore merely stared at you blankly. The man then noticed the creature’s eye had narrowed into a half circle directed toward him as if to mock him. 

If there was a point system between the two of them as to who was able to steal your attention more, Dottore would sorely be losing.

—

It was one of the few nights where you were able to spend a night like most couples do at the end of the day - resting in the same bed with your lover. You weren’t even sure how you managed to do it this time. You thought it was probably due to your persistence but also that he was genuinely tired. (Well, he had been genuinely tired for ages now, but you were able to get him on a weak day, perhaps.)

You had always loved it when Dottore held you, even if it was slack or just one arm, you always felt safe. Protected. Warm. Happy. The feelings only amplified when both his arms caged you into his chest, which was the perfect place for you to snuggle. (Still, he’d never admit to being the little spoon from when he was a student.)

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done lately, by the way.”

“Of course,” his answer was as simple as could be. He stroked your hair languidly, always one to brush off your thank yous.

“I mean it,” you wiggled out of his grip to look him in the eye, lip jutting out slightly.

“I already know you do. You do not need to keep saying it every time.” You pouted at his response. How else were you supposed to show your appreciation? You then grabbed his arm, which was surprisingly pliable, and placed his hand over your heart.

“Then let me know if you need anything from me. Anything at all. I have to pay you back eventually, you know.” Dottore looked as if he was enjoying himself.

“What do you propose? I’ll listen to your suggestions.”

“Well… I have kisses and cuddles as my expertise. I can cook and bake for you sometimes too… oh, but I can also try doing some of your paperwork! …What? You’re not impressed? I guess I can try to do some more… unsavory tasks as well. The Fatui agents listen to what I have to say quite easily,” you continued to chatter as Dottore’s fingers made their way from your cheek to your neck and then your collarbone, making you stammer at the sensation. “Hey, you’re not even taking me seriously, are you?” Your husband only chuckled at your furrowed eyebrows and grumbling.

If anything, he would want you to repay him by letting him see the faces you’ll make once you’re finally free of your illness.

“Anyway…” you squeezed his hand with yours that still rested on your chest, “You probably know this already, with that ever-calculating mind of yours, but you hold my heart in your hands. I’ll always be here with you.” It was a funny thing to think about, giving your heart to someone like him, in both a physical and intangible sense. Trusting him with your frail body, trusting him with your love, knowing he could squeeze it to a pulp if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t.

He would treat your heart with the utmost care and precaution, not daring to risk even the slightest harm to it.

Dottore stared at you for a few moments while you held his gaze, resolute on making your point known. Wordlessly, he began to move closer to your soft lips, intent on making his response to your statement physical. He was so close, his nose brushing against yours, and your warm breath on his. He was about to finally satiate his desire when-

Something was scratching at the door. Loudly, too. The sudden noise made you jump back and turn your gaze to the door. The Harbinger had a bad feeling about this.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.”

“You’re just lying now!” With a huff, you pushed the blankets off, much to his displeasure, and made your way to the door, opening it. There was Foxttore, making strange noises that he tried his best to mask as cries.

The bliss Dottore felt a few moments ago had turned to immense annoyance immediately.

“Oh, you poor baby! Did you have a nightmare or something?” You exclaimed before quickly scooping Foxttore into your arms and bringing him onto the bed. “It’s okay, you’re with us now…” You softly murmured, stroking it gently as you let it settle on your chest. Where Dottore’s hands should be right now, cupping your soft skin instead of that damned creature.

Dottore swore he was going to throw that thing out once you were asleep.

[welcome-tothe-mystery-shack]

DP x DC Prompt: Single Mom Who Works Too Hard

Ship: Spirit Halloween (Danny Fenton/Bruce Wayne)

(If this ends up on Tiktok, I don't consent to it!)

We've all seen the DeAged Danny raised by Jazz trope, but how about a little something of the reverse end?

---

Danny's the Ghost King and has been for almost a thousand years at this point. He's also grown into his role as the Ancient of Space, working alongside his ghostly adoptive father, Clockwork, to ensure that the fabric of existence itself doesn't tear into pieces, mending reality wear it frays and making sure that troublemakers are taken care of, one way or another.

Jazz has been his confidant and head advisor ever since she became a ghost, with many joking about how she's his mom. Well apparently, word of this got back to one of said trouble makers, whom then misinterpreted the joke to be literal. Said troublemaker attacked Jazz while Danny was busy and she was travelling to a meeting with one of the more violent sub-kingdoms.

The attack was brutal and swift, and while she managed to escape to safety, the damage had been done and she was Fading. In a last ditch effort to save her, Frostbite offered to help Danny absorb her core so that he may incubate it until she was ready to reform anew. The problem is that, since Danny is a Halfa, Jazz's ghostly biology would be forced to adapt and she wouldn't reform as a full ghost, but instead as a Halfa like him, and would essentially become his daughter.

As such, she would be reborn as a baby. Whether or not she would retain her memories, or if they would return with time, or to what degree, was a mystery.

With no other choice other than to let her End, he agreed and the procedure is performed. After which, since the Realms are too dangerous at the moment to raise a new princess, Danny decides to take a brief sabbatical in a Mortal Realm. This way he could safely reform Jazz and raise her until she's old enough to defend herself. So with some help from Clockwork and Frostbite, he found a suitable dimension to do so. It was also dangerous, yes, but there were already plenty of heroes and it would have plenty of ectoplasm to sustain them.

Once some steps were put into place to keep the Realms running without him, leaving his (now elder) daughter Ellie in charge in his abscence (mostly, he still had to do paperwork), he slipped into the new dimension and found himself in a gloomy city called Gotham. It didn't take him long to get himself set up, using programs custom made by Technus and Tucker to put him into records, he gets an apartment and settles in.

Things are mostly quiet for the next year, as Jazz safely reforms as a newborn baby girl, looking almost exactly as she had in life, save for her new starlike silver freckles and lightly tapered ears, just like Danny's human form had. Learning to be a parent to a baby Halfa ended up being harder than he expected, as her cries would echo through the complex and her unchecked ghostly aura led to things becoming too much for their mortal neighbors as more and more moved out. Eventually, the building was almost empty, and Danny ended up having to buy the whole thing when the owner was thinking of demolishing it, which would've been a real hassle.

With most of the tenants gone already, Danny took the opportunity to do renovations, moving him and Jazz to the penthouse to get easy roof access and made a ton of modifications to minimize the effect that Jazz had on the mortal humans. He then started renting out to people in desperate need, offering cheap rent with generous leeway on payments since he didn't really need the money, and what he did get went to maintenance for the building, hiring staff and feeding him and Jazz.

Eventually word got back to Bruce about this single dad running an almost suspiciously affordable apartment complex and he decided to investigate it, just in case. He set Oracle to check out its virtual footprint and then sent Tim to act like he was interested in investing in the complex. If it turned out to be legit, then great, they would support it. If not, then they'd take care of it.

But then one day he just happened to bump into the (surprisingly attractive, boy did the pictures NOT do him justice) guy while out at a store so he decided to take the opportunity to try to get some answers from him himself, and the adorable baby girl in his arms.

She didn't look much like her father, aside from the freckles and the ears. Metas perhaps? That would be unfortunate, since Metas tended to be targeted and/or ended up getting pulled into villainy whether or not it was a willing decision. But that being said, nothing about the young family was immediately suspicious, and Bruce found himself actually enjoying the conversation.

After Tim and Babs both gave their reports that they'd found nothing immediately suspicious of the man, Bruce began to tentatively send people in need towards the complex, knowing that Danny would give them a good deal for a decent apartment. He would also begin to meet up with the man to discuss further expansions of actually affordable apartments, with Danny taking charge to ensure that his tenants were living in good conditions, even when it would keep him up later then he already did with a young toddler to raise.

The more that they interact, the more the two find themselves talking longer, about deeper topics, or even just sitting together in silence while Jazz played with her toys. And whenever Danny happened to nod off, exhausted, Bruce would make sure that the toddler was looked after just to give the poor man a break. After all, Bruce knew how hard it could be to balance so much on a plate.

(Feel free to expand from here however you wish!)

[maxwellatoms]

Hello Mr. Atoms, I'm an animation student in college and fan of your work. I got this assignment in which I need to ask questions to a professional in the area. Could you pretty please answer them? It'd mean a lot to me.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

Okey dokey.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

Not really, in that there seems to be no career left.

The animation industry swelled its numbers greatly before 2020. Almost immediately after that, corporate greed synergized with a pandemic to reduce animated programs and the number of people working on them to almost zero. It takes almost a year from beginning to end to make a single episode of an animated show (by the modern standard). There was nothing being made in 2020 and four years later, we''re not in a much better spot. It's going to be a long drought for (especially) Kid's TV Animation.

Recently, many of my former co-workers have hit the financial wall and can't continue, moving away after (sometimes) 20 years in the industry. I begin to wonder if I'm very far behind.

A "bounce back" a year from now would need to start today. There are still some animated shows being made now, but those are almost universally "library" properties. That means it's an existing I.P. (Intellectual Properties like Garfield/Mario/Batman/Star Wars) so as an artist you're immediately in that box. Depending on the property and the studio, it can be an unpleasantly tight box. I grew used to holding and maintaining the vision for a show, but it's less fun when it's not my vision. It's even less fun when you can't inspire someone to follow your vision because they've been so ruthlessly abused.

I'm pretty sick of how big media corporations treat their employees. If I inherit one more burnt out crew due to mismanagement, I'm gonna lose it.

Over a decade ago I fought hard to get board artists story credit for the episodes they were actually writing, and felt like I'd won a big victory for everyone. The second my back was turned, it all reverted.

Mostly... what is the point now? My career is/was developing ideas, crafting those ideas into a workable show, then managing teams of thirty to seventy people to produce a couple of dozen episodes per year. Studios actively do not want new ideas right now, and are actively searching for ways to eliminate what artists from the process. I'm not sure what my job would be under this new system, but it feels like they decided to hang onto the anxiety-inducing deadlines while removing anything remotely pleasurable from the experience.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

It's the only way to get anything done, currently.

The current state of the industry is not sustainable. I (along with a lot of other animators I know) are trying to decide what's next, and pretty much everyone agrees that "you just have to make something".

It is (in that very specific way) a great time to be a young animator. The system was never going to treat you well anyway. If you can get something like a Hazbin Hotel happening without studio help, you can currently write your own ticket. I'm super proud of Vivsie, because that's a LOT of stuff to handle. I never had to handle my own marketing or drum up money to make Billy & Mandy happen.

There are opportunities there, but it's definitely "Hard Mode". The best idea is probably to team up with a few other people you like and like to work with.

Hopes? I hope that the young animators take over and make something new on top of the bones of the old industry, rather than just allowing that industry to patch its rotting hide with their collected works.

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

I suspect true AI might just peace-out like ScarJo in "Her", but we're not there yet. What we have now isn't Artificial Intelligence at all (though I do believe it may be the underpinnings of the Artificial Suconscious of what may one day become an actual Artificial Intelligence.)

The LLMs and "Generative AI" are (so far) a big dumb waste. They consume tons of energy and aren't great for doing anything creative. If you've sat down with Chat GPT for a creative writing session, you've probably run into the "out of the box" limitations which prevent it from talking about sex or violence-- which happen to be a major component of most stories.

Still, the technology has come incredibly far in an incredibly short amount of time. I imagine we're going to hit the point where we're being hazed by artificially generated political ads way before Generative AI can produce a consistent and usable character turnaround, so that'll be the test. Whatever the legal fallout is from this stuff over the next few years will set the tone.

Still, studios have a vested interest in pleasing their shareholders. Generative AI potentially has the capability of not only replacing swaths of money-eating artists, but handing that control directly to the billionaire studio heads. Mark my words: We're headed straight for billionaire-generated content.

I don't think the public at large will want to watch Elon Musk's fever dreams, so there's that. So law and general distaste might stave it off for a while, but I think there's just too much impetus for studios to continue to try to please their investors. "AI Art" is here to stay.

Eventually that will lead to millions and millions of bots generating millions and millions of songs and paintings and movies all day every day. Most of it will be utter trash. Right now (so I'm told) viewers are already burnt out, and will generally only click on what they already know. On Netflix, where there are twenty things you've never heard of and one you have, you're more likely to pick the thing that gives you comfort and gives you a guarantee you're not wasting your time. With exponentially more A.I. trash, how would you even begin to filter it out?

You'd need absolute control of an already existing distribution system. We currently have a few of those, and all of the media companies are desperately trying to merge with them to insure their own survival.

To me, the post-Gen-AI landscape looks a lot like old-school Cable, but with endless I.P. and fewer masters.

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

The real question is, maybe, "What am I even doing?" These days I try to do a lot of gardening. I'm trying to learn new art skills, because suddenly twenty five years of experience managing, drawing, and writing isn't worth much. I recently worked on Jellystone until Zaslav lost 2.5 billion in the wash and had to find justification for his new yacht. The show before that? Also culled midway through to save money. The days of multi-year gigs seem to be over, and if I'm going to scrape by doing freelance, maybe I can do that somewhere else.

I'll always make art. I can't seem to help it. Ideas aren't my problem-- it's executing those ideas without the help of a structured pre-existing system. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to pull that off. My strengths are great, but were always supported by friends I worked with.

Can I start an indie cartoon with all of these cool friends? Sure, maybe. Most of those people have gone on to have other careers of their own and got used to being paid. Now nobody is getting paid and no one can pay anyone else. My immediate circle are all now middle-aged people with families and no jobs. Convincing them to give up a large chunk of their day for an idea that's not guaranteed to pay off is going to take some real effort.

I technically have fifteen years until I can claim my "retirement", assuming that still exists by then. That's a pretty big hole to fill with... I don't know what.

The difficult "What comes next" discussions at home are really just starting.

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

There are a lot of cool animation people out there. I already mentioned I was proud of Vivsie. I was also reminded recently just how great C.H. Greenblatt and Mr. Warburton are. I know they're my friends. They're both just really upstanding, creative people who take good care of their crews.

The treatment of animation industry professionals by the studio system has been one of the most demoralizing and heartbreaking parts of this demoralizing and heartbreaking time.

---

So there ya go. If you want to look for someone whose attitude is a little more upbeat, I won't blame you a bit.

Wherever you are, I wish you the best of luck. For me, just climb up there and crush it. I would very much like to add you to #5 someday.

[scarlettoceaneyes]

Hii ! Can u do embry x reader where she’s new in town and is js staying for school and embry imprints?? But there’s a problem! Once schools done she has to go back home! How will they manage??

Sure! Love me some Embry 😍😍 this kinda ended up being long- hope you don’t mind??

Starfish

The sun was setting and the tide just reached its lowest. You walked barefoot in the late Spring warmth looking at the tide pools and for any seashells that might have floated up. Seeing tide pools full of marine life would be more suitable for your newest project. You were accepted 4 years ago into the marine biology program at your university that boosted a satellite center on the coast of La Push. For your senior protect, you would be staying with a local family and working with the tribe. The goal was to find and record data on their coast of the reservation. The boring part was the why- funding and paperwork for the state, etc., but the fun part was the actual research. What caused different levels of salinity, temperature, tides day to day versus other pacific coast, types of animals and how this changes through the day,as well as the major impact on the tribe.

Your family were the Clearwater family as Sue was on the council, therefore your parter and sponsor for the project. Mostly to keep you away from vampires or wolves, she also knew the land where you needed to be, as well to pretend other areas do not exist.

Eventually, you found out. It was funny and embarrassing the story how you two met. You were staying in Seth’s room for the couple of weeks you were there before your project completion and therefore your graduation and off to look through all the new job opportunities. Seth stayed at the Black house couch surfing or at Emily’s place in a spare room.

Well, it’s your third day at your new home and in La Push. Embry looking for something he loaned Seth that he wanted back. You recall it was some video game, but you were a little distracted by the fact he walked in on you changing…thankfully you were covered quickly and he ran out back into the woods once you screamed. He felt guilty and waiting around like 15 minutes to come back and knock on the front door apologizing. He saw your eyes and there it was- love at first site. You were soulmates. You thought that was simply fairytale material. When you relayed that thought, he took that as his reason to call you his princess. You took the whole wolf thing okay, but you didn’t truly warm up until your last couple of days in La Push.

Sue had to work on tribal projects so Embry was deemed your partner and guide for your final work day. Later this evening, Emily was throwing you a party to celebrate your graduation and to wish you luck in your career. Embry was torn-he wanted you to stay with him, but it’s only been two weeks and you had a life without him waiting for you. Two weeks was not enough time to admit all the feeling he had because he felt like he trapped you. He tore your future away and put you in danger now. He ruined your life. The thoughts spiraled all the morning as you two walked hand in hand. Sharp rocks were under you as you climbed the cliffs and he wanted you to be careful while respecting your independence.

You noticed he was down so you asked him to be honest. He basically threw up everything he was thinking in word vomit. He couldn’t hide it when his imprint asked for honesty. He didn’t even know if you understood just how deep the imprint went. He didn’t want you feeling pain or getting sick with the distance. You lived in Montana, but closer to the east state line. He knew your job opportunities included California, Portland, Atlanta, Florida, and even the Caribbean. He couldn’t leave his pack, but he didn’t think you knew the severity of all this.

Processing all the weight he let go, you were able to start to see the life as an imprint. Honestly, you had been thinking about ways to stay, even considering a job under the tribal land conservation department of the state. It was a job with wonderful pay, benefits, and it had no end in sight to the conservation efforts. Meaning- you do a great job and you will hold the position. The surprise was going to be told tomorrow as only Emily knew to help surprise him. You were not going to lie as you were nervous that he wouldn’t want you to stay. Maybe he didn’t feel the closeness you did or how every time he moved you felt it? All you know is there is pain when he leaves to go patrol or when you have to travel with Sue out of the reservation for research. You knew you loved him from the first day and you thought you were crazy. It did make it easier yet stranger when none of the pack seemed bothered by the quick pace. It just worked. You wanted forever, but were not sure if you were really just a short term fwb to him? Your heart had been broken before so you were always analyzing trying to save yourself from hurt. So you told him all that just like he did to you. You left out the surprise job acceptance for the party still.

He kissed you. You felt the same and kissed back. It felt perfect and right. You finished your research and emailed the final document, while walking out of the woods with a feeling of accomplishment. Finally a graduated woman that you worked so hard for! You screamed and clap while jumping in the air as Embry laughed and pulled you in kissing your forehead. “I’m so proud of you princess.” Looking into your eyes and then suggestively at your lips, you let him congratulate you without words and only a kiss as you were still in a public setting.

After a shower and change of clothes, you wait for Embry to come pick you up again for the big surprise party.

Arriving at Emily’s, Embry comes around to yourself to help you out of the truck. Giving you a big hug and spin you knew he was likely stalling. You didn’t mind. He put you down and backed you up to the truck, kissing you soft and slow, finally pulling back to repeat for the millionth time “congratulations baby”. You giggle and thank him. You know he’s excited so you don’t mind the constant phrase being given. Besides he has a sexy voice calling you baby and you wanted to savor it just incase you staying to work here was not appealing to him.

Asking if you are ready, you nod as he takes your hand to go inside. Opening the door screams of congratulations are heard as well as cheers and claps. You blush hard as the huge group of people here to celebrate you was overwhelming. You thank everyone and the party gets started. Music, food, and drinks go around. Emily brings you a cake and before cutting it everyone says words if they wish. Sue thanked you for all you did, as you did to her for her home and friendship. The guys shared funny stories and the other council members appreciated your work. Finally you go to cut the cake and suddenly got hit something making an unexpected bang noise with the knife. Emily baked a sealed container into this cake for Embry to open as her accepted job. As he read the results he was nervous, as you were as well for different reasons. He pulled out the answer to be “La Push”. Everyone was confused and you explained. Embry didn’t say anything as he was still confused but the others smiled knowing you were happy and wouldn’t leave. The party continued a while longer and wrapped up. Finally you head home to pack. Embry drives you and you ask “were you disappointed?” Embry doesn’t realize he never said anything. “No Y/N, I wasn’t. I was confused as to what job you have and curious to why you are staying. Guilt that you feel you have to and also angry that i stole you from living your dreams due to close proximity necessities. I guess I’m saying, I feel guilt because I ruined your life. But I can’t be sorry for loving you because I can’t help that. And I wouldn’t want to”

Tears were falling. You hugged him and started laughing. You explained that you both worried about the same thing but are dancing around the reality that you fell in love and life changed. You wouldn’t change it. So you went home to pack your apartment and move back to La Push in your new home. The position came with lodging and you appreciated the privacy over neighbors. Embry and you dated. You stayed where he was because you landed your dream job. No limits, your ideas and rules, and one very hot wolf bringing you lunch everyday.

The starfish always amaze you with their beauty as you study them more. Embry calls to you as he quickly runs to grab your arm leading you off the rocky tide pools. “38 weeks pregnant and you are literally climbing rocks? You are on work leave right now princess please relax.” You just smile as he knew you would never pass them without looking. Turning to watch your oldest boy play with the pack on the beach, you thought about how your middle boy was such an easy pregnancy. This one was medically complicated. Embry says there will be more as he saw your family in the vision during imprinting. He hasn’t let you down this far, only healed you and loved you.

Stealing a kiss from you and expecting more later, he lays his ear on your belly to talk to his little girl. His princess just like her mom.

[darth-mortem]

Here is the second part of my demon!Ghost AU. 141 learn to interact with Ghost, while Ghost learns to be more human. Soap is the one who helps him the most.

Domestic, conversations, fluff, studying. 2815 words.

First part

“What are you doing, Johnny?” Asked Ghost, who had been watching the sergeant silently and motionlessly for some time.

“Drawing.” Soap replied eagerly, looking up from his diary, which he used for both work notes and personal notes and drawings. ”Want to see when I'm done?”

Ghost nodded and froze again, continuing to stare intently at the sergeant.

Anyone else — anyone at all — would have been at least nervous, if not outright frightened, by such attention, but not Soap. He quickly understood the peculiarities of Ghost's behavior, or rather, the lieutenant's behavior, as he was now, according to the carefully crafted legend, and treated all the oddities of the new member of 141 with understanding and uncharacteristic patience. He was the only one in the unit who had no problems communicating with Ghost, and it was probably because he wasn't afraid of him. Fear gripped him there in the tunnels when he saw who his partner really was, but he dealt with it, overcame it, and now that fear has turned into trust, affection, and even a little sympathy. A short conversation after the mission played a significant role in this, when Ghost told him a little about himself and even gave him his former name.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

“How was your day?” Soap asked, running a pencil across the page of his diary.

“Captain Price and I were reviewing your unit's past missions.” The lieutenant replied. ”He gave me some information and wanted me to tell him how my presence could facilitate or improve the achievement of objectives. I think he was trying to learn more about my capabilities.”

The commander of the mountain base, who was no longer nameless and was now called Colonel Albright, had prepared a kind of training program for both 141 and Ghost. The men had to learn how to communicate with their new, unusual comrade; find out the limits of his knowledge and abilities; and memorize his legend and the numerous rules governing his interactions with other people. For the lieutenant himself, the main task was to master the art of communication, which he had been deprived of at this base for two long decades. He would no longer sit in a deep basement surrounded by soldiers who knew his true nature and therefore kept their distance. He would have to live on ordinary military bases and interact with other people, so he had to learn their behavior and, when necessary, communicate with them in such a way that they would perceive him as a strange but still human being. At first, this was difficult for Ghost, but gradually he began to answer questions with more than one word and sometimes even started conversations with his new comrades-in-arms.

Finally, Soap put the finishing touches on the drawing, put down his pencil, and turned the diary back to Ghost. On its page was a picture of the lieutenant himself in his mask and hood. He was sitting, leaning back relaxed against a wall that the sergeant had sketched with a few lines, and looking off to the side.

“That's... me.” Ghost said with a slight note of surprise in his voice.

“Aye. Do you like it?“ MacTavish asked, smiling cheerfully.

“Yes.” The lieutenant nodded, looking at the drawing.

“Then keep it.” Soap said and explained. ”It's a gift.”

He tore out the page and handed it to Ghost. He took it, thought for a few seconds, then carefully tucked it into the pocket of his tactical vest.

“Thank you, Johnny.” He said, having already learned the meaning of the word and understanding when to use it.

No one saw Ghost until evening, but no one was surprised. The training program was quite intense, especially for a creature who had spent the previous twenty years mostly sitting in his chair in the basement, leaving the base only once or twice a month to collect souls. Now, constant interaction with people probably either tired him or annoyed him, and then Ghost, who didn't know how to express his needs, simply disappeared for a while. He was left alone because no one, not even Colonel Albright, knew what would happen if the demon lost his temper and turned his wrath against his allies. In the early days, this greatly disturbed the members of 141, especially Gaz and Roach.

“What will happen when we get on his nerves at our base?” Kyle asked one day, speaking quietly for some reason, as if afraid that Ghost would hear him. ”He won't have a cozy dungeon to hide in there.”

“Maybe we shouldn't worry about it so much.” Price replied without much conviction. ”Albright just said he's not in the dungeon. He probably knows how to hide in any environment. We don't know half of what he's capable of. Maybe he's relaxing somewhere at the North Pole right now. Or in hell. Or maybe he's right here, but we just can't see him.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better!” Gaz exclaimed nervously, looking around suspiciously and hurrying to leave the room.

Be that as it may, Ghost reappeared late that evening, when most of the soldiers were getting ready for bed and Soap, as usual, was smoking, wearing a cap and wrapped in a warm blanket. Conversations during the evening smoke break had become something of a tradition, so the sergeant was sure that the lieutenant would show up, and he was right. With a silence impossible for his size, he stepped out of the shadows, approached, and sat down next to Soap, leaning his back against the wall of the building behind the smoking area. One might have thought that he had actually teleported from somewhere, but MacTavish could see the snow on his head and shoulders, so Ghost had obviously come here on foot, like a normal human.

“Johnny.” He said, then held out his hand palm up, and something shiny lay on the black surface of his glove. ”This is for you. A gift.”

Soap looked at him in surprise and cautiously took the object offered to him. It was something abstract, and it looked as if the metal from which it was made had melted under the influence of some force, like wax, and then solidified, forming strange asymmetrical shapes, drops, and streams. There was something mesmerizing about it, something that caught the eye and made you want to touch it and run your fingers over the smooth, shiny curves and openings.

“It's so beautiful.” Finally, Soap said with excitement, looking at Ghost. “That's incredible, Lt., thank you! Did you really do that yourself?”

“Yes.” The lieutenant nodded and, after a short pause, gave more information without waiting for questions. “I took some bullet casings from the shooting range and melted them.”

“But how?” asked Soap in surprise, knowing that the brass used to make bullet cases melts at temperatures exceeding nine hundred degrees Celsius. ”How did you melt them? And how did you cool it down so quickly that it solidified?”

“With my hands.” Ghost replied briefly, this time without further explanation.

MacTavish felt a strange excitement when he realized that the lieutenant had touched this thing without gloves. He tried to imagine what his hands looked like and how they felt, and his fingers involuntarily stroked the metal curves of this strange creation of demonic art. Soap didn't notice how closely Ghost was watching him, but suddenly a memory came to his mind, and he stopped what he was doing and looked at the lieutenant again, pressing his gift to his chest.

“But Ghost, I remember when we first met and shook hands, I felt not heat, but a terrible cold, even through your glove!“ He exclaimed.

“I weaken and become cold if I don't consume souls for a long time.” Ghost explained. “When I replenish my strength, I can change my temperature within a fairly wide range. Would you like a demonstration?”

“Hell yeah!” Soap's eyes lit up, he hid the gift in his pocket, and he leaned forward, waiting... in fact, he didn't know for what exactly.

“Give me your hands, Johnny.” Ghost said and held out his palms up.

For some reason, MacTavish's heart began to beat faster as he obeyed this request, or command. The lieutenant's hands were huge compared to his own, but they didn't look clumsy at all. As far as the sergeant could tell through the gloves, he had wide palms and slender, long fingers, perhaps a little longer than was usual for a human. Ghost carefully wrapped them around Soap's frozen hands, and at first nothing changed, but then he felt a pleasant, gentle warmth.

“This is... wonderful.” He said it quietly and moved closer, pressing himself against the lieutenant.

Ghost froze for a second, then put his arm around Soap's shoulders, and the warmth enveloped him completely, like a big soft blanket. They sat there watching the large snowflakes fall slowly from the sky, and then it was time for Soap to go to bed and for Ghost to go down to his basement and spend the night sitting motionless in his chair.

The training period was coming to an end, and there were still many problems and questions. For example, Ghost did not eat or drink. He explained that he could eat human food, smoke, and drink alcohol, but he did not need it to live, and it brought him too little pleasure. Albright later explained that the demon's taste buds were probably underdeveloped because they weren't needed, but Soap was sure that Ghost just didn't want to take off his mask.

Today, however, Price was more interested in another question. In the morning, Laswell had announced that it was time to make the documents for the new member of 141, so now the captain and lieutenant were sitting in the briefing room choosing a human name for the demon. More precisely, Price had suggested that Ghost choose for himself and had already regretted it several times.

“John Doe.” The lieutenant said in his low, frightening voice.

“No, Ghost, you can't use that name.” Price said, shaking his head and puffing on his cigar.

“Why not?” The demon asked.

“It's not a human name at all; it's a code name for unidentified remains.” The captain explained. “For dead people who no one knows who they are, you understand?”

“No one knows who I am.” Ghost shrugged.

“Yes, but you're not dead, and you're definitely not human, so no, John Doe won't do.” Price snapped.

There was silence for a few minutes. Ghost froze, probably considering other options, and Price didn't rush him. He could probably have chosen himself and presented the lieutenant with a fait accompli, but he decided that would be wrong. The right to choose is one of the fundamental attributes of being human, and he wasn't going to deprive Ghost of that. He had to learn to make his own decisions, something that Albright seemed to have been doing for him all along.

“Brad Pitt.” The lieutenant finally said.

A few days ago, Gaz, Soap, and Roach had come up with the idea of introducing Ghost to cinema, apparently so that he could see more options for human behavior, communication styles, and social interactions. The lieutenant quickly grasped the concept of acting, of one person transforming into another, and he seemed to even enjoy watching movies. Unfortunately, three sergeants chose films from which it was very difficult to learn anything useful for real life — action movies, science fiction, and horror. The latter, by the way, greatly amused the demon.

“If you have the same name as a famous person, it will attract too much attention, so that's not suitable either.” Price explained patiently. ”You need something... less conspicuous, you understand?”

This time, Ghost didn't take as long to respond. After considering a few more options, he asked:

“How about Thomas?”

“Thomas is a good name.” Price was even a little pleased. “Thomas, and then?”

“MacTavish.” Ghost said.

The captain was just taking a drag on his cigar, inhaled too sharply, and coughed. The lieutenant watched him closely, not sure if he needed help, but didn't have time to decide. Price took a few deep breaths, stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, and shook his head.

“There are only two reasons you can have the last name MacTavish.” He said. ‘Either our John is your brother, or you're married. MacTavish isn't a common last name, so it's unlikely that two unrelated people with that name would end up in the same small unit.”

“Then it's Ryan.” The lieutenant decided almost instantly.

Price suspected that this was most likely because of the movie ‘Saving Private Ryan’, one of those that the sergeants had shown Ghost, but he didn't care anymore. Thomas Ryan sounded ordinary enough, so the captain finally smiled and nodded.

“That'll do.” He said. “I'll let Laswell know, and you're free to go.”

Ghost nodded, then got up and left the briefing room. He was going to find Soap to tell him about his new name, but as he walked through the garage, he saw Gaz and Roach, who had been assigned to replace the wheels on one of the Humvees. The lieutenant stopped and watched for a couple of minutes as the two sergeants struggled with the jack, then walked through the open gate, causing the soldier on duty to turn pale with fear. However, Ghost paid no attention to him, walking straight to his new comrades-in-arms.

“Can I help you?” He asked, and Kyle dropped the wrench on his foot in surprise.

“Only if you know how to use a jack.” He replied rudely, angry at the lieutenant for sneaking up on him again.

“What's a jack?” Ghost asked.

“It's a thing for lifting cars.” Roach explained. “To change wheels.”

“So you need to change a wheels?” The lieutenant clarified.

He didn't know how to do it, but he understood that it wasn't necessary to lift the entire car. It was enough to do it first with the front and then with the rear.

“Yeah.” Gary sighed heavily, already cold and not understanding why they had to do this when the base was full of local soldiers.

Ghost nodded and came closer. Bending down, he examined the front bottom of the Humvee, then grabbed hold of what seemed to be the strongest part and straightened up, easily lifting the front of the car. Gaz and Roach froze with their mouths agape. The lieutenant waited a few seconds, then asked:

“So, are you going to change the wheels?”

The sergeants looked at each other, then quickly grabbed their wrenches and began unscrewing the bolts.

“We're very grateful to you, Ghost.” Said Gaz, without stopping his work. ”Just never do that when we leave here for another base, never.”

Thanks to the garage duty officer, by evening everyone at the base knew about this wheel change. The soldiers whispered among themselves, not knowing what to be more surprised about: that the members of 141 were not afraid to interact with a demon, or that the demon himself seemed to enjoy interacting with these people. Of course, Soap heard all this and thought that perhaps the secret was that Colonel Albright and his subordinates hadn’t even tried to treat Ghost like a human being. In twenty years, no one had even tried to talk to him, let alone anything more. For some reason, this made Soap feel sad.

Arriving at the smoking area at the usual time shortly before lights out, MacTavish saw that Ghost was already waiting for him there, and it made him happy. Running up to him, Soap sat down next to him and almost immediately felt the lieutenant's heavy hand on his shoulder, and then warmth began to spread throughout his body.

“Maybe you shouldn't waste your energy on me?” Soap asked, taking out a cigarette.

“It's nothing, Johnny.” Ghost replied.

Not only did such things not require much effort, but the lieutenant sensed that very soon he would be getting many souls, and not just a few times a month, but regularly and often.

“How was your day?” Soap asked habitually, pressing himself against the lieutenant's warm side.

“The captain said I had to choose a name for the documents.” Ghost replied. “I'm going to be called Thomas Ryan.”

“I like it.” Soap smiled. ”How did you come up with it?”

“I'm not sure.” The lieutenant said thoughtfully. “But the name Thomas seemed somehow... I don't know... familiar, or something.”

“Maybe it's something from your past?” MacTavish suggested.

“Maybe.” Ghost echoed, and Soap thought he heard a note of sadness in his voice.

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts, and then the lieutenant looked at the sergeant again and asked:

“How was your day, Johnny?”

Soap shifted to sit more comfortably and then began to tell.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hi! I was wondering if you can do a platonic Curtis gang with a fem!reader who’s believes in like witch craft and the devil? Like the whole town thinks she’ll sacrifice them but she genuinely nice and sweet?🫶 (also if it’s not a problem can it be hc’s?)

Summary: The Outsiders x Witchcraft!Reader

Warnings: strong religious and non-religious context

Author's Note: one of my friends was really into witchcraft once and it looked so fun + I have a deck of pink tarot cards (w?!)

PONYBOY CURTIS

Ponyboy thinks the witchcraft stuff that you do is really sick, he's actually really interested.

He thinks it's cool how you make spells and stuff but he doesn't necessarily believe it.

He's never been a religious person and finds himself not really believing in anything.

However he never fell for the rumors that you were going to kill everyone in Tulsa because everytime he saw you at school you were happy in your own little world.

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny has extremely religious parents and they're always warning him about you, kindly and unkindly.

They tell him things like you're gonna eat his soul and he's gonna go to hell, but he doesn't take anything they say seriously

He's approached you a couple of times out of spite and he actually thinks you're really sweet

You give him gifts sometimes and he proudly displayed them in front of his parents

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop is a little scared of you, he kind of fell for those rumors about you wanting to sacrifice people

Once he went up to you and asked you if you sacrifice people, but he had such an innocent look that you couldn't blame him for falling for the rumors

You toyed with him and said you only sacrificed cute boys and to use that information as he willed

He always thought he was a "cute boy" but the way you said it made him feel like he wasn't so he was so confused and pestered you for a while about it.

STEVE RANDLE

Steve is like Soda but he puts more of a "tuff" front up about it, so he's approaching you a lot when people dare him to.

He pesters you quite a bit, so much so that you get really frustrated. Once you told him to stop annoying you it was getting old and he saw you in a new light.

He realized how you were mostly poked at and not treated like a normal person and he felt as if he could relate because he was a greaser

He hung out with you a couple of times and he's really enjoying your company, he also got a couple of tarot readings done by you.

TWO BIT MATHEWS

Two os the most respectful out of all of them, except maybe Darry. He's kept his distance but he doesn't try stuff on you

The first time he talked to you is when his sister ran up to you because your outfit was so pretty

He apologized because she latched onto you and you got to talking, he was actually really surprised at how nice you were

He said that, if you want, he could take you out to coffee sometimes and that

DARRY CURTIS

Darry doesn't engage in the childish discussion that the rest of the gang does, he's to "mature" though

He tells Sodapop and Pony to stop judging people when he overhears their conversations about you.

Truthfully he remembers that when he was in 5th grade he was your "older buddy" in the schools buddy program.

He knows you were always had it rough as a kid but you were always kind so he wants to stick up for you

He also sought you out later and took you out for some food.

DALLAS WINSTON

Dallas is one of the people that say you're gonna sacrifice everyone in the town, he's not afraid of you but he doesn't like you.

The whole rumor started because he was offered a bet to get with you but he knew he couldn't (mainly because of Darry) so he said no because you'd sacrifice him

He's always watching you though, everytime he sees you he observes you because he finds you intresting

He'll never talk to you though, he has a reputation to uphold and being seen with you is apparently really bad even though he always pays attention to you.

[laundryandtaxes]

I think it's bizarre to believe that one approach to any problem (especially problems we know to be partly biologically mediated or constituted and partly socially mediated or constituted) is likely to universally fit every single person impacted by that problem. And I think there are many situations that have revealed that plenty of people really do prefer magical thinking and lack of any scientific knowledge if they are able to garner some hope from a perspective that is based entirely or mostly in magical thinking. I don't even think this is necessarily a problem, or at least a solvable one- it's essential, as I see it, to the continued existence of religion in humanity, which even I cannot claim has never done any good for any person or for people as a group. So long as this tendency doesn't win out on a large scale as a meaningful approach to problem solving, I don't exactly think it's a threat to humanity.

One of the most interesting examples to me, largely due to my work background and the prevalence of alcohol abuse within restaurant workers, is how absolutely vitroilic a lot of abstinence-only recovering alcoholics become when they make any contact at all with individuals who are trying to lower but not eliminate their alcohol consumption, especially in a systematic and controlled way. It is not just that they claim it is irresponsible to promote programs other than abstinence-only programs to active alcoholics (and even that I find nonsensical- less alcohol is almost always better than more alcohol, because we know for a fact that a lot of the negative health outcomes from alcoholism are a direct result of too much alcohol itself, regardless of whether it was consumed alone at night or while binge drinking at parties, which tells us that the obviously important social element itself does not mediate the biological damage) but that they often claim that it is universally the case that someone who finds themself problem drinking will only ever become more of a problem drinker until they quit entirely. The reason this is so especially striking to me is that it is so obviously and easily proven untrue by experiences which many people have outside of the bubble provided by abstinence programs. It is simply not the case that every individual who drinks more than they're comfortable with during a certain time period is destined to develop cirrhosis if they don't put down alcohol forever, and most people know several individuals whose alcohol use patterns obviously disprove that theory. Almost everyone who drinks knows someone who drank too much for their own personal comfort at one point and had to reel their consumption back in. But, of course, when most people know that someone is an alcoholic, they limit how often they talk about alcohol or their consumption of it out of respect or a desire not to trigger that person into craving alcohol, and the end result is that many alcoholics find themselves just totally cut themselves off from the alcohol use perspectives and experiences of anyone who isn't currently trying to be totally abstinent or doesn't believe that abstinence is the only way to deal with alcohol abuse. And I suspect this will only become more sparkly apparent as doctors begin to try, for instance, off label use of the GLP-1 agonists along with other medications to try to lower the desire for alcohol in patients, etc, or as more and more slightly science-backed but ultimately still pill mill or subscription peddler programs pop up aimed at helping people lower their alcohol consumption. I'm excited to see new perspectives become mainstream, and I think a lot of the pushback is quite literally an attempt to ostracize new perspectives by presenting them as irresponsible, cruel, dangerous, etc.

[noknowshame]

Okay but can you tell us about that 30-50 page paper, bc that sounds interesting as fuck

oh for sure!

so for context, I am in a phd program studying entertainment media psychology. specifically I study how people perceive and form attitudes towards characters. the paper is for my candidacy exams, which is basically a test that says I am ready to start my dissertation/thesis. there's actually going to be three 30-50 page papers, and I'll spend the entire semester this fall writing them. I'm not allowed to know the exact essay prompts yet, but I at least know what the topics are going to be generally because I decide that

the first paper is going to be on differences in perceptions of fiction versus reality; for instance, do we morally judge fictional characters on the same grounds as real media figures or even people we personally know? the literature on this is just a complete contradictory mess. basically, some argue that our brains are not actually good enough at distinguishing reality from fiction for there to be measurable differences in judgement, while others argue that awareness of fictionality actively allows us to displace our usual sociomoral concerns. my argument is essentially that both are right, and the problem is that researchers are conflating real vs. fictional with entertainment vs. non-entertainment contexts, and the latter is primarily what affects processing differences, because humans are great at judgment in context regardless of whether the fourth wall is the defining boundary (think of what you can do in a boxing ring that you can't do five feet away in the stands). and this isn't even beginning to cover what "real" even means in the first place

it's way more complicated than that (hence 30-50 pages), but that's the gist.

(see below for more on my second and third papers)

I'm hoping my second paper is going to be on the way that entertainment contexts affect the basis on which we form judgements. while you probably hope the people you interact with in real life are morally trustworthy to an extent, it is much more damning for a character to be uninteresting, irritating, or poorly written than it is for them to be immoral. at least in my view. the problem is that for literal decades, every time we've done a study on character judgement (and this includes my own research), we strongly and consistently find that morality is mostly what people base liking or disliking a character on. I tend to think that this is an -us- problem, so my second paper will grapple with that. if we can see with our eyeballs that viewers including ourselves love immoral characters, why can't we get them to tell us that in a research setting? what's wrong with our methods that's creating this gap between real-world observation and experimental findings? I think its character liking that we are measuring incorrectly, but don't even get me started on that

my third question will likely be on how viewer "expertise" affects judgement processes. for example, I have this suspicion that one reason why tumblr users (including myself) think its stupid for people to judge characters like they're real is because we're all really obsessed with narratives in some way and tend to process them from a more external/analytical standpoint than the average viewer. in light of that, I'm interested more broadly in the extent to which different forms of perceived high-level knowledge (e.g., at the scale of text, medium, genre, topic, etc.) change what we pay attention to and therefore how we form attitudes towards characters. this paper is the one I'm most nervous about because its actually like ten different questions in a trenchcoat and I don't know which one my committee will actually want me to talk about

as you may expect, my biggest concern is staying concise and focused. I have way too much to say about all of this, even for a 50 page paper

[ethosiab]

Does Etho refusing to capture 404 at the end cuase any problems with in-it-for-the-money Joel?

-day 🧡

oh ABSOLUTELY, Etho fighting the internal battle to make that decision is just half of it- now he's got to deal with the script foundation on his back, Tango being conflicted, and Joel being the selfish (/aff) bastard he is.

Joel's situation is interesting, and i really can't go into depth about the specifics towards the end of the timeline about his and etho's friendship because i haven't really developed that far yet.

Joel doesn't do the whole bounty hunting gig because he wants to, or because he believes it's right, it was kind of what was chosen for him as a kid. i talked about it when i shared a bit of his design in this post, but joel is a big look into the kind of fucked up way cybernetics and genetic enhancements are done. his parents signed him up for the medical trials as a way to get some quick cash, and he had no choice because he was beholden to them. he had no choice about the arms, the continued chronic pain that comes from them, the debt from all the constant maintenance he has to do, any of that. he lost a lot of his autonomy as a child, and that shows in a lot of the decisions he makes i think. There's a lot of imagined freedom of choice that he doesn't really have.

He and etho are kind of in a similar boat, where they're so intrinsically attached to the script foundation and what they do that its really hard to imagine leaving that and saying no. they've convinced themselves that they're making the right decision in staying where they are, that they get to keep the freedoms they do have, and that's enough. for a character who prides himself on doing what he wants, scifi au joel is very much so controlled by the script foundation.

while etho gets to work out his shit through 404, joel doesn't have that luxury. the next point of contention in the plot lies in 404 and etho working together to take out the clone program one way or another, with joel (and a little bit of tango) getting in the way of that. to be honest, i think it might be pause and beef that get through to him mostly. they went through similar stuff as kids (beef's arm + legs and Pauses hands).

mostly, he initially thinks etho's being stupid and emotional over it. his heads getting messed with because he's talking to a mirror version of himself (that can't be healthy for anyone). there's a little bit of pity, but he's also scared. idk man you're right i need to think about this............

[sybaritick]

I wish there were more widespread opportunities for high school students to sign up to shadow or talk to people with various jobs for a day to get an idea of what a day there is like, what skills or education are required, how difficult it is to get this sort of job, etc. I know programs like this do exist but they seem fairly few and far between.

Like I would have no problem occasionally showing a teenager who indicated they want to be a math teacher what I do, or when I was a web developer, the same thing for being a developer. My vision is idk, they ask all of the students to rank which careers they are most interested in shadowing and assign based on that. (I know this would result in some options being considerably more popular than others so not everybody's going to be able to be matched with their first choice hence the ranking.)

The reason for this is that I talk about "it takes all kinds" a lot and the value of finding a job that suits your skill set and mentality well, because it makes work a lot less miserable. I know that not everybody is going to be doing something they love. Work is often just work. But there are varying degrees of suitability-- for example, I've talked about how I was genuinely miserable at a data entry job, but the Starbucks barista job wasn't as bad comparatively most days. And I also know people who would say the exact opposite.

But from the outside, especially as a high schooler, it can be very difficult to guess what it is actually like, and there are also tons of jobs that you probably aren't that aware of. It might sound really boring to hang out with someone for the purpose of learning what it's like to be an accountant, but the world needs accounting and in the process of actually seeing it, you might realize that you're actually a pretty good fit for it.

Maybe I'm being overly generous about the extent to which high schoolers are aware of their own work preferences and that's something you can only learn through experiencing it for at least a few months, but I still think this would be better than nothing. And it would encourage people to think about broad ideas like "do you want a job where you talk to people all day, or do you mostly want to be doing a task on your own?" (I realized over time I'm definitely more in the first category!) "do you want the work to be stable and consistent, or do you want to be doing different unpredictable stuff?" "are you comfortable with high-pressure situations and emergencies or will that just stress you out?" "do you like doing repetitive tasks where you can listen to a podcast while you work, or do you want to be having to dedicate a lot of thought to the job itself?" "how important is it that you feel like your job is helping people, making the world a better place, or producing something good?" "how important is it that you feel you can be proud of what you're doing/that your job is being done *well* (which is different than feeling like it's doing good)?"

And I know this is kind of imagining an ideal world where all of these jobs are easy to get and pay well, and that isn't the real world. But I still think some version of this could be a good idea. Better than just a career questionnaire that asks these things on a piece of paper rather than as part of observing what they mean in person.

[spockandawe]

Hello hello! I'm sleepy and bored at work, but still have two meetings to go, and THEN I stumbled across an ask game a themed reading list! I got linked to it here by a friend, and I've been reading a surprising amount this year compared to what I usually manage, so let's goooo

Author you've read the most books from:

Oh man. This has to be either Terry Pratchett or Mercedes Lackey, even though I haven't gone through the WHOLE catalog for either one. Let's look this up? Wow, more of a difference than i was expecting: Terry Pratchett, 39. Mercedes Lackey, 63.

Best Sequel Ever:

Oh, that's so hard! Arguably Thud! by Terry Pratchett counts, but looking that late in a long series feels like cheating. I'm going to say either Ancillary Sword (imperial radch #2) by Anne Leckie, or The Siren Depths (books of the raksura #3), by Martha Wells. The earlier books hooked me, but then these ones just put me in the salad spinner and went to town.

Currently Reading (12/'24):

Too many 🥲 I won't even get into mangas and manhwas here, lmao.

Evil As Humans by Nian Zhong

I Became A God In A Horror Game by Pot Fish Chili

SSS-Class Suicide Hunter by Shin Noah

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint by Sing Shong

The Guild Member Next Door by Honeytrap (this hasn't snagged me yet, but the manhwa is extremely charming, i mayyy just stick to that)

Star Instructor, Master Baek (loved the manhwa, NEED full prose context, haha)

Drink of Choice While Reading:

I read a lot on walks, so none, really! If I'm reading in bed i might make tea or grab something cold and bubbly, but i tend to get too immersed to remember my beverages.

E-reader or Physical Book:

E-reader. I was that weird kid who always carried around like five books, and this is so much better. It's faster, it's more convenient, I can word search, it's easier to share snippets with friends, it suits all my needs beautifully. The caveat. Is that I dont trust the permanence of digital media at ALL, especially if drm is involved, so i really try to own physical copies of everything i LOVE.

Fictional Character You Probably Would Have Dated in High School:

Oh god, dating, the worst activity. Ummm. Gosh. See. My trouble here is that I have chronically terrible instincts for who is actually good romantic interest material in real life, and that problem was SO MUCH WORSE as a teenager. Let's say Sha Hualing. Is this ending well for me? Nope!

Glad You Gave This Book a Chance:

'C Language Cultivation' by Yi Shi Si Zhou! I'm an engineer, but god, i am not a programmer. But I'm so glad I went into this book anyways! I was able to MOSTLY get pulled along for the ride when characters talked programming, and I think its SUCH an interesting way to conceptualize cultivation in a modern setting. And then on top of that, the plot went crunch and did some really interesting things! I would have balked at this one normally, but it really worked for me.

Hidden Gem Book:

'Evil As Humans' by Nian Zhong. I really need to rave about this one more, because it's one of the best cnovels I've ever read, and I'm so sad it took me this long to catch word of it. I'm not done yet, because i got overwhelmed by Emotions and was afraid of running out of book so I stopped reading, like a dumbass. It's so so so so good. It's got everything. It's got fascinating worldbuilding, amazing characters, glorious imagery, BEEFY plot, and one of my favorite relationships I've ever read. I would recommend this book whether or not someone has read a cnovel in their life before. And it's so sad that hardly anyone talks about it!

Important Moment in Your Reading Life:

Ooh, I think.... that moment in the peak pandemic days when I was finally intrigued enough to check out MDZS. First, I devoured it and it was SO good. Second, I kept reading cnovels. Third, my passion for cnovels got me into bookbinding. This really made a notable impression on the course of my life since then, which I frankly wasn't expecting at this age!

Just Finished:

Hmmm. I'm not FINISHED, but I'm caught up to the current translation of 'The Hunter's Gonna Lay Low' by Baek Sam. The translator said they would hopefully be catching at the end of this month, and god, I really hope so, this book lodged inside my ribcage.

Longest Book You've Read:

'The Husky and his White Cat Shizun' by Meatbun. It's 1.2 million words. If I ever finish ORV that will dethrone it, but for the love of god, montressor

Major Book Hangover:

Haha, any book I like tends to leave me hung over! I notice especially for the cnovels because they're so long and I get my emotions spun up so high, but it's definitely a regular feature. The only time this doesn't happen is if it's a series like Murderbot when I can immediately press on to the next book, until the inevitable SERIES hangover.

Number of bookcases:

Oh, unfair, the sizes vary wildly. In my house, let me see. There's a BIG built-in bookcase in the basement that has most of my prose fiction and craft books. Basement bedroom has a freestanding bookshelf that might be for art instructional books and art supplies, but im still rearranging.

Upstairs, i have a wide/short bookshelf that's also a tv stand, but it's split between western comics and board games. Kitchen has a teeny wall-mounted set of shelves with my cookbooks. Dining room has a buffet where my shortlisted craft books are stored (so I don't have to get them from the basement).

And upstairs, my pink bedroom has two. There's a small built-in that's for my manga collection and small zines. And there's a corner bookshelf that's for sheet music and coffee table books. I think that's everything!

Preferred Place to Read:

On long walks 🥺 It's so nice. I like it so much. The weather is hostile to my fingeys at this time of year, I need to drag out my various fingerless gloves and scatter them in convenient places so i remember yo grab them. Other than that, curled up in bed, either lying down or sitting against a back pillow.

Quote That Inspires You:

Oh gosh. I dont remember quotes very well. And 'inspire' might be the wrong word. But a number of Terry Pratchett ones stick with me, he really just was an incredibly memorable writer

It was sad music. But it waved its sadness like a battle flag. It said the universe had done all it could, but you were still alive.

-Terry Pratchett, 'Soul Music'

Reading Regret:

I don't regret reading books! Even the ones I hate. If I'm not getting something out of the experience, I'm hideously adhd to begin with, I will probably forget to finish rather than even consciously decide to quit. If I have a regret, maybe... I have a lot of other hobbies and obligations, and there are SO many books I wish I'd already read. I regret not prioritizing reading more in my life, even though I'm sure that in this AU, I'd have brand new regrets instead 😂

Series You Started and Need to Finish:

Mmmmm... Imperial Radch. I read the first trilogy l, the short stories, and Provenance. I just haven't been able to find the right headspace to start Translation State. I'm sure I'll love it! But I haven't done it yet.

Three of Your All-Time Favorite Books:

Agonizing!

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Hogfather by Terry Pratchett

Unapologetic Fan for:

The Books of the Raksura, by Martha Wells!! I love murderbot, but i LOOOOVE the raksura books, they deserve more appreciation

Very Excited for This Release:

Alecto the Ninth please im begging on hands and knees 🤣

Worst Bookish Habit:

Look, I am. Very adhd. I will accept your rec with great excitement and make a reminder to myself to go check out this book asap. Then i will also forage for my own new books, because it's good enrichment in my enclosure. Let's not ask what my follow-through numbers are like. Shh, don't worry about it.

X Marks The Spot: Start at the top left of your shelf and pick the 27th book:

Oh, this is gonna drive me nuts. I'm at work, but i HAVE a picture. The resolution, however--

It's the slim hot pink and black paperback. It's an Agatha Christie, and I'm almost positive it's 'The Mysterious Affair At Styles.' But I can't find this edition online to confirm. The book to its left is 'Any Way The Wind Blows' by Rainbow Rowell, the one left of that is 'Alta' by Mercedes Lackey, the one to its right is the complete Sherlock Holmes, and the one right of that is 'Sleeping Beauty' by Mercedes Lackey, so I know my books pretty well! But that ONE. Is driving me nuts 😂

Your Latest Book Purchase:

'Tiger Tiger' by Petra Erika Nordlund! It's sitting on the shelf next to my front door, and I'm POSITIVE I'll enjoy it, but the stars haven't been aligned for me to start it yet, expecially because i do read so much on my phone but i think graphic novels are a Must for physical purchases. If i have digital purchase of comics, they're probably redundant with my physical copies. They're just as ephemeral as prose ebooks, but so much larger to store 😂

ZZZ-snatcher book (last book that kept you up WAY late):

Ooh, that's probably 'I Became A God In A Horror Game' by Pot Fish Chili. This is an interesting one, because between story arcs I lose momentum and take a longgggg pause. But then DURING story arcs, I can't put the silly thing down. It's gripping as HELL.

[ms-demeanor]

hello! i vaguely recall you doing a new year's resolution bingo thing - first, was that actually you lol? and if so, how'd it go, any adjustments you'd make from the original idea? (i did a resolution bingo this past year, which mostly ended up being a 24 item quest buffet, which did work for me! but i'm curious for more data). happy new year to you and your various sizes of bastard!

Hello! Yes, that was me. It didn't go great!

I did a resolution bingo in 2022 but it ended up feeling like homework and at a certain point in the year I looked at the spaces that I hadn't filled and it just made me feel bad.

In 2023 I did kind of a chore chart; I used a sheet of college-ruled notebook paper and divided it up into columns with things like "guitar" and "draw" and and "quilt square" and "go for a walk by myself" and numbered out 52 lines and I went through and highlighted each thing as I did it each week. That went very well for some things and not very well for others. I had at least a few columns where I did something every other week, and I totally finished the quilt square column, and I drew something for like 40 weeks, but I also had several categories that I did absolutely nothing for and several categories that had very few highlights.

That chart *also* was kind of a problem and there was a week in, like, august where my brain was being weird and was like "you can't do more of X until you've caught up on Y and Z" because I had to flip the paper over and wanted to finish three columns before I flipped it - that was clearly a very silly hangup but I don't make the rules for what my brain will freak out about and it caused a disproportionate amount of stress.

This year I kind of combined the two and I've made three sheets of paper with different tasks on different lines, and in different amounts. (And none of the papers need to be flipped over so I won't get a weird hangup week)

So instead of having 52 blanks each for "pushups" "squats" and "go for a walk by myself" I've got 156 blanks for "workout: lifting, calisthenics, stretching, walking, cardio." I didn't do a single walk by myself last year, and it turns out I'm pretty unlikely do do random squats or pushups, so rather than try to do one exercise fifty two times I'm just going to try to do *some* kind of exercise three times a week and I'm not going to feel bad about it if that's more bench press instead of more cardio.

I did pretty well with quilt squares so i've set a goal to do twice as many this year. I set a goal for 52 drawings and writing seriously 52 times. My yard is a disaster so my goal is to fill my yardwaste bin 52 times this year.

But what I *haven't* done is divide that up by week. Maybe some weeks I'll get four workouts in and other weeks I'll do two. Maybe I won't draw for a month but I'll get into it a lot over the summer.

One of my two other sheets is things that I'd like to do daily. My four daily tasks that I'm aiming for are: clean something at the house, floss, moisturize, and journal. (Journaling was successful in the bingo year but not at all last year)

The other sheet is the one that's more like the bingo, or what I think the spirit of the bingo is supposed to be. I've got it labeled "Bonus" and each thing on it has about twenty circles that I can check off if I do something but that I don't see as a goal. That includes stuff like "friend hangs" and "go someplace" - stuff that I want to do more of but that I can either plan or do spontaneously and that doesn't have a big project end goal (so it's "do something with music like program a music box or play guitar for a while" rather than "write a song" like it was the bingo year, when no song got written).

I may have also just kneecapped myself by making the bingo squares too hard. Maybe I should do a monthly bingo with smaller goals.

The bingo also got harder when I failed at bullet journaling; turns out that's not a great way for me to manage my time and attention and the bingo was in the bullet journal. Having stuff on a wall next to the light switch in my office helped a lot last year, I think, so that's where my sheets are this year too.

IDK, this is all fun to experiment with and I enjoy it but also I'm never sure if any of it "works" in terms of getting me to do more of the things that I'd like myself to do. It did work for quilt squares last year, though, and that's the best progress I've made on my quilt since I started it in 2021. And the daily chart is helping a lot so far.

But maybe I just like making charts (I do).

[thegingerwrites]

very curious about 'the grass is always greener' for the WIP game 👀

I love fics where the tragedy and devastation of RotS is narrowly avoided but then the characters are left to deal with all of the problems that almost caused it in the first place, the lying, the distance, the attachment, everything. So here, Anakin has left the Order, he lives with Padme and his children. He has everything he wanted and yet… Anakin wants more.

So the Force decides to show him what he is missing by showing him the life he could have lead if RotS had gone as planned. If he didn't step away from the Jedi, continued to pursue power and his destiny, and ultimately became Darth Vader. But mostly, Anakin learns how much he misses Obi-Wan. I outlined the fic here in this post and started to write it a bit. At some point over the next few weeks, I have 50 min. of writing to do on it based on the poll I put out a little while ago.

Here is a bit of the beginning of the fic:

He wakes before the alarm.

Not an easy thing to do when the galaxy beckons his wife as early as it does but it is generous to call what Anakin has done ‘waking’ when he never really went to sleep.

Obi-Wan would be proud of him for the kind of meditation he does when it is too late to justify staying up, when Padmé calls him to bed for the third or fourth time, when he lies in bed and waits for the nightmares or the morning to come. Padmé thinks the nightmares have mostly stopped now that he is no longer on the frontlines. Perhaps she believes that her presence when they lie beside each other at night is enough to keep them at bay. Anakin will never tell her that he joins her under the covers, takes her in his arms some nights, closes his eyes and prays to find some sense of peace in the Force.

When he can’t take it anymore, he gets up and starts their day for both of them.

He brews caf in the kitchen, a small room—if any part of Padmé’s apartment can really be called small—that Anakin had never entered until he fully moved in with Padmé. Before he moved in, Padmé rarely used it. Droids and aides provide her with almost everything she needs and she doesn’t spend as much time as she might like in her own apartment, work constantly calling her elsewhere.

But Anakin likes the kitchen. He likes the utility of it. Everything has a function and a place. He likes the mouse droid that sits at the ready in the corner and the hum of the conservator unit. He likes the way that it is fully enclosed so that he can’t see Coruscant’s skyline looming down on him from the moment he wakes.

He could program the caf maker to brew their drinks automatically in the morning, precisely to their specifications. He could make one of the droids hand deliver them to the dining table or to bed if he wanted. But Anakin stands at the counter and listens to the machine hiss and sputter before taking the mugs to the dining table, setting them down beside their usual place settings and scrolling through his wife’s datapad to glance at the news before she does.

ATRAVIS SECTOR PLANETS REFUSE PEACE TREATY

WAR RAGES ON IN OUTER RIM

[breadandblankets]

CivE Duke - inspired by this post by mysterycitrus

This was one of Duke's favorite parts of his job. Not that one, the other one, the civilian one.

"Duke Thomas," his mother had told him when he got his engineer's seal crimp in the mail. "Is every bit Gotham's hero as much as The Signal is."

Every other week it seemed he donned his steel toed boots, hard hat, and high vis and went to look at the bones of some old building.

Most days were sat at his desk in a nice comfy high rise in Old Gotham, eyes glued to the searing white of some ancient as-builts on his screen. (As-builts, especially in Gotham, were more of a suggestion than a rule, his team had started calling them "Maybe-builts" and it fit more than he'd like.)

Gotham, in Duke's experience, had good bones for the most part. Even caked in years and years of grime, asbestos, and mob snitches, there was beauty in pulling away the facade to look at all that union-made bessemer steel.

Today on the chopping block was a Park Row mid-rise, slated for either refurbishment or demolition, all depending on Duke's word.

It wasn't anything even close to the rush of saving a life, but there is a light feeling he gets, knowing that some old structure can be reused.

Duke knows its a little silly to get sad when something old is beyond saving, especially when he signs over it's death.

"It's like a forest fire," his dad had told him once, after he watched his first controlled demolition. "You gotta burn out the dead things so new things can live."

This building though, Duke has a good feeling about it. Or at least that is what he tells his trainee, Ines, while he scans the building with his X-ray vision.

Ines Borja is a bright kid fresh from the hell that is Gotham U's CivE program, she's not a Gotham native but while living here she fell in love with the city (and it's cost of living). According to her, New York isn't much worse, Gotham's just weirder.

Weird is, unfortunately, Duke's bread and butter. They pick through delapidated rooms with crumbling sheet rock with mostly intact concrete encased steel. He spots some areas with crumbling concrete that he points out to Ines, who dutifully takes photos.

"Those are areas we'll need to test for water penetration and corrosion," Duke explains.

He's explaining other testing that will need to be done, radar of the foundation, metallurgical testing, etc, when they hear yelling outside.

For a moment Duke ignores it, but the hard walls carry echos of what's being said.

"I'm not going to ask again, your money asshole!"

The flat thud of a notebook hitting the ground is the last thing Ines hears as Duke takes off like a shot.

His site walk boots are heavy, much much heavier than his Signal boots. They're for protection and insulation from the hard concrete he has to stand on all day. They're so not meant for running, he thinks as he barrels out of the survey site and around the corner.

There are two figures in the alley when he stomps into the scene, slipping his hard hat off. The mugger is on the younger end, thats about all the analysis Duke gets to do before he sees the gun.

It's nice sometimes, Duke things, as he spins like a discus thrower, to fight normal city problems. He's liable to get bogged down in big world ending shit that sometimes its just nice to save a mugging victim.

The reinforced plastic leaves his fingers in a rush, aimed straight and true, slamming into the gun in the mugger's right hand.

Both the mugger and muggee have a moment of shock before Duke slams into the first guy like a freight train, knocking him out of the confrontation and onto the ground.

"I'd advise you sit down for a moment," Duke says to the would-be mugger, flatly. He turns to the shaking older man.

"Sir are you alright," he asks politely.

"I am now," the older man, well dressed but not wealthy in the way that Duke knows people in the town are. "Thank you very much."

"Alright then," Duke says calmly, he fishes in his pockets for one of the many business cards he always keeps on himself. It's for a therapist, and a good one in Duke's opinion. A profession in too short supply in Gotham. "Might be best if you get on with your day, I'll stay with this young gentleman here."

The older man is clearly a true Gothamite, because he doesn't protest, just moves along. Probably not even the most traumatic thing the guy's witnessed in the last year.

Duke turns to young man on the ground, who hasn't moved a muscle from where Duke put him just a second ago.

"Hey man I don't want any trouble."

Ines chooses this moment to catch up, her skin flushed and she's panting, She is still carrying all the gear with her, which no doubt slowed her down.

"Bit late for that yeah?" Duke questions with a raise of his brow, he motions with his chin in the direction of the gun. It's a couple yards off, resting comfortably with his hard hat. "What's your name?"

"David sir, i-its not even loaded, just to scare people a bit," all comes out in a rush, the young man, David, is clearly terrified.

"Hey, I know, it's hard out here," Duke placates. Out of one of the seemingly endless pockets on his work pants he pulls out his wallet. Out comes two more cards and a couple of bills. "Listen, here's fifty bucks, go get yourself something to eat."

"I-"

"Hold on, I'm not done," Duke says. "This is the information for Leslie's clinic down the street, she can help you with a lot, or just point you towards someone who can. If you need anything else this is the Wayne Ent outreach office, the director there is Elaine, tell her Duke sent you."

"You- you're not going to call the cops?" David asks, bewildered.

"And have them do what? You're robbing a man for twenty dollars with a gun that has no bullets," Duke observes. "You clearly don't need jail time you need a hand."

As if to illustrate his point, Duke reaches out to help him up. David hesitates for a split second, before accepting the offered hand.

"Seriously thought," Duke continues. "Leslie and m-Elaine helped me though some of the worst times of my life okay, reach out to them, they can help, you're not in this alone."

David looked like he was about to cry.

"Thank you man, just thank you."

"Just looking out for my fellow man," Duke replies. "Now get going I got work."

David laughs a little at that before shuffling awkwardly by Ines. Duke turns to look at her.

"You are like, officially the coolest boss I've ever had," she tells him seriously.

"No way, didn't your last boss bow hunt wild boar?"

"Yeah but that's jack all compared to my Apparently incredibly based current boss."

Duke chuckles: "You don't even know about my teenage years."

"What, you were doing child anti-cop anarco-communist action?"

"More or less."

"Based as fuck," she says, amazed.

Duke just shrugs.

"My mom always said: never accept the world as it is, make it better. And so I do, so i will."

Duke turns a little, to look back at the mid-rise that will have new life breathed into it sooner or later.

So I will.

[ninthfeather]

when the god in the machine is nowhere to be seen

Fandom: My Hero Academia Summary: Shouta attempts to cheer up his former student/current colleague/eternal Problem Child. (also on AO3)

A/N: Title from "Midnight Florist" by Jessica Best and the Creeping Doubts. Thanks so much to FabHawk for beta-reading and title help.

Warning for canon-typical institutionalized discrimination and some references to mental health issues.

Shouta was barely conscious in any sense of the word when he pushed open the door of the teacher’s lounge. Not long ago, this would’ve been the result of another late-night patrol, but now, it was mostly just because both Hizashi and Eri had been up with nightmares, and Shota’s own insomnia had taken advantage of the disruptions. 

The anniversary of the so-called war against the League of Villains was coming up again, and all of them were dealing with it in their own ways. Shouta’s preferred poison was just burying himself in work.

He had that in common with Midoriya, whose usual focus on his work as one of UA’s in-house substitutes had intensified into something approaching mania, before abruptly petering out. This time last week, he’d been writing up a list of curriculum adjustments for Nezu. This morning, he was scrolling listlessly through a news site.

Aizawa sometimes found it hard to wrap his head around how they’d ended up as they were. If you’d asked Aizawa to predict which of his students was most likely to end up in teaching, he would have bypassed the nightmare class entirely. If he’d been limited to just that class, he’d probably have picked Yaoyorozu or maybe Iida, although he didn’t see either being particularly good at the job. 

Midoriya hadn’t even been on his radar. He’d looked at that kid and seen two possible outcomes--an exceptional heroics career, or an early, dramatic death. Sure, Midoriya was frighteningly smart, but he hadn’t seemed interested in standing on the sidelines, even in situations where he probably should’ve done so. He’d expected that even if the kid ended up incapable of doing hero work himself, he would’ve ended up doing coordination or analysis work, not teaching.

That wasn’t to say that Midoriya was bad at it. In the few situations where Midoriya had no natural aptitude for something, he’d proven to be such a diligent student as to make it impossible to tell. Midoriya was technically perfect as a teacher, at least compared to his peers. He genuinely cared about the kids, he had a knack for coming up with difficult test questions, and his sense for when a student was being bullied was impeccable. But Shouta had seen Midoriya at his most enthusiastic and impassioned, and that version of him was almost impossible to find in his colleague.

Maybe it was just the passage of time, or Midoriya’s various physical and mental health problems. But Shouta didn’t think so. 

Midoriya scrolled past a picture of Creati and Uravity cleaning up after a hurricane, and then one of Red Riot in the middle of a takedown. Then there was Earphone Jack at a concert and Ingenium II speaking at a benefit. 

Shouta felt a sudden, sharp burst of kinship towards the boy. He remembered being just out of school and watching his schoolmates succeed at blinding speed while he was barely balancing his teaching certificate program with his patrol schedule.

“Midoriya,” he started.

And oh, Midoriya’s time in his class had left its mark, because the instant that he spoke, Midoriya was on high alert and turning to face him.

Shouta gave him a second to realize that he was overreacting. 

Midoriya flushed, just a little bit.

Shouta glanced pointedly at Midoriya’s phone. “It’s not necessary to compare yourself with your former classmates,” he said.

To his surprise, Midoriya snorted. “As if I could, now,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shouta asked, more baffled than offended.

“I’m Quirkless , remember?” Midoriya said.

“My Quirk doesn’t work half the time, but I still get by,” Shouta said carefully. Midoriya definitely had strong feelings about Quirklessness, judging by how he’d reacted to Mirio losing his Quirk and to a few in-class exercises involving the topic. But he kept the nature of those feelings close to his chest. It wasn’t outright prejudice, or Shouta would’ve dealt with it by now, but it wasn’t the same kind of deliberate enthusiasm he brought to discussions of stigmatized Quirks, either.

“That’s not the same thing,” Midoriya said, pocketing his phone.

“It’s pretty similar,” Shouta argued.

Midoriya shot him a look of such pure condescension that Shouta had to remind himself that he couldn’t suspend him anymore.

“I don’t have a valid Hero License,” Midoriya said. “So no, it’s not.”

“Yes you do?” Shouta said, thrown. “I saw you get it out at the convenience store the other day, for the discount?”

Midoriya rolled his eyes. “It’s one of the ones they give retired heroes.”

“Seriously?” Shouta asked.

“The HPSC won’t issue me a valid one until I can pass a Quirk Assessment,” Midoriya said. 

Oh. It had been a while since the last time Shouta had wanted to murder a man on Midoriya’s behalf. There was a feeling he hadn’t missed.

“Was Hawks involved in that decision?” Shouta asked, aware that his eyes were probably flickering red.

“He was one of the only ones on my side,” Midoriya said. “Everyone else was very ‘if he gets killed it will damage the organization’s reputation’ and so on.”

Shouta swore.

“Yeah, and admittedly the nerve damage and the chronic pain and the PTSD didn’t really help my case,” Midoriya said. “But what it boiled down to was that they didn’t think I could do it.”

“That’s bullshit,” Shouta said.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Midoriya complained. “I got, what, like a year and a half of being treated like a normal person? If we really don’t want anything like what happened with Aoyama to happen again, we have got to fix some of the structural Quirkism in this country; I am so serious. Also it would make me less stressed. Just as a bonus.”

Shouta was having a very uncomfortable suspicion right about now.

Back when Midoriya first spilled the beans about One for All, he’d never outright stated his original Quirk. Shouta had assumed it had been something unremarkable and completely unrelated to physical strength or speed, because that would explain why Midoriya had kept breaking himself during the earliest portions of his heroics career. But up until now, he’d just sort of assumed that there had been an original Quirk. People who were born Quirkless were vanishingly rare in Japan; Shouta had only met a few, and all of them had been middle aged or older. For someone Midoriya’s age--

Something must have showed on his face, because Midoriya’s expression turned alarmed and then embarrassed.

“Could you maybe forget I said that?” Midoriya asked.

“Not likely, Problem Child,” Shouta deadpanned.

“I’m over 18, you can’t call me that anymore!” Midoriya protested.

“So you aren’t denying the other half of it?” Shouta asked.

“I can’t really argue with it at this point, can I?”

“Not really,” Shouta said. “And stop trying to distract me.”

Midoriya wilted. “Look, if I wanted to talk about it, you would have been at the top of the list. But it’s in the past. It doesn’t matter now.”

“Then why bring it up when you’re being mistreated?”

“I’m not being mistreated, they’re just being stubborn jerks--” Midoriya broke off. “Yeah, okay, sure, it bothers me. But telling people it bothers me is just an invitation for them to do it more.”

“Do I need to go back over the Mental Health and Heroics unit for you?” Shouta asked. “I can do it, if that’s what you need.”

“You seriously do not get it,” Midoriya repeated. “And that’s why I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If you think I don’t get it, then explain it to me,” Shouta pressed.

Izuku huffed. “Fine,” he said. “Being Quirkless doesn’t set you apart all that much. Yeah, we have the toe joint and a few other differences from Quirked people, but none of it matters much. We don’t get injured or sick more easily. It’s just that we don’t have a superpower.”

Midoriya’s voice rose as he warmed to the topic. “And it’s just that, we don’t have it. People who have powers that are weak or scary get mistreated, but it doesn’t get medicalized the way Quirklessness does. I had a medical note in my school records, even though the only time anyone was supposed to be using their Quirks was during Quirk counseling. People treated me like I was fragile and stupid. And now they’re doing it again.”

He folded his arms. “What they want is for me to agree that my life has been ruined by the removal of my Quirk and that it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. While also reassuring themselves that All for One is very dead and cannot possibly do the same thing to them.”

Shouta’d had his own share of that kind of behavior, both over his reduced ability to use his Quirk and his physical injuries. One of the business track kids had been expelled by Nedzu for asking Shouta if he regretted having survived the fighting. Hizashi had actually punched the first reporter to approach a similar line of questioning. 

“You usually avoid doing what’s expected of you, so why should this be any different?” Shouta asked.

“Because I'm tired of it,” Midoriya snapped. “And because it feels like being in middle school again.”

Neither Bakugo nor Midoriya had ever disclosed what their middle school experiences had been like, but Shouta had plenty of guesses. And he was starting to get an idea of what Midoriya needed to hear.

“You helped save the country,” he said. “No one is going to forget that, and no one can take that from you. You had One for All for a short time, yes, but in that time you dealt with more serious villain situations than some pros see in a lifetime. And you may not have that Quirk anymore, but you still have an entire pack of top-100 Heroes who will ruin someone's life for you if you ask.”

Midoriya blinked at him.

“If I called Uravity or Shouto or even Dynamight right now and told them about your license, the HPSC officials responsible would end up in body casts, assuming they were alive by the time those hellions were done with them. Which is why you haven't told them, right?”

Midoriya looked away.

“Talk to your friends,” Aizawa said.

“I don't want to bother--” 

“If you were a bother to them, I doubt they would hang out around UA nearly as much as they do,” Shouta said.

“I guess not,” Midoriya said reluctantly.

“They’re not the only ones who care about you, either,” Shouta added. “If yo challenge the HPSC about your license, I know All Might would go to bat for you. So would Nedzu. I would help, even.”

“It’s not really about the license, or the lack of it, you know?” Midoriya said. “It’s about what I can do now, and what I can’t.”

Shouta got that. He’d had to massively scale back his heroics work in recent years. It wasn’t just the damage to his quirk, or the injuries he’d sustained, or the results of getting older. It was all of those things put together. Maybe if he was a younger man he’d have tried to push through anyway--and maybe he would’ve gotten killed like that.

“There are dozens of heroes who do most of their work Quirkless,” Shouta said. “But you’re the only one who knows what’s best for you.”

The grin Midoriya gave him was lopsided, but existent.

“Now, go call one of your friends,” Shouta said. 

“Yes, sensei,” Midoriya said absently, getting out his phone.