#no known warnings

[oldschoolfic-ds9]

Exercise

by AEvans, 1999

(Author did not provide a summary. The following is reader provided.) After their conversation in “Distant Voices,” Julian and Garak try exercising together. It doesn’t go well at first until they settle upon a more mutually enjoyable type of physical activity.

Words: 11923, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: none listed

Characters: Julian Bashir, Elim Garak

Relationships: Garak/Bashir

Reader suggested tags (what are these?): A Plain and Simple Zine (Volume 10), Strange Fits of Passion (Issue 7, Sept/Oct/Nov 1999)

links (link broken? report it and try the archive.org alternative):

archive.org - option 1

[and-this-of-all-my-hopes]

So, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep seeing metas about how Aziraphale wants Crowley to return to Heaven and be an angel again because he wants them to be on the same side/be good/change/etc., etc., etc. but I don’t see that at all. I actually see it as the very opposite.

Aziraphale loves Crowley just as he is. But there’s something more. Something huge.

Aziraphale loves Crowley and because he is an angel who is stuck in seeing things as black and white, he constantly praises Crowley for being nice. For being good. For being kind.

Aziraphale has watched Crowley on and off for 6,000 years. He watched him thwart the plans of Heaven and Hell because it was unjust. He spared the lives of innocents. He did small things that made Aziraphale happy just because (like making Hamlet successful and saving valuable books). And because Aziraphale sees things in black and white, he sees all the things Crowley has done as nice, as good, as kind.

Crowley vehemently attests he’s not nice or good or kind.

He’s not exactly wrong nor is he lying when he says this. When Crowley spares goats during a cruel bet over a righteous man and swallowing laudanum to prevent a suicide, when he prevents Armageddon by working with Aziraphale and stopping the Anti-Christ from being the Anti-Christ, he’s not doing the nice/good/kind thing.

He’s doing the right thing.

Crowley chooses to do the right thing without hesitation. He is better than all of Heaven and Hell who have callous and dispassionate view of all existence because he questions, because he makes choices. Crowley sees the world for all its messiness and he sees himself. He sees a place where he fits in. He sees the blurred edges.

And Aziraphale sees that, even if seeing the blurred edges is hard for him.

But here’s the thing that Aziraphale can’t voice.

It’s the reason why he told Crowley about being allowed to return to Heaven and become an angel again. He doesn’t want Crowley to change. He doesn’t think Crowley is flawed. Or not enough.

It’s something that is so monumental that it cannot be put into words. Because to put it into words would be more than blasphemy. It’s down right unthinkable for anyone in Heaven, Hell, or Earth to say what Aziraphale knows deep in his soul.

God was wrong to cast out Crowley.

Aziraphale believes Crowley can/should return to Heaven because he knows that Crowley should never have fallen in the first place. He wants him to be forgiven because when Crowley fell it was unjust. Aziraphale is trying to correct a mistake. He’s trying to do the right thing.

Yes, Crowley would never accept returning to Heaven. And Aziraphale was wrong to even suggest it (although that conversation is another can of worms to unpack).

Aziraphale loves Crowley. He loves him exactly as he is. He doesn’t want him to change. Aziraphale knows that Crowley the best of all of them. He wants to change Heaven because of it. Because God was wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale may have difficulty seeing beyond black and white, but when it comes to Crowley he sees everything crystal clear and in vivid color.

[l-in-the-light]

About his "trigger warnings"

I mentioned here on tumblr that I used to have a number one favourite book writer. I guess not anymore. After all the SA allegations and other stories that got leaked by people around him (his collegues, co-workers etc.), I realized he's an abusive asshole and I owe you all to say that openly here. And some of the assaults date back decades now, which means he didn't just wake up one day and changed into an asshole, he most likely was always one.

I read the foreword to his book Trigger Warning again. I feel like I took a peek beyond his fake persona there. He writes about trigger warnings like it's some exotic curious little trend that kids on the internet came up with, finds it a bit peculiar like a daddy trying to understand their kid's hobbies, then proceeds to use them like a funny teasers for his short stories ("can you find the big tentacle hidden among the pages somewhere?"), only to finish it all up with a punch straight to your face: real life doesn't have trigger warnings, so always watch out for yourself. On the surface level? This all sounds like a slightly misguided, maybe even witty intro. Nothing is said with malice, right? And yet, the message underneath it all was always to discredit trigger warnings as a concept. That's why that delivery line is at the very end of that intro. You're supposed to be lulled into agreeing how silly it all is. I dunno if he did it on purpose or did it without thinking much about it, by habit, but that intention is there and it's disguised with concern and attempts to sound kind. A peek beyond the nice guy mask. No wonder I could never finish that anthology of short stories. The cognitive dissonance caused by the foreword sticked with me like a bad aftertaste. My intuition told me this was all wrong, I just couldn't find the words to express it.

And you know why it works so well as a disguise and why we tend to believe he didn't do it on purpose? Because hey, he just said the facts, the truth! Reality indeed doesn't have any trigger warnings, what's wrong with saying that! Yes, that statement is true. Using real statements in carefully woven context to sell a lie, is an example of an excellent manipulation. So allow me to untangle it or, in other words, to reveal the magic trick behind it.

Why do trigger warnings exist? Isn't Gaiman right, aren't they counterproductive, you might think, because by avoiding triggers you will never get better at dealing with them? Indeed, here's the catch, because the answer isn't a simple yes or no here. Yes, often to recover from trauma, you need to expose yourself to it in some way - like for example, through exposure therapy (or even just classic psychotherapy). But also No, because there's no rule that says you will officially recover only after you're fine reading fiction about sexual assault (for example)! Some triggers will dimnish, some will not, and the best you can do for the latter is to avoid them altogether. Triggers are extremely personal, but you can learn to manage them, in ways that respect your own boundaries, but never by giving up your right to selfcare. You see the difference?

Back to therapy bit for a moment. To recover, often you need to go through with it. But here's the thing - you do it in *controlled environment*, accompanied by a specialist that is there to help and calm you down afterwards. And you only start to do that once you feel *ready* to face it. Now compare it to a situation of reading a book (yes, a book, which usually never has any trigger warnings, because that's such a silly fanfiction thing). You come upon your trigger without any warning, preparation or support around you, you're left with the aftermath of possible panic attack or other symptoms completely on your own. It might take you weeks to recover from it, because perhaps you weren't yet in any therapy that could help you manage your triggers more effectively. But then you tell yourself it's fine, minimizing your own emotional reactions, because *it was just a book*. But, you realize, even years later you still remember it and you might finally accept the harsh truth that you're still not fine with it.

Now imagine same situation, but the book did have trigger warnings listed. For example, about sexual abuse. You would see that and leave the bookstore without the book, because you would know you're not *ready* for that. And it's fine not to be ready, be it yet or ever. This is about consent and selfcare, both are essential to process through trauma and recover. The books without trigger warnings rob selfcare, consent and a choice from us. They teach us we should always ignore our triggers and push through. It's sadly a reality that is widely accepted so Gaiman is right, nothing in reality will flash you a warning. But he's also wrong: it doesn't mean we can't make the life a tiny bit easier for those of us who are traumatized, instead of leaving them with all of that on their very own. This part, he doesn't want you to even consider. He doesn't want you to imagine the positive side of living in a world in which real books warn you about triggers, because then it would prove that it *can* become a reality in which real things (like books) warn you of triggers. They can't shield you from everything, but that's also not the point: it's just to make some things feel more safe, for everybody.

(As a side note, being triggered is not the same as stepping outside your comfort zone - those are two different matters! Though yes, stepping outside your comfort zone in an extreme way CAN become traumatic as the result as well).

I guess Neil Gaiman just thinks some people are too sensitive and should just get over themselves. You don't need those warnings, they won't protect you anyway. Have you tried not getting traumatized? How dare you think your selfcare is more important than reading my questionable fantasies? You're missing out if you skip my book (that has no proper trigger warnings) and you have only yourself to blame! I provide you a safe environment to explore your traumatic triggers, you should be grateful! And how is your book providing a safe environment exactly, author? Did you even try to put a safety net there for your reader? Do you even care? Of course you don't. But you will pretend like you do: by providing a very ingenuine effort that is mostly meant to be a pat on your own back for cleverly dismissing the very concept of trigger warnings, while pretending to play along with it and exposing their lack of power in the process. Disguised as a coincidence, lack of understanding or unskillful attempt written by a slightly ignorant daddy-like figure. What an irony that you do it by nearly surgically focusing on the blind spots of the concept, proving at the same time you do know the mechanism behind it pretty well. You knew what you were doing and how you were doing it.

Or at least, this is how I see it: I might be wrong on the details, but I'm sure I caught the gist of the manipulative behaviour there. An abuser always wants you to step out of your comfort zone, get surprised by a trigger, and to make sure you're outside your safety net. Because then you're an easier target, more likely to agree to harmful things (be it real actions or just harmful beliefs delivered to you by the author of a book, like in case of *trigger warnings being pointless*). They want to groom you into thinking that you're just being silly and see things that aren't there.

Trigger Warning's foreword is exactly that and I feel disgusted, now that I finally recognize my own feelings about it. I probably didn't find words for it before, because I wanted to believe Gaiman had good intentions behind it, they just didn't work out very well. Except that was never the case and that's why it never felt right. That good intention was never there, but it sure *looked* like it was. Also it took me way too long to realize people do things like that on purpose. You know what, Gaiman? Thanks to gaslighting efforts like yours it took me also way too many years to accept that selfcare IS OKAY.

So many people now think nothing was ever genuine about Neil Gaiman because his nice guy mask slipped. A mask he used to hide his autism behind and appear neurotypical/feel accepted thanks to it. Whenever a really advanced mask like that slips, the cognitive dissonance becomes a huge gap between a mask and actual self in perception of other people. Still, your autism is not an excuse for things you do and say, and definitely doesn't excuse assault as simple miscommunication - and yes, he did try to justify lack of consent this way. "I'm autistic, I read the body language wrong and wasn't even aware of it". Hey, you could have, like, asked. There's no shame in getting confirmation in words :P but it's just a poor excuse anyway, the truth is he didn't care if it was wanted or not, as long as he got adoration and powertripping thrill out of that, and that's the best case scenario here.

I believe the allegations. I won't be able to read Gaiman's books anymore, I honestly can't see them the same way I used to anymore. I loved Coraline and The Graveyard Book, and Smoke and Mirrors. I feel disgusted knowing that he openly claimed to be a feminist while at the same time assaulted so many people and used emotional manipulation so they won't #metoo him. He even went as far as to claim "always believe the victims", but once the allegations flew his way, what did he do? Blamed the victims, even called them mentally ill! I also feel now like his books are also just full of deception, meant to hide harmful beliefs under quirky words and imaginative tales. And I might never be able to stop feeling this way and I don't owe him a second chance anyway.

Good Omens stays in my heart though, because sir Terry Pratchett put a lot of work into it and it shows. I feel like I would show him disrespect if I discarded it. Let's say it becomes a Gaiman Who Might Have Been But Never Was, for me.

[gildui]

JONATHAN PRICE » BRAVO SIX cr: John Price

GAZ ✖︎ GHOST ✖︎ SOAP ✖︎ BRAVO SIX

[cerisedemons]

i didn't think i'd be christening this blog with content warning fanart but here we are

[bvcktommy]

psa: there is another csa fic in the bucktommy ao3 tag

edit: this one isn’t on anon so if you go on their profile and mute them none of their works will show up in the tag for you

edit 2: oh my god i dont careeeee about your morals this post is not a debate about morality and principles this post exists so people dont have to stumble across this fic on ao3 without expecting it and potentially get triggered by the contents. go hold a debate on your own blog if you wanna talk about morality jfc

reblogs are off since y'all dont know how to fucking act normal.

[oldschoolfic-ds9]

Cut 'N Blow

by Tavran, 2000

(Author did not provide a summary. The following is reader provided.) Garak takes up hairdressing and offers Julian a free cut and blow.

Words: 424, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: R

Warnings: none listed

Characters: Julian Bashir, Elim Garak

Relationships: Garak/Bashir

Reader suggested tags (what are these?): Strange Fits of Passion (Issue 10, Apr/May 2000)

links (link broken? report it and try the archive.org alternative):

archive.org - option 1

[and-this-of-all-my-hopes]

Sometimes you just are trying to live out your day and then your brain thinks:

What if in the opening titles of Season 3 Aziraphale and Crowley aren’t walking together anymore.

[moussedoodles]

Real talk though, even though I draw a lot of silly stuff from the Mafia x Gang leader au, this is by no means a happy story. No one is gonna die (I'm not as strong as Tay 😭) But nevertheless, it won't end in the "best" way, at least not for Nezha.

Anyways more Mafia x Gang leader lore ramble below

Again, Ao Bing is a mafia heir. Despite his family's goal to keep the public at large safe and unaware of the worst parts of humanity, they don't do so through the most legal or moral of means. Every member of the Loong family has had blood on their hands, every member of the Loong family has had to pull a few strings to get what they want, and that includes Ao Bing.

Whether it be because an enemy gang or mafia decides to target Ao Bing to get the upper hand over the fallen Loong family, or because the Li family finds out about the new residents' insidious background, either way, Nezha will find out who Ao Bing truly is. He's done his fair share of crime in his years haunting the streets of Chentang Guan: Theft, property damage– a broken nose or bone here or there– but Nezha hasn't done the things Ao Bing has had to do. Nezha has never killed.

(Admittedly, he's conflicted about this. Who wouldn't be when the man you've been head over heels for, the man who seems to share the same feelings you do, turns out to be a member of a mafia? And one of the most infamous and influencial families at that, especially during the height of their power)

(He doesn't know how to feel about this, doesn't know how to feel about Ao Bing. And the worst part about this- he believes- is the terrifying thought that this doesn't change the way he sees him. Nezha, still high on the ecstacy of young love, can't seem to pull back rose tinted lenses whenever Ao Bing is near, can't stop the way his pulse thrums at every, airy laugh, every soft smile, every small act and drop of attention Ao Bing generously spares his poor heart)

(Ao Bing made him feel seen, dared him to feel vulnerable for what must have been the first time in what felt like forever. He was his equal in almost every way, and looked past that rough exterior and delinquent past he bore proudly to protect himself, and instead saw a lonely boy– much like himself– who desperately needed someone who understood him.)

Even still, Nezha is distanced from Ao Bing. But whether it's by his own doing or by his family's insistence though doesn't matter, because the two won't stay apart for long. When news of Ao Guang's youngest, surviving heir and his newfound weakness becomes known, word spread from the angry whispers of the enemy gangs surrounding the small town of Chentang Guan, up, up until it finds the ears of the members of the Chan Sect, a well-known group of law enforcers that- despite the image they uphold of morality and safety for all- are no better, if not worse than the Loong family who once ruled the city the Chan Sect now watch over.

Seeing some way to extinguish the still burning remnants of the crime family, the members of the Chan Sect make their way to Chentang Guan and striked.

Nezha had always been the target of injustice, but at least a majority of the hardship and shame were thrown at him.

Now though, with not only his family but the families of his members on the line, alongside the threat of losing their livelihoods and future due to the Chan Sect's influence solely because he chose to love the wrong person, Nezha disowns himself, sparing his family from the Chan Sect's threats of blacklisting both his parents and brothers from the entire legal industry and tarnishing their good name. He also disbands his gang, before running away to the only person who he could possibly turn to in a time where he had no one left, and no place to go.

Damning himself to a life of danger and crime, Nezha becomes Ao Bing's right hand, and joins the ranks of the Loong crime family.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

"kusuo shouldve thanked kusuke for making his limiters" is one of the most insane takes ive ever seen considering his original motivation for doing so was to completely get rid of his powers and then beat the shit out of him

[razberrypuck]

pins and needles

[mournmage]

Hawke: Anders? What are you talking about? Anders: Wardens aren't immune to the taint forever. In time, we start to hear voices. The same ones that the darkspawn hear. Anders: That's when they send you into the Deep Roads to die.

The idea that a romanced Anders and Hawke have never had this conversation about the Calling being a Thing before the Legacy dlc is going to haunt me tbh

[spectral-phases]

So, I know it's not a reliable source, but the Death Certificate for Jason Todd in the encyclopedia says he died at 15, and he does have a comic saying he can't wait to turn 16 so maybe that's accurate. But...

Anyone ever think about the juxtaposition of Jason dying four months before his 16th birthday and Bruce...doing what he did on Tim’s 16th?

Like. It's completely out of pocket. He jumped the damn shark. It's insane and abusive. Unacceptable, inexcusable, and damn near unforgivable (and could only be forgiven if Bruce would own up to how wrong it was and apologizing, but DC will never let that happen, so...unforgivable it is).

But he said his goal was to make Tim a better Robin. Turn his training up to the next level. And Jason is always regarded as the failed Robin, the one who was too reckless and that's what Bruce was ostensibly trying to train out of Tim. Wanting him to prove he could think before leaping.

(New Teen Titans 1980)

(Robin 1993 116) (They're examining the box with the message that was delivered for his birthday party earlier in the day...so...they both know what today is and what Bruce is helping Tim examine in the machine...and boy...that adds some layers to Alfred's reaction here)

(Robin 1993 120)

Anyway. I'm casting "go to fucking therapy and stop taking your trauma out on the kids around you" on Bruce. It's not very effective.

(Teen Titans 2003 29)

(Recolor of the Titans Tower Fight between Jason and Tim here, in my heart it is the way things ought to have been. Just as in my Jersey heart, I know Tim called Bruce a Motherfucker in Robin 120).

[theriu]

I survived the

SUPER LOUD PHONE NOISE

of Oct. 4, 2023

[oldschoolfic-ds9]

Langue D'Amour

by The Plaid Adder, 2000

When the station's translator circuits are on the fritz, Garak and Bashir discover that they don't need language to communicate.

Words: 10721, Chapters: 6/6, Language: English

Rating: R

Warnings: none listed

Characters: Julian Bashir, Elim Garak, DS9 crew, OCs

Relationships: Garak/Bashir

Reader suggested tags (what are these?): Strange Fits of Passion (Issue 13, Oct/Nov 2000), script format

Untitled series:

Sigh No More

New to Thee

I Never

The Chair

Working Lunch

The Horror, The Horror

Bloodheart

Langue D’Amour

links (link broken? report it and try the archive.org alternative):

archive.org - option 1 (prologue, act I, act II, act III, act IV, act V, translations)

[cyncerity]

After 4 long years

Sizeshifter Tommy is back >:)

Strap in yall cause it’s lore time

part 1

College fuckin’ sucked. Of course, it was easier and harder than highschool in some ways, but right now, 5 pages into his 20 page intro to psychology reading assignment that made no sense, he’d give anything to be back in those locker lined hallways.

His mind flashed back to that time; being kicked down, seeing kids whisper and call him a freak, being shamed and taunted by his classmates and slammed into the walls for daring to defend himself.

Ok, maybe the psych wasn’t that bad, but still. Half of this shit didn’t even look like english to him.

His saving grace in college was that his best friends followed him there. Ranboo was in this class with him, and while Tubbo knew nothing about psychology, he was good moral support. He’d been hyping the other two up in their group chat while Tommy and Ranboo had been complaining nonstop, god bless him.

Tommy was alone in his room doing work, with Tubbo and Ranboo in their shared dorm. He lived close enough to the school that he didnt feel the need to get a dorm, plus he far preferred living with his family that knew about his…complications over living in a building full of judgmental strangers. He did, however, sleep over with Tubbo and Ranboo a lot. And sure, maybe he’d had a few incidents at the dorm, but Ranboo and Tubbo always covered for him flawlessly. He didn’t want- no, he couldn’t handle this new school finding out about what he could do. What he was.

That was what he looked forward to most about college: a fresh start. This school was so much bigger than his old one, and the rumors that had spread like wildfire when he was a kid had now dwindled to ash. He knew that one bout of gossip could stoke the flames again, but Tommy was (arguably) an adult now. He could handle his powers a lot better than he could before. In elementary school, he tried so hard to not let his family know that he’d maybe once or twice accidentally shrunk in class or panicked and ran to the bathroom where he grew and scared the shit out of everyone in there. His home life was fine, but his social life took the hit so he wouldn’t have to face his family. Once his family learned and he was free to practice balancing his powers at home, his school issues dwindled. In high school, he met Tubbo and Ranboo, who of course heard the rumors but thought nothing of it, considering Tommy hadn’t ever told or shown them anything. But then they learned, too, and Tommy was more than happy for the secret to only be shared between the six of them.

Even if Tommy only shared his secret with a few people, the idea of kids being around who weren’t prone to avoiding him because of rumors made him confident enough to try making friends again. It was hard, mostly because he was hardwired to believe everyone was against him, but that was nothing a little false confidence and maybe too much bravado couldn’t fix. Soon enough, there were people who were chatty and friendly with him outside of Tubbo and Ranboo, hell, some others who even asked him to join them for social things, like he wasn’t a burden. It was foreign, strange to a kid who’d been feared for so long.

It was awesome.

“You still working in there, mate?” Phil called from behind the door, jolting Tommy out of his distraction. He sighed. “Yeah, only 15 pages left to go!” He responded sarcastically, making his father laugh. “Alright, just be sure to get some sleep, you have Tech’s early class tomorrow. He’s driving you, I presume?” “As always.” “Sounds good. Love you, kiddo.” “Love you too. G’Night, dad.”

Tommy heard the footsteps fade away from his door, and looked back at his work. Eh, this class was at about 4pm tomorrow anyway, he’d see Ranboo before that and bug info out of him. It was getting late, and he knew that if he didn’t wake up in time, Techno would leave him behind. Bastard had done it before, and had the gall to call Tommy out when he walked into class late like it hadn’t been his fault. Prick.

~~~

Tommy could feel eyes on the back of his head.

Nothing he wasn’t used to, he was stared at a lot in high school, but not at college. No one had a reason to. But someone was staring at the back of his head and making his skin crawl unnaturally, and he was 85% sure it was that boy who’d walked in a few minutes ago that he thought he’d never seen before. Techno had stepped out of the room temporarily to grab some papers he planned on handing out (the joys of being a Teaching Assistant and having your own class), so Tommy didn’t even have anyone to complain to.

Luckily, Techno stepped back in with the papers in time for class to start, and began to try and settle the class down. “Ok, ok, good morning guys, i’m sure you’re all totally awake for your 9am Classics class.” Techno announced, to varying responses of false enthusiasm and groaning. “Incredible, I can’t wait till you all run this country with that attitude.” Techno responded with equal sass. “Now, let’s start off class in an interesting way. We have a new student! I’ll be honest I didn’t read the info the university sent so I know nothing about them. Would you mind introducing yourself?” Techno gestured to the back, and Tommy turned to see the boy he was sure had been staring at him now glaring daggers at his brother. Blond hair, purple hoodie, green eyes, nothing really special about the kid. ‘Well, at least I know I’ve never seen him, if he’s new here.’ Tommy thought, before a much worse idea popped into his head. ‘What if he’s from my high school? What if he starts spreading rumors about me? What if he went to elementary with me and saw what i can do firsthand? What if-‘

“Purpled.” The boy introduced, voice completely devoid of feeling. “Just moved here, started classes late, needed the English credit for my gen eds and this was the only open class.” “Perfect. Thank you, Purpled.” Techno responded, turning to look at his chalkboard. The second Tommy turned back to pay attention, the eyes were on him again, and some animalistic sixth sense that he’d always blamed on his weird shifter bullshit flared.

‘predator’

That was new. Tommy was used to his admittedly more animalistic side occasionally seeing people as ‘prey.’ Some mostly buried hunting instinct that told him to take advantage of creatures weaker than him, which included humans a lot of the time. It didn’t happen much, but it was in the same vein of instinct as the one that told him to ‘protect’ or ‘store’ when he was safe with people he cared for, or told him to ‘hide’ or ‘keep close’ when he was sad or scared around them. Unfortunately, the ‘prey’ thing just came with the territory, and had been triggered a few times when Tubbo had insisted on trying to outrun him while he was giant. He didn’t love thinking of his friend as prey, even subconsciously, but he’d learned to manage.

He’d never felt the instinct that a predator was nearby.

He didn’t like it.

“Does anyone know who Perseus is?” Techno asked, snapping Tommy’s attention back to class, though the hair on the back of his neck stood raised. A girl raised her hand and spoke “He’s the greek hero who killed Medusa!” “Good.” Techno replied. “Now, I’m going to throw you for a loop here: why?” The class was silent for a moment before someone sheepishly raised their hand, “Because she was a monster?” “Though certainly part of it, not quite.” Techno answered. “See, Perseus was very close with his mother Danaë, who was being pursued by King Polydectes. Polydectes knew how protective of his mother Perseus was, so he sent him off on a quest to retrieve Medusa’s head, believing that he wouldn’t survive and he could marry Danaë without him interfering. Can anyone tell me what’s so interesting about Medusa as a monster?”

Tommy lifted his hand high, while everyone else stayed silent. Tommy knew Techno normally made it a point to not call on him, since he knew that Tommy knew it all by heart cause he’d had greek stories read to him for years. But when no one else knew, Tommy got to talk, so Techno gestured and he explained. “Medusa was one of three gorgons with her sisters Stheno and Euryale, and their mother was Echidna, more commonly known as the mother of monsters. Medusa was special because she was the only one in her family who was mortal, so Polydectes couldn’t realistically send Perseus after anyone but her or it would have been obvious that he was trying to get him killed.” “Exactly right, Theseus. Wonder how you know that.” Techno answered, the class chuckling quietly as Tommy rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what I learned.” a voice interrupted. Techno looked to the back and Tommy turned, facing the stranger again. His muscles tensed despite himself. “Speak up? You’re allowed to speak out in this class, I want to know opinions.” “I heard Medusa was human, once. That she was a priestess to Athena who disrespected her goddess by having sex in her temple with Poseidon and was cursed because of it. I thought that’s why Athena helped Perseus kill her.” Purpled finished, and Techno nodded slightly. “You’re right about Athena helping Perseus; she’s the one who gave him the shield to let him see Medusa, and Athena is often depicted with Medusa’s head on her shield. But we’re talking about the greeks right now, and the backstory you just told me wasn’t about Athena and Medusa, but Minerva and Medusa, their Roman counterparts.“

“I didn’t think monsters could just be born in Greek mythology, though.” Purpled stated. Techno’s normally stoic face shifted slightly to interest. “You wanna explain? I’d love to hear, genuinely.” “I mean, think about it,” Purpled started, “most monsters in myth are either people cursed by Gods, or the children of people who were cursed by Gods. The Minotaur was a cursed child cause it’s dad pissed off Poseidon, Scylla was a woman who made Circe jealous and was turned into a six headed sea monster, and Lamia was a queen who had an affair with Zeus and Hera turned her into a child eating half snake monster. I mean, there are plenty of animalistic monsters from Echidna, like cerberus, the hydra, and the chimera, but every humanoid or somewhat sapient monster wasn’t meant to be like that. They were made against their will.”

Tommy shuddered. The eyes were on him again, if only for a moment.

‘predator’

“Wow, someone did their research before showing up to class.” Techno chuckled. “But you aren’t wrong. Historically, the Gods have a history of messing with humans. No matter if you’re looking at the Greek, Roman, or even Norse pantheon, a common theme is that Gods don’t understand why they shouldn’t take advantage of mortals.”

The eyes were back. They didn’t leave this time.

“After all,” Techno continued, “they’ve been around much longer, the humans exist because of them, and they give the humans everything. So to them, taking advantage of us is justified.”

Staring, burning holes into his back. Tommy felt his breath speeding up.

“Just one more question, sorry if I’m taking up too much class time, but I want to know your opinion.” Purpled spoke up, and Techno gestured for him to continue, clearly not at all upset by his lecture getting interrupted. “Say Medusa was human once and had been turned against her will, and for arguments sake wasn’t hurting anyone. Do you think that Perseus still would have been justified in killing her on the sheer basis that she was a monster? Does she deserve to die-“

‘predator’

‘hide’

“-just because she isn’t human?”

Tommy doesn’t stick around to see his brother’s brows crease and eyes widen in the subtle way that means he’s disturbed. He doesn’t stick around to hear the answer, he can’t handle it. He runs, practically knocking his chair over in a desperate run to escape the eyes. He’s never felt like prey before. He hates it.

He runs down the hall and into the first closet he can find, not even bothering to turn the lights on before sliding down the wall and burying his head in his knees, crying quietly out of sheer panic in the darkness. He doesn’t know what’s come over him. His hands are reaching for his phone before he knows what’s he’s doing. He opens his texts with Ranboo, knowing that Tubbo won’t be awake before noon at the earliest. He isn’t sure what he sends, really, just sure that it’s some kind of SOS. He shuts his phone off and shoves it back in his pocket, but feels it buzz in response. Not even ten minutes later, he hears the slamming of sneakers echo down the hallway, and momentarily has the clarity to be thankful that he’d remembered to say where he was in his hurried “help i’m having a panic attack” text.

The sneakers slow to a stop and the door opens slowly, illuminating the closet for the first time since Tommy had entered. He looks up from his knees, and sees…was the closet always this big? He turned to the door and found Ranboo, a giant, over 50 times bigger than him and looming over. When…when did he shrink? Tommy hadn’t even realized. And damn, did that make him feel so much worse. He hadn’t accidentally shifted in months. He couldn’t help but bury his face in his knees again, but noticed the light turn on and heard the door shut. “Tommy?” he heard Ranboo’s quiet voice, and felt something get closer to him. He looked beside him, and saw that Ranboo was lying stomach down on the ground beside him, giant face right beside him rested on folded arms. Tommy murmured a vague quiet response before dragging himself over to his friend and climbing onto the crook of their elbow, pressing himself into his friends cheek. “You just need to be here for a bit? I locked the door already.” Tommy nodded, and he was fairly sure Ranboo felt the motion against their skin, since they lifted a free hand and cupped it around Tommy’s back in comfort, seemingly content to lay there until Tommy felt better.

They laid there for a while, until Tommy’s breathing evened out. The panic had mostly seized, drowned out by the instinctual satisfaction of being around someone he cared about. Eventually, Tommy pushed himself off of Ranboo’s arm and onto the ground, lying on his back just staring at the ceiling. Ranboo took the hint and flipped over, lying right next to his friend. “…so, wanna talk about it?” They questioned, voice carefully quiet for Tommy’s smaller size, and Tommy sighed. “I…I don’t know if I even can. I don’t know what happened. I-“ he sighed, frustrated that he couldn’t get his thoughts out. Ranboo patiently waited. “Y’know how I get the weird instincts that sometimes confuses people with prey?” Tommy admitted quietly, shameful to even say it out loud. Ranboo nodded supportively, though, unfazed as ever at Tommy’s words. They’d gotten used to his weird instincts, and Tommy appreciated that he could never smell fear on his friend when he talked about seeing them as prey occasionally. “Well, I was in class today and I just…something was wrong. There was this new kid, and he was staring at me, and he just…I don’t know, triggered something in me? I felt…I felt hunted. Like a rabbit who knows a wolf is hiding in the bushes behind it. Ranboo, I’ve never been hunted before. I don’t know what was wrong with this kid, but he messed with my instincts so bad that I felt like I had to hide or he would- i don’t even know. I’m just getting myself worked up over nothing. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ranboo said, their voice as gentle as ever. “That must’ve been terrifying-” “We were talking about Medusa today.” He interjected, figuring Ranboo should know what happened to make him actually get up and run. “The guy brought up a common thread with Greek monsters; how they’re made because people piss off the gods, how their existence is a punishment.” Tommy’s words became choked with tears, but he continued regardless. “He asked Techno if Medusa deserved to die just because she wasn’t human.”

Neither of them made a move for a minute before Ranboo slowly sat up. Tommy looked up at their face and saw the mix of horror and sadness staining it, almost in shock. “Oh…oh, Tommy…” Ranboo said, guiding his hand behind Tommy and carefully scooping him up to their chest in a gentle imitation of a hug. Tommy sat still for all of two seconds before he felt himself very suddenly and quickly grow back to his normal size as he hugged back tightly, digging his nails into Ranboo’s shirt to ground himself. Ranboo, to their credit, didn’t falter once at Tommy’s shifting and only hugged tighter in response. Tommy didn’t want to cry again, he just finished and had to almost be out of tears at this point, so he settled for burying his face in Ranboo’s shoulder and if a few more tears slipped out, they were kind enough not to mention it.

They sat like that for a while, clinging to each other like lifelines until a knock sounded on the door, startling Tommy into a shrinking a few inches before he cursed to himself and went back to normal. “Uh, occupied?” Ranboo shouted awkwardly. “It’s a broom closet, kid, that doesn’t work here.” A gruff, toneless voice answered, and Tommy relaxed as Ranboo went to unlock the door. Techno, thank god. Sure enough, his big brother entered the room looking mildly worried, which in Techno-isms roughly translated to absolutely panicked. “What happened, and are you ok?” Techno asked, kneeling to be level with Tommy. “Yeah, yeah, Tech, I’m fine, I promise, just…the subject material hit a little too close to home today.” He sniffled, and Techno nodded in understanding, pulling his little brother into a hug. “I said no, in case you’re wondering.” He said after a moment, making Tommy laugh softly. “Right, not like you’re biased or anything.” “I believe people should be punished for poor decisions they choose to make, not things they can’t control. My bias has nothing to do with this.”

Tommy snorted and wiped his eyes as Techno helped him up, looking over to the other teen.“You leave class early, Ranboo?” “It was almost over, it wasn’t a huge deal, we were just getting an early start on homework.” “I’ll shoot your teacher an email anyway, just to make sure you don’t get points docked.” Ranboo mumbled a thank you and followed them out of the classroom to Techno’s office to grab the stuff Tommy had left when he ran, only to find someone sitting outside it.

Tommy stiffened. Great, him again.

“You need something, Purpled?” Techno asked, clearly trying to remain professional. Purpled glanced up and stood, quickly sticking his phone in his hoodie pocket. “Just wanted to apologize to you and your…kid? brother? cousin?” “Brother. Continue.” “Brother. Got it.” Purpled answered Techno, before turning his attention to Tommy, finally looking directly in his eyes instead of at his back.

‘predator’

The instinct ran in his head, but it wasn’t nearly as bad this time. Maybe because it didn’t feel like getting hunted when the hunter had his hands empty right in front of him. “Just wanted to say sorry for…I’m not quite sure, honestly, but I feel like you running out of the room was my fault. If I overstepped some unspoken classroom rule and made you upset, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to make such a bad impression on my first day.” Purpled’s voice remained carefully neutral, but Tommy could sense genuine remorse behind it. He relaxed. Maybe he had been thinking too much about it. After all, it wasn’t like Purpled was purposefully trying to get in his head with that comment, there’s no way he could have known. “It’s alright, man, you didn’t do anything. The comments just brought up some…uh, unpleasant memories of high school bullies, is all. You couldn’t have known.” He stepped towards the kid, hand outstretched. “I’m Tommy Craft.” For the first time, he saw the kid crack a smile as he shook his hand. “Purpled Bedwars. It’s nice to formally meet you, Tommy Craft.”

Tommy could have sworn he felt something familiar at the contact, his instincts flaring in equal parts recognition and warning, making him feel vaguely lightheaded. He shook his head lightly to clear the vertigo and when he opened them, he could have sworn Purpled’s green eyes were greener than they’d been a moment before. More saturated, almost toxic.

He blinked and they were normal.

He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut and smiled.

“Same to you, Purpled Bedwars, same to you.”

~~~

Purpled hadn’t been thrilled to start school this late. Hell, he hadn’t been thrilled to start school at all. Still, it wasn’t often that he got a message from Dream much these days, so he knew it had to be important. And sure enough, it had been.

But was any of this worth going to actual school for? Purpled didn’t need a degree and he didn’t need a new job, he had one. A bit under the table and vaguely legal at best, but hey, money’s money. But school just distracted from his job, and he hadn’t had to retain that much information in one day in years. He was barely able to stay on his feet for the walk back to his apartment, though by some miracle he got to his door without passing out. He unlocked it and took about three steps into the living room before he collapsed onto his couch, backpack and shoes left strewn behind him.

“Purpled? That you, kid?” Purpled groaned at the shout. “Yeah, I’m home.” “Finally,” said his brother, rounding the corner and making his way to the couch. “So how was your first day of school?” “Fuck off, Punz, I know what you really wanna know. And the answer is yes.” Punz’s eyes widened, staring at Purpled. “You’re sure?” “Absolutely. That crazy smiley faced bastard was right, he just needed me to verify it.”

And verify it he did. Purpled had been dubious at best when he’d been sent to this college, expecting to come home and announce to Dream that he was wrong and to leave him alone. He’d walked into that classroom and sat for about 5 minutes before a blond boy had sat right in front of him, and his eyes were drawn straight to him. It wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t have been possible, there wasn’t a chance in the world. But the world hated Purpled and Purpled hated it, so when he looked at the boy, only one clear instinct ran through his mind:

‘predator’

“That’s that, then.” Punz said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “What…what do you do now?” “Don’t know, don’t care.” Purpled answered. “I have to stay at school and keep tabs, but I’ll have to tell Dream at some point. For now, I’m gonna sleep.” “Fine don’t talk to your big brother about school, not like he’ll be offended or anything.” “Other than the obvious, completely uneventful. Some kids invited me to eat lunch with them tomorrow, though.” “My little brother, a social butterfly, who’d’ve believed it.” Punz said with a smirk and was swiftly socked in the arm, which only resulted in a kick back, and quickly the two were roughhousing on the couch.

And if both of them woke up the next morning having slept on the couch in their clothes after tiring each other out, then that was a secret kept well between the both of them.