#already digging this CP

[mariomariomariomariomario]

I'm glad some of y'all got pissed at me for saying that defending incest is disgusting because I will stand by that wholeheartedly until the day I die.

I'm glad I know which of you have a few cogs that ain't turning correctly. If your immediate reaction to finding that kind of stuff isn't disgust then I'm sorry, you and me are wired differently and I want nothing to do with you.

[postredevainilla]

“current bf” tiktok trend with jjk men

pairing: gojo x reader, nanami x reader, choso x reader, sukuna x reader (all separate)

you thought it’d be funny. it was not.

gojo satoru (sfw)

you're mid-recording like, “i’m here with my current boyfr—” click. he’s already stopped the video. he’s smiling ear to ear. why is he smiling. that shit-eating, eye-twitching, nothing funny is happening but i’m laughing anyway smile. then he goes: “interesting choice of words. want me to call your last boyfriend to see if he wants you back?” “babe it’s a trend—” he’s already logging into your tiktok account and changing your bio to “satoru’s pet 🙏💍” also sends the video to geto with a text: “how fast can you dig a grave?” petty. possessive. pissed. but he still pays for your boba after. “current boyfriend,” he mutters while holding your hand. “just watch and i’ll upgrade myself to only boyfriend.” that tiktok draft never sees the light of day.

nanami kento (suggestive)

you aim the camera at him like, “with my current boyfriend, nanami!” he doesn’t even look at you. just pauses while adjusting his tie and goes: “...really.” that’s it. just: “really.” you hold in your laugh but he knows. he side-eyes you through the mirror, calm as hell, and says: “well, let’s see how your next boyfriend feels about paying your rent, scheduling your dentist appointments, and making sure your iced coffee is exactly 3.5 cubes cold.” you’re wheezing. you post it anyway. tiktok is eating it up—comments full of “king is she bothering you” and “he’s so real for that.” later that night he slides you a budgeting spreadsheet with a line titled “expenses to be covered by future boyfriends.” you delete it and climb into his lap. he lets you. of course he does. but he also goes: “say it again, sweetheart. i dare you.”

choso (sfw)

you say into the mic, “hey guys, i’m here with my current boyfriend…” camera pans to choso sitting next to you, peacefully holding a juice box. he looks up like a baby deer. “current?” one word. so soft. so confused. then he gets real quiet. looks down at his lap.

choso, blinking back at you: “i… i didn’t realize we were temporary…” you’re crying laughing and trying to comfort him. you don’t even finish the video properly because you’re immediately kissing his cheeks and going, “no you’re forever, my forever boyfriend.”

but when you post it, your comments are blowing up:

“oh no apologize rn 😭” “he looks heartbroken stoppp” “delete this before i call cps on u for emotional damage”

you end up making a part two where you hand him a handmade card that says “permanent boyfriend” with glitter and a sticker of two little bats holding hands. he keeps it in his wallet. you are never allowed to prank this man again.

sukuna (suggestive)

you think it’ll be funny. you’re so wrong. you do the bit: “here with my current boyfriend sukuna—” he turns his head like it’s on a horror movie swivel, eyes glowing red. “current?” your soul leaves your body. he’s already standing. you panic-laugh. “wait- it’s a trend—” he doesn’t care. he’s gripping your face like you’re prey and growling into your ear, “you already know i’m your last.” you post the tiktok, but it cuts off at the part where your phone hits the floor. your comment section is all:

“we just witnessed a murder” “girl blink twice if you’re still alive” “he’s terrifyingly hot i hate this”

you recover four days later and make a cute couple dance video. you’re smiling. he’s behind you. hand around your throat. knife in his other hand. true love.

[aropride]

Like before i had any concept of what a "job" was i thought princess or maybe superhero would be a good one. but between then and my sister being born when i was 8 i didn't have any career aspirations and then the first time i met my sister i promised to myself that i would protect her from any sort of abuse at any cost. so i was kind of busy with that. i guess i wanted to be a writer when i was a few years older but mostly i wanted to be Not alive anymore

ever since i was a little boy i knew i couldnt work a job

[eitaababe]

Could I request a Jj x reader angst but with a happy ending ? Reader and Jj get into a fight and he says nasty things to her and they don’t speak for days until he sees her at a party where someone is flirting with her and they talk it out ?

TALK IT OUT.

jj maybank x kook! reader.

[ a/n ; this took entirely way too long for me to finish but lol hope you enjoy! ]

—

"JJ?" you called out softly, hearing the familiar onset of knocks at your bedroom window.

You could spot him through the glass– wearing a new bruise on his cheek. Sleepiness long forgotten, you jumped out of bed, quickly opening your window and ushering him in.

"Hey, Princess." He grinned the same toothy smile, as if his left cheek wasn't currently throbbing. Complying with your fussy movements, he sat at the edge of the bed, watching you rummage quietly around for a first aid kit.

You huffed, heading to your bathroom before coming back, the small bag in hand. "Jesus, what happened?" You muttered, more of a hypothetical question than anything else.

"You should see the other guy." He lightly jokes, avoiding the question altogether. It was like this every time– he'd show up, beaten and bruised, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. And you knew it was coming from home, but JJ never let you catch onto more than that.

"JJ." You finally sighed out, tone stern.

"Y/n." He responded, grinning like a fool.

"I'm serious," you huffed. "You gotta tell me what's going on. This- this isn't healthy-"

"What, you want me to stop coming over here? I don't got anywhere else to go!" He scoffed, suddenly defensive.

"I want you to be honest with me!" You pleaded, still sitting at the edge of the bed, looking up as he paced throughout your room. "I know there's something going on at home, and I want to help, JJ-"

"You want me to be honest?" He breathed out, tongue poking at his cheek before he spoke up again. "Alright. Yeah, here's honesty- you live such a perfect life, princess. Nice house, nice family, living on figure 8. And you're what- hanging out with me? Some dirt bag from the cut? You wouldn't get what my life's like- alright? You can't understand."

"But I want to understand," you breathed out, standing and trying to meet his eyes. "If you'd just let me-"

"God, Y/n, I'm not some charity case! What, you gonna call CPS on me? Try and fix me? I'm already fucked up, I get that. But I don't need your fake pity. This- I don't know what you thought this was," he scoffs, each word digging further into your chest like a blade, "But this isn't a relationship, princess. It was just fun, okay? So stop tryin' to get all sappy-feely on me."

You recoiled at his words, going quiet. Your mind raced through all your times together, the pillow talks, late night rendezvous at the beach, or even the small and intimate moments where he'd come over, relying on you to patch him up and inevitably staying the night in your bed.

"Right," you agreed softly, missing the subtle regret on his face. "Sorry."

"Princess-"

"No, no, you're right," you shook your head, breathing out. "It's just casual. I shouldn't have overstepped," you cleared your throat, nodding towards the window. "You should go."

He went quiet, mouth opening and closing as if he tried to think of what to say in response. But he settled for a quick nod, crawling back out the window.

You don't reach out the next couple of days, ignoring JJ's attempts of trying to make small talk. But you'd caught yourself sulking in bed, deciding you needed to make a change. Sarah had coaxed you out of bed, deciding that a party with the kooks would be the best way to let loose.

You had your doubts, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

So there you stood, next to the bonfire with a beer in hand. The night had been completely uneventful, until you were approached by some other party goer. You knew of the boy, his name has started with an E. Ethan? Evan? You racked your brain, plastering on a polite smile as he greeted you.

"Hey, Y/n," he grinned, nodding your way. "Having fun?"

"Hey, E..." you trailed off, a shy, slightly bashful smile on your face.

"Eden." He finished for you, chuckling. "Where's your bodyguard?"

You furrowed a brow, confused before it clicked. You and JJ always ended up at parties together, many aware of the unofficial official relationship you two had. It was another cruel reminder of his absence, but you pulled yourself out of it.

"Maybank? He's not- we're not really.."

"So you're available?" Eden grinned, his once boyish grin morphing into something that could only cause discomfort. You glanced around, hoping for an outlet out of the conversation.

"Okay, even if I was-" you scoffed, eyes widening when he took a step closer, the alcohol all consuming from his breath.

"Nah, cmon, let's go-"

"Hey, dickwad!"

You'd never been so happy to hear the familiar voice, turning and relaxing at the sight of his messy locks. JJ's arms were immediately on you, wrapping over your shoulder. "Tryin' to steal my girl?"

"Woah, she told me-"

"Get lost," JJ cut him off, grinning and waving him off with a gesture. Once he was out of sight, the blonde turned back to you, expression softening with concern. "You alright, baby? He didn't try anything, did-"

"I'm fine." You muttered, pulling back from his hold. You didn't meet his eye, your cold tone causing his shoulders to droop.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He sighed, looking down at you. He paused, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. "I just- I've never really done anything more than hookups-"

"That's not an excuse-"

"Let me finish, woman," he huffed, pressing a finger over your lips to shut you up, suppressing a grin at the cute pout on your face. "I know it's not an excuse. But I got scared, and I didn't mean it, okay? It's just- you're perfect. You're from this great, rich, and nice family and I'm just- I'm just me. I'm broke, I have a dad who beats me, dirt poor-"

"You don't have to berate yourself so much, it's making me start to feel bad." You grumbled out, looking down at the space between you two.

"So you're sayin' it's working?" He grinned, lowering his head to meet your eyes. As the corners of your mouth quirked up, he pushed further. "Cmon, princess, y'know I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

You huffed at the promise, rolling your eyes. "Promise?"

"Scout's honor." JJ teased, eyes twinkling as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Any cold facade you'd put on melted at that, as you leaned in, head burying into his chest. "Asshole."

"I know." He laughed, playfully tickling your side. "And 'm sorry. Promise I'll talk with you about all that stuff."

"Good," you nodded, smiling softly up at him.

"Great," JJ added, grinning back. "Now can we please go back to the party so we can watch a drunk Kie yell about saving those damn turtles?"

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut: YJ accidental baby acquisition. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Genetically, Kenley is our offspring,” Tim cuts in quickly, keeping his voice as even as possible. “The DNA test was clear. And they’re a child. They can’t just stay at the Tower or on the Watchtower.” 

“Impulse is technically seven, and Superboy is–what, five?” Barry says, looking exasperated. Kon’s still a few months away from four, actually, given the whole “was dead for a year” thing and some other weird shit that’s happened in their lives–they actually did the math pretty recently, but the fact that they had to do the math at all is very obviously a sign of weird shit happening in their lives, and either way, Tim won’t be correcting Barry’s math right now. “And you and Wonder Girl are what–seventeen?” 

Speaking of people who were dead for a while and lost track of shit . . . 

“I’m nineteen,” Cassie says, narrowing her eyes at Barry. “And Robin’s eighteen. No ‘technically’ about it.” 

“Physiologically and mentally, Impulse is seventeen and Superboy is nineteen,” Tim informs them shortly before anyone can try and make the technicalities an issue. “It’s unreasonable to treat them as capable of risking their lives as active superheroes after they’ve both already died in the line of duty but then claim they’re not capable of basic childcare when you think it’s inconvenient for them to be allowed to.” 

“Also you’re not allowing anything,” Bart says with a frown. “Kenley’s ours. Genetically and, like, ‘found and saved’-ly.” 

“Bart, you have no idea how difficult taking care of even a normal kid is. Assuming the kid’s safe, an actual foster situation is going to be necessary,” Barry says in exasperation, sounding weary, and Wally looks a little stressed too, which is not good. Wally’s the best chance they have to get the League at large not to be unreasonable about this–at least as long as Dick’s here, anyway–but he and Bart have never really seen eye to eye and he’s never really understood him or taken him seriously, so . . . 

Also, Wally’s the one who has the most experience with having superpowered kids in this conversation, and with nearly losing said kids. If anyone’s going to be the one they can get on their side, well– 

Technically, Tim is perfectly aware of Jon Kent’s existence and the fact that he has superpowers and was also temporarily “lost”. He’s equally aware of both Otho and Osul’s existences and past traumas and own powers. 

He is even more aware of the fact that Clark apparently didn’t know about Lophi and Martha and has never fucking once trusted Kon to be responsible for anything but a dog who was already invulnerable and indestructible and that he just personally happened to need a long-term petsitter for. Which might be unfair, a little, but is also objective fact. 

So yes, Wally is definitely their best shot here. Especially with Dick hopefully willing to back them up, if it comes to it. If he weighs in too quickly, Bruce will think he’s either biased or being too emotional, but if they can at least start to convince Wally and maybe Diana . . . 

“What do you expect us to do, just dump ‘em on Max Mercury or Red Tornado? Go see who’s the Spectre right now?” Cassie demands, folding her arms. “Go dig up Cadmus wherever they’re currently buried, see if they’re hiring kindergartners? Hey, I know, ship ‘em off to Hawaii with a sleazy–!” 

“Kenley doesn’t need fostered,” Tim cuts in quickly, because that line of conversation is not ending well no matter what. “We’re their biological parents, and we’re capable of taking care of them to an appropriate standard.” 

“That isn’t an acceptable decision for Young Justice to make without input,” Bruce says. 

“What is this, a superhero-CPS visit?!” Cassie snaps, clenching her fists. “Based on what, exactly? They’re ours! What’s not ‘acceptable’ is for the Justice League to decide you all get to make decisions about our fucking kid!” 

“Also, like, super hypocritical, I’m pretty sure,” Bart says. “Nobody interferes with what any of you guys do with your kids.” 

“None of us just kidnapped a kid straight out of a lab, Impulse!” Barry says in exasperation. 

“That’d be way too, like, actively proactive, yeah,” Bart agrees, and for just an instant vibrates in a very telling way. His expression doesn’t change, but he’s obviously angry. Very obviously angry. 

Maybe not obviously to Barry, though, Tim realizes almost immediately. 

“Being patient enough to show restraint isn’t a character flaw, kid,” Barry says, still clearly exasperated. 

“You’re being a sprocking nass about this,” Bart says, still staring at him with the same blank expression. “And also a fucking asshole.” 

Well, this is going well. 

“We’re just concerned about everyone’s safety, including the child’s,” Clark says, lifting a placating hand. Bart scowls, and Cassie bristles. Kon–doesn’t look away from Kenley. 

Tim just doesn’t feel particularly “placated”, put it that way.

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p1

masterlist ⚜ p2

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, mentions of drugs, cursing a/n: rewrote the FUCK out of this, i hope this one is SO MUCH BETTER. love u guys. <3

"chris?"

"phone charger girl!"

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i responded quickly, immediately shutting down chris' disgusting expression.

my heartbeat was racing. i couldn't feel anything but anger in every fiber of my being. i couldn't help but remember to myself earlier today.

i had been living in massachusetts for about three days now. very interesting place, very different from florida.

after my mom's drug addiction became a major issue, cps was informed and i was sent to my dad's in boston, where i was completely unfamiliar with everyone and everything.

my dad's side, they weren't complete strangers if checking his status on facebook counted as being close.

shortly after i was born, my mom took me and left my dad in boston while we fled to live in florida. and as i get older, i can't help but feel more hatred towards the woman. my dad was a great guy, never deserved the way she treated him. he definitely did not deserve his first child being ripped away from his grasp a few months into my life.

when my mom and i moved to florida, my dad met another woman and had a child with her, whose name is nathan.

he seems like a really cool guy, an awesome brother to have, so i was looking forward to this move a lot, more than i probably should have.

the feeling of fresh air was appealing to me and the feeling of finally being there to reassure my dad that i want to be with him was even more exciting to me.

nate and i clicked pretty quickly, talking about our music taste on the way home from the airport. we talked a lot about video games, and he told me he was involved in a small garage band and plays the drums.

"that's so fucking cool!" i exclaimed with a bright smile, and nathan nodded.

"yeah! we mostly do covers now, but i plan on releasing some new and original music soon."

i nodded as i stayed focused on nate as he spoke, playing with my hands in my lap nervously.

the fact that this kid was my brother was so mind blowing to me. i couldn't wait.

the doe family had left to go to an event they had only bought three tickets for. i reassured them over and over that i was okay with staying at the house and continuing to settle in. and with that they left.

i dug through my bag and frowned when i came to a tragic realization.

"fuck." i cursed under my breath as i stood up and slid on my shoes.

time to go to that one gas station down the street we stopped at on the way here from the airport.

i left the house through the front door and slid my earbuds into my ears, playing my favorite playlist as i walked down the street.

boston was a lot more close together than florida. it genuinely made my heart happy.

about fifteen minutes into my walk and i find the gas station, pulling the door opened and look at the employee at the counter, smiling faintly to greet him. his eyes were glued to his phone though, so i turned to make my way up and down the aisles and look for the phone charger that works for my phone.

"eighteen dollars is fucking bizarre." i muttered under my breath at the charging brick box that i now have between my fingers. i carefully took it off the bar and grabbed a six ft long cord, making my way to the counter.

this is great. no job, new place, and i was already burning a hole into my savings for a fucking phone charger.

i set the two boxes on the counter and began digging through my pockets to find my wallet, the boxes hitting the counter a little harder than i had intended.

"woah there, sensing some aggression from 'ya. boyfriend start an argument with you or what?"

i finally found my wallet, but my eyes shifted quickly to the boy at the counter. "excuse me?" i asked, my face flushed at the thought. "it doesn't-" i blinked a few times. this kid was insane. "just ring me out please." i sighed as i inserted my card in the cardreader.

"relax sweetheart, just yankin' your chain." he stated defensively, skipping through the prompts on his screen. his hair was a little longer than average, and fairly wavy. he had a silver cuban link bracelet on one wrist and a few small handmade ones on the other, a ring or two on each hand. he had silver hoops in his ears and a plain black t-shirt on over his blue baggy jeans.

i stared at him in disbelief before i put my pin into the pad, yanking out my card as soon as it beeped and quickly shoving it into my wallet. chris set the charger boxes into a small plastic bag, placing it on the counter between us.

"i'm not your sweetheart," i narrowed my eyes at the nametag on his shirt, sucking in through my teeth, "chris."

i gripped the bag and left the gas station, and never turned back to see chris with his arms raised, and that disgusting smirk on his face.

my music was playing extra loud in my headphones in a desperate attempt to drown out the sound of nate slamming the drums in the garage.

i carefully sat up, my hand moving to run through my hair as i slipped on my shoes and stepped down the stairs. i was just wearing some pajama shorts and an oversized hoodie, but who even cares, right?

my hair was thrown into a messy bun, and i had one earbud in as my eyes were glued to my phone. i turned the doorknob to the garage carefully before stepping in and lifting my head as the music came to a halt.

and with that, my eyes widened.

and that's how we got here. with a finger pointed to my face.

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid, smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i immediately barked back, crossing my arms.

nate looked between us both and shrugged it off quickly before he pulled a chair beside him. "come listen, y/n. i think you'd like it a lot." he told me.

i couldn't say no. i really was curious to hear nathan play. "okay, sure. just for a bit though." i reminded him of the time, and he smiled brightly and sat down in his seat.

i felt chris' eyes burning into the back of my head the whole time, his shaggy brunette locks perfectly draping over his forehead, which was a bit damp, while his eyes shifted to focus on his guitar again.

nate turned to me with a bright smile, grabbing his drumsticks as he glanced to the other two, making sure they were ready.

i watched the three and smiled as they began playing.

they were really good, actually.

better than i had expected them to be.

with nathan slamming the drums with his drumsticks and the boy i didn't know yet playing the bass, chris actually knocked his part out of the park.

chris glanced up for half a second, where we locked eyes. my eyes widened as he turned back to his guitar and a small smile grew on his face.

i hate this kid.

the song came to an end, and i turned to nathan, applauding happily.

"you guys sound great, genuinely. have you guys worked on any original stuff?"

nathan chuckled and shrugged, glancing between the other two. "a bit. chris writes phenomenal lyrics. we're working on it."

i glanced to chris for a moment, who was now gently strumming the strings of his guitar. i gulped as i stared at his hands, then turned back to nate. "i'm excited for you guys. let me know if i can do anything to help?"

nate nodded happily, and i stood up.

"alright, i'm gonna try and go to sleep. good luck to you guys." i waved at the three, and smiled at nate, my eyes quickly glancing at chris who waved softly back, no clear expression on his face anymore.

and with that, i opened the garage door and shut it, before taking a deep sigh and leaning against it.

"dude, you didn't tell me your sister was bad as hell," an unfamiliar voice rang, which i assumed was the bassist.

"wh- ben, gross! shut up dude," nathan quickly stated.

i cringed at the boy's comment, shaking my head quickly as if he could see me responding or something.

"invite her more often." chris stated blankly, standing up from his seat as he adjusted his guitar strap.

nathan turned to chris and narrowed his eyes.

i quickly stood up and made my way back to my bedroom, laying flat against the bed and turning up the music playing in my earbuds.

chris playing guitar and writing some lyrics.

it made me genuinely curious about whether or not this guy actually wrote good lyrics.

i hated being curious about him.

but i needed to know more.

masterlist ⚜ p2

comment to be added to taglist!! taglist;; @sturnioloshacker

[kinardsevan]

Okay, prompt. Tommy and Buck are having slow shifts and one of them decides to call the other.

consider this as existing in the same timeline as to can’t outdrive pain (someday it’s gonna take the wheel)

we survive

Tommy sighs, pushing a piece of paper across the table.

“Riley, you have to at least try to make your art not be derogatory,” he states in a gentle but firm tone. “Miss Sidney isn’t going to let this fly.”

Riley rolls his eyes, tossing a conte crayon onto the table. Charcoal scatters as it cracks in half, and the teenager crosses his arms. Tommy frowns, reaching out for the crayon and setting it back inside the box he’d brought with him.

He’s no stranger to Riley’s moods six months into this endeavor. What had begun as a way to fill some time after breaking his elbow and having to miss weeks of work has become part of his weekly ritual now, occasionally twice a week when he can swing the extra time. Evan has joined him a number of times when the time off has lined up, but today he’s alone.

Riley Collins was almost sixteen and had a rough background, one Tommy could relate to only too well. His mom had died when he was three, and he was left with an alcoholic father who cared so little that at seven, he’d been found digging in a neighbors trash can for food. That had begun the teen’s childhood in foster care, but it hadn’t been the end of it. He’d cycled through multiple foster homes with while struggling with attachment issues. There was a year-long period when Riley was eleven where his father had gotten sober, regained custody, and things seemed like they might get better. Except, Riley had been the ringer by that point. He’d lived in homes with emotional and verbal abuse. He’d seen parents hit each other, and occasionally hit the children. He’d seen sexual abuse through the tiny window of where his blankets didn’t completely cover his eyes when cries of his foster siblings woke him in the middle of the night. He’d faced some of those situations himself, and by the time he cycled back into his fathers home, he wasn’t the same little kid who had learned to become self-sufficient when his father was lost to the bottle.

Either way, Riley’s father made it six months before his sobriety with Riley back home went to hell. There was a DWI, and then an occurrence where Riley showed up to school with a black eye and bloodied nose. Then he was locked out of the house. CPS was still so involved at that point that he was quickly placed back in foster care, but the writing was on the wall at that point. Even though he’d been placed with a family with good values, he was a mess. There were stolen things, broken possessions, a flirtation with breaking the law. Ultimately though, it was a full-on brawl he got into with an uncle which led to his placement in the group home. And the thing was, he was a great student. He could stay invested in his school work and the routine it required without a problem. But when it came to people…he was a mess.

Tommy couldn’t help but reflect that back to his own childhood.

“This is so fucking lame anyway,” Riley bemoans.

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? You seemed to think it was cool three days ago.”

“What the fuck do you know, old man,” Riley replies, scowling at him. He shoves away from the table, and Sidney is up out of her chair quickly, already calling after him, but Tommy raises a hand to her.

“Let me go,” he tells her softly. Their group is usually a bit bigger, but with school being back in session, half of them have signed up for extracurriculars, so there’s only three today, and Sidney has the other two pretty well covered with whatever they’re drawing.

She looks at him with a hint of apprehension, but then nods, settling back into her chair.

Tommy picks up his sketchbook and moves around the table, walks out the back door toward a picnic table where Riley is pushing a stick into the aged wood, trying to peel a piece of loose long grain with it. He dares a glance up at Tommy and then sighs, looking back down at the table.

“Hey kid. You wanna tell me what that was all about,” he asks, crossing the space between them but still staying a few feet away.

Riley huffs but doesn’t answer as he keeps pushing at the picnic table with the stick. Tommy frowns, taking a few more steps forward and sitting down on the opposite side of the table. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a tin of Altoid Sours. He pops one in his mouth and then offers one to Riley. When the kid doesn’t immediately take one, Tommy rests the tin on the table between them.

“You know, I used to make a lot of really violent art,” Tommy states. “Still have some of it. Drawings of people getting stabbed, gunshot wounds.”

“Bet Miss Sidney would love to hear that right now,” Riley states sarcastically.

Tommy shrugs. “Probably not. But it was how I dealt. Especially with the people who hurt me when I was your age.” He flips his sketchbook back to the front before setting in front of Riley on the table. The first few pages have older, yellowed paper taped in. It’s been crumpled and some of it is shredded, but Riley looks up at it, skims over the images. He sets the stick down and flips a page over as something that looks suspiciously like comic paneling tells the story of a child and his abusive father. He watches the way Riley runs his fingers over the paper, touches the images.

“What do you know about abuse anyway, old man,” Riley murmurs softly, anger still present in his voice.

“More than you’d think, kid,” Tommy replies. When the teen looks up at him, Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “First of all, I wasn’t always this built or lean. And me at thirteen, on the huskier side and gay? That didn’t go over all that well in my home.”

Riley doesn’t let on his emotional response to Tommy’s explanation, but he keeps flipping through the pages in the sketchbook. A drawing of a war zone. Drawings of mass military graves. Dog tags. Bloodied fists with colored pastels.

“Least you got out,” Riley comments after a few minutes of silence. “Had someone to help.”

Tommy gives a haughty laugh. “I went to the military to get out. I didn’t have anyone waiting at home if I made it back from Iraq. Everything I’ve done, I’ve had to do on my own.”

There’s still a scowl on Riley’s face, but the ire seems to sink out of it as he listens to Tommy.

“I was not cool when I came back, either,” he adds. “I was really shitty to people I now consider friends. Spent a lot of years alone because I couldn’t figure out how to just connect with people.”

“Least you found people who wanted you around,” Riley grumbles, his voice still soft, like he doesn’t actually want Tommy to hear him. “I got two years.”

Tommy sighs. He’s not sure whether saying something is a good idea. There are still too many what ifs and probabilities for him to be sure.

“You know, Evan and I have been talking to Miss Sidney,” he states in a quiet tone. Riley finally reaches out and takes one of the altoids, pops it into his mouth. His eyes slowly raise, though he doesn’t look directly at Tommy. “But we can’t do anything if you keep showing this kind of attitude in program. They won’t consider it a good placement.”

Riley’s brown eyes meet his then, his sandy blonde hair half hanging in them. He stares at Tommy with a bewildered expression.

“Hailey is-..”

Tommy shakes his head, cutting Riley off. Of course the kid would think they’d want a young child. “Hailey doesn’t fit in our home. She’s six. She needs a mom.”

“Dakota-“

“Doesn’t like fire trucks,” Tommy comments, in reference to another one of the younger kids.

Riley looks up at him, brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you two want a baby?”

Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Do you know how long the adoption process is for an infant? Never mind surrogacy.” He can’t help the warmth in his chest at the fact that for all of Riley’s questions, the idea of living in a house with two men in a committed (carnal) relationship isn’t one of them.

Riley is quiet again for a few moments as he closes Tommy’s sketchbook and places it back on the table.

“I age out in 798 days,” he mutters.

Tommy takes a breath and shrugs again. “Well. I guess that leaves us roughly twenty-two thousand more to have you around with us, five of take a few thousand,” he states. “You know, if you want to.”

Riley looks up at him through his eyelashes with an expression that’s trying suspiciously not to reflect any kind of hope. Tommy recognizes it from the one he had when he’d been told he was going back to live with his father at thirteen. He narrows his gaze slightly as he reaches out for his sketchbook.

“You know, Evan makes a mean shepherd’s pie,” he comments, sliding the book back over. “I could probably get him to whip one up tonight. He’s supposed to be off shift soon.”

“T-tonight,” Riley stammers.

“Only if you want to,” Tommy replies. “And if you apologize in front of Miss Sidney. I kinda promised her you’d be a good fit and you’re making me look bad right now.”

The slightest bit of an upturn happens at the corners of Riley’s mouth. Tommy nods, reaching out for the altoids tin. He closes it and pops it back in his pocket.

. . .

Hours later, in the silence of their home, Evan rests his chin on Tommy’s shoulder as they stand in the doorway of what they expect to become Riley’s bedroom. The teen is sprawled across the Queen-sized bed and a pillow that Tommy finds to be suspiciously similar to one from his and Evan’s bed is wrapped tightly in the teen’s arms.

“Dare I say, he’s a little attached to us,” Evan whispers to Tommy.

Tommy chuckles, pointing up to the T-shirts tacked up to a cork board on the wall. “That was his idea.”

Both shirts are worn and faded, one from the 118 and the other from Harbor. The vinyl is half-peeled from the shirts, and only the outline of Tommy’s last name remains on the shirt that belonged to him from how much use it’s seen.

“Who would’ve thought he’d like us that much,” Evan jokes. He tilts his head, resting his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I think he feels seen. Understood,” Tommy murmurs back. He takes a breath, looking down at Evan. “He asked if he could take both last names.”

Evan smiles wearily at Tommy. “He can have whatever he wants.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, although he stiffens when Riley moves on the bed, only to settle a few seconds later with a contented sigh.

“And this is why you’re not in charge of the budget right now,” he comments. “He’ll have you talked into a car and three gaming systems in under twenty-four hours.”

Evan scowls at Tommy, turns his head and bites his shoulder. Tommy grunts softly, turning toward him. He pushes Evan gently out of the room, across the hall into their bedroom, easing the door shut quietly.

“Let’s not traumatize the kid on his first night home,” he states, framing Evan’s face with his hands before he dives in for a heated kiss. Evan moans softly into his mouth, fisting Tommy’s shirt.

“Well then, I guess you’re just gonna have to drown me out with the shower,” Evan replies, tugging Tommy back towards the en-suite.

And he does.

[graveyardlifeguard]

Survivors Part 4

Summary: Occurs during the events of Season 4x13 and Season 4x14.

*This is my first attempt at writing after many, many years so please go easy on me*

Warnings: Shooting, Injury, Blood

Strictly Angst with a teeny tiny bit of Fluff

Eddie Diaz x Paramedic! Reader

The next morning, Eddie and I were both feeling the effects of staying up late as we both moved around the house like drunk zombies. Carla arrives early as usual and laughs at Eddie and I before making the comment, “You both look exhausted.” As we’re getting dressed for the day, she was kind enough to make both of us mugs of coffee. I can’t remember the last time I drank a coffee so fast. Eddie was mature and sipped his correctly while he threw me funny glances when he noticed that mine was gone before we were even halfway to work.

Once at work, Eddie parked the car but before I can move to open the door, I feel his hand on my bicep to which he smoothly pulls me back towards him. A long kiss is once again initiated, which I’m not complaining about. When it’s decided that we both need to come up for air, just like last night, Eddie places a soft kiss to my forehead. Although giving me a kiss before work wasn’t unusual, there was something about this one that just felt… different. It’s not like we weren’t going to see each other for a while. We both worked in the same station, we see each other constantly, well that it is call depending I guess.

“What’s all that about cowboy? We’re both going into the same place.” I ask, still smiling at him.

He pauses before answering, staring into my eyes as though the answers to life greatest mysteries sat behind them. “I just love you so much.”

I don’t know how but the smile on my face somehow grew ten times bigger than it already was. We had this game going for years of who could say ‘I love you’ the “largest.” It was always a race to see who could say it last or the largest amount. To the moon and back, to infinity and back, etc. Usually, he won but today I wanted it to be different. So as quick as I can, I give him a quick kiss on the lips, whisper “I love you more than anything” and high tail it out of the car. I can hear him laughing and yelling behind me but that doesn’t matter. I said it last, so I won this round.

After changing into my uniform, I made sure to hide from Eddie so I can maintain my win. Shift change is done rather quickly with my nighttime relief where he reports that nothing crazy had occurred throughout the night. Hopefully, it would stay that way today. Gathering all the information I have on Sheila Leute, or whatever her name is, I make my phone call to CPS. They give me the generous offer of coming by in a few days to check on Charlie. They tell me how bogged down and short staffed they are, causing there to be a large back up on their already established cases. Fair enough, we unfortunately could relate to low staffing issues. Jumping in my CCP vehicle, I make my way towards Charlie and Sheila’s residence.

Making my way up the elevator, I feel my personal phone vibrating in my pocket. Luckily, my smart watch is connected to my phone so I can see who is calling without having to dig into my pocket. The elevator door opens up at the same time that I see that it’s Eddie who is calling. I end the call and begin to send him a voice message that I’m busy when I notice that Shiela and Charlies apartment door is already open. Walking up to the door, I find Charlie standing by the window, looking absolutely panicked. I rush into the house, quickly finding his mom on the living room floor, grasping at her throat with foam coming out of her mouth. I feel my eyes widen for a moment before I immediately get to work helping her. I hear Charlie say behind me that he had already called Eddie and that Eddie was on the way. That probably explains why Eddie was calling me. I had already told Dispatch where I was and what I was doing so the 118 had to know I was already here.

By the time I hear sirens outside, I had already placed an IV started in her right hand with a bag of Fluids running in. I luckily found a place to hang the bag before I work on ventilating her with the BVM. Charlie tells me that he put eye drops in his moms cereal and that he just wanted to see what would happen when he did it. Before I can say anything to reassure him, the door slams open even further and Captain Mehta and his crew are beside me. I can hear Eddie beginning talking to Charlie as I update Mehta and his squad about Sheila’s condition. From the kitchen, I can hear Charlie tell Eddie that he has known for a while that his mom has been putting eye drops in his food and drinks. My heart drops as I realize that Charlie knew exactly what his mom was doing to him. How she was the one that was poisoning him and making him sick. I glance towards the kitchen and lock eyes with Eddie. The realization that he knew hurts more than either of us could have realized.

“The kid’s going to need treatment too,” Buck starts, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I guess they had figured out how Sheila was causing Charlie’s illness after I left this morning.

“Same kind of poisoning, just smaller doses. But for a really long time.”

After loading both Charlie and Sheila onto stretchers and making sure both crews were okay for the moment, I begin to pack up my gear. Thank God I had brought it up with me. As I reach down to pick up the monitor, a hand beats me to it. A familiar hand that belongs to someone I mentally and emotionally need at the moment. I once again look up and meet Eddie’s eyes. There’s a look of sympathy there that I can’t quite understand. Sure, I had a personal connection to this situation, but not as much as Eddie did. Nothing is said for a moment as I notice that Buck is still standing nearby in the kitchen, with my medical bag on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Is all I can get out for the moment, but it seems to convey everything I want to say as both men just smile and nod at me. Moving towards the elevator, they update me on how they figured out what was causing Charlie to be sick. Eddie tells me about how he saw the eyedrops the other day while looking through the cabinets. By the time we reach the bottom floor and make our way through the lobby, Charlie and Sheila are being wheeled to their respective ambulances. My SUV is sitting out front, now surrounded by Battalion 7, Captain Mehta’s firetruck, and the two ambulances. Noticing the confused look on my face brought on by seeing Battalion 7 with no Bobby in sight, Buck laughs and tells me it was the only vehicle available. On the way to talk to Charlie, the boys place my bags in the back of my vehicle before meeting me at Charlie’s side.

“Will I see her at the hospital?” He asks me. Honestly, the question breaks my heart. Even after knowing what she was doing to him, that was still his mother and he still wanted to be around her. Eddie responds to Charlie before I can, telling him that she’s a little more sick and that she’ll have to go to a different hospital. From the other ambulance I can hear that Sheila has woken up and is now yelling for “her baby.” In all honesty, it pisses me off. How can you, for years, poison your own child yet want to call him your baby. It just didn’t make sense to me. The doors close to the ambulance with them leaving shortly after.

I let out a defeated sigh as Buck and Eddie move towards me. With Buck standing in front of me, Eddie moves to my left, something I had noticed that he had subconsciously started doing ever since he proposed. Nonetheless, I appreciated them being close to me in this moment. My mind needed them to help with the emotional toll this call had taken on me. I feel like I should’ve done more. I knew the other day that something wasn’t right and yet I bit my tongue and did nothing about it. It felt like this whole situation was my fault.

“I should’ve gotten here sooner.” I think to myself, or so I thought. Not realizing that I had said it out loud, I move my eyes away from Charlie’s ambulance and meet the concerned stares of Eddie and Buck. They both knew how I took certain things personal. A call like this with an outcome like this? Oh yeah, I was going to take it personally. Both men move to say something before Captain Mehta, unknowingly, interrupts them.

“Lieutenant, you want to ride with the kid to the hospital?”

“Yeah, that would be gre—” My sentence is cut short as a loud gunshot rings out nearby. It feels as though time stopped. Everything and everyone seems to be moving in slow motion. Looking up at Buck, my brain registers that he is now covered in blood. It’s on his face, his neck, and his shirt. Has he always been in that shirt? It’s not our uniform. Thinking of the uniform, my uniform feels wet all of a sudden. Why would my shirt be wet when it’s not raining outside? Time is still moving incredibly slow as I look towards Eddie, who now has an absolute look of terror on his face. It takes me way too long to realize why my shirt is wet and what’s causing the cold sensation to move down my body. I’ve been shot. Someone shot me. Glancing down at my shoulder, I can see the gnarly hole in uniform shirt that accompanies the new hole that has made its home in my body. My breath catches in my throat, and it feels impossible to stand upright. My knees give out on their own and I feel myself slowly drop to the ground. All at once, time seems to catch back up to me and I find myself staring across the road at Eddie and Buck. They are behind the cover of the firetruck with Mehta appearing to be holding them back. My body grows cold quickly, and my head begins to feel heavy, like it weighs thirty tons. There's a weird, wet sensation on my head and I realize that my blood is soaking through my hair, aiding the cold sensation I’m already feeling. How odd…

Lying on the cold, now blood-soaked ground, I can hear Captain Mehta yelling through the radio that there’s been shots fired. And that a Paramedic has been shot. My brain constantly reminds me, maybe to keep me conscious, that it’s me. I’ve been shot. I’m the Paramedic that’s been shot. Glancing up through blurry vision, that seems to be growing darker by the second, I can still register that Eddie and Buck are lying on the ground, yelling for me. At this point though, my hearing feels like I’m lying on the ocean floor, and they are on the shore, whispering to me. Despite my best attempts at keeping them open, I can feel my eyes shutting.

When I come to, it’s pain that has awoken me. Someone has grabbed my arm. The one will a new hole in it. “I’ve been shot,” I tell myself again and again. Maybe if I keep saying it, my brain will keep me awake. And alive. There’s someone screaming in pain. My brain doesn’t register that it’s me screaming in pain only that someone is screaming. It distracts me long enough that I realize that I might not have been the only one shot. Eddie and Buck are here too. One of them might’ve been shot. Oh God. How was I going to explain this to Christopher or Maddie that their loved one had been shot? While trying to process everything that’s going on, I realize that somehow I’m standing on my own two feet. But it’s not for long as I quickly find myself being thrown over someone’s shoulder and passed along to someone else. I feel like I’m flying as I now see that I’m in the back of the fire truck. Why am I looking up at the roof of the truck?

Items and faces blur together again for a moment and my hearing once more sounds like I’m being dunked under water. It sounds like there’s more gunfire but at this point I can’t really tell what’s going on. A face appears above me and I think it’s Eddie. It’s hard to tell as my eyes keep closing on their own. There’s a sharp tug at my shirt and my vision clears up from the jolt of pain that follows it. Eddie is leaning over me while Buck is slamming thick gauze over the new hole in my shoulder. I’ve been shot. I have been shot. This doesn’t make sense. I was just on a Wellness check call. How am shot? I’ve been shot? Eddie appears again in front of my face and this time I notice the blood covering him. My head falls to the side to check on Buck where I find that he too is blanketed in blood. Somehow though, he’s absolutely covered by it. I can see their mouths moving but I’m not hearing anything that they’re saying.

My brain focuses in again. Eddie and Buck are soaked in blood. Were they shot too? Buck is still holding my shoulder with what feels like all of the strength in his body. If it didn’t hurt so much, I would crack some sort of joke with him about it. Everything blurs again and when I come to this time, they are both leaning over me, and I can finally hear what they are saying. This time, I can see the genuine fear in both of the boys eyes.

“Stay with me baby, you got to stay with us!” Eddie pleads, he can’t sit still as he keeps moving over top of me. His eyes are crazed as he looks all over the place as if he’s searching for something. Another bullet wound maybe? I’ve never seen this look in his eye and I don’t like it. I want to soothe him and tell him that I’m fine but the only thing I manage to cough out is,

“Are y’all hurt?” They look at me like I’m crazy before subconsciously looking over themselves, and each other, before answering. Buck opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His mouth and jaw twitch to move but it’s like that’s all he can do in the moment.

“No, no, no baby we’re okay. We’re okay, okay? You’re going to be okay and we’re okay” Eddie tells me, struggling to get the words out. In the background I can hear what sounds like Mehta yelling over the radio, “…A Paramedic has been shot…It’s the Lieutenant from the 118!”

Eddie and Buck are back in my line of sight now, but it doesn’t last long. It’s almost like my body needed the reassurance that they were okay so I could rest. Their mouths are moving again, I think, there are words coming out of them. The only thing I feel like I know is that I have a hole in my shoulder, and I’ve been shot. Words are muffled and time feels like it’s slowing down again. I don’t want to die. I want to get married to Eddie Diaz. I want to spend the right of my life with him. This isn’t fair. I love him. And I know he loves me. This isn’t fair to him. Or to me. My head lolls back to the side and I feel someone’s hand straighten it back up. It’s Eddie and I can see the tears rolling down his cheeks. It’s cutting through the blood like a knife, making a clear pathway down his face. He’s talking to me and the way that I long to hear what he’s saying is unnatural. Somone is placing an oxygen mask on my face, and everything goes quiet. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I try to look up Eddie one last time. I don’t know if this is it, but I want my last look at the world to be of my world. Eddie Diaz. I don’t know if can sense it or see the change in my eyes, but something shifts in his. Although I can’t hear him. I can somewhat see him. He looks even more panicked, more petrified and I don’t how he manages it. I’m just really tired, and cold. There’s a hole in my shoulder….and I’ve been shot. By the time the truck feels as though it’s coming to a sudden stop, I lose the battle to consciousness and slowly drift off...

[nxmimochi]

Hello! This is my first time sending an ask. Hope you are well! 1-5 for the salty ask meme post. 🥰

haiii welcome and thank you for ur ask ^^

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

i don’t dig any mentor x student ships! not just bc im a healthily socialized individual who has a father but also bc their dynamics don’t read that way to me at all. soo…r27, d18, s80, etc etc

i also think it’s funny that r27 is schrodingers cps visit because if reborn is an adult it’s illegal and if reborn is a baby it’s also illegal 💔 LOVE WINS

2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?*

not that i don’t “get them” but tsuna x any guardian i see as more platonic or respectful!

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

oh absolutely, i know i gotta protect my peace and that unfollow/block button is free 😍 i have seen certain takes so rank that i have to get up and do a lap LMFAOO

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?*

already mentioned but r27 is the most popular ship that i think is shit from a butt

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

dsqu (dino x squalo) would be okay if 99% of the fan content wasn’t dino “saving” squalo from the abusive clutches of xanxus JUST CORNY AS HELL

ask game

[hypewinter]

Ok Tim next: Now due to his upbringing, Timbo is an insecure little nugget. This leads him to surrounding himself with a less than ideal lot who basically just treat him as entertainment. There's a problem with this arrangement though. Tim is absolutely boring. Either he doesn't realize they're insulting him with backhanded compliments or he doesn't care. Plus it's not like they need his money or anything since all their parents are rich socialites too. This leads to Tim's "friends" slowly distancing themselves from him. Desperate to get them back, Tim unleashes his last trump card: he knows the secret identity of Batman and his gang.

Naturally the friends don't believe him because why would this tiny nerd know one of the most coveted secrets of Gotham? So Tim sets out to gather proof. He snaps pictures of the Waynes both in and out of uniform to prove that they really are the same people. This leads to him getting caught up in a rogue attack where he gets injured. Duke notices an injured civilian crawling into an alleyway and immediately goes over to help only to recognize the civilian as not only Tim Drake, the only son of the Drake family but also as the unknown nonthreatening presence that's been loosely following him and the others for the past few days. When Tim wakes up in the hospital with the Wayne children surrounding him, he thinks he's been caught and proceeds to babble out everything. As if that wasn't already concerning enough, Bruce can't get ahold of the Drake parents and even when he eventually does, they insist on finishing their dig site first... while their child is in the hospital. As you can imagine CPS is promptly called and before Tim can blink, he's now the Wayne family's new ward. Additionally seeing no reason to hide their identities, the Waynes let Tim into that Batcave whenever he wants (this leads to him helping out behind the scenes with Alfred).

As for Steph: Similar to Duke I'm not really changing much as her story takes place outside of the batfam. She ends up meeting Tim outside of school and they become friends. After noticing the tale tell signs of her being a vigilante as well as the others complaining about someone new running around Gotham, Tim puts two and two together and invites Steph to meet the family.

Alright who's next? Ah yes Jason: Bruce has met this tiny ball of rage multiple times as he often visits Jason's school for charity events. He immediately clocks Jason as not having a great home life and decides to keep an eye on him. Which is why Bruce is one of the first to know when Jason stops coming to school one day. He's also the one who pressures CPS to do a wellness check at the boy's home where they find no one. The address on file for Jason Todd is an old ratty apartment that has long since been empty and cold.

Bruce panics and immediately puts everyone on the look out for the kid. They're checking alleys, they're checking shelters, heck some of them even check the sewers (you never know). But Jason is nowhere to be found. After another night of fruitless endeavors Bruce tiredly makes his way back to the batmobile. It is only then that he notices in his desperate search for Jason that he parked in the one place in Gotham he avoided like the plague, Crime Alley. It is also in this place Bruce vowed never to near, that he sees Jason, trying to break into the batmobile. He almost cries with relief. Instead he carefully approaches the boy. It takes a long time (and a lot of bribes) to convince Jason to come with him to the police station. It takes significantly less time to get emergency custody of him. And it takes somewhere in the middle for Jason to warm up to the Wayne family. (While he does warm up to them, he does remain a little suspicious. Suspicious enough to find a clock in the study that leads to the batcave. This leads Jason to using practically every threat in the book to get himself added to the roster)

Part 1 Part 3

[max1461]

In the last post I said:

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says in particular that a system at least as powerful as PA which proves its own consistency is inconsistent.

Writing this sentence makes me wish humans could handle center-embedding. This sentence is a horrible garden path if you're unfamiliar with the topic, as often occurs when trying to talk about math (because of all the restrictive relative clauses, representing the various conditions to theorems). Syntactic ambiguities often pile up too. Cutting out some unnecessary adjunct phrases, we have:

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ [ a system which proves its own consistency ] is inconsistent ].

vs.

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ a system [ which proves its own consistency is inconsistent ] ].

The latter of course being ungrammatical, but a tempting initial reading.

If we had head-final CPs with head-initial NPs (or conversely head initial CPs with head-final NPs), there would be no problem. Cf.

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ [ a system proves its own consistency which ] is inconsistent ]

for the first reading, vs.

Gödel's second incompleteness theorem says that [ a system [ proves its own consistency is inconsistent which ] ]

for the (ungrammatical) second reading. Ignore "that" still being in a head-initial position, it's not relevant for the point I'm making. Anyway, unfortunately, even if English worked this way—as, you know, Sumerian maybe sort of did with its case particles, and whatnot—we still wouldn't be able to phrase complex unambiguous mathematical expressions with it, because the human speech processing doohickey hates this kind of center-embedded structure at embedding depth greater than 2. Uh, for instance we can say:

The dog the cat saw

And we can say:

The dog the cat the mouse feared saw

And it's already starting to get difficult to process, and then if we try to say:

The dog the cat the mouse the chicken pecked feared saw

It's basically unparsable, even though it's nominally grammatical. Compare the relatively unproblematic right-embedded paraphrase:

The dog who was seen by the cat who was feared by the mouse who was pecked by the chicken.

Well, if English had head-final CPs, you'd have:

The dog the cat saw which

Ok,

The dog the cat the mouse feared which saw which

Doable,

The dog the cat the mouse the chicken pecked which feared which saw which

Horrendous. At best, an attempted paraphrase gets you:

The dog was seen by the cat was feared by the mouse was pecked by the chicken which which which

Which is I guess parsable, but I suspect you will not consistently get the right number of "which"s. Which incidentally will also reintroduce syntactic ambiguity.

So, ok, I don't actually know for sure if native speakers of this hypothetical language would have trouble with these constructions. But it's telling that everybody in every language seems to avoid center-embedding, in Japanese you get the reverse sort of center-embedding when relativizing on objects and, I have to dig up the paper, but I'm pretty sure speakers use paraphrase to avoid doing that more than once. And obviously, my pet example, in Sumerian you have the NP structure Noun-Genitive-[Case Clitic], and you apparently almost never see the genitive clitic =ak more then two or three times in a row (I suspect it depends on the complexity of the embedded phrases).

So, we're fucked. We're fucked if we want unambiguous parsing, we're fucked if we ever want to talk about theorems in a way that is both clear and non-circuitous in a single sentence.

Well it's probably fine. Mathematicians are getting along fine. None of this is a real problem.

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

68 + 96?

68 Husbands In Love + 96 “Take That” Kiss/“Shut Up” Kiss

Hello!! Thank you for sending, I know the prompt was husbands in love, but I've been writing husbands non stop and was feeling nostalgic for boys in love (and denial) and thought i'd have a little fix it fun

as always my fics exist in my own cinematic universe where the cta is not a centrally organized transit system and is actually the most convenient form of public transit to use

“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” Ian asked suddenly.

“Jesus Gallagher, keep asking pussy fucking questions like that and you’re going to get us kicked out for being underage,” Mickey huffed lightly, picking at his beer bottle.

Ian flushed with anger and indignation. Mickey was the one being a fucking pussy, he kissed Ian before robbing Ned’s house, he ran back to the van and kissed Ian like he fucking meant it and for a few minutes while they robbed Ned’s sleeping wife blind, Ian’s mind spun out of control with the possibilities that kiss opened up. 

He’d ridden that high the whole drive back to the Milkovich house, running home like he promised to help dig up the body in his backyard. He even avoided a near disaster with the CPS workers waiting innocuously on the sidewalk, turning the misnamed Gallagher charm up to ten and convincing them to come back later in the week. 

“It’s just that the county is doing rolling water shutoffs this week-and I know it will be a demerit if we don’t have water. But it’s unfair to put us at risk for something entirely under the county’s jurisdiction.” Ian reasoned easily, trying to make sure they don’t walk onto the property as soon as someone unearthed Aunt Gingers rotted corpse. 

They agreed to come back after Friday, because Ian could be incredibly persuasive when he needed to be. And thank god for it because the scene he walked into was a fucking horror show, and that was before Fiona walked in with a femur in her hand. 

They’d all hustled to make the house presentable and keep it that way, and his whole family left to find Frank, so he would actually show his ugly fuckin’ face when they called to talk with the social worker, so Ian was the only one home when he heard a knock at the door.

The last person he expected to see was Mickey Milkovich waiting wide-eyed on his porch. He was wearing jeans and a clean teeshirt with he sleeves in tact. They stared at each other for a moment before Ian finally opened his mouth to ask if Mickey wanted to come in. 

Mickey just scowled and nodded his head towards the street to say come on, Gallagher. Like it was obvious and Ian was the one being difficult, but Ian was just shocked to see Mickey on his porch. Not trying to blend in with the shadows on the street, but standing under the flickering porch light, so he just followed the shorter boy. 

Mickey led him up the stairs to the L, then over the turnstiles and onto the train, they leaned on the pair of train doors and got two stops before Ian worked up the nerve to ask where they were going. 

His question was met with a non-committal shrug, “already pawned a couple of the overpriced trinkets we stole from naughty grandpa, figured I could buy you a beer for bringing us into the deal.”

From the way Mickey was looking up at him through focused eyes, rocking from the wobbling train car, his answer was a long winded way to say I’m taking you out to a bar, please be cool about it for once in your fucking life, Gallagher.

Ian grinned, ducking his head and trying to play it as cool as he possibly could. They got to the bar okay, it was divey little place on the Westside that Ian couldn’t believe Mickey would ever set foot in. Sure, it wasn’t very nice, but Ian wasn’t emitrely sure Mickey knew there was a whole city beyond Chicago’s southside.  

The bartender tried to give Ian a funny look but Mickey just stood in front of him with a nasty glare until she handed over a couple of Old Styles.

The question came when they sat down at a table tucked cozily in one of the corners, Mickey grunted and mumbled at Ian when he tried to coax him into a normal fucking conversation, like they usually did when they hung out at the convenience store. His eyes were bouncing around, scanning the room anxiously, or boring into Ian in a way that made him want to squirm in his seat. 

He seemed cagey, uncomfortable in the bar and in Ian’s presence, so the question was: “Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” 

Mickey’s eyes snapped back to his face, searching and evaluating. “If I wanted to shut you up, kissing wouldn’t be my first option.”

Ian rolled his eyes, “whatever, I just don’t really get what we’re doing here. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you kissed me because you’re jealous and you brought me out here on a date.”

He watched Mickey’s face twitch as the word date fell out of his mouth, so he sighed and continued after a sip of his beer “but I do know better, you kissed me to shut me up and I don’t know why the fuck we’re here. You don’t need to worry about me fucking off completely just ‘cause I like going out with Ned, you’ve got a great ass and we have fun. If that’s all you’ve got for me, I can live with that, but don’t jerk me around like you’ve been doing today.” 

Ian finished his beer and moved to get up. He was playing it a lot cooler than he felt and knew he would probably crumple when he got home, but in that moment he didn’t really care. 

“Gallagher, wait- just sit down” Ian looked at where Mickey was staring up at him with a hand outstretched on the table, finally he added a quiet “please.”

And because Mickey was wearing his hair in that slicked back, pretty boy way Ian liked, looking up at him with pretty blue eyes and worrying his pretty bottom lip, Ian sat back down hesitantly. He tried to stare him down from across the table, but doubted he could pull off threatening to someone like Mickey. To his surprise, Mickey’s bitchy, nonchalant expression crumbled into something sad.

“I don't want to shut you up or anything, you’ve got it all wrong. I did want to… go out with you tonight, like that” Mickey admitted. “But I’ve never really - I don’t date. I don’t have a lot of friends, or hobbies. I’m not very smart, or funny and I think that as sad as it is, my life is going downhill from here, so I’m not really sure what we’re doing here either.”

“I’m a fucking asshole” Mickey looked up at him finally, daring him to disagree “and this, this thing we’re doing is stupid, and dangerous but I kissed you because I wanted to.”

Ian sat in shock, his mind spinning. Of all the things Mickey could have said, that was nowhere near what he was expecting. 

“I think you’re really funny” was the first thing he could think to blurt out “and probably pretty smart, if you actually tried to use your head for anything.”

Mickey stared at him with a blank expression and the air turned awkward around them, Ian exhaled a quiet sigh “Can you just be normal with me? I like you, a lot. I would want to be your friend even if we weren’t hooking up, so let’s just hang out. Can we do that?”

That earned Ian a grin, finally. Mickey was easy to talk to when he wasn’t so deep in his own head spinning himself into agitated circles. He was surprisingly non-judgmental of Ian’s blunt, stupid humor and unusual moralistic view of the world, as much as he had a worldview at sixteen years old. 

Ian got buzzed off three beers and they left when the bar closed down. The streets were pretty empty since it was a weeknight, and Ian boldly grabbed his wrist in a hard grip and pulled him into a darkened ally. 

Mickey pushed a little but mostly allowed himself to get backed against the warm bricks of a nearby building by two of Ian’s strong hands snaking down his sides to settle on his hips. It felt like he’d wanted to do this a hundred times before, so Ian took just a second to grin, joyful and a bit gloating, before leaning in.

Hope you had fun!! :)

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e5 rewatch notes

Ah, "Pop" - it's so weird to have one of the least-satisfying episodes of television you've ever watched be sandwiched in the middle of one of the most satisfying television series you've ever seen.

"But the viewer uneasiness, the juxtaposition, that's the point of the episode!" cry future Storer/Calo** in unison, tearing at their shirt collars and throwing themselves prostrate in the middle of their 7th podcast interview moderated entirely by men "in the spirit of John Hughes, we wanted to convey....."

** For the record, I respect/love them for creating my 2nd favorite TV show of all time, they just grind my gears with the offensive stance on these narrative choices that were, in fact, very bad.

It was an over-reach, an unenjoyable viewing experience for most people outside a specific segment of uncritical (mostly white) men and the women who placate them.

Alright, preamble over - let's dig in!

We open with Tina getting a crash-course in Syd's vision. I bet this woman has never been exposed to breaking food down in the abstract - "earth, air, fire, water" , nor the overwhelming prep of the daikon and the fennel - but her just being like "this is a lot for a tasting menu" and then reassuring her with "it's okay ma, I got you!" - she has my full heart.

Tina's intuition on the food is good, though - it is, in fact, too busy. Sydney is still learning how to be a mentor, and she negates that Tina's background isn't automatically going to make her know what a play on an XO sauce is, or even how to identify a panzanella.

Remember Carmy explaining Japanese plum wine to Marcus? That's how you do it. Sydney still has a learning curve to go through, but Tina will weather it gangbusters.

Sydney - "It's a lot, it's a lot...I'm seeing that its a lot"

I see that iterative recipe development between Carmy + Syd fell into oblivion three weeks earlier when he blew her off, and she's suffering greatly.

Carmy is trying to get the 7 seconds down to 5 between stations when Cicero comes in, and Cicero sees it as a fruitless exercise after Natalie points out that he's been at it for over an hour. I can almost see the flash in Carmy's eyes where we're back 5 years ago, his family seeing him and his work as weird and irrelevant. This was probably the first blow of the day that led him to flake out completely.

I'm including all of Cicero's dialogue here, because I didn't realize it was so weighted on my first pass through the show:

"I'm a little concerned that we're taking our eyes off the ball here, and I want to be hyper-clear - if I ain't seeing no progress, I don't want to keep pissing money away. I'm calling this out now, because we are - How far from open, Sug? - Six weeks! And I somehow anticipate that the coming six weeks, there will be more pissin'.

The thing is, I like to control the pissing to the best of my ability....your schedule is kinked. You're doing whatever the fuck you're doing here. Thundernuts is out there making sandwiches for his entire family? I mean, look, as much as I look forward to selling this place - and trust me, I do look forward to it - I think it's just in all of our best interests if we have a maximally efficient place of business. I really would like to tell you a story of complete and utter failure...."

Syd interrupts.

Holy shit - this is the second time he's tried to tell his Gonzalez/Bartman story. I can't believe I missed this, TWICE (s2e1).

Instead, he tells it to Carmy on opening night - and I think by then Cicero has seen the writing on the wall and knows that Carmy is the only person who really needs to hear it - this is a big CP.

The scenes that follow just reinforce Ciceros current narrative - it's too casual for essentially being a House of Usher - everyone is interrupting, Fak's pal/contractor wandering in eating a sandwich the electrician made him, the drywall falling, Timmy's "no worries, it's still billable hours" crack. Mobster uncle or not, the man has already spent $550k just to witness this.

Tina telling Ebra that it's weird she hasn't spoken to him in a few days, and can't recount the last time that happened - it's amazing that with all the talk of platonic relationships this season, no one is pulling this one out of their hats in comparison *smirks*

But again (like Sugar faux-charming Cicero moments earlier). women be managing men's emotions along with their own lengthy lists of challenges, as the men retreat wounded and overwhelmed.

Cut to Syd perfectly laying out dining wares for Carmy while Fak blathers about 'Can't Hardly Wait' being "the greatest High School Song ever written" while his contractor friend sits idle....

"That's $55 a plate for that silence" - "Okay, then we can use the shitty ones" - Carmy is being so frigging childish and dismissive, right after he called Sugar "fucking disgusting" for being cutesy with Cicero to de-escalate him, but both women are doing what needs to be done - not what they WANT to be doing.

This is when Carmy completely checks out to call Claire for the ridiculous errand run to Winnetka. In my memory, I felt like "oh, he wanted to see her and he took the first opening to bail", but watching this episode now, he feels defeated and infantalized, and so he runs to a guaranteed source of flattery/unchallenging comfort. I don't think it was initially his M.O for the workday, just "later".

He exits with "Um....chaos menu. I dunno? I'll get back to you?" after we already watched Syd suffer on it until the wee hours - he's off to provide himself with amusement and enjoyment, so he can take care of Syd others- he just wants to give the menu to her straight-up (as he thinks this will please her), and this is his way of apologizing for bailing.

The same goes for his non-thank-you to Natalie as he's leaving. "You're not doing this because I'm pregnant, are you?" - No, he's doing it to provide himself with amusement or enjoyment so he can be better for you - enjoy working the entire day at the restaurant pregnant, though! If it makes you feel better, he appreciates you.

"Total Control" by Motels is playing as Carmy and Claire drive to the suburbs - I included the link to the lyrics, because it was an....interesting choice.

I really tried to analyze their conversation during their first foray into the car, but my raw scribbled notes look like this:

"It's perfect timing, I had all this extra adrenaline after resetting this guys Tibia" - screaming

"Whoa" (but not really impressed/getting it) "Does that shit really fire you up?" - oh my god

"It really fucking fires me up. Plus, I love driving. I'm a horrible driver, but I love the risk." - oh my fucking god

I can't do it. I'm sorry.

I'll only note that the chemistry during the envelope drop is non-existent. I think it was supposed to be scripted as a funny/awkward scene, but it just came off as two actors standing in a mail room - before this moment, I never perceived JAW as a guy who's just acting in this show, and it's jarring.

Why the hell didn't FX exert more pressure to get the chemistry read they asked for?

Sydney and Natalie's sit-down is just them acknowledging that they're managing the feelings and work of all the men that orbit The Bear, on top of the extensive labor demands they already have. Richie's interjections due to lack of purpose, Fak's inexperience with managing contractors, Carmy being checked-out and incapable of participating in things that don't rely on his existing ADHD skill-set.

One of these women is a bit green and needs support, the other is pregnant and overwhelmed, and all the men are mad or threatened by them for one trite reason or another - if season 3 isn't an overt celebration of female competence and resilince, I'm out.

"The menu is fucked - and I need Carmy, but he is....being Carmy, somewhere."

"At least he's hanging out with Claire, that seems moderately healthy, right?" - Sugar delivers this as not good, not bad, just completely ambivalent - a far cry from the Fishes discourse.

And Sydney's eyes fire up with the intensity of hell behind a smile and the "who's Claire?" - Ayo is such an amazing actress, that was a nice palate cleanser after the letter drop.

OK, we're back in the car - again, I couldn't extract much from the vapor, but here are some rough-hewn observations:

Claire saying "We've hung out so much, but we've never actually talked" - add it to the list of "telling, not showing".

I wonder if Molly Gordon is truly a great actress and intended to look at Carmy like that while he was talking about drawing pants (intense psychoanalysis eyes) or if she was attempting to look dreamily at him and just failed the assignment.

It's becoming a bit more clear to me that there's a weird brother-oedipal thing going on with Claire when Carmy talks about how she had so many friends, as Mikey did.

"Speaking of dead brothers, do you want to go to a party?"

Ignoring the totallykookycoolgirl line, I don't believe Carmy wanted/needed the tension to break there, he actually wanted to talk. The 'hmmmm' he lets escape is discomfort on multiple levels.

The party scene - "Pretty in Pink" by the Psychedelic Furs plays as they enter a house filled with 35-year-old fraternity dudes.

For those who maybe missed this, John Hughes also wrote "The Breakfast Club", wherein Molly Ringwald's character was named Claire. They just beat us over the head with this regression repeatedly, and I resent it. I came here for a high-caliber show, and I feel like I'm watching Zach Braff disassociate in a Scrubs dream sequence or some shit.

At least KJ (a 38 years old man with meth face) says that Carmy was in wrestling with him back in high school - maybe this will tamp down the "why is a chef so ripped" debate.

Even when Claire is comforting her friend (which is played by Mitra Jouhari, Molly/Ayo's friend in real life), the delivery is so wooden and sterile and not how adult women console one another in crisis.

Maybe it was the fact that she was forced to maintain the whispery voice through it for consistency in Carmy's presence, but even that seems out of sorts - imagine Syd, Tina, Sugar, anyone consoling a friend in a similar situation - and she uses that consolation to further her agenda with Carmy by dropping that no one has ever made her dinner before (at age 30???)

"Am I stupid?" "No, no....he's the one who sucks".

Wait, these are the lines of a very adult woman who has friends who are doctors getting over a 5-year-breakup? This script is stupid.

Jeremy Allen White is such a serious actor, I'd kill to hear his earnest drunk take on this.

"He's so nice. Why don't I ever meet anyone who's nice?"

*sighs deeply* - Again, y'all are 30.

Tina taking a shot and then getting up to sing "Before the Next Teardrop Falls" by Freddy Fender. I'd love to know if this song has a massive place of significance in Tina's life, but I choose to see it as her being a ballast of support for whoever needs her. Her heart is completely open - no notes.

Hold the phone - they chose "Here Comes The Night" to play as Claire is staring back at Carmy and comforting her friend leading up to the fireworks scene?

Here are the lyrics - Van Morrison/Them is great, but I wonder why they picked this song? Feel free to slap the Syd goggles off me, but this literally just chased Tina's ballad about being there when someone breaks your heart.

KJ saying "busted for having fun, busted for having fun!" as the cops are hauling him away. Loga....I mean, Carmy, was looking for "fun" in his life - I feel like this scene summarizes that pretty succinctly. He's not a man searching for fun, he's a man searching for meaning....and now he's going to conflate the fact that he's completely touch-starved with this type of fun, because the man is emotionally illiterate.

The one lyric from Strange Currencies (when they're driving to the restaurant) that they chose to flare prominently is "where were you when I kissed you" - at least they're driving home the message that these two aren't on the same wavelength.

Carmy walking into the Richie-fight-shitshow and being more concerned about the optics Claire receives when it's obvious that his whole staff has just been through a hellfire of a day, ugh. At least his acting chops are back on display in this scene.

Ahhhh, Claire's sourpuss face as soon as Sydney blurts out "I'm sorry you're here" - it almost makes this episode worth it. Almost.

For the record, I side with everyone who's stated that her introduction to the crowd was exclusively to draw Syd's attention to her.

The same goes for Richie's "Interesting." - if we based everything on what Fishes was trying to sell us, he would have thrown Carmy an arm-punch or something. It's more bemusement, not pride, in Carmy for "bagging Claire". Compare that with the "ooooooooohhhh" when Syd and Carmy are fighting - there's way more tension/acknowledgement of their dynamic.

Ugh - even Richie is like "Cousin, who's going to watch the copper?" as Carmy kicks everyone out. Even if they're ham-fisted about it (as Richie definitely is), everyone is concerned about something to do with the restaurant/their labor except for Carmy, who curtly dismisses them all with fake gratitude.

I won't talk much about Syd's exit, because it's already been discussed to death - yes, he's confused she's leaving. Yes, the only time he can look her in the eye is while Claire is distracted. Yes, he see's she's pissed and it's making him die a little inside.

I will offer a trite story, though:

When I was a young pup, I had a co-worker who had a massive crush on my friend - and the affection was mutual, but unacknowledged due to lack of experience.

He (being a traumatized, ill-equipped man-child) immediately sought out a less challenging girlfriend who even looked like a close approximation of my friend and excitedly brought this new girlfriend to a party I was throwing because he REALLY hoped that my friend would love her. She obviously didn't love her, he came to me confused/upset, and after I explained things slowly and carefully, he dumped the girlfriend a few days later. He dated my friend weeks after (and for transparencies sake, it ended terribly).

Where I'm going with this is that I think somewhere in the recesses of Carmy's damaged mind, he REALLY needed Syd's approval of him being with Claire since he was caught red-handed. He imagined her staying, asking leading questions or chaperoning the situation, or giving him a knowing smile or a "thata boy" - whatever. Even though he told everyone to leave. It's bizarre.

The Fak thing is so cloying - someone mentioned today about the Berzatto clan of fools wanting to live vicariously through Carmy and Claire, and they are 100% correct.

Finally, 30-year-olds don't kiss like this.

This whole thing was as unsatisfying to write as it was to watch. Hopefully, I caught something of use - thanks for sticking with me through this!

[inkstainedheartbeats]

TW: Child Abuse, Murder, and Implied Spousal Abuse.

This is a modern day AU

Steve bites his lip as he takes in the house in front of him. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be home. Still the CPS worker at his side urges him up the carefully cared for sidewalk. The yard on either side of the concrete is taken care of but nothing like the veritable garden his mother had. The grass dying in the Indiana heat. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants his mom. Hands tighten on sticky yellow handles. The plastic holds of the black trash bag digging into his hands. He doesn’t want to be here. Mrs Stinson knocks on the door. It’s painted green, mother would have hated it. He doesn’t want be here. Chews on cracked lips as they wait.

“You’ll like it here,” Mrs Stinson says.

Voice soft in a way her face never is. She doesn’t try to touch him . He wants his mom.

There’s a man in the doorway. Taller than Steve but shorter than- he’s frowning, eyes large and expressive behind his glasses. Smartly maintained hair. Without meaning to Steve moves in front of Mrs Stinson. Frowning men are never good. Frowning men dealing with direct and confident women even less so. The man in the doorway is a Beta, his scent neutral like newspaper. But Steve knows scents can lie. Mrs Stinson, an Alpha, smells of sharp lemons and his father had smelled of coffee sweetened with just enough sugar to not be bitter. Steve knows who he’d want to be locked in a room with and it’s not the pleasant smelling one.

“Is it Monday already?” The man asks.

The frown deepens. The door remains pulled close to his body.

“It is indeed,” Stinson is in front of him now, laughter in her voice, “are you going to let us in, Mr Wheeler?”

Mr Wheeler blushes, opening the door and stepping aside.

“Sorry, sorry. Thought today was Sunday. That’s what I get, I suppose, for being so invested in my new book.”

Steve doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t trust this man. He wants his mom. A little girl comes careening around a corner, knocks over the end table that sits against the wall and climbs up Mr Wheeler like a tree. Steve tenses. Marbles are rolling everywhere, keys scattered, water pouring out from the knocked over vase. If it had been him-

But Mr Wheeler just sighs a heavy fond sigh, cuddles the girl close.

“What have I told you about running in the house, Hols?”

“Ta not to, but I wanted to snuggle ya.”

Mr Wheeler looks to the heavens. Lips twitching.

“Well Steve looks like you get to meet Holly first. This is my youngest daughter, don’t let her run all over you. She’ll take a mile when given an inch.”

There’s a joke in there, Steve can tell but it’s lost to him. There’s more talking. Between Mr Wheeler and two other ladies that come swarming up and Mrs Stinson. Discussing him. Discussing his life. It’s not his anymore. He wants his home. He wants his mom. There are three more children introduced. One is a girl, Alpha, at least a year older than him. Her name is Nancy. She smiles at him tightly, unhappy he thinks, that yet another child has been added to her home. Two boys; a Beta and an Omega, Mike and Dustin. Mike is scowling but Dustin is beaming.

“Your room is right across ours!” Dustin is saying, dragging him up a set of stairs. His room and therefore Dustin and Mike’s room are at the end of the hall.

“Don’t mind Mike. He wanted to go over to Will’s but he had to stay here.”

His room is smaller than the one he had but not small. There’s a bed pushed into the corner and the walls are bare but painted a soft yellow instead of having plaid wallpaper. The covers on the bed look soft to the touch, pastel green. A dresser for his clothes and the closest has hangers just waiting to be used. It’s… nice.

“Mom and Mrs Wheeler says that as soon as you’re settled in they’ll take you shopping, get you whatever you want,” Dustin says, he’s never stopped talking.

Steve doesn’t want to go shopping. He doesn’t want to settle in. There are a bunch of things Steve doesn’t want. Even more that he does. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Because his ribs are cracked, his left wrist is broken, he has a concussion, the fifth in his life, more bruises than he can count and his mother is dead. She’s dead and gone and it’s all Steve’s fault. If he hadn’t- If she wouldn’t have-

Steve is here because he angered his father one too many times. Because his mother loved him when she shouldn’t have. He’s here because the monster killed her and Steve wasn’t strong enough to save her. He doesn’t want to be in this room painted his favorite color. He wants to be curled up with his mother, her fingers in his hair as they read together. As she sits patiently for him to get the words to stop jumping around. He wants and wants but nothing is going to change the fact it’s never going to happen again.

“I hope you like it here, Steve. I always wanted a big brother. Nancy is cool and all she’s always hanging out with her best friend Barb and never want us around.”

But what if I have a best friend and never want you around either? Steve thinks but doesn’t say. He may not want to be here but the group home he was in was worse.

“Is that all you have?”

It’s Mike this time, tone just a shade condensending. He’s point at the bag clutched in Steve’s right hand.

“No. It’s all I could carry.”

Jiggles his left arm, the cast clunky and unyielding as all casts are. He has a brace on both knees and wrapped around his ribs. A miracle the docs said, that his ribs hadn’t punctured his lungs. That he survived. A curse he thinks.

The bag holds things of his mother. Things he had been allowed to squirrel away and keep. Dustin hits Mike’s arm, hissing something too low for Steve to hear. Hearings shit now. His luck run out. Eyes have always been a bit dodgy but they’re worse now. Mr Wheeler comes in, two of the three bags left in Mrs Stinson’s car in his. Mrs Henderson, he thinks her name is, with the last. Three bags, that’s all he has to his name, if his life.

He’s left alone to unpack. Steve curls up in the closest and cries instead. He wants his mom.

[sergeantsporks]

Uh... Wouldn't Philip's "return" warrant a lot of media attention?

Stranger abductions themselves are really rare --I think the statistic is only one out of every 10,000 kidnappings is perpetrated by a stranger? So, 99% of the time, if a child is missing and believed to have been kidnapped, it's a family member whose taken them.-- but stranger abductions where the child returns home, alive and well?!?

Well, that's even more rare.

Philip would basically be a unicorn in the eyes of the news media, lol. Interviews with him would be beyond coveted. And like, it wouldn't just be the national news either! Bare minimum, we're talking national news here. With world-wide being absolutely not out of the question!

So, even if Caleb did takes pains to shield Philip from the reporters... Plus his status as a ward of the state would almost certainly give him legal protection...

The media is still going to swarming Gravesfield, desperate for even a glimpse of him.

Which stretches the believability of Caleb being able to keep the fact that he's now caring for five more kids under wraps, lmao.

Even just keeping Philip's friends, uh... having an "extended sleepover" at the Wittebane apartment on the down low (So, not outright hiding it. But not talking about it directly? I guess?) with all that scrutiny is a bit silly. Social services would want to know who the hell those kids are and why they aren't with their families. Philip going "I meet them while I was away. Their parents are all totally cool with them staying here." is not going to cut it.

XD I now fully understand why The Owl Crew avoided all of these uncomfortable topics by just having Vee assume Luz's identity over the course of the summer, meaning that she was never technically "missing".

You don't have that same luxury with Witch Switch, though.

Might I suggest that you avoid all of those difficult elements in a different manner?

Just have Caleb never announce Philip's return it. Not to the police, not to Manny, he doesn't so much as breathe a single word about his beloved baby brother being back (With five friends!) in town to anyone.

You could still have Manny find out by accident (Like, say: He visits the apartment unannounced one day, intending to offer Caleb support, and stumbles onto the kids or something), if him being involved is important to the story.

It would just be far more easier to handwave Manny (Someone whom the Wittebane Brothers have known for years, someone who Caleb trusts) not asking too many questions about where the hell Philip has been these last few months, and not digging particularly deeply into why five more children are living with the boys in their apartment then it would be to handwave the entire Gravesfield police force, the collective news media, and Connecticut CPS doing the exact same thing. Lol.

I actually do have a plan for all that, and it's not huge spoilers or anything, so I'll share. The gist of it is: Phillip claims he was never abducted in the first place. According to him, he was so incredibly angry about Caleb planning to propose, he took the bus to the next town over, hopped on a train, and by the time he decided this was a terrible idea and he should go back home, his phone was dead, he had no money, and he was stranded far from home. So, he's just been making his way back over the last few months via hitch-hiking and walking.

This is OBVIOUSLY a story that NO ONE believes due to all the massive holes in it, but no one can turn up any evidence to suggest where he ACTUALLY was (for obvious reasons), and they literally could not drag any other information out of him with horses. He doesn't seem to be SUPER harmed (aside from the broken nose, which he claims was from. Falling down stairs. Like an idiot), and no one can figure any reason he'd be protecting his supposed kidnappers, ESPECIALLY given that their number one suspect is someone who he has been documented to already hate. So while no one believes him, no one can come up with a better explanation, and they basically have to take his word for it.

"Kid runs away and eventually comes back" is somewhat of a less heartwarming, news-worthy story than "kidnapped child finds his way home after months of a terrible ordeal" because, well. Sometimes kids DO run away and for extended periods of time. Sometimes they turn up again. Sometimes they don't. So the media is on it for a little, and then it just sorta. Eh. Whatever. Drops away. Not a juicy enough story for them.

In terms of CPS, obviously the "he ran away" narrative turns up the heat on Caleb and it gets a little hairy on whether or not they'll let the two of them stay together, but based on Phillip's history of Incredible Aversion to Change, and his history of Doing Dumb Stuff (as well as Phillip's incredibly strong convictions towards the idea that he SUPER overreacted and that he messed up BIG TIME and regretted it IMMEDIATELY), it's determined that there was not much Caleb really had control over besides planning a proposal, and they're put on Extreme Probation (and look, yes, I know this is possibly more unrealistic than the existence of the demon realm, but you gotta give me some leeway and work with me here, I gotta bend the rules to make this work), and are basically getting checked on once or twice a week and the two of them have to go to counseling all the time. Caleb and Phillip are interrogated pretty relentlessly on their home status regularly now by social services.

Like in canon, the BI kids spend a lot of time at the abandoned house, and they definitely try to make themselves scarce whenever people show up to the apartment, so no one really notices them too much. And when they ARE there, well, they're just Phillip's friends. Over to hang out. As teenage friends do. Don't worry about it. They just like hanging out here because they think Caleb is awesome, and they know how important it is for Caleb to keep tabs on Phillip at all times. And isn't it SUCH a glowing character reference that so many parents trust Caleb enough to send their kids over, even after everything? (That last one is all Odalia, she has those CPS officers wrapped around her pinky finger every time they come around and they're there. World-class liar. She's VERY good at deflecting further questions about their parents or where they came from).

Evelyn's continued disappearance results in a general assumption that she's not in the states legally, so when Phillip disappeared, she made herself scarce before she could get caught in all the attention. This is backed up by the fact that no one seems to know anything about her, and she doesn't show up on any records (she magic bamboozled her way into a motorcycle, and she's never been pulled over).

[divineerdrick]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon Upd8 for 2/10/24

We got our news post a little late and our upd8 a little early. I'm struggling today and behind on progress for everything, but I still want to read.

James is being a bit hammy, but he's teasing some good news. It looks like we'll be getting [S] pages in the future. Hopefully with more than one person and a slower upd8 schedule, they won't ever need to pause for them.

Kinda curious about the VTuber mentioned. I like watching people experiencing Homestuck stuff! It's the whole reason I started live blogging.

Now onto the upd8!

Looks like I might have been right about Yiffy potentially having something to do with that ominous red glow. Let's see what's going on.

Like all teens, the worst thing that can happen to her is public parental affection. Though Jade is laying it on thick! Where's Rose with a quip about contacting CPS? Although she'd be calling them on herself.

Not sure how I feel about the gag, honestly. It's pretty cliché, and Tavvy is right there. We don't know how badly Yiffy has suffered, but like Tavvy it's been real abuse and neglect. This comic does have a habit of trying to make child abuse a joke, though.

Kanaya is obviously still struggling, and I can't blame her. Yiffy is one of the most controversial aspects of this comic, supposedly handed down to us from on high by AH himself. One of the great complaints about the Epilogues is that it takes the characters in directions that were intended to challenge fans. But even then, the idea that even a Candy Rose would cheat with Jade to have a secret love child and hide it from her all this time is so fucking out there. Everything about it feels wrong.

And then, of course, they get into a silly dare and name her Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde Harley!

But I'm not saying things that haven't already been said a million times. It's always felt like one of AH's epic troll moments, like the ones I both love and hate in the original work. And I hoping it will eventually pay off to something.

Looking at the text here, Yiffy's color could definitely be the red. Hah! Pepis.

Yiffy's mind is also on Kanaya it seems. We're also getting a sense of her attitude much more clearly now. I'm kinda getting Susie vibes.

Oh wow! They're actually calling it "The Yiffy Reveal" in universe!

Wow! Wow! Fucking wow!

The fuck!

I think my jaw just splintered the floor at my feet!

Rose used her power. She actually used her fucking power! And not only does she believe this will all be fortuitous (it's practically fated since it gives us a set of four kids), but that fortune would dictate Kanaya's eventual forgiveness.

She didn't just decide on, "Easier to get forgiveness than permission." She believed it inevitable, so that made it okay!

The fuck!

We're digging a little into Jade's adult life now. And yeah, it's just as bad as we probably imagined it was. Doesn't justify them going behind Kanaya's back, but you can understand her yearning.

That . . . that oddly makes sense. It still seems wrong, but it's the kind of backward logic that might occur on Candy Earth C. I don't know if AH had this explanation as part of Yiffy's backstory, or if it's writing we can attribute to one team or the other. But it's an actual explanation for how we got here.

Still not enough to pay off the trolling yet.

How . . . Tavvy, what were you doing?

Yeah, no. I'm betting right now Kanaya is feeling a lot more forgiving towards Jade and a lot less forgiving towards Rose.

That's Meenah's symbol, so we know who to expect a call from next time at least.

Of course a lot of attention is payed to the captchalogued corpse in Jade's possession. Did she find Dave's body and is still not dealing with it? Has she considered her taxidermy tradition dealing with it enough? Is this somehow another corpse considered fitting for the Harley traditions?

Tune in next time!