#I need to make artwork for it in order to justify the time reading the testaments I write

[sosadraws]

It should be known that everytime I draw for yap about my OCs, it just represents like a quarter of how much I actually think about them

[minerwarfare-suzuya]

Ask box response

This post is a follow up to the previous reblog post to update what's going between me and Cagney alongside other associates in the group that I have departed from a while back.

During the afternoon I just received a response from one of the group members yesterday which I will respectfully keep anonymous but I think only a handful of people will know who it is regardless of the edited screenshot when reading further on this post.

We'll be taking this interaction step by step to construct some criticisms, make statements and opinions of the overall message.

Here's the first half of the message sent to my inbox:

One thing to clarify is that I'm not being dense when I know that the group and you included, tend to nitpick at a lot of things. I was aware prior to what were the few reasons for being cut off before the announcement of my departure given the tension between the group conversations in the private community.

Now that's not to say that there wasn't a good point made for kicking me out!

Especially given the number 1 point made on your list.

1. I won't lie that giving away crucial details and conversations within screenshots was something I did totally out of left field. I knew that it was against the community's group protocol which I did get chewed out for showing the screenshots to Zombify.

But-

If I had not gone back and forth between two groups then I wouldn't have been given crucial details from Blurry's end about him doing a Cease and Desist order onto the Moboxcritique/TheGoldFiles Blog along with Kevonica being the primary suspect of quote on quote "Harassment" or "Defamation". Meaning that if Blurry had sent you a Cease and Desist letter, you'd be given a warning and restricted from posting on the blog that mentions him which would've led to possibly going to court/legal actions if you had gone any further with the drama to criticize him more. Then there's a possibility that the blog as a whole would've been taken down prior to its deactivation if Blurry did go to court with Kevonica and the blog given how much he'd get the judge and the jury to side with him regardless of what was put against him on the Moboxcritique blog's documents, posts or archives to justify your actions from calling him out.

So, yes I fucked up in leaking the group's conversation but at a cost of knowing about the Cease and Desist order ahead of time until a mutual agreement was made to keep the Blurry drama under the rug.

Then of course, I shared this post revealing a recorded conversation between Anonymous123maybe/Tammy Tuna and Miles to show that Miles never changed. This was another thing I got chewed out for publicly sharing but it was from Kevonica this time.

But did Anonymous123maybe/Tammy Tuna mind?

No

Plus, Miles only proved our suspicions correct.

2. I don't know why you need to rub it in that you and the group you're associated with have been victims of abuse when I've been through a mentally abusive relationship prior. It's not a competition or comparison to be made and I can understand that we can all take a stand in getting ourselves out of abuse and have it be known or unknown. Either way, if this is a complaint for being in defense for Piaojun's artwork of William x Renata in our chats together or on my "Parting Ways" post then I don't wanna hear it but even if it's not. Then it's likely about my other post discussing the themes of Mobox87's art work.

So, let me put it out there as simple as I can get. On my draft script post "Understanding", we talked about domestic abuse being an often taboo theme projected in Mobox87's stories and visual illustrations. The key important details mentioned are what likely inspired her and how it's become a progressive cycle that it feels romanticized but most importantly that it's a sensitive topic that can still work with storytelling.

We can all agree that Mobox87 always makes the abuser superior in a majority of her stories and I get that in this harsh reality that it is true the victims tend to lose or not survive from domestic abuse but when it's a constant visual being shown with each different story variation told. It gets bothersome to the viewer and you question the morality of the person behind the story. So, it's completely understandable to be critical about it. Now for the theme of that to work in a story, you wanna project it in a way where it can appeal to the audience. Such as the victim surviving or getting out of the situation. Other cases would be showing the victim getting some moral support through the trauma of abuse.

I know that I mentioned the episode "Mad Love" from the 1997 "The New Batman Adventures" series, a follow show to "Batman The Animated Series" from 1992. I go over how Harley Quinn's relationship with The Joker and how it projects the abusive relationship very well to the audience as a way to educate the consequences of what happens between the abuser and the victim or a toxic relationship. Heck we even see in the Harley Quinn show that she practically leaves Joker after realizing she was only being used. Another good example would be in the show Steven Universe on the episode "Alone at Sea". Where Lapis tells Jasper that she doesn't want to be a part of their unhealthy relationship anymore which if you're aware of them being fused together under the ocean for a long time from watching previous episodes you'll get why she doesn't wanna go back and that projected the importance of asserting boundaries and leaving when someone is abusive towards you.

Anyways, let me rewind things back to "Romanticized abuse with your strange takes upon things". I wanna make this clear I DON'T romanticize abuse and you know DAMN well that I don't when I've made it clear on a few occasions when you shit talk about Piaojun behind their back that they have no intentions of wanting to project the characters William and Renata the way Mobox87 has done. Even if they did have, it was illustrations projected to tell it's story purposes between the characters crucial fate of relationships departing. Like I get the idea you don't like the ship and the same can be said with a bunch of other people in or outside your group but don't ever drag your battles upon someone else who doesn't wanna associate with the drama. Let alone DON'T BITCH about what someone is doing between two characters who they clearly want to change from their original story for the better. You don't dictate what others can or cannot do in art especially if that person is doing their own thing. If you can't agree with that then FUCK OFF. I have my own morals and mutual understanding that are common sense. I'm not going to judge someone and make publicity about it unless necessary. You should know better. YOU DO NOT SPEAK FOR THE ARTIST'S VISIONS AND DECISIONS THEY MAKE! Yes you can be critical but there's a limit and you are pushing it to your own judgements that are opinionative. So, get over it. No one does that to your own work and if people have then your just projecting that negativity onto others.

3. So, I wanna mention that YES I did force Cagney to reblog my post because I simply wanted a favor and if you or anyone had read the post "Parting Ways" you'd understand how frustrating it was to get them to post it. Like honestly you of all people should know that I've been supporting Cagney and Patty when I got involved in this drama when you reached out.

I literally reblogged posts when it came to talking about Mobox87, Nicole, Mobox87's brother SonicCrash, The FON game's process of dealing with its supposed virus issues, Mobox87's sales prices, Mobox87's harassment and especially topics about Miles! I shared heavy amounts of criticisms and gave out my opinion on things that Cagney would publicly post about while they gained more attention for it! So when I asked for the favor to help me with the situation about Arion the Kid/Blue's Journey that I was gonna go over with Red Radiant and others who were victims. I expected some help but instead I got the short end of the stick because-

Cagney didn't want to reblog my post or take part in it when it's about someone who is known in this Mobox87 community on the app "Amino" for sexually harassment minors who has continue to do so to this day on Discord!

Cagney and likely you along with the other associates would rather talk about petty SHIT involving Mobox87's comic series development or about Blurry's artwork than take on something far bigger and serious to discuss! I practically needed to force Cagney to reblog my post because I literally begged for it which resulted in Red Radiant and Andikai needing to back me up for wanting the Arion situation to be known!

Why should I have to be in a position where I'm like Oliver Twist begging for more food when it comes to a favor after I stick my FUCKEN neck out for you guys on drama topics!

Like-

How the fuck does Mobox87. A person we know who is controversial for a lot of things went out of her way to share a post about Arion?

https://www.tumblr.com/red-the-radiant-official/708998004953202688/hey-remember-that-guy-who-sent-you-those?source=share

Take note! She knew about this person long ago because I told her about them after she had a run in with them disturbing her Amino community back in 2019 when I used to moderate on her community!

Like yeah I get that it's one post she made in regards to the situation but you'd think that someone in Cagney's position. They would drag onto talk about this topic of Arion's manipulation and harassment like they do with other topics but-

No!

Instead they would rather talk about something petty and nitpick at the smallest issues because they were scared of being impersonated then went on hiatus after people misinterpreted their blog post about Piaojun. Just to only see that the rebranded blog "TheGoldFiles" now deactivated after months passing by.

Honestly, a lot would've benefited if they helped out more and kept pushing on talking about Arion as much as I did. Things would've been easier but instead I had to go out of my way to spread awareness of him following people on Tumblr in the Mobox87's fanbase when doing my document timeline.

https://www.tumblr.com/minerwarfare-suzuya/755834695937327104/just-confirm-with-you-all-that-i-have-police?source=share

Plus, I told Kevonica directly so that she would know.

You'd think at that point, Cagney would really need to touch up on the Arion topic by now but NO! Nothing said when brought to Kev's attention despite Cagney going on a hiatus.

I guess fuck awareness on a pedophile following people under our noses. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

4. Okay... Now you're just poking the bear at this point and I wouldn't be surprised if you or someone in the group was the one who sent this anonymous message onto the second blog awhile back.

This topic about aging up a character is known to be a mixed opinion or controversial to some people. So, I'm just going to say this.

Like if an artist (like myself) made fanart of a character aged up preferably for a new narrative or head canon story and it's deemed not okay.

Then this isn't okay.

Now you're probably going to say this-

"Oh but it's not the same because the creator made them underage, you can't age them up cause it's not canon!"

My brother in Christ! You are delusional cause the creators themselves might as well catch a heat over aging their own characters. Quit complaining about fanon artists or illustrators for making their own ideas on a character as adults in their fanfiction for their changes in character development.

This is an exact argument I had with Miles about the Vinsnake drawing last year!

https://www.tumblr.com/minerwarfare-suzuya/732636849810669568/miles-ownership-drama-timeline-part-5?source=share

But oh wait!-

That's not the issue!

Yeah, apparently you and the group were "uncomfy" with the Affinity remake's rewrite since the characters were "sexualized".

Yeah cause it's MY remake and I draw attractive Men and Women. Deal with it! I've been developing and pre-establishing the story for a long time with it's characters who are still undergoing redesigns as my surviving casts and designing characters with mature designs suitable for what I pictured best in FNAF Affinity that Mobox87 made a mess out of when it came to ages and over all looks.

Plus!

It's been pinned on my second blog that my remake is going to be meant for older teens and adults with WARNINGS before reading! So, I am taking precaution!

So, if you consider it strange without realizing I've planned things two steps ahead then maybe YOU'RE THE PROBLEM.

The second half of the inbox message:

5. ...

Okay! How FUCKEN dare you stoop that low! That is full on low blow! This part in particular is what has me really up my ego!

How dare you compare Red to Arion! Red is a victim of his harassment over the years that has gone by! Which had been ongoing still during this year in 2024 so far!

Comparing the person who I'm representing online and to police for not just himself but for others online that have been harassed, groomed, blackmailed, impersonated, manipulated, traumatized and mentally abused to a FUCKEN Pedophile! A pedophile that Cagney doesn't have the balls to callout or constantly post about throughout everything that has happened to Red, me and the likes of others online!

You wanna compare Red to Arion? Just because of a character Red has developed and been in talks with me about being added into my Affinity remake with his story restructured to fit in with my own interpretation when I'm directing and producing FNAF Affinity the way I want it? Fuck You!

Like legit Fuck You! You don't even know what we have been dealing with and what we have been documenting about Arion. Just for you to make that comparison.

Go kill yourself! I'm dead ass serious just take your blade off choice and cut your wrist vertically. Go tie a noose and hang yourself. Get run-over by a truck.

HOW DARE YOU COME TO MY INBOX AND MAKE THAT COMPARISON TO A VICTIM OF A PEDOPHILE OVER A CREATIVE DECISION THAT I AGREED TO ADD IN MY OWN WORK THAT YOU LISTED AS AN ISSUE ON YOUR TOP 5 SHIT LIST!

It's like what I've said to you years ago. You don't think before you speak and this really does show.

Anyways, Cagney is still active online even if you claim she's barely online since she went out of her way to respond to my last post and you still archived one of Mobox87's latest videos even if you also claim to be taking a break from archiving. So, there is activity going on behind the scenes.

Top it off, don't go off saying "Stop acting holier than thou" as if I'm being superior to you or anybody for that matter when you're clearly the one in that position.

Besides that I'm not taking down any posts. So Fuck off.

You may claim that now you see my true colors but really it's you who has shown your true colors that afternoon. Be glad that I've kept your username covered because I don't want anyone harassing you or anybody coming after you. If anyone is going to say anything to you during this feud, it's me only or Red.

I may have gone off too extreme with what I said but I DO NOT CARE and I Won't Forgive Myself For it but FUCK it. You put this on upon yourself. Woe is you if I name drop Cagney on a post, get over it. I'm not going to give y'all the satisfaction of going back and forth.

[jadelynlace]

ink drinker / Modern Vikings AU, Ivar x F!Reader, Chapter 3

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note & content warning: mentions of depression, self harm and suicidal thoughts; all pertaining to Ivar, not reader. mentions of therapy, medication and past history of self inflicted & blooming trauma. please read at your own risk. my messages are always, always open for anyone who may ever need a listener. anything in italics indicates a flash back. there are so many fucking feelings in this chapter that I just, am apologizing now. but there’s smut!

✎

It was gloomy the morning you remembered finally catching a glimpse of Ivar’s scars. Adorned and nearly smothered by him in his bed, the small snores from him somewhere draped across your skin, traveling over the plains in warm boulders. You were always drawn to the artwork on his limbs, there was always a smaller detail you missed and found within your next search but through the endless gazes you finally caught sight of the jagged white flesh. The since healed lacerations and your medical knowledge took full force of your mind. They were scars, they were healed scars, but they were scars from the straight edge of a razor blade. With such precision and such aftermath you knew they were the scars with one intent within their making. And they were there to tell you the secret horrors Ivar had not yet spoken—that there was a point where he felt his heart should no longer beat, and his lungs should no longer fill and that his life was meaningless. And that he should end it.

*

“Can I ask you something?” You finally find yourself mumbling; words floating through the cabin of the parked ambulance on stand by. Hvitserk’s coffee halfway through to his stomach when you peep in such a meek voice he almost coughs the molten liquid back out.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N,”

“How bad is Ivar’s depression?” And you simply ask. No foreword to the speech, no coating of sugar or dusting of fake joy. As blunt as you had been trained to voice the death of a loved one to their family. “I saw the medication in his cabinet, and I saw the scars on his wrists. I know it’s none of my business because he’s your brother, but…” and you can’t find a lie to justify it. Not ready to spill to your partner about the times Ivar had spilled into the condoms with you.

“Bad,” Hvitserk says, and just as bluntly. “He…he tried to kill himself in college. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how he’s never available Saturdays from eleven to noon, but that’s when he has therapy. I had been trying to convince him since high school to see someone, and Floki finally got through to him not too long ago,” He adds. “When I got that phone call from mom that he was in the hospital—I felt like such a failure, Y/N, because I knew it was coming and I did nothing to stop it,” Your hand goes to his wrist for a second, a quick squeeze of added support as you listen.

“Sometimes people refuse what’s good for them, Hvitty,” You start. “You should know that—how many times have we explained to someone why they should go to the hospital with us, but they still refuse?” He finally cracks a smile at that. “Do you think he’s in a better place now, mentally?”

“Either that, or he’s just stable. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Ivar doesn’t like to talk about his feelings…”

“Wow Hvitserk, I had no idea,” You tease, nudging him with both your elbow and sarcastic tone as the voice on the radio fills into the cabin. Your stand by is over and the conversation is dropped as you leave the scene.

*

There had been instances where you think he might be ready; he might understand that the new gifting of your relationship status might help him to realize you aren’t joking when you offer to listen. You’d listen to Ivar talk until he ran out of things to say if it came to that. More times now the words perched themselves on his lips, ready to spring forwards but he keeps pulling them back. He keeps swallowing them because they’re mixed like bile and stew and far too gross, far too un-human for him to even want to try to speak them to you. And then Ivar kicks himself for drowning these demons who have started to learn to swim and he sees you in your uniform and remembers that nothing phases you. You watch open heart surgery on the television while you eat his mother’s lasagna without a care in the world or a realization that what you were doing is unusual. 

“Can I talk to you?” Ivar says bluntly, sitting like a cowered dog in the living room and you’re hardly through his front door when he asks. You can feel how your head rises slowly, a quick snarky word to come back but you bite down on your tongue so roughly you can taste blood as you just look at him. You have never seen a man of his stature try to look so small, try to be so invisible. Worry comes to your face just as quickly as the next breath passes through your diaphragm and you’re on the couch before you even take your shoes off. “It’s messy,” He finally admits. Shallow and dead and you can see the broken boy that has tried to hide himself through the bulked muscles and the tattoos; the glare through his blue eyes and the curved lip.

“Most of what involves the human body is messy, Ivar,” You find yourself saying back, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. It sounds like you’re trying to tell the parent of a dead child that you know how they feel but you don’t. And you never will. But Ivar shedding this skin for you feels like you’re walking through the motions on a call, eyes from crowds of people crawling over and stuck on your every move. And every move that comes next like they’re watching a soap opera with their dinner and they’ve disconnect that what is happening is real, it’s someones life. Just like how you have to disconnect. But in this moment it’s Ivar, and you’re present. 

“Like paint,” Ivar mumbles next. 

“Yeah, like paint,” You repeat and there’s a smile on your lips for a second. “Ivar? You don’t do that anymore, do you?” You finally find the courage to ask.

“No,” Ivar says as he glances down at his right hand’s wrist, shoving the skin next to the sweatshirt he’s wearing as if rubbing it on the gray cotton will make those scars dissipate. “I get tattoos instead,” That causes a sick button to click in your consciousness as to why Ivar is so heavily covered from his shoulders to his ankles in artwork. How the sting of the needle dawning the creations reminded him of the blade he tried to use to make the mess of thoughts fly away. To make the demons come free through his skin and leave him with peace, if only a moment. 

“What helps? What helps you stay present?” You ask. Ivar blinks far too many times, sorting through his brain for the answers as if it’s a container of memorabilia that’s so unorganized even his mother can’t stand the sight of it.

“My brothers help, sometimes,” He says. “I think about how devastated my mom would be. I think about Floki. I think about all of the people in my life who say they want me here even when my mind is trying to tell me I don’t deserve to be.”

“I want you here, Ivar.” You say back and catch how he looks at you when you admit such.

“Why? Have you seen yourself, Y/N? You could have anyone you want and you choose me…” The sentence breaks your heart but you now know the darkness the climbs between his ears. The seed planted so long ago in the depths of brown ground somewhere and you want to pull it from the mental garden. You want to rip the roots right from the soil and burn them so they never have a chance to infest any farther.

“No one makes me feel the way you do, Ivar,” Are the first words from your mouth. “You make me smile, you make me feel important—you remind me how to escape. Even on the worst possible days I can have, you bring me back to reality.” You want to tell him how he’s addicting, how there’s a quality to him you can’t articulate but always keeps you coming back. How you want to keep coming back because both your mind, and your body know it’s safe. How he was someone so mysterious from the outside but past every highly built wall is a man who is just so simply himself. “Because you’re you, Ivar. With the bachelor’s degree in calculus, and the copious amounts of tattoos, and a heart of gold that…you forget that you have,” You finally add. “You’re someone different to the rest of the world, but you’re the real Ivar around me,” You worry that the silence that over takes him is a sign of something else. A sign that you spoke too much, again, and scarred him for more than he could withstand. And then he smiles. 

But you can’t understand why—why he smiles for someone like you. The one who let him design your first ever tattoo to his heart’s content. The one who has the same twisted sense of humor. The one who will bicker back and challenge him. The one who gets to see him fall apart between your legs. The one who makes him hard, and has him make those noises. The moans, the heavy panting and rasped groans as he bottoms out and moves through you. The one who gets to watch how his eyes snap shut, and his mouth drops open when you clench around him; how his entire back tenses when he’s close. How he holds you as he fills the rubber with everything he has. The man who loves your nails trailing on his skin. The man who smothers you every night that he spends with you, and every morning when you wake and he’s still there. Making you coffee and cooking you breakfast. How he knows your takeout order from your favorite places, and your work schedule. What food to have at his own apartment, and what movies he should have on demand. The spare clothes he keeps there for when you come over after work, ready to take the ambulance grime from your skin. The pads that are in his bathroom closet, the painkillers. The bottle of “girly white wine” that he won’t admit to drinking too, because it is damn good wine. The man who knows to check in with you during the day, and again to make sure you really are alright. The same man who knows if you don’t text him back, you and Hvitserk have gone knee deep into either a bullshit call, or a tragic one. As shocked as you were that he was listening to what you were saying—and taking it to heart—you were stunned that you hadn’t caught on to how obvious it was that Ivar was in love with you. Even with all of the time you spend crammed between your own thoughts.

“There’s a lot to sort through,” Ivar says again.

“That’s okay, Ivar,” You remind him, your head resting on his shoulder and you feel him shift, move his arm to encompass you as you curl against his side.

“You smell like bleach,” He softly laughs, his nose deep against your hair and you snort, reminded of the decontamination duties you were gifted from the calls today.

“Better than Hvitserk, who got puked on,” You reply. “Shower?” And you can feel Ivar nod against you. 

His hands don’t move rapidly to shed your clothing, or to shed his own. There’s a certain calmness through his motions as he waits for the water to warm, slipping your polo from your shoulders, and planting his lips in its wake. Against the base of your neck, your spine, hugging your body flush against his in front of the mirror. Your eyes catch sight of his hands coming back around you, squeezing your breasts and you can’t stop the moan that crawls from your mouth. The traces of artwork on his fingers as his lips move from your neck, to the shell of your ear and graze your pulse point. There’s a push from your backside against his groin, and Ivar growls in response, humming not far after as you feel how his cock hardens the farther his hands roam.   

Down your sides, your abdomen, swirling through your folds and dipping between them to catch your juices. Circling against the bundle of nerves he knows so precisely and you moan twice as loudly, and he does too as you moisten to his fingers. Your hands move to grab at him, anywhere they can and you find one hand holding his neck and the other wrapping around his length. Your nails crawl to his hair, pulling the locks down as his fingers take to moving quickly, spreading your womanhood and arousal and you suddenly can’t wait much longer to have him. And he can tell by how you whimper, whisper to him about how you want to feel him inside of you and there’s no fight anywhere on his body to try to deny the tone of your begging. Ivar’s eyes catch yours in the mirror as he finally pushes into you, the cold porcelain sink calming the heat of your skin as he bottoms out and rests his body against yours. There’s a sinful moan that comes through his lips as his eyes bore into yours, with the squeeze from your walls and warmth you spread through him and at first he can’t move, he only wants to savor it. His eyes finally close as he slips away from you, pushing in once more as your body rocks to the sink, singing back to him as the steam from the forgotten shower starts to fog against the mirror. Your name is through his lips as he moves, tattooed hands coming to find yours as he moves your body with each thrust, each timed sensation and you feel your own orgasm approaching. His mouth open on your ear, eyes screwed shut between love and ecstasy as his breath tickles down your face and you’re close now, far closer and far faster than you’ve ever been

“Ivar—” comes your voice and there’s only a hum in response, wordlessly pleading for you to let go because he’s got you, and you know that. Your knuckles white washed against his as you finish, shaking against the sink and you miss how Ivar’s eyes watch you unfold. Studying the pleasure laced in your features. 

“Where, baby?” He says quickly, and you shudder as you remember he’s bare now, condom long since forgotten but there are still the small pills you swallow. Still working somewhere you know of, but the accuracy decreases when you take them irregularly—and there’s a big part of your life that calls for that to happen. The alarming lights and loud tones. But you know that you’re safe. With Ivar you’re always safe.

“Inside,” You finally say, his hips stopping to starve off the inevitable as he waits for you to be sure, as he waits to see the seriousness on your face so he knows you aren’t lying in the heat of the moment. And you have to say it again for him to start up again, remind him that you have a safety net. The sensitivity in your cunt melts as he keeps moving and you can tell another orgasm is starting to build. Ivar reaches from your hand quickly and starts his fingers against your clit, quick circles as you hear him get louder, feel his other arm move to crush you and you catch his face as he finishes. The sight searing in your vision and colliding with how he moves with you and your second release rolls through you. His seed spilling and you both moan, his lips still plastered against your ear and you can feel the shake through his whole body as he floats back down. The tense in his thighs pushing you against the counter. There’s a whimper next from him, as he stills, wrapping tightly to hold you there, like it was all a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. 

“I love you,” You hear him say against your skin and you’re right there to repeat it back to him. “You don’t have to mean it,” He then tries and you already know what he’s doing.

“I do, Ivar,” You say back, trying to make him look at you through the mirror but his eyes are still closed. He slowly slips from you, his release sticking between your thighs as he slides away and you’re only then able to turn in his arms. Reaching forwards to pull his mouth against his. “I love you. You and me Ivar, against the world,” You say and he hums at that, a small snicker not far after. 

“I like how that sounds, baby,” His smile comes next, dopey and boyish as he finally looks into your eyes and understands that you don’t doubt any part of him. You love it all—the good and the bad and the evil things he may think about himself. You love them all because you know he feels the same way when it comes to you. “The hot water’s going to run out soon,” He mumbles as he holds you. And standing in the shower is not much more different, still wrapped up safely in his arms as you both feel the troubles melt down the drain.

Tags:

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full masterlist can be found here.

[mckinnon-mp4]

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter:  4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster. 

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings. 

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and  then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky,  no  one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place. 

He didn’t have time to think about  the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the  pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort  of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to  put  all of that out  of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the  time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time. 

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company  rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack. 

“Sirius–” 

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection. 

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.” 

“Remus was saying that some of  the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.” 

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked. 

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?” 

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he  needed to start acting like it. 

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground. 

 “Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–” 

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you  get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded. 

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future.  We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.” 

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned. 

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation. 

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite.  Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time. 

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can. 

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change. 

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.” 

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus. 

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad. 

“No, I would suggest you start over.” 

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior. 

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

[arvandus]

Touch (pt 3)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song:

Dizzy by MISSIO

Part 1   Part 2

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 3 - Resistance

The next day, Dabi woke up feeling like a complete wreck of a person.  A mockery of a human being, made of faulty parts stitched together haphazardly by a cruel universe.  He was angry. Furious.  Wasn’t your quirk supposed to last longer than this?  His head pounded.  The sun peeking through the crack in his curtains was an assault. Sweat covered his exposed pale flesh and yet he felt cold, clammy hands shaking.  Dabi laid back on his bed to cocoon himself into his blankets when he realized…his back was still painless.

Your quirk was still working.

Dabi’s bleary eyes caught sight of his empty pill bottles on his nightstand, and realization dawned on him. Withdrawal.

It started sooner than he had hoped.  He would have refilled his stock by now, but his usual seller went missing, most likely picked up by the feds.  Dabi had already reached out to Giran to find a new source, but the old man hadn’t returned his text messages.  So, Dabi spent some of his time the day before following connections within the villain network.  His search came up with nothing; what he could find wasn’t strong enough to justify the expense or the sellers were obviously trying to swindle him with a diluted product. Long story short, he felt like shit and had no quick fix for it.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin.  Fuck. Everything.

The memory of your cool touch on his skin came forefront to his aching head and he wondered if your quirk would be useful for his withdrawal symptoms…

Dabi pushed the thought out of his head.  He wasn’t going to let that be an option.  It was a slippery slope leading to a dependency that he simply couldn’t afford and definitely did not want.  He was already on edge from yesterday’s conversation. His sympathetic thoughts, no matter how brief, made him see a man he didn’t recognize, and the thoughts plagued him ever since.  He had never considered himself a soft guy.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings.  Things could still bother him if he let them.  But he had learned very early on that what he felt didn’t matter. Perhaps it was the gradual silencing of his conscience, small pieces of him chipped away like stone worn down over years of crashing waves.  Only rarely, every once in a while, did the waters of his vengeance and bitter hatred recede enough to allow sunlight to touch his burnt heart.  And in that moment, he saw you, a fragile boat approaching rocky, dangerous shores.

He frowned.  As long as you did your job, what should it matter? You chose this life just like everyone else did.  It wasn’t his responsibility to protect you from it.

As if his heavy thoughts summoned you, your familiar knock rang through his door.  He cursed under his breath.  During his misery, Dabi had forgotten that you were going to visit him this morning.  He had planned to be gone before you came looking for him, a silent show of defiance to your mothering.  But instead he here was, stuck, feeling the shittiest he felt in a long time.  Maybe if he just ignored you…

You knocked on the door again, your pounding louder, incessant.  You were so fucking stubborn.  He glowered at the wooden barrier angrily, the intolerant noise sending a ringing like a tuning fork into the depths of his brain.  He contemplated setting the door on fire just to make a point. He held his restraint by hair, only vaguely aware that doing so would make him feel even worse, if such a thing was even possible.  Plus, you were the only person here with a lick of sense for medical care – he was ninety percent positive you had some sort of medical background.

“What?” he growled as he sat up begrudgingly, unwilling to let you see him so weak.  Nausea permeated him from his sudden motion.

On the other side of the door, you stared at the wood in confusion.  The sound of Dabi’s voice shocked you – low, scratchy, slurred… menacing.

You almost wanted to concede to the unspoken request, but your determination to treat him held tight to your will.  “It’s me.” You replied, hoping your voice didn’t sound as small as it felt.

A pregnant pause greeted you before he finally spoke. “Come in.” It sounded like an order.  Or was it a surrender?  Could it even be both?  How did this man always seem to have two versions of himself running simultaneously?

You came into the room and closed the door behind you with a quiet ‘click.’ You were met with a dark stuffiness, the air unusually warm and infused with the stink of sweat. The curtains were drawn closed, light straining to seep out along the edges of the fabric.  A thin slit of light stretched across Dabi’s bed where he sat, his back facing you.  He looked like a fallen angel, a broken soul.  His shoulders were hunched, drawn tight like a bow string, struggling not to fold in on himself and break.

His bravado was gone, his casual presence muted in the deafening silence.  He wasn’t even trying to pretend this time.  His distress was palpable.  You felt shame being here, your presence intrusive.  You weren’t supposed to see him like this.  So why did he let you in?

A mild panic filled you. Did he hurt himself again since you last saw him?  Or was this your fault?  Did your quirk wear off already?

“What’s wrong?” you asked. He didn’t respond.  You stepped forward cautiously.  “Dabi…?”

Your voice grated on his conscience – words of concern, a tone meant to soothe. He didn’t want your compassion.  He wanted you to be cold and indifferent, a mechanic repairing a broken part.  Or maybe even have you be as crazy as the others, waxing poetic about bloodlust and freedom.  That was a language he understood, that he could navigate with ease.  Not this benevolence.  Not this normalcy.  Why were you so different?

“You’re annoying.” He growled just loud enough for you to hear.

You halted your approach and your back stiffened.  “What?”

“Stop acting like you fucking care.”  The words spilled out of his mouth without a concern as to their damage.  He knew you cared, even if it was on a basic level, which was why he desperately, accusatorily denied it.

Everything bothered him. His head.  His body.  The stink of this room… you seeing him like this.  Why did that bother him?

You pressed your lips together, your jaw taut.  The tension in the room became as palpable as the stifling air.  What could you possibly say? That you did care?  Well, did you? You cared enough to be here, at least. You had a responsibility to treat him, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said he hadn’t been on your mind more than usual the past couple of days.  Of course, he’d never know that…. But were you friends by any stretch of the definition? No.  Definitely not. So, if he wanted to be a jerk and suffer with his pride, then you’d let him.

“If you want me to leave, just say so.” You replied coolly.  “I’m just here to do my job.”

Your answer satisfied him, cold and to the point, a counterbalance to your overwhelmingly gentle nature.  It provided him the emotional distance he needed, a cloak he donned willingly to shelter himself from your prying eyes.  And through his mental fog, he realized in mild amusement that it was the second time you called his bluff, grinding in your heels to deflect his verbal strikes. You weren’t easily bullied; at least, not as easily as he’d originally thought.

“Whatever.” He grumbled. “Let’s just get this over with, I got shit to do.”

You clenched and unclenched your hands around your bag.  You were grateful Dabi caved, your conscience breathing a sigh of relief.  You’d make it quick, to address what you needed to and leave him to sort himself out in solitude, like you knew he wanted.  You began to approach him, quiet steady steps around his bed so you could get a closer look at him. If he was going to let you treat him, you might as well try to make the most of your limited time and see if you could figure out what was wrong.

As soon as you could see his face, you realized he was holding something in his hand. An empty pill bottle.  His eyes stared at it like it held the answers to the universe while also cursing its existence.

Suddenly, everything clicked.  The agitation.  The pain. The misplaced anger… Of course.

You closed the distance between you until you were standing in front of him.  Without saying anything, you quietly took the bottle from his hand, which, surprisingly, he let you.  You read the name and the dosage.  It was a strong one.

“Dabi,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t sound patronizing, “How long has it been since you’ve had your medication?”

There it was.  That kindness again.  You brought it forth so effortlessly, as if he didn’t just insult you a moment ago. Somewhere, behind his defenses, the itch of guilt settled itself into his mind like an unwelcome guest.

He was quiet for a moment as he stared at the bottle in your hand, his eyes either unable or unwilling to meet yours.  “Two days.” He replied, his voice scratchy.

You quickly did the math in your head.  He had mentioned that his pain meds ran out when he first asked for your help, but you had thought nothing of it at the time, assuming he had ways of fixing his problem.  You should have known.  You should have checked with him.  Drug withdrawal was no joke.

“When are you getting more?” you asked.

“Not sure, doll.  My supplier has gone AWOL and I haven’t found a backup.” He put his head between his hands and rubbed at his temples.  You watched him with quiet concern.  At first you wanted to use your quirk to try to help him, your hand starting to reach out to his wild raven hair instinctually. You faltered.  Would your quirk even work with this?  This wasn’t a cut or a burn or a broken rib… this was a chemical imbalance in his brain.  What if you hurt him or messed him up somehow?  Slowly you lowered your hand.  He needed his drugs.  

“How many of these did you take a day?” you asked as you looked at the bottle again.

He answered.  Your eyes bulged slightly.  How was this man not stumbling around when you first met him? He must have built up a tolerance over years of use.  Besides, quirkology affected everyone’s body a little differently.  Still, it definitely explained his bored expression and overall body language – this guy was constantly high.

“Don’t look so surprised, doll.” He stared up at you with shining bloodshot eyes.  His forehead was beaded in sweat, his skin so ghostly pale that only the rise and fall of his shallow chest indicated he was a breathing, living human.

You watched him, taking in his current state.  If he did finally get a hold of new meds on his own, would he be able to show restraint? Logically, you knew that he was experienced with this – it obviously wasn’t his first rodeo.  But still, a part of you couldn’t help but worry.

“You could really hurt yourself with these.” You replied softly.

“I know my limits.” He stated firmly, annoyance starting to seep in.

“That’s what everyone says, until they don’t.”

His brow furrowed, dark eyebrows pulled together like closing gates.  “Look, doll.  If you’re gonna lecture me, then you really can leave.  I don’t need your help with this.  I got by just fine before you came along.”

You wanted to snap back at him, to defend what seemed common sense to you, but you held back.  Poking the bear would help no one.

You kneeled down next to him and opened your bag, rummaging through your things.  “I’m not trying to lecture you.  I’m trying to help you.”  You found what you were looking for and pulled it out.  Nervousness filled you – you hoped he didn’t ask too many questions.

Dabi eyed the bottle of medication in your hand in hunger.

“It’s not as strong as what you’re used to,” you explained, “but it will take the edge off.”

“What kind of doctor are you, aiding a drug addict?” he teased.

A pang of guilt shot through you, but you steeled yourself against it.  “If you’re going to be taking pain meds, then I’d rather have it be something reliable and safe that I can monitor instead of something you find on the street through dubious means.”

“Oh yeah?  Like all of your little supplies don’t come from shady sources.  You can’t exactly get this stuff from anywhere.  Those are prescription only.” Dabi nodded at the bottle clutched so tightly in your hand, that he couldn’t see the label on it.  He couldn’t help but wonder… was it your name on that white sticker?  Or someone else’s?  What other items did you have in that bag of yours?

You lifted your chin pridefully.  “I have an inside source.  Trust me, the stuff I get is the real deal.  And that’s all you need to know about that.”

Dabi grinned as you gave him two of the pills from the bottle.  “Well, look at you, doll.  What a criminal.  You could get in serious trouble for this, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I think we’re well past that by now…” you replied with a grin, which earned you a chuckle.

Dabi popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.  Your smile faded slightly as you felt the urge to say one more important thing to him.

You stared at his hands in front of you, long fingers intertwined together and suspended in the air as his elbows rested on his knees.  “Look, Dabi…” you started.  Your eyes traced the metal rings holding his skin together.  “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re constantly in.  I understand why you take drugs. I think anyone would.  That’s why I’m helping you.  Not having pain meds isn’t really an option for you.”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna let me have that bottle?” his eyes stared at the bottle still clutched in your hand.

You held the bottle to your chest protectively, a part of you afraid he’d try to snatch it from you. Withdrawal made people do desperate things.  He raised an amused eyebrow at your defensive action, a small smirk upturning the corner of his mouth.

Your body felt warm and you broke eye contact.  “Not yet.” You replied.  “I want to make sure you’re okay with it.  It’s different from what you were taking before.  It might feel weaker than what you were taking or might have different side effects for you.  I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” Dabi pried, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as his head tilted.

You put the pills back into your bag as you looked away from him.  “I have a medical background, so I know a lot more than you might think.”

Dabi grinned, despite his headache, the skin pulling tight enough along his rings to send an ache of pain along his jaw.  He was right. Not that it was that hard to figure out, but he liked that you answered him honestly.

“You don’t trust me, doll?” Dabi’s teasing tone made you look up at him to find his fiery eyes piercing yours.  That familiar spark of life, dangerous and wild, was starting to return to his drawn features.  Oddly enough, you found it comforting even if it did send your pulse racing like a scared rabbit.

Meanwhile, he was amused at your caution.  Little did you know how many drugs he’d tried over the years, how many times he came close to ‘overdoing it,’ as he learned what his body could and couldn’t handle. Sure, he needed his drugs to keep the pain at bay… but he also needed to carry out his mission.  He refused to let himself devolve into a zombie when he still had unfinished business.

You rolled your eyes at him.  “I just want to make sure you transition to this new pain medication okay.  Switching drugs can be a messy business.  If I decided to trust you and something went wrong, well…” your words faltered, unable to finish your statement.  It almost surprised you how much the thought of something horrible happening to Dabi bothered you… especially if it was caused by your own negligence.

“Aw, doll, you’re making me blush.” Dabi grinned.  “You better not try to take advantage of me. I’m under the influence.”

You raised an amused eyebrow at him.  “Really? Who’s taking advantage of who here? Someone just got free drugs.”

“Trust me, sweetheart – you’ll know when I’m taking advantage of you.”

A proper comeback couldn’t find its way to your lips while your mind was so distracted by suggestive thoughts.

He continued on unfazed, as if his previous words meant nothing to him.  “So, how are we gonna do this then?”

You cleared your throat and wet your parched lips with your tongue.  Dabi watched the gesture intently, but you didn’t notice as you avoided eye contact.  “We’ll start with what I gave you. When it wears off and you feel like you need more, you come find me.  If you have any issues or feel anything weird, you come find me.  I don’t care what time it is.  If it’s 3 in the morning, you come find me.”

A devilish grin spread across Dabi’s features as his head got a rather detailed less-than-pure mental picture of a late-night visit.  He knew that wasn’t what you meant, but he enjoyed where his imagination took him, nonetheless.  He eyed you for the first time since you came into his room, allowing himself to take in your appearance from head to toe, his eyes lingering where he wanted them to, without a care as to if you noticed.  He might not be willing to touch, but he was definitely willing to look. Life was too short to not appreciate the finer things in life, and at this moment the finer thing was you.

You shifted nervously under his penetrating gaze, your pulse quickening under your skin like a raging river. You weren’t quite sure what he was thinking, but the light of his eyes made you feel exposed.  You resisted the urge to wrap your arms around yourself protectively, your self-consciousness fighting to get the better of you.

Your forced yourself to continue, looking away abashedly.  “I’m still coming to take care of your bandages, so I’ll be checking up on you again tonight.  Do we have a deal?”

Dabi was quiet for a moment as he stared at your determined face.  Finally, he smiled.  “Yeah, doll. We got a deal.”

“Good.  Now let me check those bandages.”

He stood up and you instinctively took a step back as his presence filled yours within the tight space between his bed and the wall where you stood. The scent of him filled your nose and you resisted the urge to inhale.  You liked it and you couldn’t explain why.  He turned his back to you and removed his sweat-soaked shirt.  You waited to see if he would move to the more open space of his room, but he didn’t, and you stood awkwardly before deciding to just change his bandages where he was.  Maybe he had a headache and moving was a little too much for him.  It’d take about thirty minutes for the pills you gave him to really get into his system and start working, and you’d be long gone by then.

You changed his bandages quickly and efficiently as well as added a little boost with your quirk to make sure his back was pain-free until you returned to check on him later in the evening.  He seemed to have enough on his plate to deal with without having your quirk wear off.

He was silently grateful you changed his bandages in silence as he waited for the pills you gave him to kick in. He was familiar with them, of course – they weren’t the best for what he needed, but you were right when you said they’d take the edge off.  Still, he didn’t want to use up your supply.  He didn’t know if that was your only bottle, and at the rate that he typically popped pills, you’d be out within a few days.  He’d reach out to Giran again to get a hold of his own.

Once you were done, you packed up your items to leave.  But before you did, you reached into your bag and pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to him.

“Hydrate.  Please.” You said.  “You took those pills and they might make you nauseous on an empty stomach.  Besides, your body needs more than coffee, energy drinks, and alcohol.”

Dabi grinned.  “Have you been watching me, doll?  You’re not stalking me, are ya?”

“I watch all of my patients.” You replied with a critical eye.  “Nice try, though.”

“You got any ramen in that bag?” Dabi teased as he opened the water bottle and took a swig.

“No, but I got a granola bar.  You want it?” you replied casually. You pulled out said item and waved it in Dabi’s face.

Dabi’s lip turned up in disgust.  “That shit’ll get stuck in my rings.  And it’s disgusting.”

“It’s healthy.” You replied with an extra wave for added emphasis.

“You’re like a walking drug store.”  Dabi commented as he watched you put the offending food away.

“I feel like a damn mom with all this stuff, but you’d be surprised how often it comes in handy.” You replied.  “Alright, well I’m gonna go and let you rest.  Do you have my number?”

You said it so casually, that Dabi had to stare at you to process your words for a moment.  He didn’t easily fluster, but he also didn’t ever have pretty girls offering their number to him, his scars always scaring them off.  It was such a personal gesture and completely alien to him.

“What for?” he finally replied.

“In case you need me for anything.  Like if the drugs wear off, or your bandage comes loose or something. We might not always be in the same place at the same time and I’d hate for you to not be able to reach me if something’s wrong.”

The tension in Dabi’s chest eased slightly.  Of course, it had to do with his health.  He noticed that about you – when it came to business, you cut straight to the chase.

He wanted your number.  But as soon as he realized it wasn’t for health reasons, he immediately shot it down, his iron wall crashing down.  “I’ll be fine.”

You stared at him and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Just trying to be efficient.  If you change your mind, you can reach out to one of the others.  I think you’re the only one who doesn’t have it.”  You walked to the door and turned back to him.  “Like I said, I’ll be back tonight, probably at around 9pm.  You’d better be here, or you won’t get your pills.” Mischief danced in your eyes and Dabi realized you were teasing him. He grinned.

“You think you can manipulate me?” he challenged.

“We’ll see…” you replied casually and left his room.

After you were gone, he stood there for a moment staring at the water bottle in his hand before he realized he had a dumb fucking smile on his face. He threw the water bottle in his trashcan.

You were a goddamn pain in his ass.  And he was a damn idiot, getting flustered over a pretty face being kind to him. What was this, fucking middle school? Like he’d never been around a girl before?  You were here to treat him.  As soon as his wounds were healed up and he got his own drugs, things would go back to normal.

It had to go back to normal.

__________________________________________________________

Part 4

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Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia ia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros​ @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri​ @necccomancy​ @miadraws0​

[themanicmagician]

Shipwrecked [2/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

Tom felt a knot loosen in his chest. Relief washed over him. Redd was awake and lucid, and feeling well enough to quip.

But then Redd kept talking.

“This is your bedroom?” Redd shifted, leaning his back against the mattress. He scanned the Spartan room, and his nose scrunched up in distaste. “It’s so....basic. Not your style at all.”

Tom hated the small speck of him that still yearned for Redd’s approval. He crossed his arms. “You’re hardly the expert on what I like.”

Tom’s words landed—he saw Redd wince—but the fox brushed it off, and changed tack.

“Where’d you sleep, then? Futon?”

“Couch.”

Redd patted the bed, and leered. “Could’ve shared with me. It’s plenty big enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough, Redd. You’re only here in my home because I possess common decency. Nothing more. As soon as your arm is healed, you’re gone.”

Redd clutched at his chest with his good arm, in mock agony.

“Oh babe, you can be so cold!”

Tom ignored him. “What possessed you to attempt to sail a ship, of all things? You don’t have any experience.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was simple enough to figure out.”

“Obviously it wasn’t.”

“Hey, the storm wasn’t my fault.”

“You could have died—and for what? Another stupid scheme of yours, no doubt.”

“I resent that remark. Scheme! Scheme, he says. I’m out here because I’ve developed a new business venture. The art on my boat is real.” Brief alarm skirted across his face. “Wait, what happened to my things?”

“They’re in Blathers’ custody.”

“That featherbrain can’t keep them. They’re real, you know. I had this whole plan. I was going to go island to island. Animals are so suspicious these days. They actually want to inspect the merchandise before they buy, can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to hear about this.”

Redd plowed on, as if Tom hadn’t spoken. “—and once they placed an order, I’d say oh, you can’t take it right away. I have to ship it to you.”

“And you’d mail them a fake.”

“I’d mail them a replica. The copies that I paint myself are flawless,” Redd bragged. Greed and delight glinted in his eyes. “You’d never be able to tell the difference. I’ll wager you 5,000 bells your pal Blathers wouldn’t, either.”

“I can’t believe you,” Tom snapped. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Why tamper with perfection?”

“You—ugh!”

Tom stomped out of the room.

Timmy and Tommy were right outside, evidently listening in. They jumped guiltily as Tom caught sight of them, and tried to look busy; Tommy folded a blanket and draped it over the back of the couch, as Timmy collected up used cups to put in the kitchen sink.

“I’m going out for a bit.” Tom told them, as he pulled on a jacket. “Stay here, and make sure he does too.”

The Nooklings chirped an affirmative.

May was cold and rainy this year, and today proved no different. Tom zipped up his jacket to ward off the worst of the chill. It was misting out, but not badly enough to justify an umbrella.

Tom didn’t have a destination in mind, exactly. He wasn’t going to Resident Services today. Isabelle was certainly capable of taking the reins for a day or two. Tom just needed fresh air, just needed to clear his head.

Redd hadn’t changed at all. He hadn’t grown, he hadn’t learned anything. He was still the same as he ever was—greedy, selfish, conniving. And utterly, absolutely, insufferable.

There had been moments, before, when he had lived on the mainland, when Redd frequented his town. He’d considered reaching out. But he’d never scraped up the nerve to do so. It wasn’t his responsibility either, he’d reasoned at the time. Tom was the wronged party. Redd should have been the one to approach, not him.

And now the decade-long silence between them was shattered at last, and Redd acted as if there had never been a massive fracture in their relationship, as if nothing at all had changed. No apologies, no remorse, not even a thank you for the rescue.  

“Mr. Nook!” Flurry trotted up to him. “I’ve heard the news. How is your friend doing today?”

He supposed there was no hope of keeping it quiet. Any speck of news spread through Bastion like wildfire. Isabelle, bless her heart, was an incorrigible gossip.

“Redd is doing much better today, thank you.”

“I wanted you to give him something from me. Just to borrow, powderpuff!” She took out a book from her pockets and handed it over. It was an old leather-bound book, a collection of fairy tales. It was worn with age, but evidently well cared for. “I don’t know if it’s to his taste or not, but I always read it when I’m sick and it cheers me right up!”

“Thank you, Flurry. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Redd wouldn’t, but Tom would never let the sweet hamster know that.

He continued his walk, and soon found himself on the beach. He followed the shoreline around the island until he reached the outcropping of rocks by Del’s and Lucha’s houses.

Tom knew what to expect, but the sight was still jarring. The hull of the boat was gouged on the rocks. Half of the vessel gaped open. The mast was snapped off at its base, and the sail, long lost to the tides. Tom stepped on the rocks to get a closer look. The remains of the boat had been secured to the rock by rope; Alex and the others, presumably, had been the ones to anchor it.

Tom peered inside the exposed hull. The boat was tilted at an angle. Barrels had rolled to one end of the ship. Several had smashed apart in the impact. Tom winced. How badly had Redd been thrown in the crash? Had he been above deck, or below?

There didn’t appear to be anything of value left inside the ship. The villagers had done well removing all the fragile artwork.

Enough of the boat remained that they wouldn’t have to build Redd a new boat from scratch, at least. The boat would have to be patched up for Redd to travel. The seaplanes weren’t built to transport someone from Bastion all the way out to the mainland.

Tom swept a critical eye over to the wreckage. Yes, they could rebuild it in several weeks, once the necessary supplies were gathered. He resolved to speak with Alex about it. If she could gather the needed materials, he’d reduce the price for her attic expansion as compensation.

He returned home with the intention to cook breakfast for the Nooklings and their guest. But as he removed his shoes in the entryway, he overheard Redd’s drawling voice. And the twins were conspicuously absent from the living room. He padded quietly over to the threshold of his bedroom.

The first thing Tom noticed was that Redd was now wearing one of his spare shirts. The floral patterned green and white flattered the fox’s fur. It was a size or two too large on him, and not his usual type of outfit. Something warm and possessive tightened in his stomach at the sight of Redd wearing his clothes.

Redd was back in bed, propped upright with the support of pillows. Timmy and Tommy were sitting on the bed as well, listening raptly to their guest. Redd was in his element as entertainer, gesturing enthusiastically with his unbroken arm as he spoke.

“...it was our third pitch of the day. Tom had persuaded me to paint wallpapers for high-end clientele, so the meeting was at this real swanky place. Very stylized lobby we waited in, minimalistic in style but in an expensive way, you know? Your Uncle Nook was sweating so much his fur looked a shade darker than normal. We were sitting there, waiting for half an hour after our appointed meeting time. And finally, finally, someone shows up. It wasn’t even the investor! It was some scrub, some assistant of an assistant. Tom was so nervous, he promptly bent over and spewed his lunch all over her expensive shoes.” Redd laughed.

Tom flushed. It hadn’t been his finest moment.

“But then, do you know what your uncle did?” Redd whispered, conspiratorially.

“What, Mr. Redd?”

“...Redd?”

The boys leaned in closer, eager not to miss a single syllable.

“Tom still managed to salvage the situation. He went right from wiping off her shoes to pitching her a new concept—scented wallpaper. Smells like lemon, pine. So if something like this happened again, at least no one would smell it!”

“Wow! Did they invest?”

“...vest?”

“Even better—they bought the concept and patent from us. All the reward, with none of the work!”

“Boys, wash up for breakfast.” Tom broke in.

The twins broke into beaming smiles at the sight of him. They sprang off the bed to crowd Tom, both talking a mile a minute.

“Uncle Nook, is it true that you won a manufacturing contract by arm wrestling the CEO of Cozy Couches?”

“—did you really start a new city fashion trend wearing your scarf as a belt?”

“—have three drinks named after you?”

“Redd likes to embellish.” Tom explained, exasperated. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

Redd pouted.

Once the boys reluctantly filed out of the room, Tom shut the door. He crossed over to Redd and offered him the book of fairytales.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Redd inspected the book. He grimaced at the faint mug stain on one of the pages. “Not a first edition. Far from excellent condition. You  really  shouldn’t have.”

Tom grit his teeth. “It’s not from me. A villager has loaned it to you. If it goes back to her with so much as a dog-eared page…”

“Alright, sheesh. Just messing around.” Redd set the book on the bedside table, evidently uninterested.

“Listen to me, Redd.” Redd looked up in surprise at Tom’s low, serious tone. “You cheated me. You deceived Lyle. But if you think—”

“Hey, Lyle wasn’t—”

“If you think,” Tom spoke over him. “For one second, that I’ll allow you to manipulate Timmy and Tommy, you’ve got another thing coming. I have resources now. More bells in the bank than you’ll ever see. If you ever hurt them, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”

The boys were guileless, innocent. He would not stand for Redd swindling them.

Redd deflated, his previous energy visibly dimmed. His ears flattened back on his head. He looked away from Tom, and nodded.

~*~

“Where are we going?”

“Like I told you the last twelve times you asked, it’s a surprise.”

“I’m going to trip on the sidewalk and break my nose.” Tom grumbled.

“You won’t.” Redd promised, with a rumbling laugh. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It had been six months since their first meeting, in that sketchy motel. Ever since, they’d hardly left each others’ company. Tom’s ambition was to build a furniture and home goods store. It would be unique in its approach, in that stock would be limited, and rotate daily, so animals would feel compelled to go to the store every day, just in case there was something they needed. Redd, an entrepreneur himself, was on board. But before they could begin such an enterprise, they needed bells, and loads of them. They���d taken the past half a year to build up their finances together. They’d done so not through conventional jobs, but through countless pitch meetings, patent sales, and even art commissions. They’d amassed enough now that their dream was looking more achievable by the day.

Tonight Redd had tied a black bandana around Tom’s eyes and led him from their apartment. Tom’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest throughout their entire walk. Redd had been furtive, secretive the entire past week. He’d been planning something, and Tom had a big hunch on what it could be.

“We’re here.” Redd announced, at long last. He unknotted the bandana. The cloth fell away from Tom’s eyes, and he gasped.

It was an older two-story building, wedged in between a pair of larger, newer ones. It was built of ruddy red brick, with floor to ceiling windows for display purposes. Tom glanced around. They were in a nicer part of town. Not the wealthiest neighborhood by any means, but one fairly busy, that had animals with bells burning holes in their pockets.

“It’s ours.” Redd withdrew a keyring from his pocket. “If you like it.”

“You—how?”

Redd winked. “I have my ways.” He held out the keys and gave them a shake. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Tom took the keys with reverence. He felt as if he were drifting through the clouds as he glided to the door. The front door key was newly cut, firm in his palm. Tom unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

“The register could go here.” Tom circled around the corner of the back wall, nearest the door. He paced around the cavernous empty room, imagining as he went. “Heavier furniture in the back as well. Some eye-catching, lighter things near the front that can be rotated daily. Things like wreaths, tapestries—oh, and what if we hang strings of lights from the ceiling? It’d create a real welcoming, homey look.”

He turned back to Redd for his input. His face was flushed with enthusiasm.

Redd had been watching him from the doorway with a complicated, unreadable expression.

Tom’s grin faltered. “Redd?”

The strange look fell away from Redd’s face, replaced by his customary smirk. He sauntered closer.

“Your instincts are excellent as always, Tom. I was thinking of a mural, too, for the back wall.”

“Oh, that’d be great! What are you thinking? A city skyline? Or something more nature-inspired?”

Redd’s arm slid around Tom’s waist with easy familiarity. His paw squeezed Tom’s side. Tom barely muffled his squeak. They’d been together for five months of the six, and Redd’s casual displays of affection still flustered him. Back home, no one had ever looked twice at the plain, chubby raccoon.

Redd’s muzzle brushed his ear. “We can hash out the details later. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

~*~

The doorbell jingled overhead as Tom stepped inside the Able Sisters’ store. Sable took a single look at Tom before she was bustling him into the back room of the shop.

“Keep an eye out for customers, Mabes.” She called over her shoulder.

Mabel mock-saluted her eldest sister.

“Sit.” Sable all but pushed him into a rocking chair. He remembered this old thing from the sisters’ first home. The quilt draped over the back of the chair was familiar too, if a bit more threadbare than he remembered. Tom was struck by a wave of gratefulness that all of his dearest friends had been so amenable to picking up their lives and moving to Bastion with him.

Sable placed a gray kettle on the stove, and retrieved two mugs from a cabinet. The mugs were lumpy things, rather sloppily painted. Mabel had made them by hand when she was young. Tom had his own original Mabel creation stored in a cabinet back at his home.

“I wanted to speak with you as soon as I heard, but I had too many shirts to sew, I couldn’t get away. I know that’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m handling everything just fine.”

Sable raised one eyebrow.

“I am.” He insisted. Redd had been subdued after Tom had warned him off about the twins. He ate the food Tom cooked without complaint, allowed Tom to check his injured arm without any protest, save the quiet hisses of pain he couldn’t quiet. They’d lived together in uneasy harmony for a week, now. Redd spent most of the day in front of the TV, or idly flipping through the book Flurry had lent him.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. Redd hasn’t been putting up too much of a fuss.” She was staring at him, too keenly. “What?”

She took a moment to muster up the words, paws twisting in her lap. “Tom...I don’t want to see you like that again.”

Tom waved his hand, as if to banish the ghost of that awful moment. “You won’t. He can never hurt me again.”

Sable’s doubt was palpable.

“I don’t care about him anymore. I don’t. And I...I used to hate him, I admit it. I used to loathe him. But I’ve moved on. I don’t trust him, and I pity him, but I don’t feel anything strong for him, hate or love, anymore.”

“You don’t sound as convincing as you’d like to be.” Sable said.

He was saved from having to respond as the kettle whistled. Sable rose to fetch their tea. She added the sachets, a drizzle of honey to her cup, three lumps of sugar to Tom’s—after all this time, she hadn’t forgotten how he liked it—and carried the mugs over.

Tom held his mug between his paws, waiting for it to cool enough to be drinkable. The pleasant scent of Earl Grey wafted up to his nose. He inhaled.

“If Redd tries anything, I’ll punch him in the nose.”

Sable, gentle, demure Sable, spoke with such a steely assuredness that Tom started. She smiled shyly at him.

“I mean it.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I have first dibs.”

Sable giggled.

~*~

Tom headed back home, feeling lighter than he had since this entire thing started. He and Sable swiftly left the topic of Redd behind them, and spent the better part of an hour catching up.

The boys saw him through the front window of the Cranny, and waved enthusiastically. He returned the gesture, albeit with less energy.

Tom then climbed the stairs and let himself into his home. Redd was no longer where Tom had left him that morning, slouched on the couch. The TV was shut off, the house almost eerily silent.

“Redd?” Tom eased open the door to his bedroom. The fox was absent, but the bed was neatly made. He checked the twins’ room, the bathroom—both empty.

Redd was gone.

[ceratonia-siliqua]

The Descent

This is the prequel to Heaven is a Prison (a place far worse than hell)! This can be read stand alone and it doesn’t matter which you read first but they are ordered based on publishing dates! 

I highly recommend reading this on Ao3 since I include some plot notes at the end of the fic! You don’t need them though, they just explain a few things. 

To the anon who requested this, sorry it took so long!

Ao3 Link

Summary: After Bucky's accident, it's a struggle to get back to normal, especially when things go sideways on the first day...

Warnings: Inces/t (father/son), Brain Injury, Extremely Non-Con, Forced Feminization, Dirty Talk, Humping, Cum Eating, and Underage/d. 

. . . . . . . . . . 

“Where’s my baby?”

When the doctors told Peter that was the first thing out of his father’s mouth after the accident, Peter broke down in tears. The kind that shimmer with relief and exhaustion as all the anxiety suddenly vacates your body. A nurse guided him to a side room, sat with him as he cried it out. She let him have his moment of weakness, didn’t say a word till he seemed ready to speak. Even then all she asked was if he was okay now.

He nodded, tried to explain that his dad’s odd sentence was a good thing. He’d always been his dad’s baby, since the day he was born and the nickname carried even into today at times. Just like his dad was always Daddy when they were at home, though this he kept to himself. Two words they had never grown out of and meant that if nothing else, his dad knew enough to be worried about Peter and want to see him.

When he seemed calm enough, the nurse placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder and offered to take him to his dad. Peter was out of his seat in a second, nodding wildly and wanting nothing more. They left, walking down a sterile white corridor, occasionally marked with signs or a piece of artwork to bring some color back into the monochromatic scheme of the floors and walls. It was isolating and… while not unfriendly, it certainly wasn’t welcoming.

The sliding glass doors that lead to the rooms were made private by a curtain, pulled close in just about every room, including Bucky’s. Before Peter could burst through and see his dad the nurse pulled him aside.

“Peter, your dad… He’s awake but he didn’t get out unscathed.”

“I know, Ma’am. He got hit by a truck.” On a motorcycle. It has been low speeds which was the only reason he survived the semi tap that sent him spinning out into a ditch.

“No, honey. I’m not talking just physically. The doctors’ did some brain scans. He’s swelled up real bad and he might not remember things or be acting the way you remember.”

He could tell she was withholding details, the way she glanced down at one point gave it away. Her eyes momentarily filled with guilt she thought he hadn’t caught. He let it go for her sake.

“Okay… I still can see him though, right?” Doe eyes drove a stake straight through the poor woman’s heart, even if Peter hadn’t meant to.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have brought you just to make you march back out. Just know there is no shame in needing a minute. Okay? He’s still beat up pretty bad and is gonna be sore. He also needed to be put in mitts because he kept trying to pull his tubes out. We’re hoping they’ll get to come off once he’s settled down a bit.”

Peter nodded along, understanding and listening, but far more concerned with his dad and being by his side. It had been the two of them since he was born, the idea of losing him was a cold clawing dread that made him nauseous. Without his dad he had nothing, the idea of losing someone who was such a center piece in his life was like asking him to live without air. He was nowhere near ready to let go of his dad.

Eventually the nurse was satisfied. She opened the sliding door, standing back as Peter entered before closing it lightly behind him. With a deep, shuddering inhale, he pushed past the curtains.

The eyes he was met were his dad's, the color, the shape, all the same physically, but there was something fuzzy behind them, strange. Peter put it up to the medications and the obvious head injury, nobody would be one hundred percent after that kind of diagnosis. The slightly unfocused gaze cluing him in until suddenly they were shockingly alert and fixed on him. The mitts the nurse had warned him about reached out towards him, his dad laid out on his back.

“Darling, come here. Need to make sure you’re okay.” The movements were clumsy and while he understood perfectly what was being said, there was an off slur to the words and pauses.

Peter drew closer, coming up to the bed. His dad ran uncoordinated, mitted hands down his arms, expression focused despite the clear haze. The frustration was evident in his movements as he was unable to properly assess Peter’s state with the slabs of foam under his palms.

“How are you feeling, dad?” He gently grabbed Bucky’s wrists, trying to get him to make eye contact.

“I’m alright, just need to make sure you’re okay.” Grumbled out as he allowed Peter to hold onto him.

“Do you need anything? Water? A snack?”

“Just you baby, just you.” He pulled his wrists out of his son’s hands, went back to touching him as best as he could manage.

Tears fuzzed out the edges of his vision, Peter reached for his daddy. Needed to feel the one person in his life who made the world feel shapeless without his presence. Bent over at the hips and practically laying on the wounded man below him. He choked out a sob as strong, familiar arms closed over his shoulders and drew him in, chest to chest.

“I thought you were gone.” Not enough air in his lungs to make the words sound complete as they were punched out of him.

Dragged in as close as he could manage, Bucky tucked his nose behind his son’s ear. “Never. I’d never leave you behind, Peter.”

Hiccups, the kind you only get with the worst of tears, pelted his breathing. Hitched his breath every other beat as he came off the adrenaline and tried to settle back into his skin. Peter hid in Bucky’s shoulder, face obscured from the rest of the world as hot tears rolled down his dad’s neck, breaking the poor man’s heart.

Mitts passed over his head, trying to push fingers through his curls and failing. A growl tumbled through the chest beneath his palms as his dad cursed the damn restraints, Peter joined him silently. He glanced over his shoulder, the curtain was still closed.

“Dad, the nurse says you have to wear the mitts because you keep pulling things out--”

“‘Cause they weren’t letting me see you.”

“If I take them off, will you promise not to tug on anything?” He would probably get in massive trouble for this but it wasn’t like they could do more than kick him out of the hospital. Surely so long as they put them back on after it would be fine.

“I won’t so long as you stay here.” Bucky held out his restrained hands, wanting the offending things off.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Peter undoes the velcro on one hand but left the other in it’s mitt, thinking it was easier to justify one “slipping” off than both of his hands free.

Without sparing a second, the free hand roams through his curls, trailing down the back of his neck, where they come to rest. Tangled their way through the soft baby hairs there, vulnerable and intimate. His dad props himself up on one arm, pulling Peter’s neck carefully down towards him while rising to meet him. Seeing that a kiss was coming, Peter turned his cheek, offering his dad easy access to the spot. His dad missed the mark, pressing at the underside of his jaw and holding for two shuddering heartbeats.

When he pulled back, Peter was surprised to find disappointment in his dad’s features. Lip set in a displeased line and eyes turned in a disgruntled tilt. Maybe he was just upset that he missed..? Peter gave a kiss as well, hoping it would erase that upset look. His own placed on his dad’s nose, slightly playful in an attempt to get a smile.

It worked, Bucky’s face melted into a grin as he pulled Peter all the way down, tucking his boy’s face into his shoulder. Awkwardly bent in half, Peter is forced to shimmy his lower half onto the bed and makes an undignified squeak when his dad slips a few fingers through his belt loops and uses them as leverage to help him onto the bed. His dad’s soft chuckle in response left a shadow of embarrassment but the sweet sound melted him. He needed this, to be close after feeling like the world stood between them before, ready to take the only man who cared about him away. The heavy rise and fall of his dad’s much larger chest reminding him that he was alive, that they both were.

“...Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re not allowed to ride the bike anymore.”

The rumbling, loud laughter made the bossy statement into something concerned and gentle. He wasn’t being laughed at but instead humored. “I promise, no more bike. Don’t think I could in this state anyway. “

His forehead scratched across the short sleeve of the hospital gown as he hid from the light. Surrounded by darkness and the smell of his daddy, he was at peace for the moment. There was a small shift and Peter heard something fall on the floor. Just about to ask what that had been, he feels both hands, now free, run down his sides. He jumped when they slipped under his shirt, stroking at the skin around his slight love handles. About to ask what he was doing, they’re interrupted by a knock.

Peter jumped up, hands fell away as his dad grabbed one of the mitts and stuck it back on. Peter goes to peak behind the curtain and see who was asking to enter.

A doctor, all clean pressed with his white lab coat. Some voice in the back of his head piped up, recalling how deceiving the coat was in it’s clean exterior since lab coats are hardly washed as much as they should be and become vectors for illnesses. He is considering if letting such a thing near his dad is something he’s going to allow when he is reminded of his place. The doctor carefully pushed past him, Peter ignored like a small child, seen and not heard. He wants to fume but the need to play nice won out. He just needed to stamp down the territorial urges a bit better.

His dad managed to get one mitt back on but the other one was sitting loosely on his hand. He hid it from the doctor, tucking his hands in his lap to hide the strap. The scene threw him. With the way his dad had been acting he thought he was completely out of it, but that split second scene suggested his dad was still able to rationalize and know well enough to hide the mitt situation. Maybe he imagined it? Things were definitely a little off, just something about the energy around his dad was different. It could be that some parts of his brain were affected and not others.

Lost in his musings about the two-second detail, he missed what the doctor was saying. At the tailend he tuned in, catching the doctor saying something about physical and occupational therapy and his eventual home release.

“--Once we get your walking coordination back in tune you should be good to go. You’ve displayed some ability already according to the nurse when she’s helped you to the komode, which is excellent. We’ll likely be able to send you home in the next few weeks if things go as I am hoping.”

Peter hoped the doctor was right, or maybe wrong and that his dad would be coming home earlier than expected. The last few days alone in their apartment had been painfully quiet. Uncle Steve had been swinging by to help feed him and check in but he’d been unable to hold much of a conversation with him when they were both swimming with anxiety. Unsurprisingly, his mom still had not called to check in, thank god she flaked on her two weeks with him or he may not have been allowed to go back to the apartment he and his dad shared.

“Sounds good, Doctor. Anything I can do to help speed it along? I have things to do at home.” His dad shot him a look and Peter had no clue what it was supposed to mean. He felt like there was a hidden meaning there he wasn’t quite catching but was being expected to know.

“Patience is key, Mr. Barnes. If you push too hard, too fast you might backslide in progress. Just do as the physical therapist advises and they should be able to help you get back on your feet in a timely manner.” The doctor then proceeded to prattle off a few more things before a nurse came in with medications. He didn’t get a chance to spend more time with his dad as his phone pinged, Steve was there to come get him. He had school in the morning. Part of him wanted to blow it off, just spend the night by his dad’s side but Steve wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer on this one. Dodging the nurse, Peter pressed a quick kiss to his dad’s cheek and a hasty goodbye before he was shooed off. He left, looking back over his shoulder like he expected his dad to somehow be following.

_______

When he got the news that his daddy was going to be coming home, Peter flew into a near frenzy. He scrubbed the whole apartment three times and had reorganized his closet twice in just four days. Climbing up the walls, he was impatient and wanted his dad home now. The apartment had been too quiet for too long. Nothing ever moved unless Peter moved it and it was jarring to find things where he’d left them. He never realized how often things shifted in a shared space till they stopped. He hated it, wanted nothing more than to go back to normal, whatever their new normal ended up being.

Steve brought Bucky home Friday night, nearly a month after the accident. The father and son duo had hardly seen each other in that time, visits rarely lining up and the nurses deciding that his dad was always too worked up after seeing his son. Peter practically threw himself into his daddy’s arms, burying his face firmly in the solid wall of the other man’s chest. Thankfully, he was small enough that he hadn’t knocked Bucky off his feet. He seemed to still be getting his footing and walked in a slightly stilted manner that made Peter just the tiniest bit upset to see.

They all had dinner before Steve left, having things that needed to be done and trusting Peter to keep Bucky out of trouble. Nothing of much note happened that first night, Bucky too tired to do more than change clothes and land face down in bed. Peter left him to it, not wanting to bother his clearly exhausted father.

The morning, well, that is when things began their strange descent.

Peter was brushing his teeth, staring into the mirror with the expression unique to those who had stayed up just a little later than intended. Leaning down to spit into the running water of the sink and rinse his mouth, Peter jumped when something pressed against him. Spinning and nearly taking his hip out on the counter, he relaxes when blue eyes stare back at him.

“You scared me.” Peter, in his relief, didn’t catch the odd look that passed through Bucky’s eyes as he looked down on his son.

“You weren’t in bed, I heard the water running and thought I would check on you.” A large hand reached out, cupping Peter’s face.

Confused but not about to question the affection, Peter tips his face into the palm of his dad’s hand. “Did you need anything?”

“No, I just wasn’t sure where you had gone. You weren’t in bed with me when I went asleep, I thought you would be there by the time I woke up.” His thumb slid over the delicate skin of his lower eyelid, a light, affectionate gesture.

Only more puzzled by the statement, Peter lifts his head, not realizing he’d done it until he notices the hand following as though glued to his skin. “Why did you think that?”

It was Bucky’s turn to look confused. “Don’t you always sleep with me?”

Peter shook his head. “No, not in a long time. Sometimes I come and sit on the bed with you in the morning but I don’t normally sleep there.” His dad must really be messed up if he was expecting Peter to do something he hadn’t since he was eight.

“Did I do something wrong? Why don’t you sleep in our bed anymore?” Fingers flexing against Peter’s scalp.

Our bed? “No, no, I’m just not supposed too. It’s not normal for a teenager to sleep in the same bed as his dad.” This really was not the conversation he was expecting to have to have today.

“Says who? Peter, you’re always welcome in bed. I want you there, it lets me know you’re safe if you're near.”

Oh, that makes a little more sense at least. Maybe his dad was just nervous after the accident, wanted the security of having him near after all he’s been through. Admittedly, the thought of staying in the same room was appealing, he’d been jumpy ever since his dad had been in the hospital. Daddy wasn’t there to scare away the shadows that haunted their apartment, something he did just by being and hadn’t been obvious until he was no longer there.

“Would it make you feel better if I was in bed with you tonight?”

The beaming smile he got in response was so sweet, so heartfelt, that Peter felt himself smiling back. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Then tonight I’ll do it.” With the matter settled, Peter slipped out of his dad’s grasp and the bathroom. He heard the shuffling behind him that signaled he was being trailed. He plopped on the couch in the living room, flipping on the TV for some background noise.

Bucky settled in beside him, close enough their thighs are sealed together. Peter leaned over, tipped his head against one broad shoulder, sighed. An arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tight.

“Missed you, lovebug.”

Peter nuzzled his shoulder, smiling at the childhood nickname. “Missed you too, Daddy.” Teased just a little, lifting into a sweeter tone for the title.

They relaxed, a soothing hand running over his ribs. Up and down, up and down. He lost focus on the show quickly, closed his eyes and soaked up the gentle affection. The petting turns into a circular motion, one that slipped under the back of his shirt and over his skin. Daddy flipped back and forth between the two, always a warm hand trailing under his shirt. It made him sleepy, cravied a mid-morning nap as a result. He yawned and was rewarded with a crown of kisses across his forehead.

“Sleepy baby.” A honey tinged chuckle that made Peter soft and squishy. “Wanna go to bed, honey? Let Daddy take care of you for a little bit?”

Peter nodded, let himself be manhandled into strong arms, forgot to be concerned about his dad’s ability to do this when he felt so safe in his arms. Hadn’t been carried like this since he was small, loved the attention as he got a wet kiss on the cheek and was squished into the much broader body. Couldn’t resist giggling before he relaxed back.

The walk was short, a hand cupped his rear as the door was closed and the covers pulled back. He’d kept his eyes closed, lulling through the early stages of sleep. Still, the cool darkness of the room was pleasant behind his eyelids. He was set down amongst the covers, held close as Daddy slid up beside him. He was cradled, the back of his head cupped and used to press him gently into the crook of his dad’s neck. The other wrapped around his lower back. Peter was too far gone to do anything but doze off, warm and content.

_____

Peter woke up as his legs were folded into his chest, something hot and blunt pressed against his hole, startling him onto alert. He thrashed, trying to rip his legs away from whatever was restraining them so he could flee. His reward was the weight of a body pressing down against his calves, his feet stuck uncomfortably against a washboard stomach as his thighs are pressed into his chest He’s folded in half and had no time to think as he’s suddenly opened up on the head of a cock.

Terrified, he cried out in pain as someone sheathed themself inside him, pain slowly working it’s way up his spine as he was stretched. Forced to take and take and take what feels like an unending length, too thick for his small body to accommodate.

“S-stop. Stop!” Tears start to come, it hurts, it hurts and he can’t get away from it.

“Shh… It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. It’s just Daddy.” The rumbling tenor stops Peter dead in his tracks.

He actually focused, looked to see what was going on rather than run on blind panic. A sob ripped through him as his dad stared down at him. It must be a dream, a nightmare.

“You’re doing so well, lovebug. I know it’s been a long time since Daddy’s been in here, just relax.”

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when a thumb ran across his rim, swiping over the place where their bodies connected. Treated as if it were normal, like they were two lovers in the midst of a reunion and not a father recovering from a brain injury and his confused son.

“Love this pussy, always so sweet for me. Yeah, there it is, let Daddy in sweetness.”

Peter blushed an angry tomato red. His dad was talking to his asshole while he sank his cock inside of him like this was something they’d done before and not sending Peter headlong into a panic attack.

Trying to suck down air as the panic in his body rose, he pushed against the wall of steel before him. “No, no, nonono, take it out! Take it out!!” The answering roll of hips made his back arch of the bed. Too much, it was too much.

“There’s my boy.” The slide of cock leaving his body was a relief until it rocked back in. The thrusts reached deeper inside of him than he thought possible. “Just need something to fill you up and make you feel good to get you settled down. So pretty, Peter. You’re a dream, baby doll.”

The thrusts start slow and pick up pace at the same rate the pain subsides to the pleasure of being filled. The fight left him as the sweet little spot inside his hole is battered and ground against with every slide. Peter doesn’t register his moans, sounding far away and not a part of him. He does register the squeal, the high pitched whine as his neck is assaulted with tooth and tongue. Flushed at the loud, wet slapping of his Daddy’s balls as they bounced off his rear. Now brought to his attention, it made him jump each time they hit the mark.

“This pussy hasn’t been fed in so long, has it sweetheart? Just waiting for Daddy to come home so it can swallow up the cock it needs. Cum hungry little cunt, all for me, ain’t that right?”

None of it made sense, nothing like this had happened before. Later, Peter would put the dots together, would see the little things that point to what was going on in his dad’s head. Would all fall into place when Daddy gets mad about him shying away and asks him why he’s rejecting him when Peter is his and has been for so long. Something got knocked loose, butchered some memories until this became something he could only imagine Peter wanting. But that was later, outside this moment. A time away from this second where Peter was moaning like a bitch in heat as his dad made him feel, took his first cock and got to enjoy the skill that comes with someone so much older.

The last few thrusts are violent, made him yip as hips slammed down onto his ass and turned the skin red. The rush of cum made his body shake, not knowing what to do as he’s filled.

“Cream-filled, just how I like this little hole. Soppy and wet just like a real pussy, huh baby? Think Daddy can have his pie and eat it too?”

The words meant nothing, all Peter could do was shake his head, hoped it would get him out of this. He ached both in his ass and his locked joints. Just end, please, that’s all he wanted.

But it doesn’t.

Bucky slides out, slowly, dragging it out so that Peter has to feel every vein on it’s way out the door. He sighs, relieved as the pressure on his legs is let up. He goes to lower them, stretch out and hopefully roll away but they’re grabbed and suddenly he’s flat on his belly, his cock making itself known as it slides over the sticky sheets. His back cold as the sweat is exposed to the cool air. A pitiful, displeased noise fell from his lips as a face forced itself between his thighs. A tongue, scorching hot, lapped at the cum seeping from his gaping pussy. His poor battered cunt loosened into a pouting mouth as a searching tongue makes out with it, wet and messy.

He can’t help it as his hips tip forward, seeking out release as his cocklet stands red and angry. It hurts and the sheets glide over it in a way that makes the ache settle and that same tingly feeling from earlier skitter it’s way up to the base of his skull. Hands come up to his hips, guiding as their master eats out his hole like he doesn’t need air to live. It brings him to the edge, paints his belly white with shame as the orgasm wracks his body.

Collapsed on the sheets, Peter curled up. Too much, too much. His brain shut down, taking him to a place that’s fuzzier, not yet forcing him to process what has just happened. It’s why he doesn’t fight as a hand and tongue coax his jaw open, why he only shudders and obediently swallows as cum is smeared and drooled into his mouth.

“Seems you’re just as hungry for cum as your hole.” It’s said like a joke, like it’s meant to be teasing.

Peter just wrapped his arms around his head and prayed for sleep.

[krenbotvt]

What The Fans Of (Almost) Every Scarecrow Design Are Like Just by Surveying Rogue Tumblr for Approx: 5 Months. (Not in any particular order. Also this is a meme.)

Year One: You probably needed a childhood to relate to/needed a justifiable reason to stan one of Gotham’s biggest criminals. (but if your childhood involves being half-eaten by crows i am VERY concerned)  BTAS: The gateway drug Scarecrow. You’re probably a gremlin, and also really like the Dork Squad(tm)  TNBA: He’s under-appreciated, and you know this very well, but you’re also thankful that you get some of the coolest artwork of your favorite spooky boy. (Also the voice. 11/10 you want him to read sleepy hollow to you.) TAOB: You are one of the only 3 living fans of Adventures Of Batman Scarecrow, but you give absolutely no shit. You love that uncanny valley, near on clown-like scarecrow, and i feel bad for you, because you’ll probably never get art of them. Super Friends: I...Wow. Y’all really do exist... Galactic Guardians: YOU GUYS ACTUALLY EXIST TOO??? BATB: JAZZY. You like his hat, and his voice. You also probably enjoy a lot of older scarecrow designs as well. You get sad because you wish there were more content.  The Batman (TV series): PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (But seriously though, you poor, poor things...There, There...) Assault On Arkham: AA Scarecrow in an otherwise good movie. Basically, you’re sad he didn’t get more screen-time. At this point, just stan: Arkham Asylum: ABSOLUTE GOBLIN OF A HUMAN. One of the gateway drug Scarecrows that lead you to The Rogues fanbase in the first place. You either love the serious artwork of him, love him drawn/written as a gremlin, or are STILL offended by his lack of footwear. Either way, you adore him and will remind everyone of it. Arkham Knight: OH FUCKING BOY. This can go one of two ways. 1.You love his writing (or don’t, but still stan), his poetic dialogue and his voice, and you also love how much he hams up the fear factor. You probably adore every artwork of him you see, and you REALLY love reading any fan-written material of him. You have many headcanons, and probably have googled A LOT of stuff to make them more genuine.  Or 2. You are very, VERY horny... (But as a good friend once said, “these are not mutually exclusive.”) Nightwing And Robin: Aw, y’all are so cute! Here, have some tea with the SF AND GG Fans, I think they have Earl Grey over in the CORNER OF IRRELEVANCY. (But I feel bad for y’all too.) Unlimited: BEEF BOY. You’re either in the group of people that love Scarecrow designs that use scythes, or you like how strange, yet fun his appearance is. Most art of him is super colorful too. There aren’t very many of you, but the amount of you that I’ve seen seem like super cool people. You all probably also enjoy the next one: Batman/TMNT: You knew the movie was a wild ride from start to finish, but you love it. You probably also like birds (I know, really obvious.) There aren’t many of you, but you like the idea of a corvid-like Scarecrow, and you wish for more. Or...You may be a furry that also likes DC stuff, and that’s ok too! We too also oddly love that weird ass cobra joker anyways.  Salecrow: You love his rhyming (which is arguably the best thing about him), but are also annoyed by the fact that most content of him use the same 3 images every time. You’re probably in the same boat as all the other scarecrow fans that genuinely want a proper medieval themed version of him. If you write/draw him, you’ve googled endless nursery rhymes. Its like Dr.Seuss up in this bitch. Also, them hands. Blackest Night: Chances are you’re still amazed that your favorite bag-headed master of fear even HAS that thing. You REALLY want him to wear that damn ring again, and will probably pay an arm and a leg to see it happen in a form of animated media. You also have very interesting artwork/writings of him. And your head canons are outlandish, but in the most fun way. (Seriously though, Hatter with a ring, huh...) Injustice: You either love the concept of The ScareBeast, or you’re here for the fact that hes voice by FREAKING ROBERT ENGLUND. Admittedly, you probably aren’t all too good at fighting games, but you still insta-lock him despite that.  The Dark Knight: Cillian Murphy portrays the character rather well, but you either are unnerved by his strangely dreamboyish face, or would wish for a slightly older actor. But!!! Despite all that!!! You love him, and probably still quote “WaNnA sEe My MaSK???” (Although I see some of you get absolutely tired of that lol) I don’t see any loyal fans of him, but everyone seems to agree that he’s not too shabby (heheh... shabby...) Gotham (Tv Series): ...Hello? Where are you guys? I KNOW you exist! Show yourselves! Jokes aside, you either love him or hate him. Live action scarecrows seem to be a hit or miss for some.  Harley Quinn (Tv Series): Softies. You adore everything about him. His dialogue, his humor, his very surprising accent, and his, albeit a stretch, questionable sexuality implications. Most art of him is very wholesome and good, probably because you’re STILL not over...Well... Maybe its better if I not mention it (all fans of him are the “If I see anything happen to them I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself” meme.). Detective Comics: Hroo Hraa, my friends. Hroo Hraa. Whether it’s his “Queer grasshopper leaps” or his strange laughter onomatopoeia, you can’t get enough of his antics. Nothing beats a classic, and the fact that there are still many of you that are fans of him makes me smile. New 52/Prime Earth: One of the few scarecrows that greatly changes his childhood, but you welcome the idea of it. He’s a very unsettling looking guy, but you’ll remind everyone that his writing makes up for it. He’s mostly treated like a semi-C tier villain in the continuity, but every time you see him you’re like “!!!!!!!”.You most likely have a list of every issue he appears in so you don’t have to suffer, and your heart still breaks when you read the scene with him and that one girl. (He said he was sorry, guys.) Batman:Hush: 2 and a half sweet and savory minutes of this guy, only for him to get kicked in the face? Nay, Nay, you say! A crime, you holler! You go to your keyboard to tell your friend about how good his character design is, and how well animated he was, but alas they say “that’s nice, bud.” Blast it all... The Lego Batman Movie/Lego in general: Our boy at his most gremlin. Sure, you know this is a 99% children’s medium, but that doesn’t stop you from smiling like a dummy every time you see him. He’s funny, he’s delightful, and he has... a weird obsession with planes? What is it with them and putting him in planes? Maybe he got a pilot’s license before he attended university? What a smart little block person!  Obviously, I left out quite a few here, but these seem to be the most popular. There are SO many comic renditions of him, so It’d take my forever. (My poor fingies already hurt!) But please enjoy this silly little thing :’] 

[knightsandjedis]

Let the pettiness commence

Let me be frank here when stating that if the quarantine weren’t happening I would probably remain the type of blogger to just re-blog posts without commenting or making my own posts. I enjoy looking at things more than commenting what can I say? I should say thanks and welcome to all the followers I’ve gained these past few years. You all are awesome and hope you all are staying safe during these troublesome times!

Alright, I’m going from civil to petty here and I should forewarn you if you’re a fan of Sarah J. Maas and her novels you’ll prefer to stay away then listen to my rant. Just being polite and giving a heads up.

Listen, there are periods where atrocious books become a major part of trending pop culture. Eventually, the hype dies down and people can take a deep inhale of relief. Around the 2010s time-period, the hype was focused on Twilight books. No matter where you went you felt suffocated by the hyper-fixation people had on this series. I’ll be honest I was an avid Twilight lover for a period until I wised up and had to recognize these books are horrendous and having a bad influence on teens during my era. Teens were getting Aids from drinking each other’s blood literally, they were drinking someone’s blood literally. While they’re still popular main society’s attention has begun to wane.

Pop culture has an new interest in Sarah J. Maas’s series: Throne of Glass (ToG) and A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR). At one time I was part of the fan-base obsessed with her books. During a bleak period where every book I purchased ending up a dud despite strong premises; Maas’s first books, in both series, were a breath of fresh air. They had characters you found hysterical and enjoyed the story-lines (even though the storytelling was meh at times) and you couldn’t help anticipating future novels to see where the novels took these characters. Both series died for me at the books: Queen of Shadows and A Court of Mist and Fury.

These novels were my wake-up call to Maas’ manipulative storytelling patterns and her inconsistent characterizations. She completely morphs characters depending on the scenario. A noble, decent character is turned heinous to either add unnecessary drama or to make readers turn their affections towards another character Maas’ manipulates into becoming “the hero”- typically a love interest. Usually, the first-or second in TOG- love interests are noble characters with a few flaws but nothing to make readers despise them other than the fact they’re not the prettiest men in the series. Literally, readers adore the male characters that are otherworldly attractive than an average looking male who is humane and unproblematic. Problematic much? The message I’m receiving is you should fall in love with a pretty face rather than explore the person’s entire being (this includes past history, personality, characterization, etc).

People will say I’m petty because I’m annoyed Chaol and Tamlin did not remain the love interests. This is absolutely untrue. I’m annoyed Maas had to pull absolute garbage reasoning out of her ass to make the characters despicable.

Let’s start with Throne of Glass. Celaena (I refuse to call her Aelin because the name visually repulses me, it sounds like something Maas stole out of better high fantasy novels) realizes she doesn’t find Dorian compatible and finds Chaol more of an equal. Chaol has flaws but his main one seems to be he’s good-looking but only average in comparison to Dorian and Rowan- whose sex on legs apparently. Maas realizes people will deny Rowan as a love interest (after he gets into a punching match with Celaena) so she has to make Celaena despise Chaol and interact towards him with hostility despite her recognition Chaol had his reasoning's for certain events in previous novels. Then, Maas takes Chaol’s character, who is known for being awkward around women and loyal to a fault, and make him have one night stands, cheating on women, and apparently the scapegoat for everything that goes wrong because Celaena can’t own up she made mistakes. Nehemia also died to give Celaena that necessary push to go against the king but it’s entirely Chaol’s fault for Nehemia’s death since Celaena can do no wrong. Horseshit I say.

Dorian is not a match, Chaol is the bane of Celaena’s existence so Rowan is her champion. Gag. I actually liked Rowan in Heir of Fire but I found it repulsive how Celaena keeps throwing herself at him in Queen of Shadows and growing dependent on him. When she put him in a bath and started throwing her favorite shampoos in I found it to be the most awkward scene. It’s a moment someone with limited knowledge of sexual encounters would conjure up. “Let me give my love interest a bubble bath!” I’ve read these type of bath scenes in other novels but they’re more maturely done. Although I have to remember these books are written for teens. Then, they become mates. A contradicting setup because he had a mate in the past. But, no one is compatible unless they’re mates in Maas’ world. So, mates are stuck together and seem to have a servant/master relationship in certain portions of the stories. Yuck, just yuck.

Readers if you have to state someone is someone else’s mate so you’re aware they’re a thing then it’s probably not a healthy relationship since you’re staying they own that person in Maas’ world-building.

I’m going to stop while I’m ahead when writing about Rowan and Caelena because they repulse me. Buuuttt not to the same extent as Feyre and Rhysand. I absolutely despise these characters with every fiber of my being. This is one of the most unhealthiest relationships I’ve ever read. Before I jump into why they’re disgusting let me just say I love how everybody hopped on the Feyre adoration bandwagon only when she got into a relationship with Rhysand. Nobody liked her until she got.into.a.relationship.with.Rhysand. Wow!

Listen, I understand why Feyre couldn’t stay with Tamlin after what he did (ahem what Maas decided he should do). However contradictory Tamlin’s characterization was the relationship had turned unhealthy. Yetttt, no one batted an eye with Rhysand was giving Feyre date rape drugs, forcing her to give him lap dances making her sick when she came out of the haze, and her being entirely repulsed when he made-out with her. Plus, I read Rhysand as a gay or bi character when he was introduced. I think he would be a better character as a gay male seeking a friendship than their disgusting love story. He goes from giving her roofies and at least seeming like a morally gray character to Feyre’s champion. Yeah, not buying the bullshit.

I pity Tamlin’s character truly- he was butchered beyond recognition. He goes from allowing Feyre to wander to her heart’s extent- as long as she wasn’t in dangerous areas- to locking her up because he thought it made sense. He’s suddenly possessive of her in the most disgusting ways (but Rhysand isn’t possessive in the slightest even when he calls Feyre his “mate!”). All these details were added to make Rhys’ character more heroic. Rhys goes from being a somewhat tolerable character in his actions to a fucking messiah. Rhysand goes from roofie expert to whisking Feyre away for her own safety. Rhysand assists Feyre under the mountain unlike Tamlin! (Because the queen didn’t give a shit about Rhysand and he wasn’t under her radar to the extent as Tamlin). He loves reading stories with Feyre unlike Tamlin. (Hmm, Tamlin offers to teach Feyre to read which she stubbornly refuses because she’s independent but Rhysand forces her to learn and he’s romantic!). And gasp, Tamlin ended up being the one who murdered Rhysand’s family hence their animosity (hahahaha how desperate are you Maas, I mean seriously how pathetic). Feyre, just like Caelena, was forced into this relationship with another abuser painted as a hero in storytelling. Rhysand and Rowan are constructed into heroes to make their disgusting actions justifiable in comparison to Chaol and Tamlin’s ruined characters.

I’m mostly focused on the main relationships since that’s all I keep hearing about. Changing subjects briefly, Maas’ does not acknowledge PoC or LGBTQIA unless readers are pointing out lack of representation. If they’re introduced you’re guaranteed either they die to promote the white lead’s agenda or forced to become a villain. What kind of statement does that make, Maas???? Also, her world-building is beyond odd. Random characters get introduced in weird scenarios that she has to force into the story-line just for sprucing purposes (Manon and the 12 and the 12 princesses from Earth or whatever). Really, what were the purposes of these characters???? And these kingdoms are written so bad. One realm has everyone wearing Renaissance era clothing while the next realm has people dressing hipster I mean wtf?

The reason for my rant is that I needed to get it out of my system. Lately, I cannot get away from these garbage novels. I’m on my Kindle the books are recommended. I’m on Goodreads her books are recommended and keep winning Book of the Year despite better novels being on the same list. I go on Facebook someone mentions deciding to give the series a spin under quarantine. I’m on tumblr (if you’re a fan then that’s fine, enjoy what you love) and artwork keeps popping up. I love it’s typically Feyre giving Rhysand lap-dances in the earlier part of the series where she’s desolate and sicken by these moments. People are quite forgetful when they want to ignore something in order to make Rhysand babe. I wish I knew how to block anything Sarah J Maas on here because I’m trying to escape. I want to read other authors’ novels and not have Maas’ smug face pop up on my recommendation lists. (Her books are on every list on Goodreads- every freaking list!) Hopefully, when quarantine ends the hype will quiet again but I’m getting ticked off here.

Just had to get it off my chest. I’ll probably go back to quietly ignoring the recommendations and artwork but I’m having a moment here.

[atelier-kristel]

5 THINGS TO CONSIDER WHEN PRICING YOUR ARTWORK

When it comes to placing a monetary value on your work that you had spent considerable time and effort on, it is quite understandable to face an internal battle. The price becomes a matter of self-esteem, self-worth and what the market is willing to pay. It is a delicate dance in which a balance must be found for all the factors involved and also having your work valued for the amount that it rightfully deserves.

To help you simplify this arduous process, I present you with 5 things that you need to consider when putting a price on your effortful creations.

THE COST

Just like pricing anything, it is imperative to take into account the cost of producing that particular item. This cost could be of the materials that were used, the rent of the space in which it was created in and the time that was spent in its production. All are things that need to be factored into when setting the baseline of how much one should pay to acquire one of your pieces.

WHAT DOES YOUR CLIENTELE SAY?

This is a consideration that needs to be made when approached for a commission or when you have a dedicated clientele who are always interested in purchasing your work. You can get an understanding of how much your clients are willing to pay and make adjustments to your prices accordingly. In case of a commission, based on the amount of work that is required for the artwork and what the client is asking for, you can set a price that will be suitable for your efforts.

WHAT DOES THE MARKET SAY?

The art market can be temperamental at times and as a working artist, it is imperative to have a finger on the pulse of what the demand and supply is. Finding the perfect balance of what you offer in terms of art and what the market is willing to pay is a skill that requires practice and being up to date with the market trends. This can be done by reading art trade journals and publications on a frequent basis, to avoid getting out of touch. With this knowledge, you can factor in the market and its changes in your pricing strategy.

YOUR EXPECTATIONS

As artists, we have certain expectations on the return that we will get for our work. These expectations are a product of our perceived efforts in producing that artwork, our self-esteem and the sentimental value that we have placed on a particular piece. In order to be somewhat satisfied with what we have priced our work at, we have to take into account of our expectations and what we think our work deserves. It is never a good idea to under value your work just to secure a sale, as this not only chips at your self-worth but also harms your market credibility.

YOUR DEPENDENCY ON THE ART SALES

Your art can be a fulltime job or a side business that produces a supplementary income for you to benefit from. Both of these scenarios can lead to different pricing motivations that also influence the amount of art you produce. If you are completely reliant on your art for a living, you are compelled to compromise on your price to secure a sale and will have to produce a higher volume of artwork in order to build on your income as an artist. However, these pressures are bypassed when your art is more of a passion project that produces a side income as a bonus. Therefore, you need to consider how much you rely on the proceeds of your sales as an income when setting a price to cover your living expenses.

With all of these factors considered, we should be able to come to a price for our artwork that reflects what we feel our art is worth and also complements what the position of the art market is. We should always remember; our pricing is only justified when it is done based on facts instead of feelings.

Visit us on: atelierkristel.com 

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 25: AMJ #2.1

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Just like the first issue, I’m going to go through the issue page by page.

Believe it or not. the problems literally start on the recap page.

For starters check out this line:

....and staffed with outsiders (like MJ) whenever possible...

This is incredibly odd as it seemingly contradicts what issue #1 established.

I say seemingly because it depends upon how you define ‘outsiders’. Outside of what exactly?

The Hollywood system?

Traditional film or TV circles?

By those metrics the inclusion of so many criminals and former felons could fit the bill.

However, the recap lists Mary Jane as an example of such ‘outsiders’, which muddies the waters.

I suppose from a certain point of view she might be called an outsider but in context it doesn’t seem an appropriate descriptor at all.

Mary Jane has  acting credits. She’s worked on Hollywood films before. She’s worked in TV before. She’s worked on stage before.

Alright, she’s not exactly Scarlett Johansson, but she’s not really an outsider.

More poignantly, the recap seems to be implying that MJ was included specifically because of her alleged outsider status. Putting aside how MJ isn’t really an outsider, this just doesn’t add up.

As detailed in parts 5-6, we the audience know  that MJ’s inclusion is either due to:

Mysterio knowing about her connection to Spidey or

Kindred ordered Beck to include her.

The latter is the more likely answer. But even if it wasn’t the implication here is that Mysterio always wanted Mary Jane in his movie.

This is imbecilic of him because he is aware of her connection to Spider-Man!

Beck could be viewed as an obsessive and an egomaniac, but he’s not an idiot. If anything he is dangerously cunning. If he really just wanted an outsider actress with talent he’d have endless options other than Mary Jane to pick from.

Regardless of your feelings on the matter, the reality within Hollywood is that actors are a dime a dozen.

If Beck knows who Spidey is and therefore knows about MJ’s connection to him, he must have a specific reason  for hiring her. He must have a particular need to keep her on set as he practically begged her to do in issue #1; a fact acknowledged in the recap itself. In fact in ASM v5 #25 Beck personally sought out Mary Jane’s former  agent in order to get her into the movie. He didn’t look at a pool of actors and cast someone. He was incredibly specific.

Based upon the information we’ve been given, MJ’s connection to Spidey is the only explanation for all this. So what the Hell is this nonsense about her being an outsider? If he wanted an outsider why did he personally seek out  Mary Jane?

I’m sorry, I can’t give the benefit of the doubt on this front. This is a clear cut example of incompetence. Either Williams and/or her editors weren’t paying attention to prior stories (including the first issue!) or they were and didn’t care.

Regardless it’s bad.

Moving on, we then have Cage McKnight referred to as a “superstar director”.

Wasn’t Cage supposed to be an indie director? Call me nuts but a ‘superstar director’ is surely someone like Spielberg or Ryan Coogler. An indie director is by definition not a superstar. It also further contradicts ASM v5 #29’s claims about McKnight harder to reconcile. In that issue McKnight was supposed to be a new and fairly unknown director.

But I’ll let all that pass because he could be a super star on the indie scene.

Additionally, the recap in general fails to acknowledge the presence of criminals on set. They are simply referred to as outsiders and people who were on their ‘last hope of making something meaningful’. This totally obscures the reality of the situation and paints it as a lot less dangerous or irresponsible.

We then come to the most damning line in the entire recap.

MJ agreed to keep Quentin’s secret—even from Peter/Spider-Man.

That literally never happened in issue #1.

There was never a moment MJ agreed  to keep Mysterio’s secret from Peter. Sure, we never saw her tell him the truth. But the story never highlighted the fact she was knowingly withholding information from him. She was incredibly casual about the film project and showed no signs of apprehension about lying to her partner.

It’s not even that Williams was being incredibly subtle. The first issue simply failed to ever acknowledge the fact that MJ was lying to Peter; she just did it!

More significantly the implication is that MJ is keeping this secret from Peter specifically because she’s sympathetic to Mysterio and his crew’s desire to make something meaningful. So I guess Williams is maintaining the mischaracterization from last issue huh? See prior instalments for why lying to Peter, sympathising with Beck and trusting him is OOC for Mary Jane.

Honestly, how would Matt Murdock feel about MJ letting Mysterio tell his magnum opus before he dies? The last time he was dying and decided he needed a magnum opus his girlfriend died!

Surely Karen or Gwyneth or any of the other innocent people Beck killed wanted the chance to do something meaningful with their lives too?

Why should Beck be afforded such an opportunity when he denied similar chances to people far more deserving?

Now granted this is just the recap page but the importance of a recap page is not to be underestimated.

Every comic is someone’s first, Stan Lee himself said that.

Recap pages are important as they give new readers the opportunity to jump on ship and thereby hopefully buoy up the sales as they naturally decline from issue #1 onwards.

Speaking from experience here, growing up my UK Marvel reprints had fairly detailed recap pages that provided enough context for me to pick up basically any issue and generally understand what was going on.

Having the recap contradict the actual story is misinforming and can thereby create a false impression of the work. Screwing it up is also just a bad sign for the rest of the comic. That’s particularly true when it’s providing details that weren’t actually present in the stories it is recapping.

Anyway, as we get into the story proper, we see MJ performing a scene from the movie.

I am not exactly sure if Williams is trying to make some commentary on Mary Jane here.

The dialogue her character says could be interpreted as commenting upon MJ’s growth as a character, on how she grew more capable of defending herself. Of how as she grew older she realised the real dangers in life were human beings not childish imaginings of monsters.

The main reason I suspect this might’ve been meant as commentary is that the dialogue specifically pints out how people wear masks to hide their true natures.

Masks are a recurrent theme in the Spider-Man mythos and particularly prevalent with MJ’s character.

If this was Williams intent it demonstrates a certain understanding of Spider-lore and of MJ that’s been woefully been lacking for most of the 2010s.

And one could justifiable argue the dialogue about how she grew stronger and more capable of defending herself is supported by her evolution over time. MJ never underwent a clear cut arc where she became more capable of defending herself. She was basically just shown to have bravery, common sense and resourcefulness. The frequent dangerous encounters she endured afforded her chances to put those skills into practice thus she got better at it, but she didn’t undergo active training towards that end like Batman.

Furthermore the dialogue can be argued to be talking about Mysterio as well, specifically the lines about monsters hiding behind pleasant masks. This is applicable to Mysterio’s masquerade as Cage McKnight.

However the comparison (if intentional at all) breaks down in two key areas.

The dialogue implies ‘Mary Jane’ learned that humans are the real monsters in life as she grew older. This is patently not true as MJ’s father was frequently abusive even when MJ was a baby.

This was the norm for Mary Jane’s entire childhood and she herself created a mask of her own to cope with it.

ASM #259

It was even implied MJ suspected Peter of being a ‘monster’ like her father precisely because she knew he hid the truth of himself.

So MJ would’ve been acutely aware that people can be monsters and use masks to hide this fact.

The second way the comparison breaks down regards Mysterio. If we accept that the dialogue is commentating upon Mysterio then it’s Williams acknowledging that Mysterio is  a monster in disguise. This in turn throws her characterization of MJ into question. It implies Williams is knowingly writing Mary Jane as an idiot and out of character. It also doesn’t jive with his sympathetic portrayal in issue #1; nor in fact in this issue as we’ll see.

Of course all of that is hypothetical. I fully admit I might be reading more into this than was intended. Williams could’ve just thought this dialogue seemed cool and that was all.

I should also briefly discuss the artwork. In issue #1 I critiqued it because at times it made the intent ambiguous. In fairness that might be more down to Williams or the editors as opposed to Gomez. I suspect it will become a problem that will crop up moving forward. Nevertheless, it doesn’t detract for the utterly gorgeous aesthetic of his artwork.

With all that’s said let’s get back to the story.

MJ’s scene is interrupted when ‘Cage’ realises a pair of men are removing the wind machine. Actually, they’re removing several pieces of equipment the crew were renting. Mallorie, ‘Cage’s’ right-hand woman (sorry I don’t know Hollywood lingo), snatches a small piece of equipment and makes a point of withholding it from the men. MJ begins to ask what’s going on, turning on some of the charm for one of the men (named Noah).

‘Cage’ though is far less polite, demanding Noah’s attention. He warns him that, once Hollywood hears of this situation, he’ll struggle to find future work. Noah angrily retorts that ‘Cage’ hasn’t paid his rental fees in weeks, a fact confirmed when he checks his phone.

There are a few things to unpack from these pages, most of which further confirms topics we’ve already touched on.

For starters, we could argue Beck’s rudeness and threat exemplifies the danger he poses. Not just because he is a violent man, but also because he is seeking to ruin an innocent man’s business. This is something he could theoretically use McKnight’s reputation to achieve even more effectively.

Admittedly, that’s a little nit-picky.

Beck in Cage’s role here didn’t act unreasonably. He’s a bad person but even a good person could be forgiven or at least understood in this situation.

The real Cage McKnight may well be miffed at his equipment being removed and the lack of professionalism. That wouldn’t necessarily be grounds for Noah’s business to be harmed either if he was genuinely being unprofessional. Not to mention, we could easily give Beck the benefit of the doubt and say his threat was simply a bargaining tactic to get what he wants.

However, what’s less forgivable is Beck’s carelessness.

In the grand scheme of his history, failing to check his phone or pay some bills is hardly his worse crime. But it is endemic of a larger issue. Beck has never made a real movie before, not as the director anyway. The closest he’s ever come are his crimes, which granted would demand certain similar skills. However, he pulled off those crimes with little concern for any henchmen he involved nor any legal or financial obligations. He funded his crimes through other crimes. He viewed his helpers as disposable. And as for breaking the law, that obviously wasn’t going to bother him.

In this story Beck has dozens of people who’s jobs (and possibly their careers) ride on his decisions. The narrative has even painted him as genuinely wanting to help them. And yet he has failed as an incredibly basic responsibility. He hasn’t even considered delegated that task to someone else. It’s exemplary of selfishness at worst, and poor leadership at best.

I’m not trying to argue any of this is out of character for Mysterio. Rather, it’s the implications of this within the status quo that are concerning.

On to of everything else, Mary Jane has decided to go along with Beck’s passion project without considering if he’s even qualified for the job. Creative vision isn’t enough, you need basic competency as well. You need to know how and who to delegate stuff to if it’s not your forte or not what you are interested in.

It’s also further exemplifies the potential damage Beck can bring to the real McKnight’s reputation. If word of this gets out suddenly McKnight at best might be regarded as rude, at worst a poor leader and incompetent. Incompetent with money no less, which (above anything else) is likely to paint him poorly in the eyes of the Hollywood power players.

This misuse of Cage’s reputation continues into the next page where Beck outright throws McKnight’s name around. He claims there has been a mistake because his movie was given a generous budget. Mary Jane tries to calm the situation down and sits in one of the fold out chairs. Her plan is to prevent the men from removing it off the set, a scheme Mallorie (literally) adds some weight to.

In spite of ‘Cage’s’ borderline verbal abuse, Noah expresses respect for Cage and the film project, suggesting he talk to the money people.

By rights MJ in observing this entire scene should be much more sceptical of Beck. At the very least she should wonder if she’s made the right decision in helping him. SPOILERS: She won’t.

What she does do though, is use her charm/social savvy to defuse situations and keep Mysterio under control. This is clearly part of the direction Williams wants to take the series in. In fact it’s the central conceit of this entire issue.

On this front Williams does a superb job. No seriously, I might hate this status quo. I might loathe the mischaracterization facilitating it. I might despise the contrivance that keeps it going. But it’s stuff like this where Williams once more displays a deftness with MJ’s character.

She understands  that Mary Jane possesses superb social skills that can serve as a form of ‘super power’ within certain contexts. Williams has (clumsily) generated one such context and thus allowed MJ to shine. You could genuinely cite or post this scene to exemplify some of the strengths of Mary Jane’s character. If you want a Spider-Man comparison, it’s a little like citing Otto injuring Scorpion from ASM #700 as an example of Peter’s raw power. How we got to that moment was nonsensical but unto itself it is a great example of a singular aspect of the character.

Another example occurs when MJ prompts ‘Cage’ to seek out more money for the film.

This moment demonstrates MJ’s practicality and determination. It’s just a shame that display entails her helping a criminal and suggesting they con yet more people!

The next page is a montage of just that, with Hollywood money people turning them down. ‘Cage’ reacts by angrily flipping tables. In contrast MJ calmly and politely tries to inject some positivity into the meetings.

Williams again does a great job of showing MJ’s personality. She keeps in control and is a great people person. She is practical and knows how to help Mysterio get stuff done.

But take note of ‘Cage’s’ misbehaviour in front of the money people. This opens up the possibility of him being dangerous and unstable, therefore a liability if left unchecked. Were this an exception to the rule or extenuating circumstances, that’d perhaps be understandable. But Mysterio, whilst not exactly defined by his rage, is  a violent person. He has inflicted physical and mental harm/abuse to people. And his bouts of bad behaviour are likely to negatively impact the real McKnight’s chances of working with any of these people in the future.

I’ll leave it there for now. We’ll pick up where we left off last time.

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[thearkhound]

Drama CD Metal Gear Solid interviews

The following is a series of interviews that were published in the booklets for the Drama CD Metal Gear Solid series. The booklet for Vol. 1 contains an interview with Hideo Kojima himself, while Vol. 2 contains interview with Motosada Mori (the series’s military advisor, who served as the audio drama’s screenwriter as well) and illustrator Yoji Shinkawa. The scripts for the Metal Gear Solid radio drama has been translated for quite a long time now, but the interviews have not until now.

The Metal Gear Solid radio drama is a non-canonical continuation of the game in which Solid Snake, Meryl Silverburgh, Roy Campbell and Mei-Ling continue working for the U.S. military following the events of the Shadow Moses island takeover as they become involved in new missions set in various conflict zones. You can read a translated transcripts on the following links: Vol. 1 and Vol. 2.

Hideo Kojima

It seems that the story for the Drama CD is set after the events of the game itself.

Don’t think about it too deeply. (laughs) That was my biggest concern when it came to discuss the radio drama. There are quite a few inconsistencies if you think about it seriously. More importantly, I don’t think they [the main characters] would be willing to return to the battlefield after the ending of the game. You’re better off thinking of this audio drama as an alternate story using the same characters.

Mr. Motosada Mori, who worked on the game as a military advisor, seems to had been in charge of writing the script this time...

Originally I was told to write it myself but I wasn’t able to due to various circumstances. So when it came on deciding a writer, it had to be someone who was not only be knowledgeable of the Metal Gear universe, but also be familiar with military and world affairs, as well as firearms... I was wondering if there was such a worthy candidate. Not only does Mr. Mori has the expertise and experience, but he is also a published author. On top of that, he provided entertainment advice on the game itself, so I was confident to assign the job to him. At first I wanted Mr. Mori to employ his own unique gimmick and we thought a lot of what he could add to the script. But then the amount of technical terms he added to the script became too much for the average listener to understand, so we ended up reducing them. (laughs)

By the way, the character of Allen Iishiba was based on someone we knew... When we went to the United States for research, we were able to observe a tank in person thanks to a friend of Mr. Mori in the U.S. Army, so he became the inspiration for that character. [Translator’s note: The person in particular is Tomoaki Iishiba, who is credited as one of the military advisors alongside a Michael Allen.]

Were there any difficulties when it came to the difference in expression between a videogame and an audio-only CD?

Perhaps this is the fate of videogames as a medium, but there is a chance that if you only hear a line of dialogue once, you might not understand it the first time, so we have to repeat things like a parrot during conversations. [Translator’s note: This is why most conversations in the MGS series end with Snake repeating what the other person said in the form of a question] As a result, we end up writing dialogue that would seem out of place in a normal conversation. We had no choice but to write like that in order to make the game easier to understand, but because this is purely an audio drama this time, it covers more acoustics than the game itself. Therefore, the difference between the mediums was not a problem at all.

Finally, can you give us any last words?

I think that the Drama CD will depict a lot of things that could not be done in a videogame. Give Mr. Mori my regards. (laughs)

Motosada Mori

You worked as a military advisor in the original Metal Gear Solid game, but this time you’re writing the screenplay...

I actually played Policenauts when it was first released, so my feelings are rather complicated. I became a fan of Kojima because of Policenauts. While observing the game’s development process, I thought many times about how it would be like to be one of the players anticipating its release. Putting it in another way, I might be wondering if it was going to be a good game and I would wish to play it without knowing anything about it... (laughs) If there is ever a next game, I want to be just a player.

This time you’re working on an audio drama. Did that present any difficulties?

How to depict the world of Metal Gear without the use of visuals? That was the biggest challenge. Moreover, whether you’re listening to just one episode or the one that comes after, you have to write them like a single storyline. On top of that, I intended to write a drama that would appeal to both, people who played the original game and those that didn’t. Nonetheless, it was difficult. Writing the screenplay was an everyday hell. Basically, the story takes place after the events of the game, but like Mr. Kojima said, writing a story that follows the ending of that game was the best opportunity to show off my skills. To what extend can you demonstrate a unique worldview? The results is a kind of progression that proceeds from the video game to the audio drama and vice-versa.

Were there any instances where you based the story or characters on your experience?

Most of the incidents, including the characters who appear in it, are fictional, but some of it is partly based on my own experiences. For example, is it possible to distinguish between good and evil on the battlefield? The characters in this story, like Schultz, Cortez and Ivanovich, all act in their own interests, believe in themselves and try to justify their means. It’s a rule that doesn’t work at all on a normal society, but somehow you can get away with on the battlefield. Those with power seize everything. This is a drama about tragic men who were drunk on a power struggle and were conversely swallowed into it.

Finally, can you give us a few last words?

Enjoy this audio drama and let us know what you think! I want to make the best use [of your feedback] next time... Will there be even be a next time, Mr. Kojima?

Yoji Shinkawa

There are many characters being drawn for the first time for the Drama CD. What kind of mood do you usually have when you design a character?

My creation method varies depending on the character. For Allen Iishiba... well, he was modeled after a real person. (laughs) He was actually a gentle guy, but he became a bit scary in the artwork that I drew. 

For Sergei Ivanovich, I originally drew him as an older man in his 50s or 60s, but then Mr. Kojima requested him to be “a younger and cooler type.” When I asked him what kind of feeling he wanted from the character, he answered “someone like Tony Redwood [a character from Policenauts].” I then drew him younger, but he still didn’t stand out, so I wanted him to hold a small arm. I asked Mr. Mori if it was alright if he was holding a knife and he answered that was fine. It’s the same feeling I had when working with Mr. Kojima.

The image of Marc Cortez was that of a brave soldier with a decisive military history. However, since he is a character of questionable allegiance, I gave him a hat that obscured his eyes in order to make him look very suspicious. Maybe it’s just like Roy Campbell and his beret or Master Miller and his sunglasses. Can you recognize a character with just that [an accessory] alone?

The familiar characters from the original game all appear in new outfits here too. Especially Meryl Silverburgh, who looks cool in her sneaking suit!

After the Metal Gear Solid game finished development, I wanted to have [Meryl wear the sneaking suit] and did a drawing. It felt quite right, so I asked Mr. Mori about it. She’s armed with just a single Desert Eagle pistol, so she would need the infinite ammo bandanna to match Solid Snake... (laughs). Just kidding about that. I wanted Meryl to be depicted much closer to her namesake from Policenauts.

Speaking of weapons, there’s seems to be quite an elaboration on them in this Drama CD...

That’s right! Even the AKM assault rifles wielded by the bad guys was chosen by Mr. Mori. I’m pretty sure it was his choice. I always think of the visuals first in my case. We had a few meetings before producing the Drama CD and I was surprised when they brought in an AKM without any prior announcement, as it was very different from how I was imagining it. But it was fun to collect reference materials. I was grinning while drawing them.

[crystalwillow]

Choices – Stories You Play Merch. A Review

I was talking with a friend about the merch that Pixelberry Studios have recently released, for their stories on the Choices app. That conversation got me expressing how I feel about the merch, and one feeling that seemed mutual was that it seems very rushed. Let me explain why.

I personally feel there is too much High School Story and The Royal Romance stuff on the first launch when it could have been more diverse and included all of the books in some way.

The Apparel (T-shirts) – The designs themselves are okay. What I feel iffy about here is the colour selections, for each design.

·         Liam & Drake & Hana & Maxwell Shirt – With this shirt you get an option of two colours, but they are both shades of blue. Royal blue and Light blue.

·         TRR Logo/Title Shirt – This only comes in one colour. Navy blue.

·         Corgi Shirt – This is only currently available in one colour as well, which is red.

·         TRR Book 3 Cover Shirt – Only available in a deep purple right now.

·         TC&TF Title and character names Shirt – There are currently 2 t-shirts for The Crown & The Flame on the website right now. The title logo and one that reads ‘Kenna & Don & Val & Raydan’. Both of these shirts only currently available in red.

·         HSS Shirt #1 – Again there are two colour options with this design. Red and Kelly (A green colour.)

·         HHS Shirt #2 – This shirt has the cover of the first high school story book on it and comes in 2 colours again. This time a muted, sort of mustardy yellow colour and heather mint, a pastel green.

·         AME Shirt – This comes with the cover of the first book printed on it and is currently only available in a light blue colour

·         The Elementalists Shirts – The first shirt has the books title with the attunement symbols underneath printed across the chest. This one is available in purple with white text or grey with black text. The 2nd shirt for this book however is only available in purple and has the cover of the first book printed on the front.

·         BB Shirt: Has the cover of the first book in it’s series printed on the chest area and is only available in red.

·         Pixelberry Shirt – This shirt comes with the Pixelberry logo printed on the chest and is available in black or heather mint (pastel green.)

·         “Don’t Talk To Me” Shirt – Again is available in just 2 different shades of blue. Navy or Light.

·         Desire & Decorum Shirt – Is basically the title of the book printed onto either a grey shirt with black text or a royal type of blue shirt with white text.

·         Choices Shirt #1 – is the choices logo w/ wording printed across the chest in white text on a blue shirt.

·         Choices Shirt #2 – Is just the book logo of the app printed again, on the chest on the shirt in black.

So as you can probably tell by now,  the colour choice here is very poor. You have 1 black t-shirt option for 15 shirts. The main colours are Blue, Purple, Red, Green and Yellow. So if you dislike these colours or they don’t suit your skin tone and you’re a fan of these books wanting a shirt, you won’t be able to get one just yet. You will be waiting until possible future upgrades to their store. But I will digress as we move onto the next section of the store, where we will start with...

 Phone Cases

Personally, I feel like there is quite a bit that could change here. When a new merch launch happens, it is expected for there to be limited designs. Especially when you ae launching multiple items at once in your first launch. In the phone case section you have 8 case designs to choose from.

·         1 x BloodBound

·         2 X Blades of Light & Shadow

·         TRR Corgi

·         TF Zig jersey No.

·         HSS

·         2 x Pixelberry designs

To my personal self, 7/8 of the designs are okay. I’m not satisfied with the bloodbound phone case. Adrian Raines, is a customizable Love Interest (Li) in the book, yet the only version of the art for the case that is available is that of the white version of him. What about those players who customized him to be Hispanic or Black? They’re being sh*t on again by not having the option to have the artwork for those two versions of Adrian, that PB already have, on the case. That case is literally just for white Adrian fans.

Coffee Mugs

Again, with this product there are 8 options. They are as follows.

·         Open Heart, Edenbrook Logo

·         BloodBound

·         TRR Cordonian Apple

·         2 x The Freshman

·         3 x HHS

I feel like by this point things are getting a little repetitive. I understand that TF, HSS & TRR are some of their first projects and they want to cater to the people/fans who were there for that and may want merch for those series but there is such a thing as over catering, to certain things. As it stands today Pixelberry Studios have 45 series for their platform, 5 of which are not yet released. So far in the store, we’ve been in 3 sections where there’s been 15 shirts, 8 phone cases and 8 mugs. Yet only 10 series have been made into some form of merchandise so far. Now yes, I understand not ALL the shirts are series from the platform there is some standard PB merch included there and with the phone cases but that doesn’t take away from the fact the series/books such as Hero and Most Wanted could also have been put onto some for of merch too.

Water Bottles

With the water bottles you only get 6 designs.

·         1 x BloodBound design

·         Liam & Drake & Hana & Maxell design

·         HSS Notebook design

·         Hartfeld logo

·         PB Studios design

·         HSS Crest design

I haven’t got much critique for this product, except there could be 2 more designs of series that have not yet been made into merch as they are mainly just the title logo on an aluminium bottle with a screw top lid.

Pin Buttons/Badges & Stickers

All these products come individually and all retail for 3.99 apiece. There are currently 26 pin buttons and 6 stickers on the site. I want to just say that this. These sections could have been made so much better if PB would have brought out packs, for each series instead of doing it separately. Also in the BloodBound series there are 2 Li’s that later became members of the council. Whether it was officially done or not. They were part of the council by the end of the series, yet they don’t get their brands or sector logos on a pin badge like the rest of the council members did in this merch launch. That is just wrong and should have been done without a second thought from the merch teams on PB’s end, when talking about this concept for pin buttons. As far as stickers are concerned? The selection is poor. You have the 3 familiars from The Elementalists, Threep the Nesper from Blades of Light and Shadow, a Cordonian apple and Maxwell Beaumont’s hippo tattoo. Again, if packs had been made with all the characters, including the characters that are customizable in ethnicity, and retailed at around the 10.99-12.99 mark, depending on how many characters are in the pack, then it would have been a better investment. Of course some series only have 2-5/6 main characters and hardly any consistent side characters that are relevant to the stories plot so you could either add all the characters wearing different expressions and a group sticker and retail the packs for the same price as those with loads more characters or just retail them for half the price, only putting one of each character in wearing one expression.

Posters

These posters come in 3 different sizes/measurements. 8x10in, 12x16in and 18x24in. There are currently 8 of them in the store after the first initial launch of the merch store.

· ��       TC & TF Poster, Signed by the PB Team. This one if 15.99 for that reason

The other 7 all retail at 10.99 as they are not signed. Which begs the question in my mind of “How are they justified 5 for some signatures?” Anyway the other posters are,

·         The Elementalists 1 & 2 Book Covers

·         Open Heart 1 Book Cover

·         The Freshman 3 Book Cover

·         BloodBound 1 Book Cover

·         The Royal Romance 1 & 3 Book Covers

So now you’re probably wondering, “What’s wrong with that?” well let me tell where I kind of have an issue with this. Yes, there is a selection but it’s very limited. They have 30+ book covers to have chosen from and they choose 8 which they already have some kind of merchandise for. They could have chosen to do a Hero or Most Wanted signed poster and then which ever they didn’t choose to do put that on in as part of the 7 unsigned posters along with other posters of book covers such as A Courtesan of Rome, Endless Summer, The Haunting of Braidwood Manor etc. and then put in 2 newer book cover posters.

After reading all of this in full, some of you are probably thinking that I’ve been way too harsh here because you have to think of cost of making the products and then the amount shipping out all the orders will cost that don’t have free shipping attached to them. But I am fully aware there is so much more that goes into making merchandise than just putting the final product out there. I just feel like this was very rushed and not given the proper thought and attention it needed and deserved, some of the examples would be the colour range with the t-shirts, it’s very limited. Again with the coffee mug and water bottle designs, they are good but some different titles other than HSS & TF could have been used and the poster like I explained at the end of the paragraph for that section, could have had different book covers chosen for them. Now this is not me saying to hate the merch and not buy it and protest about it, starting arguments online over it. I’m not doing that at all. This is simply just my review of things after I took a first look at the website and found myself disappointed in the range of book diversity there is here. I get that money is an aspect that has to be thought of here, I get that they would go broke if they were to do certain things and the app, stories, all of that would stop. But yet again, it comes back to the point of things getting repetitive. The only section BloodBound is not included in, is the stickers. It’s in every other section. Same for a couple of other book titles. They have some amazing books, who’s titles they could have made into merch but for some reason they chose not to. Whether that’s because they thought it “wouldn’t sell” to which I say what the heck?! Are you serious?? There are people who are fans of just one certain book and would most likely buy that merch if they’re to hear about the merch shop somehow. Ultimately, I just feel like this store was a rush job. And like my friend said a way for them to make more money, as it looks like hardly any deep thought process went into this at all. Just like with their books, there was so much potential here, but it wasn’t met. I don’t know I honestly just think that if more thought, time and effort was put into this, then It would have been so much better. For example like I mentioned, if they had added Jax Matsuo and Lily Spencer pin buttons and made the pin buttons and sticker into packs and done 10 books for pin buttons as packs and 6 books for sticker packs, that would have been a better marketing viewpoint to approach from.

I would like to end this by saying, even though by my review it may seem like I hate the merch store for choices, I don’t. I just dislike certain parts of it and can see where there is potential for there to be so much more done with it. I really don’t know though... I guess I do just feel upset with the lack of book diversity on the store when really, they already have the resources to make merch with different book titles from everything they’ve released over the past, almost 4 years now.

[haleviyah]

“Lion” Doesn’t Literally mean ‘a lion’

I debated wether to share this or not but I gotta take a leap of faith, let’s see how you guys do:

Bit of a Bible-tip, guys. Whenever “lion” is mentioned, it doesn’t literally mean an actual species of the panther family with a thick mane on their necks, native to the savannah biome. We need to remember that the Scritputre is written in a context that those in Middle East can understand; the West however needs to learn how to treat these alien messages almost like poetry - an artwork - rather than a novel. According to the Middle Eastern culture - Jew or Arab or other - lions play a significant role when describing people of authority. Therefore, what the Scripture really means by “lion” is a symbolic description of someone who is authoritative; someone who doesn’t take advantage of their authority and knows their place. Like a lion in the wild.

So let’s use an example to help you guys plug this in: the Lion’s Den in the Book of Daniel.

It’s common for this story to be taken as a literal den full of lions for a lot of reasons. One of which is because people just read the words (like a regular book) and with a lazy motive don’t bother to look at the context. Do keep in mind that Daniel has a gift of using symbology to better describe his visions and experiences so that audience can empathise his perspective - which is also Messiah’s perspective. Think of the same techniques that the artistic masters of the Renaissance used. That will help. Also, you need to be liberal on conservative religious doctrines in order to understand this book, as well as taking to heart Jewish eschatology and Middle Eastern cultures.

So let’s plug in what we learned about the “lion” into this account: in summary it’s not a literal den of lions, we’re actually talking about men - human beings - of authority here. No animals are involved with this scenario. I won’t go into further detail but I will say this: these guys had authority, they recognised their place, but they were brutal with interrogation. They were willing to go as far as torturing you until you crack - no, BREAK literally for you to admit the truth. Their brand of torture is way worse than what you hear about GTMO.

Daniel wasn’t surrounded by big cats, he was surrounded by these security-apparatus type of men, that had nothing against Daniel personally, but were doing their job to ensure security for Babylon, even if it costs Daniel’s life. They honestly were not sure if Daniel was an enemy of the state or not! They were just doing their job - there’s no real villain or hero in this scenario. If these men were villains like one would portray, they wouldn’t have stopped and let Daniel go. The only reason why Daniel walked out unscathed is because he was consistent with the Truth - not because the angel saved him or because he was a special snowflake or accepted Jesus before He even existed.

Daniel upheld the Truth, he remained consistent, even in the midst of brutal interrogation and torture that would threaten his life. He was genuine with the Truth, that’s why he was let go.

Now that we plugged that in, imagine what the title “Lion of Judah” really means. Or other instances you find the lion involved like in visions of prophets, psalms, and revelations. Imagine how much you’d uncover, with this one little aspect. You’d be looking at novels upon novels of revelation.

And mind you, Christians didn’t give me this revelation.

Empathising the Jews and Middle Eastern culture did. And it takes a weight of your shoulders now that you get a more clear picture of what happened. It takes more weight off knowing how God really is as a person and how He operates.

We have been taught that Daniel was like a supernatural super hero - like Klark Kent - who could tame beasts. But that’s not who he was. This false portrayal may have fascinated us, but it also discouraged us into believing that people like Daniel couldn’t come back. That doing what Daniel did, is impossible. But let me ask you, now that you now the real narrative - even just a portion for the time being - does that encourage you that you can be equal if not greater than Daniel? Does it encourage you that the Bible is more relatable than you think? Or that it’s more down to earth than you were taught? Does that encourage you that you can keep that same level consistency especially now that you are in Messiah?

Is it even relieving that you don’t have to forcibly do something dire or extreme to justify or prove your faith to others?

You cannot understand God by being conservative, I learned that the hard way. Doing so does make you go mad with condemnation in some parts, and other parts it kills the intimate talks you have with Him. I mean this with a genuine heart: You have to be ideologically liberal to understand the contextual language God Himself is speaking. There are times you have to get creative, and think outside the box. Meaning that no influence of religion should be involved, otherwise you’re stuck with same old story of Daniel having a sleepover with a bunch of kitty-cats and an angel declaring “party’s over” in the end.

So remember kids: “lion” in biblical context doesn’t literally mean a cat. And if you want to learn more... Talk with Him.

[shermandelux-blog]

HOW TO NEVER EVER OFFEND ANYONE ONLINE...EVER!!!

***spoiler alert....it's not possible!! so HERE's what to do when the internet  TURNS ON YOU!

So I'm walking out the front door of the brewery the other day and there at the bar was great friend and fellow brewery owner from down the block Damon Moreau of Common Crown Brewery. "How's it going buddy?" I blurt out, happy as always to see fellow brewers in our taproom. The somewhat fatigued look on his face said everything but yet he replied "Well our new beer just launched and social media is EXPLODING right now!!" Well, that's GREAT news I begin to attempt to congratulate him but he stops me in my tracks with a "yeah but NOT in a good way!" The reaction to the name "Cherry Karen Sour” hit fast and hit hard.  Some people were clearly offended by the use of the Karen meme on their cans and accusations of ignorance and racism began to fly. 

From my viewpoint, I thought it was a clever play on a sour beer being named after a sour personality. I've seen enough of the Karen meme vids and GIF's online to get the connection and was truly surprised to see such anger and attacking comments towards them. Of course, I'd witnessed the Karen meme developing over the years since seeing #FuckYouKaren on Reddit YEARS ago. I'd heard the many tales of  "the Karen in the dental chair" when my wife comes home from work. I'd just simply never EVER associated this meme with anything racist. My thoughts on the worst part of the Karen meme was the unfortunate effect on the poor ladies who, despite being incredibly nice, respectful, lovely ladies who DO NOT need to speak to the manager and simply happen to be named "KAREN"!

Growing up a redhead I've certainly dealt with my share of being the TARGET of the internet's "less than flattering" meme's that range from my obvious lack of any semblance of a soul, all the way to people celebrating "kick a ginger day" (thanks south park) essentially mobilizing the world towards an entire day of the year promoting actual ASSAULT on myself and my fellow soul-less Gingers. 

To be clear, I do not think my personal experiences as the target of the latest internet meme excuses ignorance towards other internet meme's. I do wonder, however, how much responsibility we are to shoulder for keeping up to speed with the latest EVOLUTION of a meme? From my ignorant line of sight "Karen" had not yet manifested herself into a racially charged concept causing fear and possible harm to people of colour. 

"Karen" had been making us laugh since 2017 on Reddit but a quick search of Karen on "Know Your Meme" cites that a pretty significant change happened in 2020! May 25th, 2020 to be precise! That day saw the global pandemic collide violently with the killing of George Floyd AS WELL AS the Amy Cooper Central Park incident. Dr. André Brock, associate professor of Black digital culture at Georgia Tech stated "..the viral widespread resonance of “Karen” footage now is the result of an interest convergence where the coronavirus pandemic intersected with collective outrage over police brutality. The weekend that the video of Amy Cooper in Central Park went viral was the same weekend that George Floyd was killed after now-former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin knelt on his neck, suffocating him. The Central Park video only highlighted the extreme violence — and potentially fatal consequences — of a white woman selfishly calling the cops out of spite and professed fear."

That happened May 25th, 2020. 50 days ago at the time of writing this. My point about the timeline of the evolution of the meme is that, as a fellow brewery owner, I can say with certainty that ‘50 days ago’ our friends at Common Crown Brewery would have still thought Karen was funny! They also would have already ordered beer cans labeled with Karen based artwork and they would have been so head down, consumed with keeping their business alive during the pandemic that they would have most likely missed the significance of Karen’s shift over the past weeks. I know i missed it. There's simply no way anyone could convince me that any of the fine folks at Common Crown would ever intentionally offend anyone with their branding and I'm positive that every single person who has ever met them feels the same way. So WHY such a violent and angry outcry towards them? I think Ricky Gervais from his time eating vegan wings on "hot ones" has some relevant insight! 

 The video above is obviously an overgeneralization of this new world we live in but it's also hilariously accurate. When did we become a generation of people swiping endlessly through other people's lives, waiting eagerly for OUR turn to be offended and stoke the internets mob justice flames? In today's day and age, I wouldn't feel safe announcing ANY kind of beliefs online be it political, religious, medical, sexual, etc. The internet is now a terrifying place, ready to attacknat a moments' notice and bully you for announcing that you wanted the Olympics in Calgary, or that you voted for Nenshi, or that you drive a Tesla, or, or, or,....

So NOW what!!?? Imagine you're a small business owner and despite your best efforts to make your customers happy, to make a living doing what you love, and to create a great environment for your staff to call home, you find yourself on the receiving end of the angry internet? Recently my good friend and fellow business owner James Boettcher of Righteous Gelato (the artist formerly known as Fiasco Gelato) found himself in this similar situation. After releasing a Black Lives Matter Gelato the internet backlash was swift. I watched terrified from the sidelines as my good friend and true Canadian LEGEND of an entrepreneur battled his way through a minefield. What started as criticism quickly turned into a pretty savage attack with people assaulting him as a person and as a business owner. It was brutal. And knowing the incredibly high level of intentions that both Righteous Gelato AND Common Crown Brewery uphold in every decision they make, I'm sure more and more people are thinking "when is it going to be ME who makes a mistake? When will I be the target of the internet's wrath? And what will I do when it happens to me?" 

Having caused a few controversial nationally viral stories myself, I'm no stranger to picking a fight and I'm no stranger to spending 24 hours a day for up to a week at a time responding to every single engagement, every single opinion, every single review, and every single media request during these times and I have a few suggestions for you if your turn ever DOES come around!!

1. Take a Deep Breath - Right or Wrong, Good, Bad or Ugly when you find yourself staring down the loaded barrel of an angry internet, the first step is to recognize that these situations are INCREDIBLE opportunities to let the world see who you really are! What you do next will be a defining moment in the history of your business, so take a deep breath and think "how do I let the TRUE spirit of my company's DNA shine through." 

2. Decide COLLECTIVELY on your position - We often react quickly with anger or defensiveness towards a seemingly unjustified criticism aimed at ourselves or our business. And why WOULDN'T we? NO ONE knows how hard we've worked as business owners to get to where we are right?? But that type of thinking is like a biased parent who's kid can do NO WRONG!! Anyone with kids on a sports team knows those parents! They are the WORST and usually have the worst kids! haha. But by involving your entire team to address the situation cooler heads can often prevail and can help a business see the situation from another position. Compassion, sympathy, and understanding of how others see our actions differently than we do is a hard skill to master. It's also perhaps the most important first step in admitting that we may, have truly made a mistake and need to genuinely make things right. Collectively Involving your team members with a less emotional connection to business is a great way to show them your level of respect for their insight as well as arrive at a position that the entire business believes and OWNS!

3. OWN your position...GENUINELY! - The internet can spot a fake a MILE away. Bullshit meters these days are finely tuned to sniff out shallow apologies, or disingenuous attempts to make the situation "go away". As Ricky Gervais stated above, it's OK if people don't agree with your decisions, even if they're MAD at your decisions. But don't waffle. If you were wrong...OWN IT! Apologize and mean it! Here's a sniff test example of whether you own an apology or not: If you apologize online for your actions and then someone posts in support of you that they thought your actions were justified....and you don't CORRECT them? then guess what? YOU'RE NOT SORRY so don't say that you are.

4. Don't delete the thread! - I love reading other business' reviews online! But I never waste my time with the 5-star reviews. I always feel they're either fake or the business owners' parents! either way, there's no value to me reading them. It's the ONE-star reviews that show me how a business responds to the challenges of business and most of THOSE are BS as well. When a bar gets a one-star review because some jackass felt vindictive towards the bartender who "cut him off" for the night. I laugh at the drunk idiot who thinks that bad review of this nature makes ANY negative impact on the business. On the contrary, a witty, clever response to a one-star review of this nature can do wonders for letting the world see your business's personality. And when a REAL one-star review comes in. It's a TRUE opportunity to show how your business is managed and you "right the wrongs". But somehow as business owners, we FEAR the one-star review!! Don't! Trust that the public will read between the lines and make their decision based on all the information. Again, we all have highly tuned bullshit meters, and deleting threads of this nature not only stop the public from gaining the full context of the situation you may find yourself in. It also, more often than not, creates a perception of guilt. If I hear about a company experiencing something similar and I look them and can read the threads I can make my OWN decision on where I stand on the matter. But if the threads have been deleted, I instinctively assume "boy they must have really screwed up!"

5. Don't be intimidated by the volume of the angry - People who "oppose" are ALWAYS louder that those who "support". Just because you've never had this much attention on your social channels and it ALL appears to be negative. You have to know that in general people who support you are much less likely to dive into shark-infested waters with you. However other SHARKS smell blood and are MUCH more likely to join in on the feeding frenzy. I guess it's just not as fun to stick your neck out there when you can safely watch the attack from the shore. Have faith, however, that despite the feeling of helplessness and the isolation of feeling totally alone in these times, there are TONNES of people who will read the posts, perhaps see both sides and potentially send you some support on a private DM, email, or phone call in support of what you're going through REGARDLESS of whether you're right or wrong. OTHER business owners are the friends you need to lean on, or shoulders to cry on during these times. The “swim in the deep end with me” quote from the video above is awesome to me as I’ve sent up the bat signal in my business before and called upon my pal Jim button of Village Brewery to wade into deep waters with me on issues in the past. It meant EVERYTHING to me that he dove in, headfirst with me!  It’s incredibly important to have people around you who, when they believe in your cause, are willing to stand with you on the front lines taking fire while  helping keep the flag in the air! Have those people around but also BE that person when YOU’RE called upon.

6. LEARN, LEARN, and LEARN SOME MORE- Regardless of the situation you've experienced, if you come away without learning and actively attempting to be better moving forward than you're an idiot. The entire WORLD is receiving a crash course on what acceptable behaviour looks like from all corners of humanity. The last few years have exposed a lot of mistakes humanity has made. The #MeToo movement, #BlackLivesMatter, and LGBTQ issues (to name a few) have allowed the world to learn how our past behaviours, past stereotypes, and even past ways of thinking are just not enough anymore. Being truly open to learning about what matters in the lives of those around us is truly eye-opening and incredibly important for loving forward progress of humanity. And without willing hearts, open to the opportunity to LEARN we'll all just be s bunch of angry internet trolls looking for people to attack who don't think the exact same way WE do or vote the same way WE do, etc!!

Finally, My hope for this blog is a call for PASSIONATE understanding and forgiveness. It's OK to be offended and it's OK to let a person or a business know how they've offended. The piece of the puzzle I've seen missing for some time now, however, is understanding and forgiveness. UNDERSTANDING that the initial outward appearance of a can of beer named after "KAREN" does not reflect the INTENTIONS of the great people trying to do great things for our community. But also the FORGIVENESS towards them once the issue has been raised. Most businesses today would stand stunned, eyes wide open, paralyzed in fear, and totally unaware of what to do next when faced with the attacks I've witnessed over the past year. Forgiveness is LIBERATING. It feels GOOD! But it takes empathy and compassion.

Imagine a thread someday where the offender realizes their mistake after reading criticisms they receive online. They regret it. They genuinely apologize. They learn a tonne, become more culturally aware, and the offended parties empathize with them, show them compassion, and openly forgive them for their mistake? Jack Handy probably said it best..."I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world because they'd never expect it"

[paperanddice]

Slow Storm

I am very perplexed by the slow storm. I mean, first off it’s called a slow storm but it’s actually very fast, with a 60 foot flying speed. That’s just false advertising, if someone sends me to fight a slow storm and the thing zips around at twice the normal walking speed of a person I’m going to be very angry at the person who sent me. Their explanation that the storm wasn’t named for its speed, but for the fact that when it attacks you it makes your joints ache and force you to move slowly or kill yourself will not make me forgive them, and will in fact just justify my rage even more.

On top of that, it’s mechanics are very off. It’s a Huge sized creature, but its size is mostly representative of a wind storm that swirls around its actual body. It’s really Small sized, Medium at best, and the rest of its space is occupied by nothing. Anything that tries to attack it has to be able to enter its space or reach its core, which then gets really confusing with how movement in other creature’s spaces works in general. You can only move through a hostile creature’s space if it is two or more size categories larger or smaller than you, that space is difficult terrain, and you cannot willingly end your movement in its space. This means that any creature that’s Large or larger can’t enter the storm’s space, so they can’t close in to attack it if they don’t have enough reach. The biggest issue though is a slightly unclear wording in how movement works. You can’t end your movement in another creature’s space. So you have to move out of the slow storm’s space before your movement ends. You can break up your movement with attacks, but do you have to end your movement to make an attack? This isn’t clearly stated, and there’s been conflicting and unclear rulings from the designers in the past over it. By some readings, you must exit the storm’s space in order to be able to attack it, which then puts it out of your reach again. The storm doesn’t have any special ability or rule that overrides this general rule, and so by the writing it might just be impossible to attack it unless you have an attack with 10-foot reach.

The most damning aspect of this confusion is that this feature of the monster isn’t anywhere within its stat block. It’s mixed in with the fluff. This means that if you take the stat block and hand it to a DM, they can’t run the monster properly. They don’t know the mechanics for it. The entire point of a stat block is to include all the mechanical information you’ll need in an encounter. This fails that basic rule.

The size confusion then extends to the slow storm’s attacks, and its space if it’s moving around corners and such. It doesn’t say it can fit through small spaces anywhere, so if it goes through a 10-foot space it has to squeeze, and it is completely incapable of entering a hallway only 5 feet wide, by the movement rules. The smallest sized space a creature can enter is 1 size category smaller than it is. As a Huge creature, the slow storm can fit through Large spaces at the lowest. And if only one of its edge spaces are peeking around a corner, can an archer shoot at that? I’m guessing the intention is no, since it’s body is only in its center space. Its slam has a reach of 10 feet. Is that meant to extend from the edge of its Huge space, or its Small true body? Does its breath weapon originate from the true body or the edge of its space? Why make it Huge size, and then say somewhere else that it’s not actually that size? Just make it Small, and give it an ability that fills the area around it with whatever effect you want.

Speaking of the breath weapon, it also doesn’t have a save to reduce the damage it deals. On a recharge 5-6, the slow storm deals an automatic 12d8 damage to all creatures in a 30 foot cone. The only save reduces the secondary effects of the breath weapon, not the damage itself.

And then there’s its key feature, the thing that should be the center of an encounter involving the slow storm, its Bone Wrack. And this ability is kind of confusing as well. The wording on it says it happens when it hits with a slam attack, but then the mechanics part only key off of the breath weapon (which isn’t called a “breath weapon” in its own action slot) and use a keyword that doesn’t exist in 5e. Ability drain, ability loss, both of those are 3.5 wordings. Bone Wrack itself only activates if the target fails two Constitution saving throws, but once it lands it can be quite a lot of trouble for a party. Dealing a (relatively small) amount of damage any time the creature moves can lead to creatures killing themselves abruptly, and puts another restriction on a character that prevents them from being able to escape the encounter (if they even had a way to evade the storm’s incredible movement speed). Regaining “at least 1 point of lost Dexterity” is a bit meaningless when the only mechanic in the system that I am aware of to fix reduced ability scores is greater restoration, which is an immediate full restore to normal.

Oh, and its AC isn’t properly noted. Should have a tag for what’s giving it an additional +5 on top of its Dexterity, probably natural armor. Small complaint compared to the others, but just another spot where the design is sloppy and incorrect.

Overall, while the idea and the artwork for the slow storm are both quite interesting, I feel like the writing and mechanics really fall apart. They are not written to 5e standards or style, and a lot really just doesn’t make sense. The inclusion of actual mechanical features outside of the stat block is bad, and the way those mechanics intersect with the rules of the game really breaks the monster. If the flab giant was my biggest disappointment on a fluff level, the slow storm is its equal on a mechanical level. I have no plot hooks for it. Without a full redesign of it to set its size properly, fix the writing and design on its breath weapon and Bone Wrack abilities, and overall just make it work, I can’t recommend using it.