#anyways that was just an incredibly well done metaphor to call back to

[pyrrhicprose]

Hey guys so I was rewatching OPLA and uh.

They really carried that well theme through huh?

[five-rivers]

radiology

for @dekalko-mania and @dragonsdomain

Danny looked down at his arm and leg, then up at the ER desk, then over to his mother, sitting next to him, who had witnessed the car ‘clipping’ him.  Unknown to her, it had done quite a bit more than clip him.  Anyone else, and the driver’d have a vehicular homicide charge on his hands, not just a hit and run.  

If she hadn’t been watching– If he’d seen the car– 

Well, then he wouldn’t be in this mess, would he?  He would’ve dodged, or gone intangible, or just hidden the injuries he did get until they cleared up.  Just like he’d hidden all the other injuries he’d gotten that week. 

Although, he could admit that these were pretty bad, all things considered.  Worse than he usually got, which was incredible, considering he’d gotten it from something as banal as a car accident. 

Less banal were the other injuries he was sporting.  Like, new broken bones and bruises?  That’s what he was supposed to have.  That’s what was normal to have after a car accident.

Old broken bones and bruises… He definitely still had the ones from being hit by the car, but they just as definitely had started healing already, faster than a normal human’s ever could.  So had the broken bones and bruises he’d gotten earlier in the week after a particularly nasty fight with Aragon, the bites from the ghost bear, the stab wound from an anti-ghost knife (thanks Valerie)...  But they were still there.  Those would be harder to explain.  If he even could explain them.  

He needed to figure out how to hide all of this.  Like, obviously, he couldn’t hide everything.  He had been hit by a car, and, more importantly, he’d been seen getting hit by a car.  But the weirder stuff?  He could do that.  

“Fentons?” called the receptionist.  “They’re ready with the x-ray.”

“He’s going to need a wheelchair,” said Maddie.  

They got him a wheelchair, despite his protests that he could still walk, and wheeled him over to radiology.  He eyed the x-ray machine with trepidation and distaste.  It didn’t look like much, not compared to some of the machines he’d been in, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have the power to destroy his life.  Metaphorically.  Probably couldn’t do it literally.  Probably.  

A woman leaned into the room.  “Mrs. Fenton, we have a question about your insurance.”

“Right, okay, I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

“Don’t worry,” said the radiologist, who was adjusting something on her computer.  “We’d actually ask you to leave the room while we did this anyway.  No reason to irradiate you today.”

“My jumpsuit would–”

“Mrs. Fenton, the insurance.”

“Yes, yes,” said Maddie, she walked out, leaving Danny behind with the radiologist and the nurse that had helped them back here.  

The nurse helped the doctor make sure he was arranged properly for the x-ray, each limb in place, while the radiologist took a series of images.  Then he got him back into the wheelchair.  

“Thanks David, I think we’ll be okay here for now, if you need to get back to the ER.  I’ll call Molly when Mr. Fenton’s ready to get his bones set.”

“Alright,” said the nurse, nodding.  “You’ll be in good hands, kid, Molly’s great.”

That left Danny alone with the radiologist, who was clicking through Danny’s x-rays on her computer and rapidly paling.  With a flash, he went ghost and phased into the radiologist.  

He didn’t like overshadowing people very much anymore.  It had been fun at first, getting to be someone else.  Like playing a part.  But being the part, being puppeted… That was a lot less fun, and once Danny realized that, he stopped, except for when it was going to save a life.  Or his secret.  Which was pretty much his life.  

He stared at the computer screen.  Overshadowing someone didn’t mean that he knew what they knew.  Not really.  But he did get echoes.  Impressions.  Bits of emotion.  Sometimes, he even got a snippet of something they knew so well that it was basically muscle memory.  So, he knew his x-rays were screwed up, but not in what way, except–

Oh, yeah.  That would do it.  That was probably it, anyway.  He’d forgotten that he’d phased the thermos into his stomach to hide it, earlier.  Along with a couple pencils, a spoon, and various other small objects.  That was probably also related to why his liver felt so bruised…  He hadn’t realized it’d show up in x-ray even though it was intangible, but then, Danny was still visible while intangible, unless he went invisible at the same time, so…  Yeah…  Huh, the physics behind that had to be wild. 

But that wasn’t relevant right now.  He was hurt enough that he didn’t think he could hold onto the radiologist for more than a few minutes longer.  She wasn’t really fighting him, but she had a strong sense of self.  

However… he deleted all his x-rays.  That was step one.  Now, she had to have, like, spares or something.  Something he could substitute in for the images he’d just deleted.  He minimized the window and started looking through the radiologist’s files.  The spares might not have bones broken in the same places… or even broken bones at all, but that was fine.  People got lucky in accidents all the time.  He could play it off as the car not hitting him that hard.  Or something.  

Panic and aching pain may have disrupted his thought processes just a little bit.  

Finally, he found something labeled EXAMPLE 20XX.  That’d work.  That was over ten years ago, for all that it looked like the right file type for the x-ray program, so hopefully the radiologist wouldn’t recognize it.  

He loaded the pictures up and fled the radiologist’s body.  Just in time, too.  As the radiologist was orienting herself, Maddie came back in, a scowl on her face.  However, the scowl quickly turned into naked worry when she saw Danny.  

“Were you able to take his pictures already?”

“Yes, we have a new fast imager.  But these are…”  She trailed off, examining the screen intensely.  

“Is something wrong?” asked Maddie.

“Well,” said the radiologist, “come look.”

Maddie crossed the distance between Danny and the radiologist.  “Oh, thank goodness, I don’t see any breaks.”

“And that would be good, if these were his bones.”

“They’re not?”

“Not unless he’s a thirty-five year old woman,” she said.  “Sorry, this is my sample set.  It shouldn’t be connected to his– Nothing like this has happened before.  I didn’t even have my samples open.”

“Could the undo button help?” asked Maddie.  

“I mean, if they were in here at all, maybe,” said the radiologist.  

Tucker was going to kill him for not restarting that program.  And the computer.  And emptying the ‘trash’ bin.  And probably a dozen other things that would have prevented from the radiologist and his mother being able to restore everything with a few clicks of an ‘undo’ button.  

“Oh, here they are, they’re…”  She started losing color again.  “Mrs. Fenton, do you have any idea what this… what these things are?  Or how he could have…  Dear lord, I think these are more break than bone.”  

Maddie turned to Danny.  Her stance looked casual, but Danny knew she could whip out a gun faster than you could blink.  

“Danny,” she said, “can you explain any of this?”

[somethingsomethingwords]

When Lance arrived in his room, he felt half dead.

In the ambulance they gave him liquids and sugar, but it somehow still didn't feel enough.

His clothes were stuck to his back, damp with sweat even after the shower, his skin hot and irritated red.

He slowly moved towards the bathroom, lights still off. There, he turned them on on the dullest setting and sat on the edge of the tub as lukewarm water started to fill it. He painfully undressed himself, careful not to aggravate the strain between his shoulder blades.

When he carefully sat in the tub, he let out a tired groan. He laid his head on the edge, and closed his eyes against the lights and the pain. He must have lightly nodded off, because he was startled by the knocks on the door. Lance couldn't be bothered to actually answer, so he just waited for whoever was knocking to just go away. Soon the sound stopped, but suddenly the buzz of his phone started. He groaned again, but answered anyway.

"Mhhhh?" was the sound that came out of his mouth, too tired for any real effort.

“You okay?" Asked a concerned voice that made Lance freeze for a second.

"Lance?" asked the voice with even more concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright, Fernando. What about you? You ok?"

Fuck, this personal moment of isolation, intended to be spent licking his metaphorical wounds, of course this was the moment Fernando had to play the role of the worried teammate.

Ok, that wasn't fair to the older man. He always seemed genuine when interacting with Lance, playful and funny in some moments, serious and sharp in others. Lance couldn't be mad at him. He just wasn't in the mood for company. He didn't want any witness to his well deserved, in his humble opinion, pity party.

“You still there?" the same voice again and again and again.

"Yes sorry, just a bit distracted. You were saying?"

"Nothing important, the burns will heal. You don't sound alright, though"

"Yeah, not really, just soaking in the tub and waiting for the strength to dry and go to bed. I think I was actually napping before your call"

"That why you didn't answer the door?"

"Oh, it was you? Sorry, couldn't really get up"

When he was done talking, the only sound he could hear for a couple seconds was the breath coming from his phone.

"Fernando, are you sure you're ok?"

"You fell asleep...Lance, that's incredibly dangerous!"

If before Fernando's voice was an ok company, now Lance was starting to be irritated by it. He wasn't a child, he knew the risks of his own actions.

"Haven't you heard? Apparently I'm a danger to others, so why not be one to myself?"

Lance was greeted by silence, as the words he just said rang into his own ears. Before he could apologise, the Spanish man spoke.

"Lance what do you mean?"

Lance sagged in the tub, feeling more tired than ever.

"Nothing Fernando, it's nothing, just in a bad mood. Sorry"

"Lance, I know you. I have seen you frustrated and angry, this is not it. What's going on?" asked Fernando, and Lance couldn't take it anymore. Slowly, salty tears started to fall from his eyes. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but he couldn't really hide his sobs from the other man.

"Lance, it's ok. Just open the door. We don't have to talk, but I want...I don't want you to be alone."

"Why, so that I don't do anything stupid?" He tensed, drying his cheeks and furiously rubbing his eyes, starting to feel too many emotions all at once, sadness and frustration and anger and guilt and a sense of general pointlessness.

"Because you deserve to not be. You deserve whatever you need in this moment, a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen to your struggles or simply someone close" his firm but gentle voice was starting to calm Lance.

Sighing, Lance relaxed his muscles.

"Give me two minutes."

"Take your time. I'll wait" And what was that supposed to mean? But Lance didn't have the brain power to ponder about it, so he hummed and hung up. He rose from the tub and, carefully stepping out, started to dry himself. When he was satisfied, he unplugged the tub, almost fixating on the water swirl, but he had clothes to put on and a complicated teammates situation to solve. He put on a simple pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, once again thankful for the AC that cooled the room down.

When he opened the door, Fernando was leaning on the opposite wall, calm and patient, black pajama pants and an unzipped hoodie on top of a simple black t-shirt. Lance really didn't know what to think, so he simply let him in.

Lance's bare feet sang because of the textured carpet, but his legs almost gave out, weighted by his tiredness, so he decided to sit on the couch as normally as possible, heavily leaning the small of his back on its arm and his head on the back of it, hunched over his raised knees. Normal, see?

"So..." he didn't want to feel awkward, but couldn't help himself. What do you say to a legend that is your teammate and is showing real (or deep faked) concern, who you have a totally-platonic-not-at-all-romantic crush on and were also deeply convinced that hung around only because paid or, even worse, forced to? Yeah, Lance didn't know either, so awkward silence it was.

"Have you drunk?" Right, because Lance was incapable of being responsible, ok then.

"Yes, I have. Now you can leave."

The rollercoaster of emotions was draining him after all that went down on the track. He just wanted to curl up in a ball on his bed, cry if he could find the strength, and then sleep. But the other man seemed to have other plans. He nodded, then went to the kitchen, taking off his hoodie and throwing it on the first chair available, and started filling up two glasses. When he returned, he sat on the other side of the couch and offered him one of them, whilst drinking the other.

Grabbing it, Lance had to grudgingly admit that he was thirsty, so he slowly drank without making eye contact. There had to be a limit to the awkward silence and the embarrassing situations, right? Wrong.

Soon after finishing his glass, Fernando slipped closer to Lance. The Canadian couldn't look at him, so he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his right knee.

"Lance, I understand if you don't want to talk, really do. But I'd prefer if you allowed me to be here with you" his tone was so sickeningly sweet that it made something in Lance snap.

"And I'd rather pref..." he started angrily, but couldn't even finish the sentence because his eyes landed on the bandages on Fernando's right arm: they started just under his elbow, and disappeared beneath the short sleeve of his t-shirt.

"What the fuck happened?" asked Lance, suddenly panicking and unfurling from his previous position to gently take a hold of Fernando's hand, studying the bandages and carefully turning the arm to get a better look. He was so preoccupied with his scrutiny that he didn't notice how the other man was looking at him, expression soft and open, endeared by his cat-like teammate: prickly, fast mood changes, in need of some affection but too stubborn to ask for it or even accept it once freely given.

Fernando simply shrugged, without disturbing Lance's hold.

"The car wasn't properly sealed. I have some first degree burns, but nothing serious."

When Lance deemed the situation under control, he finally realised that he was holding Fernando's hand. He started blushing furiously, quickly releasing it, but when he tried to move his left hand away, that's when Fernando himself caught it and tightly gripped it, keeping him in place.

Lance met the older man's gaze, intense and sharp.

A few seconds passed, silence engulfing them.

With a tired sigh, Lance collapsed on the back of the couch, hand still held.

"Fernando, what do you want, honestly? Why are you here?"

"I already told you, I just don't want you to be alone. Because I'm old, and I'm selfish and I can't bear to see you hurt and alone."

These were words Lance had never expected to be directed to him, even less by Fernando. But he couldn't deny his presence was comforting. So he chose the path of least resistance: he leaned to his right and put his forehead on his teammate's left shoulder, trying to be delicate about it, but when a hand sneaked in his hair, starting massaging his skull, he completely melted.

"I can't talk, not right now. Tomorrow, if you're still interested..."

"I'll be here, just waiting for you. Now sleep, gatito"

As if been given his last order, Lance felt himself fall asleep without a care in the world, leaving an even more endeared Fernando to massage his back, watching him carefully and swearing to himself to be by his side for as long as possible.

[raccoonfallsharder]

recommended works ⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

these are the folks who have written or drawn something (specifically within the rocket raccoon fan community) that either murdered me, resurrected me, or both.

(i am always open to recs so if you wanna link me to your fave i will be so happy to check them out)

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ fanfiction ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

The All of You (ao3) i fuckin love this story so hard. i love the OC. i love the writing. i love the set up. i reread this probably every month or so and pine for more. it's so fuckin good. @lazarel-3000 is a double-threat (at least) who is also on my recced artist list, which means (obviously) they are a recced creator as well.

Casino Royale (ao3) this fic by @hibatasblog (see also: Entanglement, below) is so fucking delightful. petra quill is so hot i want to date her myself, and the tension between her and rocket is through the roof. loving the angst, loving the little ways that heartbreak seeps through every new paragraph, loving the mystery of trying to figure out what happened to petra and rocket to set them on their separate paths and now bring them back together. always waiting anxiously for the next chapter.

Entanglement (ao3) this fic by @hibataao3 has me rationing my consumption in a way i have not done in a long time. i'm like "i only read one chapter a week to pace myself, as a little treat for surviving another seven days." beautiful writing and intricate storytelling, the metaphors and analogies are so good i almost wish i was back in undergrad writing a thesis on it.

Friends (tumblr) @nyxivy is making their way through the rocketober 2023 prompts and the first fic of the series is. so drool-worthy. i've probably read it fifty times since it came out. short and so hot i could die (much like rocket himself), and somehow incredibly sweet in just the span of a few paragraphs? i will continue coming back to this fic and look forward to more from them at every chance i get.

Get Up (tumblr)@caesarhamato22 is another person on my recced creator list because trying to find just one fic to call my "favorite" is a challenge (obviously i was unsuccessful because there are two on this list). anyway this is lovely and fluffy. i die.

last (friday) night (ao3) nsfw. trying to pick a "favorite" of @aliasrocket's work is like trying to choose a favorite incarnation of rocket (i cannot). guess who is also on my recced creators list.

more than seven (tumblr) second @caesarhamato22 fic on this list and another recced creator. this one is one of my favorite comfort fics (i mean it's still sexy as hell) that i come back to very often. like it's just so wonderful and sweet and perfect and atmospheric and vibes

stars. (tumblr) ☕︎ stars. (ao3) sexual tension & some of the loveliest atmospheric writing i've ever consumed. another @aliasrocket fic that lives in my head.

A Very Basic Instinct (tumblr) ☕︎ A Very Basic Instinct (ao3) nsfw. when i tell you this fic did things to me. it is probably one of the fics i reread most. like, all the time jkjk only semiregularly. check out the author @elegant-fleuret for other equally brainrot-inducing smut (also mentioned in my recced creators).

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ art ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@bathmob i wish. i could draw rocket. like this. the vibes are so good. the style. is perfect. i thank the universe whenever i see new art from them.

@glow-autumz is absolutely going to be a published comic artist some day and i will buy anything she works on ever. literally everything she creates has a story behind it, which i love. like, not only are her illustrations gorgeous (and like…often very hot) but every single one is (at least) a single-panel narrative. plus her OC is also cool as hell and i love her interpretations of rocket.

@lazarel-3000 creates the most toe-curlingly delicious art i've seen in a long time. i am seduced by pretty much everything they create. even their rough drafts have me panting. (i also have a crush on their OC and as a bi-lady i look at their art and am often like oh shit this is a fuckin feast). as mentioned before, this artist is also the author of one of my favorite fics and is a recommended creator in general.

@uglly-rodent posts always make me want to pinch the babby raccoom's cheeks and/or cry.

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ creators ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@aliasrocket writes such beautiful things it is impossible to pick a favorite (i got two of their fics in the fic section and it was difficult to narrow it down that far and even now, i'm not certain). their tumblr has the added advantage of a ton of drabbles, every single one of which is perfection.

@caesarhamato22 read everything. like everything. great smut but i am a sucker for the slice of life shit and it's so fuckin good here. i just wanna be a nail tech on knowhere/locked in a closet with rocket/have him steal my t-shirt/whatever. it's like all my most domestic desires got turned into little fanfiction dreams. so much wish fulfillment i could die

@elegant-fleuret has great fanfiction (more than just the one on my fic list - i just felt like i had to narrow it down and A Very Basic Instinct literally gives me a a fresh hit of dopamine every time i reread it, which is a lot). plus also art. double-threat.

@evolvingchaoswitch writes with a ton of vulnerability and rawness and angst. i am also in love with the shorter pieces they've been putting out for rocketober 2023 (some really great poetry, some really emotional oneshots, some really hot oneshots). plus their OCs always fuckin rock

@lazarel-3000 look. look. i cannot say this enough. please go check them out they are hope in a hopeless place. some of the sexiest art + one of my very favorite fanfictions + one of my very favorite OCs have come out of this flawless individual. (full disclosure they also did some nsfw art of my OC jolie and rocket that has me crying and dying and hyperventilating on a daily basis)

@love-for-faeries-go-burrrr has another one of my favorite OCs and i am always hungry for their little storylines whenever they post.

@mrwolfhare is one of my favorite sources of gotg food-for-thought. just some of the most thoughtful explorations of the details of both the mcu and comic canon, excellent headcanons, beautiful screenshot sets, and really solid art. the drawtober art and ficlets have been highlights in my days this month and i'm told there may be a rad fanfiction on the horizon so keep your eyes on this! (rad fanfiction is here now! read Subject 880HR on ao3)

[skullsnbruises]

Hello welcome back to my autism decided today was the day I’d finally work on NAW and so here’s the FIRST FUCKING CHAPTER!!!

[Ao3 Link]

Taglist: @poprockpanda @brick-a-doodle-do @local-squishmallow @dingbatnix @data-expunged-0 @da3dm

Noms Are Weird

Clumsy

[2248 words] [full tw list on ao3]

Tommy had the misfortune of being born right into the first generation of giants integrated into human culture. Which for him, meant all sense of a previous culture and country he could’ve shared with other giants was a far fetched fantasy now, unlike his father, Phil’s, life. This didn’t mean anything to the blonde growing up, until teenage years brought hormones and odd feelings. Not those feelings, weirdo.

The types of feelings that burrow deep into your soul, and stomach, and gurgle and squeeze anxiously. The type that make you realize how dumb you fumble around and how much space you take up as a giant in the small world around you.

Hyperawareness. Discomfort. Some secret third thing Tommy spent the majority of his time trying to identify now. It was an odd sensation that came up anytime he was around, or thought of, a human.

He didn’t dare bring it up to anyone, worried in the back of his mind what it could be. He wasn’t stupid. There were stories and fears about how giants sometimes ate humans. That’s something Tommy definitely didn’t have any mixed feelings towards whatsoever, nope! It wasn’t like every moment he came into contact with his peers at school, his stomach churned hungrily and intrusively snuck thoughts of slipping them into his mouth- not at all.

But just in case, Tommy decided it was best to isolate socially from humans. Completely ignore and avoid them, because that’s definitely healthy and the right way to cope.

Clumsy, uncomfortable Tommy stumbled through the hallways, rushing his way to the last class of the day.

The only luck Tommy had was his school being more developed than when Wilbur was taking classes. The blonde’s school was actually suited for giant students and housed them comfortably.

But now the teen had made it to the class, stupid math. He carefully stepped past the front side of the room, which seated the human students, and made his way to relax in his own seat.

Classes could snugly fit about three giant students each, while dozens of humans could fit. Meaning, if you didn’t like your same-sized peers, you’re not only a giant blemish to the humans, but to the giants as well. That was typically Tommy.

In math, he was sat beside Punz, and only Punz. He was a senior, contrasting Tommy’s being a freshman.

The brief consideration passed Tommy to try and make friends, though Punz had a cold hard face that told him he was not at all interested. So, of course, Tommy struck up conversation with the platinum blonde.

“AYUP, how do?”

Punz gave him a bewildered side glance, before fully turning, expression clouded in disgust at the very fact Tommy was even acknowledging him.

“Who,” Punz bared sharpened teeth, “are you?”

“They call me Tommy,” he nodded, “most people say I’m annoying, but only at first, nice to meet ya, what’s your name, mate?”

Punz’s expression returned to normal; normal being incredibly bored and done-with-people looking, but still.

“Punz,” he answered. Tommy smiled, despite already knowing from the older one's reputation that spread like wildfire around the school.

Punz. He was a monster. Every giant stereotype Tommy could really think of was true for him. Loud, brash, violent. Punz was the type to start fights and he was certainly strong enough to have people wishing themselves dead. Tommy heard Punz had once broken someone’s arm! He was a threat of a giant, strong and cruel. And Tommy was all the more concerned with befriending him.

It was simple, having friends was good anyway. But having someone tough on your side always played to one’s advantage. As well as the fact Punz was a cold person who needed a heater to warm him up, metaphorically. If Tommy could be that, letting the giant trust someone, he’d consider himself having done a good job. Plus, softening Punz would do all the much to push giantkind in the eyes of acceptance.

Maybe Tommy was considering too much.

“You’re staring.”

“WHOOPS,” Tommy laughed it off nervously, “Sorry, big man, sometimes a boys gotta stare, ya know?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Tommy continued to chuckle, playing off his discomfort, “Ay, big guy, maybe we could spend time together after school, yeah?”

The giant’s nose curled and the word ‘no’ was on his lips, but a sudden thought took Punz aback, and he softened his face again, “Actually, I was spending time with some friends after school, you can come,” there was something dark in that invitation, but Tommy couldn’t detect it.

“Hell yeah!” His voice was a bit loud, the teacher hushed him.

Tommy smiled and quieted, flashing his toothy grin to Punz before focusing on maths.

As much as Tommy was a klutz and a social embarrassment, he still wanted to try with giants. Humans were completely out of the picture; his feelings and intrusive thoughts messed him up too much to bother, but at least he could talk to giants. They were on the same level, literally, and he felt all the more comfortable just in their presence than the small little breakable creatures that were humans. It was too dangerous to allow himself by them. And Tommy would avoid humans, he swore upon it, for his and their sakes.

Class went alright, and Tommy kept serving one liners and quips to Punz to butter him up. He really wanted the older one to like him. It meant so much with every giggle and small twitch of the corners of Punz’s lips he caught. The blonde didn’t think he’d be able to stand being an extrovert with no friends.

Maths was over soon enough, and the two giants parted ways, walking down the giant sized hallway to their lockers. The humans walked along a small, lifted up, walkway that was guided by a railing. They were high enough that they walked the same height up to an average giant’s chest. The school feared if they were waking down too low, they’d be stepped on, so everything for humans was raised more or less.

The freshman tore his gaze from the small walkers. He didn’t want to tempt the nagging urge anymore than it already ached. It was a foggy sensation that was trying to overtake his logistics, that settled unkindly in the back of his head. Stupid foggy feeling, ruining his high school experience.

The blonde met his locker shortly after leaving the class, as the hallways for giants were quite short and twisted in loops around previously human-built rooms. Tommy input his combination, fumbling slightly with recalling the exact numbers, before swinging open the door. Inside was nothing but his backpack, blue and plain. He’d meant to decorate it with patches, pins, and whatever else he could get his claws on, but had yet to do so. He ignored that his wish was to do so with human friends.

Tommy slipped the bag over his shoulders and walked back through the hallway. Slight anxiety met his mind when he realized Punz never told him where he’d be waiting for the younger.

It didn’t matter, as Punz turned the corner immediately, a duo of giants behind him.

“Hey, ready?” Punz offered a clawed hand.

Tommy beamed, “Yep!”

“This is Quota,” The brunette one raised a polite hand, “And Jake,” The one with glasses smiled, baring teeth.

He’d seen these two as passersby in the hallway before. He knew every giant’s face at this point, by how much staring he’d accidentally done. It was easy though to know every other person of giantkind, considering they were still a minority, especially in this school.

“Hello!” Tommy tried his best to make a perfect first impression, grin wide as day with an outstretched hand to give out handshakes. Quota shook his palm firmly, but Jake denied the contact. Tommy cringed internally, but coolly played it off.

Punz nodded to the three of them, “Let’s get going.”

Tommy nodded back, bold expression all proud of himself and totally not lame looking. The two giants beside him gave glances and turned away.

As the group made their way along to the front entrance of the school building, Tommy found that the rest of the giants were taking small glimpses over on the railings where the humans were walking. Tommy swore for a second he caught sight of Jake licking his lips just for a split moment, and his heart sank in the way of the possibility they might, too, understand this cruel feeling inflicted upon him.

It was a great deal of time later they had spent just walking and chatting, casual topics, that Tommy’s legs were just starting to pang after having used them for so long straight. He was about to speak up and protest, when his complaints were shot down by Punz taking lead talking instead.

He said, “Here we are,” And Tommy looked up to see the movie theater. Shit, he never brought money to school, they were gonna have to pay for him. How much more awkward could the teen get around his peers?

The group piled into the theater, and Tommy bashfully peered down to the floor, embarrassed to admit that he couldn't afford anything. Before he could say a word, again, Punz was first to open his mouth, “I’ll buy everyone’s tickets. Tommy, you’re new, want popcorn?”

Tommy blushed, “Uh, yes.”

“Are you the kind that likes lots of butter…?” The question was so simple, but felt like if he ‘got it wrong’ he’d be kicked out of the building quicker than he joined the trio.

So honest it was, he wasn’t Honest Tom for no reason (nobody called him that).

“Painfully buttery.”

“My man,” Punz approved, and as he handed over the money and was given the striped bag, he gave the honor of buttering it to Tommy, who absolutely slathered that delicious yellow all over the little buds of delight. Hell fucking yeah.

Jake and Quota got their candies, which Tommy politely asked not to have (he already felt guilty spending Punz’s money on popcorn and a ticket), they all made their way deeper into the building. Punz had bought them all tickets to whatever the only giant starring movie there was. It was rare to see a movie even about giants without them being demonized, so supporting them when they were correctly shown in the media must be important to Punz. Tommy respected that.

Tommy had the important job of carrying the popcorn in and they filed into the room, where they took their seats around the back, where the giant sized seats were. Jake scrunched up his nose, pushing his glasses up at the same time.

Punz groaned, “Don’t you hate that we’re stuck back here?”

Tommy was being stared at, “Y-yeah!” He didn’t have that strong of an opinion, but it must matter to Punz a lot. Jake and Quota seemed to profusely agree.

Quota echoed behind him, “It’s not fair that we’re treated like ‘others’, look not a single human even wanted to see a movie about giants!”

Tommy hadn’t noticed. Now that he was looking at the dozens of rows of empty spots, he realized the situation. At least, he thought hopefully, now he wouldn’t have to worry about the mind-numbing sensation of the ‘desire to eat people’ thing, which he totally wasn’t dealing with behind the scenes.

“It’s disgusting,” Jake curled his lip upwards, “How are we meant to trust the narrative of ‘accepting, welcoming’ humans when they don’t acknowledge we even exist?”

“You’re right…” Tommy felt uncomfortable in the knowingness. Like it was some type of poison traveling down his throat to be so hyperaware of a human’s discomfort with the idea of him. It made the odd intrusive thoughts seem even worse. How evil was he for wanting to eat those who turned their back on him?

Punz lifted his soda, “To giants, and each other, the only ones we can trust.”

Jake and Quota cheered with Punz, and a duo of giants that were also in the building smiled at the scene. Tommy reluctantly joined, afraid of sticking out like the sad, sorry, red thumb he was.

It was a few previews in, and a human entered the building, to every giant’s surprise. Punz jeered at the poor thing as she walked in and chose a seat closer to the screen. She whipped around all nervous, but ultimately ignored Punz’s distasteful choice of words.

Tommy suddenly felt like a stranger to his own skin, tenfold of what he normally experienced. It was like he wasn’t even in his body, viewing from a distance outside himself. It was nauseating, and so he excused himself away to the bathroom, leaving the bucket of buttery popcorn there with his new friends. If he could call them that, yet.

The giant felt sick, tumbling his way into the stalls, he bent over and kneeled there. Over the toilet, he just sat on his knees, and waited. It was a few minutes ticking slowly and painfully by, that nothing ended up happening. He was thankful at least, his breath wouldn’t be rotten when he got back to the trio, but the sensation of dizziness and the urge to vomit didn’t let up. It lessened slightly after a dozen more minutes, and Tommy felt fine enough to stand once more.

He couldn’t explain what had just happened. Something about the way Punz was cussing out that human for what seemed like merely entering the room disturbed Tommy greatly. He’d have to ask about what that was for at some point, if he planned on even making friends. It was starting to seem a little foreign to him. Maybe he was in the wrong for thinking like that, though. He should, as Punz said, support his fellow giantkind. It was only fair.

As he abandoned the bathroom, Tommy slowly made his way back to the theater room, begrudgingly tracing the striped walls as he walked.

Upon turning the corner into the room, the first thing Tommy realized is that the human was gone. He hoped that she hadn’t ditched the movie over Punz’s jeering.

Tommy reached the back of the room with the giant seats, and took his place beside his new friends like he was before. He didn’t notice the way Punz proudly displayed his hand upon his stomach, which was being pushed against furiously, acting like he just had a wonderful feast, meanwhile the popcorn was untouched.

The movie had since started, and was about a third into it when Tommy sat back down. He felt bad for missing so much of what Punz had paid for, but the platinum blonde didn’t seem to mind.

“Psst, Tommy,” Quota whispered over, “We’re gonna ditch this place, the movie is awful anyway.”

Tommy made an audible ‘oh’, and stood as the trio did, making their way out of the building and down the next few streets.

Punz explained, leading the group, “We’re going over to my house.”

The blonde nodded back, “Oh, uhm, I might go home actually. I wasn’t feeling that great back there, uh…”

Punz huffed, “After school tomorrow?”

“Yeah! I can do that,” He smiled brightly, happy they’d still accept him even if he left right now. Maybe he wasn’t the total loser he thought he was, and actually proved he could make friends with people, specially, the scariest giant who might have a secret soft spot. Tommy vowed to find that special little spot, and worm his way into Punz’s heart.

He waved a giddy goodbye to Quota, Jake, and Punz, as he turned and headed the opposite direction, down and over a good amount of streets. He eventually made his way to Allen Drive, where his house was. The bright wooden shingles welcomed him home as entered through the front door. It was a tiring and long day, and even though dinner smelled good in the kitchen,

Tommy took instead to upstairs, where he flopped onto his bed. The cushion caved beneath his weight, and happily accustomed to his body laying there. It was incredibly comfortable, the sheets, blankets, and pillows all piled around him. Tommy sighed out, happy how the day had ended up. Maybe tomorrow, he’d successfully join a social group with Punz and the gang, and learn how to be a person like everyone else.

[lunettes-a-ninny]

TW: mention of javert's suicide

follow up on me being sad about unrecognized les misérables music!!

i think a few people know about the song called javert by red diamond dragon club - but did you know there are MULTIPLE amazing songs called javert?!?!

before i start, i would like to state that these are all my interpretations of the songs, and the writers have not confirmed everything i say!!

1. javert - red diamond dragon club

this song is probably the most popular one among the fandom, but it's still unrecognized.

this song is almost an alternate version of javert's suicide. it is an indie(?) rock version that shows us javert's anger over being released through lines such as:

"valjean, what have you done to me?"

"did you know what you did when you set me free?"

"and you won't leave, trapped inside my mind. mon dieu, this devil is shaking the ground."

"won't you tell me why i'm not okay?"

"you make the night not follow day"

"and who am i? looking down, i see your face, the water rising up"

this song is not only catchy, but it is a good display of javert going through the five stages of grief, including anger.

2. javert - penny and sparrow

this is a short, pretty folk song about javert. while there are romantic undertones in this song, i interpret this as javert's internal feelings and that he isn't speaking of a specific person.

he could very well be, with lines such as, "when you hold me, it's knee jerk," but i would like to think this is just how javert feels trying to interact with people in general sometimes.

"i can feel the beginnings of arguments to often start off that way"

"well fuck how i feel, it's a bad gauge of realness"

"how can it be, is their room in your home for a man that feels to prone to fall through?"

"can you honestly expect me to confess that ... or i'm worth the work it takes?"

3. javert - deadman

this song is by far my favourite on this list, being number one on my spotify wrapped this year, so this will be a longer section of this post.

i'm not actually sure how to define the genre of this song. it could very well be a folk song or a country song.

this song is confirmed to be written about someone talking to the ghost of javert after he has committed suicide. it is a song that switches between both english and french (depending on the performance), and it is a truly beautiful piece of music through both lyrics, performance and instrumentals.

it is FILLED with references to javert's life, including christianity, water, blood, wine, as well as many metaphors about these things as well.

my favourite reference in the song is the one made about javert's actual death (keep in mind these lyrics vary in different performances):

put your gun on the floor

i'll pour you some wine

i am willing, but my spirit is not

this verse alone is simply amazing. the lyrics to this song are so well thought out and beautifully performed, and i really suggest listening to this song. and while javert didn't die to a gun, you can still understand what they're referencing. this could even be a previous attempt, before the seine.

the song is also a little mysterious, with this verse:

we used to be friends

when you used your old name

back when you worked for the law

they could honestly be talking about anything in this verse, and i like that it's up for interpretation.

the chorus is also incredibly well written with it's references to javert drowning:

and if ye strike the rock

then the water comes forth

water that used to be blood

formerly blood

and becomes blood again

and unstopped, rises to flood

however, suddenly at the last chorus, they change the word "blood" to "wine".

there are a few more songs titled "javert", however, i am unsure if they are actually about the les misérables javert or not, so i will not be including them.

anyway, go give these songs a listen if you haven't already! if you know any more songs about javert, please let me know! i recall hearing about one a long time ago, but it wasn't called "javert," so i can not find it.

[quirkthieves]

"🎧" for Inari, Nobi, Hii and Mioara :)

This needs to go under a cut because hii's literally gets a line by line analysis... oops!

INARI:

Bloody Mary by KANKAN & FAKE TYPE

First of all, naturally, it is the cunt being served here. Kankan has a powerful voice that is complimented incredibly well by the jazzy backing. The whole song is full of energy. The visuals are also stunning in every way possible. It fits on sound alone.

However, the song is also about disrupting the food chain (metaphorically and literally) and eventually becoming the very carnivore you overthrew by gorging yourself on meat? Is this not the core of Inari's character? She is consumption incarnate.

The imagery in the song of the other animals that she recruits eating meet makes me think about her meeting with the Marakuma brothers; "Kneel before me, and I'll allow you to eat openly and unabashedly", despite having just eaten one of their brothers whole. First she dethroned the top of the food chain in the kemono world (oni/the demon clans), and then went for humans-- and in a way, her takeover has allowed for kemono to live openly, but at the same time, it's all at the mercy of her fangs...

NOBIMARU:

Ghost in Kansai by Inukai ft. Gumi

Again, starting with aesthetics: Wooma's artstyle always reminds me of Nobimaru, and the combination of traditional & modern aesthetics works well for the urban fantasy setting of Kemono Jihen. Furthermore, Inukai has a really unique way of tuning Gumi (using her English VB for Japanese, which changes how syllables are pronounced), and the formal, robotic, almost-stilted sound of her voice layered over the high energy techno-traditional backing reminds me a lot of Nobimaru's excessively formal and almost-stilted way of speaking.

(I even started a wip of a redraw of one of the shots ft Inari and Nobimaru. We'll see if it ever gets finished)

As for the song itself, the lyrics of the song, the narrator (the girl/gumi) is singing about the "monster" (snake guy) and how he's built himself up and craves more and more power and popularity, regardless of the fact that it's all dirty/trash. theres also the line "i wish i could live as a child" (free and innocent), alongside the overall narrative of the song. From what I can glean, Gumi is some sort of powerful entity that can control the fabric of reality, but at the whims of whoever commands her (denoted by the scarf around her neck). In this song, it's the snake man, who she laments about being greedy, power-hungry, and not appreciating that she "rustled all this up for him"-- who is then destroyed by the monk, who places his scarf around her neck. this serves as a prequel for the song Idolatry, which ends in Gumi taking off the scarf to bring back the snake demon, despite the destruction it causes because she can't reconcile with her new life and the "boredom" of peace/not being used.

Anyway. I know that was a lot but back to Nobimaru... It makes me think a lot of how cynically he views his own situation and how unchangeable it is, (such as refusing Kabane's request to join Inugami, calling himself a bad person, talking about how he can't do what Kabane does, because if he could... "what would all this dirty work have been for?")...and how all of that goes to building up the power of a greedy individual using him solely as a tool, but being a tool gives him his only purpose. He loves Inari, but he hates her also... he resents the empire of trash he's given her, but he couldn't live otherwise. He bitterly remarks on the others around him, and all with a detached cadence....

HINATA:

Great news, I've already done a song meta analysis for her and it really fucks severely so you're getting it here, too

∴flower×Miku『FrankenX』/ NILFRUITS×harumakigohan

this really fits a universe where she lives (oen of the last lines is “i barely survived”) but thats how it is in my brain

ok so. i have a lot to say on this one please ignore my cringebut stims all over this shit

anyway the theme of the “frankenstein complex” is obvious in this song and i think its even referenced in the description or comments but it’s defined as “the fear of what youve created”. technically the term was coined for computer science and AI but here it’s being used more liberally and so im going to use it liberally in my analysis

I think Hinata feels responsible for who Robara is, and Robara is responsible for what Hinata is. While their abilities set up the idea that Robara can manipulate Hinata’s form as needed (see: the decorations), it’s revealed to us that Hinata is essentially his babysitter: She feeds him, she’s the one who has to cut his hair, to remind him to shower, to dress him, to decide what they do next and where they go. And while you’d think that’d give her power in the relationship, it’s all because of his emotional manipulation– he purposefully refuses to learn how to care for himself so she won’t leave him, and she’s desperate for him to become independent (quote “Sometimes Hinata will reach her limits and snap at him, so he’ll get up and boil noodles to keep her happy”.)

But, y'know, I have to think about Hinata feels. and we don’t have to guess– there’s multiple parts that imply she feels directly responsible for his emotional development as well. Even though he’s an adult and made the choice to be who he is, she feels so guilty that she can’t fix him– she’s afraid of what she’s “created”. even though she was five too, seven, ten, 13, 15, 18, 20, 25… all of her energy and time has been devoted to “creating” Robara, even though it’s all being pulled by his agenda. but she doesn’t know that!

ok past the concept and into the lyrics now

“This ugly, patched heart, please break it quickly”

heartbreak is the loss of a lover, and while it usually just refers to being dumped, i think this could be read as just a pure desperation to get out. to leave, maybe even for him to die– just to get out of here, even if it’s heartbreak

Ah, ah, I’m sick of everything Whose fault is it? Well, no worries Let’s go play somewhere else Ah, ah, why it’s gone bad Was love’s fault

this song in general takes on a really childish tone at times and as we’re aware this “relationship” started when they were 5. both Hinata and Robara show a lot of signs that their maturation emotionally is really stunted, and not only that, but the incident that started everything was Hinata going over to his home to play.

So with that bad kiss Comfort me again please Bad smell, bad smell, XXX this ugly, patched sc-ar-t… Undergo necrosis, undergo necrosis

there’s. honestly a lot i could say here but robara is truly hinata’s only companion. i don’t think his possessiveness and jealousy allowed for a lot of friends, and after 20 years even if she hates his constant need for physical attention it is her only “comfort”. not to mention the medical themes and themes regarding death surrounding ogreham as a whole and their characters albeit underexplored (given that they were really the SIU’s de-facto “medics”)

 Ah, I’m sick of everything, I’m gonna be gone suddenly Come on, just get out of here, “Parasitic-You” such things as “Dreams Come True”, I don’t need them anymore Put me out of my misery, Girl Girl Girl

Hinata’s reason for staying around and being alive is because Robara couldn’t survive on his own in her eyes, but I think she’s afraid of and or knows that she’s going to die someday– or maybe she dreams of just disappearing. Robara’s a parasite, a sick twist on how a rose feeds on the energy it gets from the sun (Hii), a theme reiterated constantly in the manga. She’s given up on having hopes and dreams on her own outside of him, and I think…I don’t know. It’s just sad

Patrons are limited, wanted to protect, loved them so much Wanted to touch, wanted to stare at, wanted to tell, dimly watched Still young, our nightmare

Hinata wants to protect Robara but she also wants to protect people FROM Robara. Not only that, but it’s mentioned in a twitter post from I believe…2020’s? Hinata’s birthday that the heart necklace Hinata wears was a gift selected by her and Robara going to the store and asking what’s the most popular among couples so they could have some sense of being a “normal” couple. Everything they do is just a farce at playing house, because they started dating when they were FIVE. nothing about their relationship is normal or real, and she KNOWS that. She wants to be one of them, but the rest of her life is here.

So with that lightning kiss I gave the first cry Bad smell, bad smell, XXX “I can’t stop thinking about you” Spit words like a slave!

Once again returning to the theme of decay, especially a decaying “heart”– decaying MEAT, which underpins a lot of the imagery between them. Not only that, but the last line emphasizes how much of a pretend game their PDA is– and while the quote is supposedly said by the other person in this song, I think even then it fits with how Hinata could’ve began to view the cycle the two of them were trapped in. As little sympathy as I have for Robara, she did genuinely care about him, and her perception of him seems to be that he’s trapped by his desires and inability to change.

So you were just toying with me with those poisoned lips!

Hinata never got the chance to realize that Robara was fucking. lying? he was just lying and manipulating her. In the manga he admits that she was too good for him and he couldn’t let her go, but in side material from Aimoto we learn that Robara’s incompetance was INTENTIONAL. he was aware that she wanted to leave him and pretended to be helpless so she wouldn’t because she’s too kind. While it’s true there was an underpinning of apathy towards his own physical care, It was very much intentional on his behalf. He was just fucking messing with her head he could have stopped all of this if he wanted but he didn’t want to lose someone who devoted herself to him so entirely because he knows he’s a piece of shit

Come on, just get out of here, “Ministering-You” Ah, apperlapapp or papperlapapp? Enough is enough

Once again, I’m coming from the perspective of her living because. Fuck the end of Ogreham lol but. I think this is her finally realizing that this is intentional and the second line is about how all of it is or was nonsense, and that the semantics don’t matter. It’s over.

ok thank you love you . thank you for coming to my ted talk

LACRAMIOARA:

ok after that doozy this one won't be quite as in depth but i'd be utterly remiss if i didn't mention the band that inspired Lacramioara and Leopold's entire existence

a large portion of the characters in their verse are explicitly inspired by specific bands/songs (ie: Johnny Strings and Cross DeVille are both inspired by The Devil Went Down to Georgia), and they're no different! Although the similarity in name (strigoi) may lead you to believe this song led directly to Mioara's existence, it was actually a few different Powerwolf songs that kickstarted it-- I was originally thinking about making both her and Leopold werewolves (or, well, werewolf-angels). I went back and forth on it a lot.

Anyway, you'll notice there's a reference to this song in their official titles-- "Sons of God and Sorrow". Just as a little homage.

But really, heavy metal insane christian vampire angels is just such a badass concept. youre with me on this one right.

[sithisreadingcorner]

hi sithi! juniper here again, 28/10/1998. i hope your break was good! 🧿 i'd love to get in on the alleyman tarot readings, and am curious what would come through with just a general call for information, guidance or advice from the otherworlds. there's a huge amount of turbulence and grief in my life at the moment, and i am trying to balance it with an equal amount of love and joy. most of the time it seems i'm succeeding! all the same i would like to hear what the spirits or really anyone/thing else has to say. also, i think i qualify for a free reading from the alleyman deck; there's a tagged post from you in my notifs for @deerbeak saying so, but even if thats the case i will be tipping ahead of time as always :> you've never done me wrong!

Omg welcome back Juniper! You're so incredibly generous to me 😭 You can definitely ask for one of those free readings some time. But in the meantime I will make this extra detailed for you. Also i can't stand to leave your icon without a comment, I just finished the season while i was on my break, and i am o b s e s s e d with this 90s goth rockstar whiny emo man. Ahem.

There were two entities that showed up for the reading, and they wanted you to know they were there. I didn't do a full identity reading for them because they acted like you would know, but i can tell you what I knew about them privately. And if you need it, we can do a follow up reading about it.

fear. strength. the lovers (alternative) (the queen of ravens)

I didn't really ask a question with this one, at least not a clear one. I just wanted the cards to give me the heart of this reading. What is this really going to be about? And to stare directly into the face of fear right off the bat, was staggering, but not surprising.

You are telling me that in spite of everything you are doing very well, and I'm proud of you for that. But I'm also... uh... if I may say that, I'm not so sure if you are really doing as well as you say. You're looking at this time as a test, a series of tribulations that will eventually prove your worth. So you are really fighting tooth and nail, trying to make it through this. I think this is very commendable. But there are two participants in this story. The first one is judge and executioner, with a whip in their one hand, and a bludgeon in the other. And they say: If you cannot make it through this, then you were not worth it anyway. And the other one, is on the wrong end of the whip, gritting their teeth, and outwardly showing a lot of courage and resilience but deep down feeling very, very scared to give up, because if they do, then the judge was right.

Needless to say... both of them are you. And the biggest problem is that you are not being to yourself what you would need the most: a friend.

the star (alternative). the empty. king of swords (alternative) reversed

The first spirit had something to say about your spiritual practices. The thing is, that i'm almost completely sure that this is metaphorical, but imagine a place, from the past... This place is something that you used to do. It was full of wonder and comfort, and the reason why you used to come here was just because you wanted to dream. It was not serious at all, and essentially just an escape fantasy. You see things so differently now, you probably know a lot more, have matured as a person as much as you did spiritually, and in your absence that place has slowly emptied out. But it never ceased to exist. And you maybe deep down yearn to see that wonder one more time but you know that if you'd find nothing there and maybe you're even carrying this sense of shame about it. But the thing is that because it is so empty, that is exactly why you should revisit it again. Even if it was a little bit silly back then, that's still not a crime but now you could just remake it, except that with your current knowledge and experiences it would be so much better. You see this as a pathetic thing from your past that is not even worth thinking about when in fact this is a wonderful, unused resource.

The second spirit didn't really have a lot to say but picked these two cards when prompted:

page of cups (alternative) reversed. father sleep

There is a typical, metaphorical interpretation of these cards, which I will tell you in case that is what you need to hear. And that is that you have been carrying something for a very long time as a sort of quest, like a cup of water through the desert, but unfortunately that has dried out and it is time for you to recognize this and put off this burden, maybe find yourself a new quest. But... to be honest I don't think this is what the cards are REALLY trying to say. Sometimes they are very straightforward and blatant, and it's exactly what it says on the tin.

Soooooo.... How are you doing with Ódin? You work with Norse gods at all? Been haunted by any ravens lately? Maybe you wanted to talk to him first but never made it? I find the choice of the card hilarious in the light of the just aforementioned Sandman. But unless you are expecting Mr. Sturridge to show up in a sexy coat, maybe have a chat with the old man. Apparently he's been looking for you and there might be a good reason.

I will tell you what. Spirits love to make pop culture references because it's something that people tend to think about a lot, and it's one of the easiest ways to communicate more things in fewer words. I don't know enough about your situation to tell you what the punchline of the joke is. But you either know or you should investigate. Maybe Ódin has been haunting your dreams under a disguise, or something. Treat that punchline like a thread, and start winding it up. See where it takes you.

You're going through such a hard time, with so much pain. And I totally get it. I think you just want to feel like all of this means something. But you are just grinding yourself down in the process, and I think what you really need is some kind of new objective that can replace this whole self-mangling, worth-proving ordeal. I know that this is a lot to tackle so what if we can just get you one thing. One goal. So I was desperate enough to ask the cyberpunk deck because that is what it's good at. It's a very harsh deck, but one thing it has never ever been, is unhelpful.

XVIII. THE MOON

“The Moon reminds us that reality is not always what it seems at first glance. In a world of appearances and illusions, the best course is often charted by one’s own intuition. The Moon is also the card of dreams, desires, and of course, sleep – Death’s nightly ritual.”

See???? DREAM. Again! I'm telling you!!!

So the harsh part of all of this is that this is not going to become lighter in the near future. Whatever has happened, I think you are going to feel the aftermath for some time. But you probably know this. And the fact that you are capable of seeing an opportunity to evolve even under such harsh circumstances, is a good thing. But you don't need to make it harder than it already is. You should think of yourself as something that is worth cultivating. Note the use of the word!! Cultivating. NOT bludgeoning!!!!!

You know, I could tell you that you need to be nicer and more mindful to yourself and I'm sure I would not be the first person to say that, and also that's probably making you feel a little annoyed, like ok, I know. Like you understand it, somewhere, but you can't do it still. The thing about being nice to yourself is that you don't NEED to believe in it for it to work, but I can exactly tell you what's not clicking. There is one thing that needs to change about the framework in your mind. You are looking at yourself that can become worthy through change. This is not incorrect except that - to stay in the metaphor of cultivation - you are very much like an empty garden, which is to say, an extremely valuable piece of land that may not be super organized or tidy at the moment but it doesn't diminish its worth. On the contrary because it's kind of like a blank state right now, through nurturing it can become literally anything, and in some sense that makes it even more valuable!

I cannot stress it enough. The potential, IS the worth. And yes, of course, you are full of worth as a person and a whole but that might be a little bit too big a task right now, to feel that. That's okay. I figure it's easier to start with something smaller.

You know, as usual, Not Mental Health Advice. Just friendly neighbourhood tarot reader advice.

I really hope this can help you some Juniper, and things will be looking up for you ;O;

I'll get you a fortune cookie for the way. "Answer just what the heart prompts to you." Very mysterious and vague. But maybe the heart will prompt you something that will get you to the next step.

[pick up the poker chip] Y/N?

november readings

[cqlfeels]

What do you think of people hating on LXC because he said wwx was lwj's only mistake? (Don't want to start flames but I want someone to support lxc's point of view in this because he's also valid)

I’m trying really hard to find a way to answer this without awaking the disk horse, let’s see if I can manage it.

Also anon I took forever to answer you and then proceeded to write way, way too much, so I’m doubly sorry!

I’m going to focus on the novel because I feel like LXC’s arc is much more nuanced (and therefore easier to misunderstand) in the novel.

From a meta standpoint, LXC plays a really interesting role a few times, which I’m sure has an actual name for people who study literature but I can’t think of it right now so I’ll call mentor-antagonist. He’s a mentor because he consistently guides WWX towards understanding LWJ - which, surprise surprise, it’s an important thing in a romance. But he’s an antagonist because he just as consistently puts himself in the role of LWJ’s protector. From the first time we meet him, all the way to Guanyin, LXC keeps saying with increasing clarity and frustration “This is how much my brother loves you - do you love him back just as much?” He informs WWX of what LWJ won’t say, but he puts a price to LWJ’s affection where LWJ actually puts none. LWJ is trying to say “I love you no matter what, even if you never love me back” but LXC keeps translating it to WWX as “LWJ’s love is entirely selfless, and what are you doing to deserve it?”

Even the very first time we meet him - who is LXC pointing out LWJ is in a good mood for? Maybe in-universe it’s just a passing comment, but as a reader, it’s hard not to think in hindsight that maybe introducing the guy who gatekeeps LWJ’s heart by having him say “You make LWJ unusually happy, and you’re literally screaming and crying to get away from him” miiiiiiight have future implications.

WWX is constantly shocked that LWJ can stand him, let alone love him, and LXC is almost an externalization of that. I mean, that’s an oversimplification, he has his own agenda and everything, but when LXC says “You don’t deserve my brother” and WWX answers back “I don’t care, I want him and I’ve always wanted him even when I deserved it even less than I do now” that feels like an incredible character moment because that is the thing WWX struggles with.

And I feel like that’s why people get so, so mad about this. WWX saying to JZX “You don’t deserve my sister” in every adaptation? lol yeah he’s right. But we’re meant to identify with WWX, and LXC is just (metaphorically) shouting every single one of WWX’s insecurities at him, and that’s very hurtful, even though we know LXC loves LWJ more than anything. So I feel that people take issue with this not because of LXC’s actual words, but because they feel the urge to protect WWX, which only shows what a great writer MXTX is.

As for why LXC would say this... well, why wouldn’t he? I mean, we Know how WWX feels and we also know the reasons behind his actions, but from an outsider’s perspective, all WWX has ever done in the novel (which is very different from the drama, and in the drama LXC is much warmer towards WWX as a consequence of that) is hurt LWJ over and over and over and over. If LWJ were my brother and I knew his love was as intense as it is, I’m not sure that I also wouldn’t be upset that someone seems to take advantage of it when it’s convenient and walk away when it’s not. LXC doesn’t have the benefit of seeing the ways in which WWX makes LWJ’s life better, but he’s always the one picking up the pieces after LWJ ends up heartbroken for the 4378492th time, so of course his idea of WWX skews towards the negative. And I mean... whenever he tells WWX to Do Better WWX misunderstands everything and Does Worse. Of course LXC is frustrated. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just that LXC doesn’t have all the info, nor does WWX. That’s kind of the theme of the novel.

Anyway, the tl;dr is that I don’t think people who hate on LXC for that moment can be convinced not to by being shown LXC’s POV, because the issue is, imho, about overidentifying with WWX and being understandably hurt when LXC says something hurtful. But I totally get that some people read romance with the purpose of projecting onto the main character, so I’m not about to say identification is bad or anything. I think (a lot of) these people engage with the novel in a way fundamentally different from the way I do,* so I’m not sure there’s much profit in trying to convert one another to The One Correct Interpretation.

* I don’t want to overgeneralize, though. It’s entirely possible to dislike LXC in general or in this moment for reasons other than this, this is just what seems most common in my experience, but it might not even be the most common attitude! But I can’t speak of what I have no experience with, so I’m limiting the scope to the circles of fandom I’m in.

[acozysoulwrites]

When the seasons change

Description: Reader and Daryl share a peaceful, simple day in the forest. No warnings, no spoilers!

A/N: Long time no see.. I started Supernatural and Dean stole me away for a while haha! However I miss the joy writing abt Daryl gives me so here I am, I am sorry this is so short! I truly hope i haven’t lost my spark :(

The earth aches and sinks below their feet as they trudge further into the forest. The hot, thick summer air filing their lungs with each draw of breath they take is excruciating, but somehow there is a sense of comfort in it all. Like the struggling is worth the reminder that they're humans, that they're alive, and that they need air. It separates them from the dead.

"Carful the snakes'll be hiding under rocks like this one" He says, giving a quick glance back at her. She's following closely behind and he can't help but hide the smile itching it's way onto his face. Though, he can't be sure her closeness isn't just due to her never failing ability to stumble over the littlest things. Like, if she goes down he goes down with her.

He would though, without hesitation. That's the thing.

“do you- do you ever worry you’ll slip?” she asks, sounding almost Impressed by his balance. Suddenly the small rock she's just stepped on slips out from under her and she stumbles into him. His arm flies out instinctively and their eyes meet for a split second before tearing away from one another.

"Nah... not really" he says, taking a shaky breath, unsure if it's due to the heat or the fact that her arm is now snuggly linked in his.

She shrugs, carful not to unbalance their current stance. "Well..” she pauses, they are incredibly close right now, and the air feels ten times thicker. “That's good" she almost whispers. “Mhm” he nods, his eyes flickering away shyly.

They separate, despite the ache in their bones to stay only 2 inches from touching, and they head down the slippery hill, laughing as they both continue to nearly fall.

-

“And this one is a morel right?” Daryl asks, pointing at a small brown mushroom hidden beneath the damp leaves.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! See?” she nudges his arm and he stumbles sideways, clearly not expecting that, he laughs softly. “I told ya they weren’t hard to remember” she adds.

Daryl shakes his head. He pulls out another crumbling bit of an acorn cookie from his pocket and tips his head back to eat it.

He shoves another handful of crumbled cookie into his mouth. “Nah, they all look the same, lucky guess”. He wasn’t great at remembering things. Perhaps because in the last ten years, he’s done nothing but survive. He didn’t need to know anything else. She makes it easier though, to just exist, she makes it all simple for a moment.

“They do not! Did you know that there are blue and green mushrooms?” She asks and he can’t help but chuckle at the passion in her voice.

“Where’d you learn all this from anyway? They have a mushroom class back in high school too?” he asks, only half joking.

She looks back, her eyebrows furrowed as she tries to contain the laughter that’s about to erupt. “No Dare” her laugh is reduced to a chuckle. “My uhm, my dad taught me about this stuff and i guess it just kinda stuck with me, you know? Kind of like a song you haven’t heard in months, but can somehow remember every word.”

She only uses metaphors when she’s nervous, or about to cry. And suddenly Daryl feels a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Her father wasn’t a good conversation starter. Not at all.

“Sorry” he hums, changing his pace so that he’s by her side, he reaches in front of her, placing his hand on her far shoulder, they both stop walking and she instinctively turns toward him.

She shakes her head, “Don’t be” then her hand slips into his without warning and the archer steps back, not because he’s trying to pull away, but because just like back there when her arm instinctively linked into his, he’s fighting down the swarm of what she calls butterflies or — something.

That makes her smile.

“I share these things with you because i’m trying to erase those old, shitty memories” She explains, bringing her other hand up to his face, she tucks a bit of hair behind his ear and her heart stammers at the small smile of admiration on his face.

“I’m glad you do, thanks” he nods, his eyes softening as he struggles to maintain eye contact.

She shakes her head, giving in to the constant urge she fights, her arms fall around his waist and she pulls herself into him “No, thank you” she hums.

tag list ||

@jodiereedus22 @browneyes528 @daryldixonstorm @witch-of-letters @team-heichou <3

[goosedawn]

//Oh gods, welp, here I go [cracks knuckles]

//Tiny farmer Techno Au,,,, prepare for some future lore cjkhcxk

Timestamps from: "I Became the Mayor of Skyblock" by Technoblade

--

(5:39) "I decided to call in an old rival..." - Technoblade

Techno continues on with his life for days on, but finally, he somehow finds his way to society again, seeing that the entire town has been taken over by a tyrant of a mayor. The townspeople called for aid, and from the depths of his cold heart, he decided to help (....what do you mean he only did it so people would buy his potatoes-).

For a bit, he did his work by himself, only getting help from some other living scarecrows (listen, I really like the idea of some scarecrows coming alive [cough] PHIL [cough]), TimeDeo and Jyn (...? Is that how you spell their name?). (Dunno what the process for taking over the mayor would be exactly but,,, chchskdlcx,,,)

But you can only do so much work with... living scarecrows. With a bit of reluctance, he calls for help from SquidKid. And then together they defeat Dante :]

(Also, it's funny to think that the town has a mayor that they've never seen. All they know is that the previous mayor is gone, and the new one is pretty chill. /Lh)

--

(6:31) "Is there any way to do the teleport room without just like.. guessing?" - SquidKid

(6:36) "You are like... little baby, watch this." - Technoblade

-

Being tiny has its perks.

"Wait, what do you mean you can solve this maze in an hour or less?"

Techno turned towards the bigger hybrid, crossing his arms as he nonchalantly stared up at them. SquidKid only gives him a baffled look back, their tentacle-like hair slightly sprung up to further show their confusion.

He knows this only because he's known the man for far longer than they've known him.

He knows more personal information than should be shared, somehow finding the other farmer's parent's numbers along with a few other things. He had jokingly pocketed away the parent's number in the back of his mind, although, he had no real plans of ever using it. Well, maybe he had played with the idea of calling SquidKid's parents to dunk on the fact that a wild borrower had been winning their competition, but he ultimately decided not to for obvious reasons.

He knows the hybrid's schedule like the back of his hand, having to work around it for the better part of an entire year. Using that knowledge, he had sabotaged countless of SquidKid's tools, poking small, unnoticeable holes into their hoses and irrigation systems.

And he knows SquidKid's behavior from how they speak to how they express any sort of emotion. Lies were easily debunked from the small twitch of the corner of their mouth as they suppressed a smile, and anger was easily shown from how their strange hair pieces would spike up.

Yet, he can't help but feel slightly at unease in front of them. He supposes it's only natural, seeing that there's a huge height difference between them. Plus, this was practically the first time they've been closer than two fields of length in between them. Well, disregarding the times he's gone snooping around the bigger farmer's place, but that's neither here nor there.

"Squid, look at me," he raises his hand, gesturing towards himself, "I'm tiny, yes?" the squid hybrid nodded slowly, and he pointed at the stalks of tall fern and crop, "to you, this would basically be a wall you can't get through. For me, though...."

He jumped off his perch, tightly holding his trusty bag and sliding towards the flora before easily disappearing behind the thicket and appearing moments later at eye level, holding the stalk of the crops easily,

"It's easy to go through."

SquidKid makes a quiet 'oh' sound with another nod of their head, looking slightly in awe. The amazed look turns to one of confusion again, though, and he awaited their next question with a raised eyebrow, "but... the maze is big, how are you going to get through it all without tiring?"

Techno grinned, lifting a hand to his mouth and loudly whistling. He doesn't hesitate to slide back to the floor as a blur of white fur bounds towards him.

"Carl!" he exclaims, wrapping his hands around the rabbit's fluffy neck and combing through the fur with his fingers. He backs away to pull out a broken-off piece of a carrot, feeding it to the eager bunny before turning towards the astonished squid hybrid with a grin, "my noble steed," he waves a hand towards the still feeding rabbit.

"You tamed a rabbit," they dumbly point out, having to metaphorically pick up their jaw off of the floor.

"Yup, I did. you can stop gawking now," he huffed, "you're going to catch a bug with your mouth if you keep your mouth wide open."

"...And you named it Carl?"

"What kind of question is that?" he snorts, shaking his head, "yes, I named him Carl, and yes he's going to be the one helping me through the maze. Any other silly questions?"

The man stumbles over their words for a second, and he amusedly watches from below, "I- yeah, yeah, you bozo," they finally settle on saying.

"Alright, cool, I'm going to go find the exit now," he turns away from the hybrid, climbing on the back of the rabbit's back, "see you there."

He doesn't give SquidKid the chance to respond, already setting off through the thicket. And he sure doesn't suppress the grin that crawls up his face as Carl bounds past stalks and stalks of crops.

Having distracted SquidKid enough to get away, the bigger farmer had barely thought to ask how they themselves would traverse the maze.

They must have realized soon enough, though, since not seconds later, he hears a strangled yell of his name along with a loud groan.

--

Pain, it's been too long since I've written something /Lh

--

"(Also, it's funny to think that the town has a mayor that they've never seen. All they know is that the previous mayor is gone, and the new one is pretty chill. /Lh)"

When the townspeople come to greet the new mayor, they come thinking that it's SquidKid who's done everything since it's always been SquidKid going into town and doing the talking- the scarecrows being unable to do so for obvious reasons, and Techno unable to do so without revealing his entire existence.

So when the sheepish farmer calmly explains that he's just a helper of the mayor, they're... rightfully confused. At first, they want to know the real identity of the mayor, but SquidKid wearily tries explaining that said mayor really doesn't want to be revealed. They only conceded when he shakily points to the unknown farmer's territory, most of them getting the message.

Techno is very thankful that SquidKid doesn't take his title and also doesn't reveal his existence.

-

"It would have been so easy for the squid hybrid to just pluck his tiny form from their back pocket and shove the wrathful spotlight onto him.

He wasn't even able to even escape now as he found himself stuck in the hybrid's pocket. The crowd had come quickly after SquidKid had removed the other mayor for him, and he remembered feeling panicked as he stared at the other hybrid. The next thing he knew, he was shoved into their pocket.

He couldn't get out without tumbling to the ground with a splat, and, even worse, the possibility of one of the townspeople pointing him out with gossip-drinking eyes was incredibly high too.

He shakily gulped, greedily taking the air around him as he tried to stay calm. He never liked being near anyone- not even the scarecrows - so the second-hand contact with his past rival was not the finest experience.

"I- uhm," the squid hybrid stumbled over their words, "t-the mayor really would rather not... have the entire town to greet them.."

The crowd hushedly mumbled to each other, and one straggler called out, "well, tell them to come out anyway!"

By the Blood God, he hated this. He shrunk to the bottom of the pocket. This was one of the worst worries for a borrower; he had already been pushing his limit with the scarecrows and SquidKid, but this was another level for him.

"...Uh, well, in that case," he felt SquidKid shift, and a hand brushed over his pocket. He tenses, waiting for the fingers to tug him out and waiting for SquidKid to finally prove that they're not as kind as they look, for them to finally get some semblance of petty revenge.

"You can find them over there." He pauses, confused to as why there's no hand reaching down for him. The words finally dawn on him, and he's both relieved and perplexed to what SquidKid could have meant by that.

But hatever they've done has made the crowd fall unnaturally silent, and so he's at least a little relieved for that too.

The same voice that was brave enough to speak before pipes up, "you mean the ghost farmer?"

....He didn't know that the townspeople had come up with a name for him, but he's suddenly thankful that he's gained enough popularity that people stop and gawk.

"Y...Yes," SquidKid slowly acknowledges the villager, "they were the one orchestrating all of this. I was just helping with the... talking parts," the hybrid is silent for a moment before they burst into a stammering mess,

"And- uh, I-I should take my leave now, b-because I should really h-head back and ch-check up on them," he feels the bigger farmer start to take a few steps back, supposedly away from the crowd, "I'll answer any questions later!"

He has to push against the fabric to keep himself from bouncing around in the pocket as SquidKid starts running. He faintly hears the townspeople shout for the male, but it's muffled through the fabric.

As it starts to seem as if the squid hybrid would never stop running, they finally start to slow down, their breaths coming out labored and airy.

He doesn't speak up for a moment, letting the other regain themselves first. When they finally seem well enough, he speaks up,

"That's the best you can come up with?"

--

chKFCHKDSJFSDF oh my Primes, this is so LONG,,,, I have no idea how to write SquidKid,,,, plus, I had no idea how to like,,, oOGHgds,f,, pain.

Anyways, hope you had fun reading ALL of this cchjxcvxkdsf,,,

AAUBHJDUHFJHBFNDKUFHN WENDYYY /POS

i dont have anything to add this is just fantastic,,,,, DEO AND JIYN AS SCARECROWS AS WELL,,, FBJHDKUHSJHHDV,,,,,, i love that techno gets to have Carl still 🥺🥺🥺 and him leaving squidkid on the other side of the maze??? FHJBDJNJKBF

ALSO 🥺 squid protecting techno and not telling people abt him,,,,, aaajfhkdojfh good,, i also appreciate that everyone in the village just has to be like. "the ghost farmer is mayor????... well this isnt the weirdest thing thats happened to me"

SQUIDKID RUNNING AWAY,,,, "ill answer any questions later" djhshhjhjhbhbfhdjhbe

*holds this gently* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i adore

[lovenona]

and i repeat: anthropo-ceramics geto suguru is the type of toxic where he'd take your virginity, make a sculpture about the experience, then smash it on the ground as a metaphor

this ask is my entire life. this ask is my lifeblood. everyone please saddle up for the ride of a lifetime, otherwise known as 1500ish words of toxic geto featuring sukuna being a good fucking friend – please continue at ur own risk this absolutely contains geto being a pretentious toxic fucker and mentions of virginity/first time but yes i guarantee it does have a happy ending (link to the full college! cinematic universe here) 

let’s begin with the basics – why wouldn’t you fuck geto suguru? he has the type of beauty that lingers on the back of your eyelids even after you’ve long since departed from him; it’s the kind of fragrant, lasting beauty that you think sculptors muse over when they coax life from their marble. he’s smooth, like still water, and calming, like the sound of birds rustling and leaves swaying at dawn. he is helen: a beauty that nations would go to war over. 

and sure, he is pretentious, the kind of toxic pretentiousness that festers inside of all pretty boys who call themselves “leftists” but can’t be bothered to call their mothers or to care about their partners. but it’s the way he speaks, the way he looks at you with such fervor and attention in his eyes that you’re utterly willing to let him break your heart. 

and maybe it’s not often that someone looks at you the way geto does: it’s not often that someone looks at you like they want you, body and soul. and it feels nice to be cared about, to be flirted with, even if the figure doing the flirting condescends you in a way that is different, harsher, colder, than the way ryomen sukuna does. 

so geto suguru takes you on dates. after the avant-garde poetry reading, in which you feigned excitement as he recited a poem on global imperialism that you didn’t quite vibe with, he brings you to local bookstores with overpriced yuppie memoirs, farmers’ markets with organic fruit, human rights protests and philosophy meetings where greasy boys bitterly discuss the communist manifesto. he takes you to dinner, too, to vegan restaurants that you can’t help but rave about on yelp later and to bars where they serve your cocktails in mason jars. 

geto suguru, for all his faults, is incredibly lighthearted with you; he makes you feel beautiful and desirable and warm, even when he’s explaining anthropology to you with such intense vigor that you lose track of his meaning. after everything, you’d be lying if you said you regretted your time with him.

after awhile you let geto fuck you – and yes, he was your first time, which you were naturally quite nervous about. but you appreciated him because he waited for you; he never pressured you into behaviors you didn’t want; he never asked you for services you weren’t ready to provide. and so when you slept with him, after an invigorating open-mic night at the fair-trade coffee shop near campus, you felt ready for the intimacy. geto made you feel attractive, comfortable, safe. he praised you the whole night, gave you caresses that lit you up like fireworks, provided such a level of god-tier aftercare you still reminisce about it, even now. 

but that’s the thing about anthropology-ceramics major geto suguru: he’s quietly toxic. he’s a poison that sneaks up on you, infecting your bloodstream when you least expect it. 

you weren’t sure if geto wanted to pursue a relationship, either. you’d fucked, sure, and you went on dates, but he was always the type to avoid long-term commitments. rumors float around campus of the many partners he’s ghosted, of the relationships he exploited for his own “artistic musings.” they aren’t loud rumors, to be sure, but they hang around his aura like a strange, ghostly scent. 

geto is a pretentious little fuck. you’ve known it and agreed to enter his circle anyway. maybe you hoped, perhaps naively, that the rumors would simply not apply to you.

which was a stupid idea. three weeks after the experience, since which you have only spent one-on-one time with geto only a few times, mostly to talk about school, the art department hosts an art show. it’s a regular occurrence, where the art students show off their best works, grad students display their in-progress theses, and outsiders can browse the displays, drink wine, offer to give outstanding students jobs and internships. it’s truly a big fucking deal for the art department; many of the school’s the most successful artists received their first acclaim here. 

you’ve always enjoyed attending, even if the level of talent and expertise sometimes intimidates you, even if you know you’ll never be on this level. you know sukuna’s got a few paintings lined up to be on display – paintings you’ve modeled for, drawings you’ve watched him labor over for hours on end. you reckon that for all your begrudging time together, you might as well show your face in support. 

but what you didn’t count on was geto’s contribution.

at this art show, there are, every now and then, some interactive performances, speeches, explanations on certain works. so it happens that from the back of the auditorium you watch geto take the stage, wheeling a small, white sculpture behind him. from your perspective it could have been a flower – perhaps a lily, but you can’t be certain. 

(geto always did like sculpting precious, dainty flowers.)

he doesn’t call you by name, but he doesn’t have to. he talks at great length in that smooth voice of his about the construct of virginity, the purity culture plaguing the globe, the emotional sensitivity of having your first time. geto seguru tells an avid audience what you felt about fucking for the first time. he recreates the entire night for two hundred listeners: he recalls the foreplay, the insecurity, the orgasms. he doesn’t call you by name. he doesn’t have to. 

he may have asked for your consent the first time. but he certainly did not ask your permission to do this. 

you’re not sure if you should laugh or cry when geto dramatically smashes his own sculpture, citing the “destruction of virginity” and  the need “to demolish a social desire to classify one’s morality based upon their sexual activity” and “the symbolic popping of the cherry” among other phrases that are utter bullshit. you’re watching the fragments dance across the stage and you feel exploited. you feel used in a way that feels utterly worse than anything else geto could have done.

did he ever like you? or were you simply a muse for this moment? 

you’re about to ditch the art show and go wallow in self pity at your apartment when a familiar presence slides in beside you.

“that’s kinda fucked,” sukuna says, hands in his jacket pockets. he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. his tone tells you he’s joking. maybe he just doesn’t know. “no one gives a shit about virginity constructs anymore, idiot.” 

“yeah,” you respond, but the energy is gone. you feel strange, like you’re hovering outside of yourself. your head hurts: you’re angry. you decide you’d like to cry when you get home. “what a piece of shit.” it comes out strangled and lost. 

sukuna notices the dejection in your voice, the sag in your shoulders, the way you’re just barely able to hold yourself together. he may be arrogant, not ryomen sukuna is not mean.

a familiar arm around your shoulders, keeping your sanity together. “shit’s lame. let’s get the fuck out of here.” it’s a phrase that captures everything that remains unsaid between you: i’m going to beat the shit out of geto the next time i see him. that’s absolutely unbelievable.

you never explicitly told sukuna about your weird relationship with geto: you didn’t have to. it was always evident to the both of you. it was written in the way you’d look a little bit longer in geto’s direction, in the way you let yourself be strung along and become someone else. you’ve hung around sukuna long enough that you know his body language and that he knows yours. you’ve hung around sukuna enough that there are a lifetime of stories that never need to be told. 

you nod. “yeah.” thank you. i know. 

you’re both uncharacteristically silent when you exit the auditorium, when you collect sukuna’s belongings that are still lounging by his artwork as you prepare to leave. ryomen sukuna is famous for never shutting the fuck up. but as you button your coat, he’s silent, and it’s strange. comfortable.

“thank you,” you say with uncharacteristic softness as he throws a sketchbook back into his backpack and zips it shut. 

“why?”

“for asking my permission,” you say, gesturing to the gallery wall behind him, to the painting of you – “eros” – that you had posed for awhile back. even now, you find that it captures an essence you did not know you possessed. “he didn’t. ask, i mean.” 

ryomen sukuna has always craved your attention. and maybe he’s glad he’s got it back – but it feels sour. he doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking upset for you. he doesn’t understand why he wants so badly for you to be happy again. what he does understand is that he plans for retribution. 

“that’s fucked,” he settles on. “what bastard doesn’t ask for consent?”

you smile – and he does too, one that’s less feral and almost kind. and so you fall back into routine, already, some kind of weight lifting from your shoulders. ryomen sukuna may be a menace, but you can rely on him, trust him: that much you know. 

“you know,” sukuna says offhandedly as you exit the building and enter the parking lot. “i know where geto’s car is, i’m just saying. and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t have an extra precision knife in my backpack right now.”  

[five-rivers]

Loved chapter 4

Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 3: Portal, even though the connection is sort of tenuous.

.

Bad things happened when Vlad came to Amity Park. For that matter, bad things happened wherever Vlad was. It was part of what made Vlad Vlad. Some part of his otherness, some twist of the shadow-fabric he was made of that left rot and ruin wherever his hem brushed. Of course, Vlad was never affected by this misfortune. In fact, he seemed to suck the luck out of everyone around him. Like a vampire.

Along with sanity. But that was a given for the others, even partial others, like Vlad. Or Danny.

But Vlad didn’t even try to hide or ameliorate the effects he had on people, didn’t try to keep them safe, to make their lives shine like the precious lights they were.

(Danny drummed his fingers on his chest and wondered, if, perhaps, it would feel less empty if Clockwork let him become a jewel box.)

But that was the way Vlad was, and Danny felt him enter Amity Park like nails on a chalkboard. His skin started to itch. His teeth hurt. Pressure pulsed in his head like waves of heat coming off asphalt. Being human, being real, was too tight, too heavy. It would be so easy to slip into the cool waters of the Dream and cut through them to wherever Vlad was.

No. He couldn’t. As shown time and time again, that would just exacerbate things. No matter what Vlad did, it would be worse if they fought, especially if there was anyone there to see it. Like what had happened with Jazz…

Danny was beyond lucky he’d been able to snap her out of whatever Vlad had done to her, but she still was quite right. The Vultures had actually apologized on Vlad’s behalf, after that.

(And wasn’t that strange, standing in the Dream on ground covered by bones and feathers, the Vultures on a dead tree, speaking as one. A thing of terror, apologizing for their ward. For pain suffered through Love. For lines crossed.)

Still. He had better… supervise Vlad, for a lack of a better word. Make sure he wasn’t getting up to anything. He’d go as a human – as himself.

He sighed and splayed his hands out on the table.

“Something wrong?” asked Sam, who had been making a complex sigil out of her fries and ketchup.

“Vlad’s in town,” said Danny. “I—”

The doors to the Nasty Burger were thrown open with a bang as Jazz came running in. She ran halfway through the store, to weak protests from the employee behind the counter, and skidded to a stop in front of their table.

“Vlad’s here,” he said.

“You saw him?” asked Danny, concerned. “Did he try—”

“No,” said Jazz. “I can just—It’s like he’s under my skin, and I—” She made a sound of frustration and gripped both sides of her head with clawed hands.

“Hey,” said Danny, gently, grasping her wrists. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, breathing deeply. “Alright. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“It’s okay,” said Danny. He looked back to his friends. “Anyway, I’m going to go see what he wants, okay?”

“I’m coming with you,” said Sam, standing.

“Me too,” said Tucker. “Sort of. Halfway.”

“You really shouldn’t,” said Danny. “You know what happens when we get together.”

“Which is why we want to back you up,” said Sam. “As long as he stays physical, there’s stuff we can do.”

Unless Danny was prepared to do something incredibly inadvisable, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her. “Okay,” he said. “Just… be careful. If it looks like it’s going to turn into a fight, you need to leave.” He didn’t want them to get anymore spiritually messed up than they already were.

“We know, we know, you give us the spiel every time,” said Sam.

Yes, and Sam ignored it every other time. Danny shook his head. “Alright, let’s—”

Danny was promptly interrupted yet again, this time by his parents rushing in wearing… He could loosely call them clothes.

“It’s retro night, baby!” shouted Jack.

It was not retro night. There was no such thing as retro night at the Nasty Burger.

“I’ll take care of them,” said Jazz.

“Thanks,” muttered Danny, sliding out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go out the back.”

The alley behind the Nasty Burger was fetid in a way that made Danny’s shadow lift from the pavement and float on the air. Something that inhabited rats skittered in the corners at Danny’s presence and ran for a storm drain. He breathed shallowly.

“Which way?” prompted Tucker.

“He’s actually coming this way,” said Danny, frowning, debating facing him in this alley, just to see the disgust that would surely paint itself on Vlad’s face, paper-thin mask that it was.

Reality rippled, the surface tension that kept the Dream from bleeding in snapping. A miasma rose from the ground. Vlad stumbled into the alley, clutching at his face, which was melting. No, transforming. No, stretching. No, layering over itself a in dozen sickening ways, all the masks Vlad wore flickering over whatever truth he had all at once.

“Help me,” he grated. His words felt sick, diseased.

“Guys,” said Danny, fighting back the urge to vomit, “run.”

“No!” shrieked Vlad. “Help me!”

And sanity fractured like glass.

.

Whatever Danny’s parents had done to stabilize Vlad had worked, to a degree. It hadn’t fixed the underlying problem, which Danny could still feel slinking through the Dream. It also didn’t fix whatever he’d done to Sam and Tucker, although it had kept it from progressing further.

Danny took a slow, angry breath and ran a mental count of the lives stored inside his chest. They were there, all of them. Whatever happened to Sam and Tucker, they wouldn’t die.

But Danny knew there were fates worse than death.

His fingernails left half moon impressions on his palms as he clenched his fists. The Dream roiled with his fury, the force of it enough to keep Vlad’s diseased thoughts away.

“Daniel,” croaked Vlad. “Cure me.”

“That’s what Mom and Dad are trying to do.”

“Find a cure for me,” said Vlad, as if he hadn’t heard Danny at all, “and you’ll find a cure for your precious little friends.”

Danny stilled. “You did this on purpose.”

Vlad laughed. “Of course, I did, my dear boy. What value is a simple human mind compared to those such as we?”

Any rage Danny had felt up to this moment paled in comparison. The mirror over the sink cracked down the middle, never to show a true physical reflection again. He hated—

A concerned tug at Danny’s throat jolted him from his thoughts. Clockwork. Clockwork would know what to do. He turned, and without a second glance at Vlad, strode bodily into the Dream.

.

It took Danny even less time than usual to find Clockwork, and, when he did, he immediately found himself at Clockwork’s center, deep within the castle that was his metaphor. Dozens of Chains were fixed to Danny’s collar, each of them completely taut, holding him perfectly immobile, the embrace of a relieved but panicking parent. Clockwork’s emotions, too vast for Danny to fully comprehend, were transmitted directly through those chains, microscopic vibrations raising gooseflesh on Danny’s skin. A wordless noise both distressed and pleased wound its way from Danny’s throat, continuing to echo long after he’d run out of the breath to maintain it.

Clockwork’s avatar cupped Danny’s face in its hands, long fingers almost completely encircling his head. There was more of Clockwork in it that there usually was.

“Clockwork…?” asked Danny, weakly, confused and overwhelmed by the sudden flood of affection.

Poor little one, whispered the avatar, this is what happens when matters are not properly attended to. The Vultures should know better, should take care of him properly… It pressed its forehead to Danny’s, startling a squeak from him.

Danny, reflexively, brought his hands up to clutch at the avatar’s robes.

My poor child. What are they thinking, letting him run around so ill, so that he might infect other children?

Clockwork saw Vlad as a child, too. Not surprising, considering how ancient Clockwork must be, but good to know.

That emotion! It was only a shadow, and even so-!

“Emotion?”

Hatred, hissed Clockwork’s avatar.

The collar around Danny’s neck constricted, a tighter, more Loving, more comforting, hug. Danny gasped, although breathing here was psychological rather than physiological. The cloth of the avatar’s robes began to wind up Danny’s arms.

Even the pale, human shadow of it is not something you should experience, my child.

Danny didn’t like being that angry, but—

Even the concept of it is too much, too heavy. You should not have to bear it. I should not have overlooked it. The avatar’s hands moved to the back of Danny’s head, pressing his face against its shoulder. It must hurt you so,murmured the avatar, carding fingers through Danny’s hair. Fear not. I will excise it. All of it, even the idea of it shall not touch you, shall not sully your thoughts.

The avatar stepped away.

“Wait!” shouted Danny, panicking.

Not being able to hate? Danny had mixed feelings about that, but he doubted he’d be able to talk Clockwork out of it, not with how damaging Hate could be. In the end, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss. Not being able to understand that it existed? Not being aware of hate at all? Being unable to understand that, sometimes, people would go out of their way to hurt one another?

That was dangerous. That would render him unable to even begin to comprehend vast swathes of human history and humanity.

“If I don’t know what it is,” said Danny, “if I don’t know that it exists, how can I protect myself against it?”

A gust of wind blew through Clockwork’s sepulchral hall like the sigh of a giant. It is my duty to protect you, my child.

The sheer possessiveness of the words lingered on Danny’s skin. He wanted to lean into them but held his imaginary breath.

But very well.

Danny let himself relax, slightly, even as the avatar walked to somewhere he couldn’t see, its silent footsteps giving him no clue as to where it was. With only the constant, regular hum and tick of Clockwork’s gears to stimulate him, it was hard for Danny to stay vigilant. He found himself drifting, his thoughts wandering.

Did his hatred of Vlad cause him pain, as Clockwork said? What was it going to be like, to not be able to hate at all, rather than just not being able to Hate? Would he still be angry at Vlad? He hoped so. The man deserved it.

Two points of frigid cold touched the back of his head, contracted into a single point, and pulled. Danny felt something within him come free, and he sagged as much as the chains would allow him.

The avatar walked back into view, and Danny recoiled from the thing he was carrying, clasped in a long, silver pair of tweezers. “Is that,” started Danny, before he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Was that in me?”

Yes, said Clockwork’s avatar, lowering it into a small, jeweled box. Danny felt relieved as soon as the lid closed on it and he was no longer forced to look at it. At the same time… Fear not, said the avatar. I could never destroy something of you. It will be remade into something more useful.

Danny nodded as much as he could and shuddered. He felt… dirty. Unclean. Just remembering what he’d felt, what he’d thought… It left a deep sense of wrongness.

Come, said Clockwork. I have just the thing for that. You are due for a bath. A cleansing, inside and out.

The metaphor of the chains fell away, leaving just the one, usual, slack one. Danny knew Clockwork could call them back at any time, that, in truth, they had not gone anywhere at all.

“What about Vlad?” he asked, twisting his hands around the hem of his shirt. “And my friends? Can you help them? Please.”

He felt Clockwork examine him appraisingly.

Perhaps the bath can wait for another day.

.

The mirror was a portal, tall and wide as a door, glassy surface gleaming with otherworldly light. The edges were crimped, filigreed, flared. Beyond the reflection, Danny could just make out the suggestion of movement.

It is not real, said the avatar, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, but a might-have-been.

“But I can find a way to fix things in there?”

The avatar did not answer. A prickling feeling rose up inside Danny, settling in his stomach. Somehow, this felt similar to when he’d eaten the mirror with the bad future.

It is,confirmed the avatar, briefly nuzzling Danny.

“Why?” asked Danny, just a little horrified.

Is it not satisfying to complete two tasks at once? I told you, back then, that our next task would be to remove those presents that seek to exclude you.

Danny didn’t understand.

You will. Clockwork’s avatar paused, as if thinking. This is what the Vultures should have done for young Vladimir, although they would have accomplished it differently.

“Oh,” said Danny, trying to wrap his head around that.

Clockwork’s avatar nudged him forward. Follow the chain when you are ready to come home.

.

Danny wasn’t connected to anyone in this might-have-been world. It was odd, watching every eye slide off him as if he wasn’t even there. If he wanted to interact with someone directly, he’d have to put a lot of force of will into it.

It was strange. Other than that, everything here seemed perfectly real. Not imaginary at all. The sun shone. People spoke to one another. The grass crunched under his feet.

The University of Wisconsin-Madison lay before him in all its questionable glory.

He’d have to find Vlad and his parents. They had rented a small lab space for their experiments with the Dream and research into the others.

Normally, he’d follow his connection to them to find them, or the disturbance Vlad made in the dream, but neither of those things existed, now. Not yet. Danny didn’t exist yet.

He could just wander, try to seek out questionable lab space, but the university’s campus was large. Normally, he’d ask for directions, but…

Yeah, the no one being able to see or hear him thing really didn’t allow for that.

But there was one other thing he could try to do, one other thing he could try to sense. Their experiments. They should send waves across and through the Dream.

He let his eyes drift closed and walked blind across campus. When he opened them, he was in a lab, watching his parents and Vlad working on a kind of magic circle, inscribed with runes.

A portal, intended to let humans directly access the Dream. A portal that had created Vlad, all because he leaned too close, watched too closely, seen too much, became something else, changed.

Something like anger stirred under his skin. After this, his parents had continued to experiment, continued to try to reach the Dream, to create a weapon against the others, and in doing so both doomed Danny himself and Amity Park by making what amounted to a highway for the others to come to the real world.

But they hadn’t intended to do that, he knew. They’d been trying as best as they could to fix things. Had been trying to defend the world the best they knew, portal or no portal. And speaking of the portal… If others could damage human sanity, if Danny, small and weak and almost-human as he was, could damage human sanity, then how much more could a direct link to the Dream do? Discounting, of course, that normal dreams could lead to the Dream… That connection was more tenuous. Filtered.

His anger was a distraction from what was really bothering him.

These people, they looked like his parents. They were his parents. But… they weren’t. There was no attachment there. Nothing. It was like looking at empty shells. No Love.

It was distressing.

He watched, waiting, making note of the symbols and the placement of the ritual objects and the technological enhancements. There had to be something here that would help explain why Vlad was having such a hard time, while Danny had transitioned to his present existence without much problem.

He leaned over his not-mother’s calculations, then his not-father’s, made note of the differences. Looked at the fire, the knife, and the carved cylinders. Some of them didn’t feel quite right. One of them had been nudged out of alignment by a soda can put down by not-Jack, shifting the circle, making it bigger. Could that be something?

Vlad leaned over to examine the circle, and, at the same time, not-Jack pushed a button on the tape player, which started chanting. Danny could feel the hole boring into reality before the first syllable was finished. They’d made the portal both too well and too poorly.

Danny reached for Vlad and pulled him back, out of the way of the opening portal.

.

Danny may have made a mistake.

He’d saved Vlad from becoming other. In doing so, he’d changed things, altered this entire make-believe world. The way the story was progressing was no longer the same as his own. Which meant that it might be useless for collecting clues for fixing Vlad, Sam, and Tucker. Mostly Sam and Tucker.

(He’d help Vlad if it wouldn’t hurt his friends, he didn’t hate the man, not anymore, didn’t desire his suffering. But his friends were, of course, his main concern.)

But he couldn’t just leave. He’d made note of all the flaws in the portal, but that wasn’t in any way conclusive, wasn’t a guarantee.

And, in the meantime, his not-parents and not-Vlad had continued working on the portal, which they hadn’t shut down, unlike in the proper timeline. Or had it been disrupted by Vlad? He didn’t remember the exact sequence of events. His parents had never been clear.

But the portal was on, it was working, and it was wrong. Everything was wrong. The portal was in a class of things that should-not-be.

Just like Danny, in this world. He… With the portal, and the way things were going, he shouldn’t exist here, the butterfly effect would keep him from being born, and he was becoming painfully aware of that fact. Literally painfully. It was starting to hurt, being here, a throb in the back of his head.

Or was that the portal?

Either way…

(He couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was breaking things just by being here. Everything was going wrong. So many little accidents.)

(Or was that the portal?)

He kept watching.

It had been… a while, now. It was easy to lose track of time like this, with no one to talk to. Days? Maybe? He’d been drifting, which should have been troubling.

Maybe he should go back. Cut losses.

(Besides, it was disturbing watching his parents flirting with each other. And Vlad. Even if they weren’t really themselves.)

Then his parents wheeled in a… What was that? He walked closer. This was about the same size around as the pillars that had done this to him.

Danny would never forget those, after all.

Something hummed inside him, picking up a kind of resonance between the active portal and the pillar.

The ground fragmented beneath his feet.

Reality followed soon after.

.

He found himself nowhere with nothing. Only nowhere and nothing.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.

What had he done? He’d, he’d destroyed a world, he’d—

There was a gentle, but insistent tug on his chain. He followed it home.

.

He clung to Clockwork’s avatar, gasping, as if he was the only real thing in the world. His emotions were too much, too great, uncontained and roiling. They battered him like a stormy sea.

It’s alright, it’s alright, comforted the avatar. It wasn’t real, and now it never will be. All those worlds where you would not be. All gone.

No. No. No. Horror buzzed in his brain. He couldn’t have destroyed so much.

Never were,continued the avatar, Clockwork apparently oblivious. All disproven. Paradox. You could not be and yet you were. You were in the places you were not. So, now you exist, in all these places, in everywhere that could be, and always will. It stroked Danny, brushing away tears. Only one more to go, until you never were not, my beloved child, until you always were mine, as you were meant to be.

Danny keened into the robes of Clockwork’s avatar, distraught. Wind ruffled his hair.

Considering the point in time in which you were placed, said the avatar, Vladimir will be well again.

Danny looked up, hopeful for the first time in hours.

Mostly. The underlying cause has been removed. You should bring the rest to your… progenitors. They are at least competent in this area.

Danny nodded vigorously and attempted to extract himself from the avatar’s grasp. He was unsuccessful, although the avatar did adjust its grip on him.

You have had a difficult day, it observed. It then presented Danny with a cookie.

Confused, Danny took it.

A gift, said the avatar, Clockwork having evidently returned to his normal laconic mode.

“What’s it made of?” asked Danny, suspicious.

Love. What else?

.

“How do you feel?” asked Danny.

“Weird,” said Sam. “But okay.”

“What was it like?”

Sam shrugged. “It was like…” She waved her hand. “Watching a thousand different movies of my life, but they were all wrong. Like if they were crappy biopics done fifty years after I died or something.”

“Speak for yourself,” grunted Tucker. “I just got a lot of sand. So, so much sand. And sun. Do I have a sunburn?”

“No?” said Danny. “You look fine.”

“Ugh, I forgot you were white. You don’t know what sunburns look like.”

“I’d argue,” said Sam, “but you’re not wrong.” She fell back against her pillows. “I just want to sleep.”

“Same,” said Tucker. “I never want to see the sun again.”

“We’ll make a goth of you yet,” joked Sam, tossing a pillow at him.

“Okay,” said Danny, backing away. “Should I get the lights?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Sleep well,” he said. He hoped they would.

(Because he would not.)

[hotchseyebrows]

thoughtfulness in little things

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: can you believe that is my first ever full length morcia fic? me? resident morcia nut? wow. what a world. anyway!! i hope yall like this (and if you noticed it was already on ao3 earlier today shhh this is a scheduled tumblr post im Sleeping rn) and hopefully i dont take 4 months in between posting fics again, but i make no promises!!! my brain is Evil

thank you @blkantigone for being my beta and thank you @derekmorqan for letting me barf 1k of this in our dms a while back, i love you both sm

they do kiss a fair bit in this (it is, in fact, a first kiss fic) and its a little steamy, but by no means explicit and is rated teens and up on ao3 :)

read it here on ao3!!

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?”

-

Everything changes during a late night in Penelope's batcave. But really, nothing changes at all.

word count: 3000

Friday nights without a case are a rare treasure for SSA Hotchner’s highly sought after team of profilers. Normally, Derek and Penelope would be taking advantage of the freedom by dancing all night, but sometimes the universe has other plans. 

Penelope used this week’s case-free time to put the finishing touches on an antivirus and security software of her own creation. The personal information of her beloved BAU babies was a hot commodity well worth the additional protection, and she’s always looking for a reason to fiddle with Quantico’s servers. It ended up being a whole production, taking the entire afternoon and then some. Apparently, she still doesn’t have all of the permissions required to make certain adjustments which means that she’s fiddling and bending her way into all of the things she needs to do. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole damn thing crashed around 4:00. She managed not to pull her hair out, but it was a close thing and it set her back at least an extra hour.

Derek stops by a little after 5, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I can hear the bottles of DC’s finest vodka and Hennessy calling our names, are you almost ready to leave for the day?” He pauses in the door, taking in her furious typing and furrowed brow. “Whoa, Mama, what’s the matter? You’ve got Hotch’s eyebrows.”

She throws her arms up. “The entirety of the FBI and also the world is getting on my nerves!” He walks over to her, leaning on the side of her chair and turning her away from her monitor. His hands gently grab both of hers and he rubs a soothing circle with one of his thumbs. 

“Explain, baby girl.” 

She does, eventually just ranting and raving about how annoying it is to still be put in metaphorical handcuffs by the FBI as if she can’t just do what she wants anyway. “I’m not even breaking any rules, technically, they’re just making things annoying and long winded.” She sighs, moving her hands to interlock their fingers. “But now that it’s started, it would be doubly annoying to stop it and come back later. So I’m stuck here until it’s done, which might take a while.”

He nods, thinking. Then he straightens up, grabs the extra rolling chair, and sits down. 

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?” She blushes, turning away to hide it on instinct. 

“You cheeseball.” She spins around to lightly push on his arm. He just smiles. 

They sit together for 20 minutes in relative silence as she continues her work. It’s a comfortable silence; his occasional humming soothes her rising annoyance at how needlessly long this is taking. She can hear him playing with one of the fidget toys she keeps on her desk behind him. When she gets to another point of sitting and waiting, she turns towards him and asks him about his day. He tells her about how Prentiss helped him get Reid back for a prank by distracting him in the break room while he switched out the keyboard of Reid’s computer with an identical one with a grass garden planted inside. “It’s a long con for sure, but I’m hoping it sprouts this weekend.”

She laughs. “How long did it take you to set this up, dumpling?” She already knows the answer, but it’s nice to see his slightly sheepish but proud look about his dedication to his prank war. Her computer beeps at her, and she spins back around to begin working again.

He rolls closer, avoiding her question and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You getting hungry yet?”

She relaxes, leaning against him. As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “Yes, I’d say so.”

He leans over and moves a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay baby girl, I’ll go grab us food and be right back.” She nods, lifting her cheek on instinct to meet the kiss she knows is coming. He stands and sure enough, leans down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be quick. Be good.”

“How can I do anything else if you’re not here?” She bats her eyes up at him. 

He grins. “Oh, I’m sure you’d think of something.” He brushes his knuckles against her cheek. It makes her shiver.

She watches him leave, catching the kiss he blows at her from the door. Turning back to focus on her work, it feels like she blinks and he’s back. A glance at the clock tells her it’s been over a half hour. He puts the bag of food onto the table before coming to pull her away from the computer. 

“One minute, I promise, I’m so close to just letting this thing run for a little.” He twirls her hair around his fingers before dropping his hands onto her shoulders, rubbing away the tension. A minute and a half later, she leans back in her chair with a sigh. She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles at her. 

"Come eat, baby girl. Don't think you're getting out of eating my hard won dinner." He moves to the table and pulls out her chair. She follows and sits.

"Hard won — mon cher, you didn't tackle a wild animal and lug it home to our log cabin in the woods, you drove your car 20 minutes."

He kisses her temple, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "Yeah, but I would lug home whatever you needed anytime, so the sentiment is the same."

She smiles and knocks their feet together under the table lightly. He moves his chair, so they are sitting right next to each other on the same side of the table. The heat from his arm is palpable.

Derek grabs a box from the bag and splits the vegan pad thai within onto two paper plates. He opens the box of spring rolls and places it in between them while she places napkins in front of them both. He pops the cap off of her bottle of lemonade without her asking, and sets that in front of her too. “Thank you, handsome.” He smiles in response. They start eating and the comfortable silence returns. 

She talks him through what she still needs to do to fix everything in between bites, even though she knows he doesn't really understand her technobabble. But Penelope can feel his eyes on her, and without looking, she somehow knows that something has shifted in the air around them.

"What?" she asks, turning her attention away from gesturing at her computer with the chopsticks. "Do I have something on my face?"

He chuckles. "Actually, yes, c'mere." He brushes away a stray spot of sauce on the corner of her lips with a gentle swipe of his thumb. The rest of his hand stills on her cheek. She shivers. She can see him notice it, his attention focusing in on her. Penelope's blood is thundering in her ears as he glances in between her lips and her eyes.

She leans purposefully into his hand. His thumb brushes over her lips again and her mouth falls open a little. 

"Penelope, I-" he cuts himself off with a hard swallow. "Penelope." His eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes quickly again.

She can only blink at him for a moment. "Yes, Derek?"

"I don't kn- um. Can I-" She's never seen him flustered and unsure like this. But they've never been out of sync before and they aren't about to start now, so she nods, bringing up a hand to rest on his. A smile grows on his face before he starts to lean in. His hand slides along her cheek to more firmly grip her face- it makes her gasp.

He pauses, thinking something is wrong. "Penelope, are y-" Her heart swells at how careful he is to take care of her always, and she meets him in the middle, pressing their lips together in a soft, purposeful kiss.

For a moment, all is still. The world boils down to just the place where their lips are touching. Their lips barely brush against one another, but already Penelope feels light headed. Derek separates their lips for a moment before kissing her again, a firmer touch this time. She sucks in a breath through her nose. His lips are incredibly kind- that’s the only word for it. He doesn’t seem to know the word “take” right now because all she can feel from him is “give.” As he presses into the kiss and gently cups the side of her face, her brain wildly spins through thoughts about how of course he’s like this even when kissing her and how good he smells and how she can’t believe they haven’t done this sooner.

He draws her closer against him, pressing into the kiss more insistently before bringing his other hand up to her face and holding her. His fingers move to cup the sides of her neck and she tilts her head to the left a touch, letting her mouth fall open in a sigh. He makes a soft noise before tentatively sliding their tongues together. A full body shiver runs down her spine and through her limbs. Another small noise falls from the back of his throat. Her stomach swoops like they've just dropped down the side of a huge arch in a roller coaster. She places both hands on his chest, pressing forward. He moves with her, chair squeaking underneath him as he presses closer, one arm snaking around her back. Penelope’s heart pounds even louder. His tongue is gentle even in its insistence as their kiss turns slightly desperate. 

It feels like someone has lit a fire underneath Penelope’s chair, warmth washing over her whole body and radiating out from everywhere they touch. One of his hands tangles into her hair as he gently tilts her head back. If she wasn’t sitting her knees would have buckled so long ago, but now she would absolutely be on the floor. It’s no surprise that Derek Morgan is an incredible kisser, but knowing something and knowing something is so different. 

He pulls back, letting their foreheads rest together. Her eyes stay closed, tingles radiating from everywhere his fingers are tenderly holding her face. She tightens her grip on his shirt. He kisses the tip of her nose. "You still with me, baby girl?"

She nods, breathless. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Hi." It's the first thing she thinks to say. 

He laughs. "Hey you."

She has so many questions- how long have you wanted to do that, can we do that again right now, can we do so much more right now, right here- but before she can ask any of them, her computer beeps loudly. "Oh!" She jumps at the sudden noise. He drops his hands and leans back, looking far too much like the cat who got the cream. "I should- right, I should deal with that," she says, standing on shaky legs. Heels were never so precarious. Of course, there is no hiding from a profiler.

He grins up at her. "Need some assistance?" His eyes are shining like he's hiding a joke. She scrunches her nose at him, biting back a smile.

"Oh, hush you. I’m perfectly capable of walking 3 feet, thank you very much." Her tenacity is a little undercut from the way her hands are trembling a little as she smooths her skirt, but still. The point remains.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Alright baby girl, go on then."

She walks over to her computer and stays standing to fiddle with the wires behind it before bending over at the keyboard and reading the report on the screen. "It shouldn't be much longer now, it just needs to run the last new anti-virus- what?" He's leaning back in his seat and staring at her, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"What, Mama?" But he knows what, clearly evident from the way he is trying to school his expression into something innocent.

She blushes. "Derek Morgan, I don't know what I'm going to do if you keep looking at me like that."

"Oh, I don't know. I might have some ideas."

She sucks in a sharp inhale through her nose. Playing nonchalant, she turns back to her computer. "Well, I might have to hear your ideas out."

"Yeah?" 

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and he's grinning.

"Yeah." she says, not trusting what will come out of her mouth if she elaborates (probably something along the lines of “I’d listen to all your ideas, do your ideas include any semblance of forever, if you keep grinning like that I'm gonna lock the door and do something reckless”).

They sit in relative silence, just the sounds of her typing filling the room. When she finishes, she spins her chair around. "Hi," she says again.

"Hi baby," he responds.

Her fingers twist and curl the hem of her skirt. "So, uh, well, that's gonna take at least another 30 minutes to finish running."

He raises one eyebrow. "30 minutes, huh?" 

She nods. "Might be a good time for some of those ideas." 

He stands and walks across the room to her. She takes his offered hand and stands as well. They stay there, inches apart and holding hands as the charged atmosphere around them seems to crackle. In the same breath, they lean in to kiss again. Both of her arms wrap around his neck as he tucks his around her waist. He pulls her against him, fully pressed together as the soft kiss deepens into something heated and desperate.

He bites her bottom lip gently before the kiss turns open mouthed and slick. She arches against him as they slide into a slow rhythm. She feels fluttery, like his arms are the only anchor point in the whole world and if he let her go, she’d simply float away. He tastes like lemonade, sweet and alive. She hums as he tracks his hands in a slow circle at the base of her spine. Her knees really do buckle a little as he attempts to tug her closer, but he holds her steady. She rests a hand on his cheek and grounds herself by using the other to grip the back of his neck. She’s utterly swallowed up by him, his arms and his mouth and just him surrounding her in their own little cocoon. He separates their mouths to kiss across her jaw and down her neck, hands flattening on her back. He places a line of long kisses down to the crook of her neck. She lets out a sigh, letting her head fall to the side to give him more room. He sinks his teeth into the same spot lightly, and she shudders. 

"Derek," she whispers. She can feel his smile against his skin as he kisses the same place again.

They slow to a stop, tucked against each other. He rests his face against her neck and mumbles something against her skin. "Hmm honey?" she says, hand rubbing a circle on the nape of his neck.

"I got us that Talenti ice cream you like," he says, only moving enough to be heard. “Chocolate peanut butter cup, and the color changing spoons are still in the break room.”

"Oh Der, that's so sweet, you didn't have to do all of that." Her heart skips a beat. 

He shrugs, kissing the side of her neck. "I wanted to."

She is half tempted to haul him in for another kiss, but as if on cue, her stomach grumbles. He picks his head up and smiles at her. "Come eat now," he says before giving her another quick peck. 

She lets him pull her to the table, but before they sit, she pulls him in again. He chuckles into the kiss.  "Eat, you menace." He mumbles against her lips. Pulling back, he plants a kiss on the apple of her cheek as he guides her into her seat.

She bites a retort about how she was trying to but he sees it on her face anyway. 

"Later, baby girl. Dinner first."

“Then dessert?” She tilts her head and gives him a flirty smile. 

He runs his thumb along her bottom lip. “All the dessert you want, Penelope.”

Much the same as before, they eat in comfortable silence. Except this time he rests a hand on her thigh, and traces a slow lazy circle with his thumb. The conversation picks back up and turns to unrelated things. Derek muses about possible retaliations from Spencer once he notices his new desk plants as he casually offers her a bite from his plate. She takes it, humming.

Something Penelope did not realize had lost its footing resettles in her chest. Nothing is different, not in any way that would scare her or be a loss. They are just the same as they've always been, but also more. (Though she'd be hard pressed to think of a time when this wasn't the way they were. Maybe things are just being unveiled, not changed.) 

When they finish eating, he goes to get the ice cream and two of the fun spoons from the break room. They split the pint and laugh far too loudly for how late it is. The computer beeps for a final time, software finally fully uploaded and settled. She still has to run tests and double check that everything is working, but that can wait. Derek offers her a bite of ice cream, and if he kisses her again to remove the ice cream from her bottom lip, she can't say she minds.

[whiskeyandwolfsbane]

7/29 - 3:37PM - Settled In At Home Now

Well, I am alive.

So here's how the day went. I woke up at about 4:30 and took a shower, then used the antiseptic cloth things the surgeon requested I use. No breakfast, just some water and me running around like a maniac trying to finish setting up my room and packing my bag to bring to the hospital.

me and Lucy left a bit later than we had intended, but we still got there on time. i checked in, answered questions and filled out paperwork. i wasn't waiting long before i got taken back. well, first i was trying to hand the nurse some papers i needed to give her and promptly dropped all of the rest of the papers, lol.

"Are you nervouuus?" was her teasing response and I was like... yeah, probably lol but also it's only a little past 6AM and i am not used to this early of a rise lol

Anyway. All the usual stuff was done, the vital checking, hooking up the IV, etc. I didn't have much time in between people coming in so ironically several items I brought to stay busy were useless, lol. Better safe than sorry though I suppose.

Everyone was very sweet and kind. The lady who put in my IV was very patient and talked me through it since historically needles make me panic. (I ran out of the doctor's office once at 16 when I needed to get blood drawn and my mom had to chase me into the parking lot.)

I ended up meeting more or less everyone who was gonna be in the operating room, and got taken back way sooner than I expected. I was super anxious even though they had given me something to try and calm me down a bit, but probably less anxious than if I hadn't.

So the anaesthesia group is transferring me from the hospital bed thing to the operating table and trying to distract me with questions. It went something like this:

"So where would you wanna go on a vacation more? Beach or mountains?"

"Mountains."

"I knew it, I could tell."

"Haha."

⚫ ⚫ ⚫ ⚫ ⚫ ⚫

Assume those black circles are me immediately being hit in the head with a metaphorical baseball bat because I literally have zero memory of anything else. I konked out, lol.

So anyway, I woke up later on feeling more or less fine outside of very minor pain. I tried to record a video but folks kept coming in to check on me; I posted what I managed to get anyway though and I'll share it at the end here lol.

A few more folks checked on me, my mom and Lucy were notified, etc. I was given some reminders and instructions as well, and then I was wheeled outside to where the car was. I was still feeling more or less okay on the drive home but it was definitely uncomfortable; I'm glad I brought a squishmallow and a few pillows (one for my neck) to put between me and the seatbelt.

I tried to hold some vague conversation and respond to a few texts but for reference, a sentence about eleven words long took me about twenty minutes because I kept nodding off so I just gave up and let myself doze, lmao.

I was able to come inside with little to no help, feeling very dizzy as i did so but not enough to eat dirt apparently. Then my mom helped me upstairs to the recliner, which is where I'm at now.

She told me to call her if I need anything, anything at all, but I have yet to do that because I'm somehow still incredibly insecure and self conscious and feeling like a burden and annoying and what have you. Wouldn't be my brain without anxiety, I suppose.

She checked on me a few times though and brought me some of the stuff I needed. The painkillers wore off and I had to take another pill. It's helping a little, but not fixing things fully; I hope it kicks in a bit stronger soon for sure. If not, it's manageable pain at least.

Anyway yeah. I'll prolly go take a nap or something now - but here's that update folks asked for, as well as that dumb video lol:

Waking Up From Surgery

[variousqueerthings]

The Karate Kid/Cobra Kai Star Trek AU ideas...

@phantomcomet talked about a Star Trek AU and then I went too far in writing this post imagining some roles in Star Trek. I’ve stuck to the adults from TKK/CK and maaaainly envisioned characters through the lens of Starfleet (although not only). 

Anyway, here’s some thots! Any Star Trek/CK fans add more!

First things first: I did not think of a name for the starship Miyagi’s captaining, so I’m just calling it Miyagi’s ship for now. (The Bonsai doesn’t seem like a ship name really. The Crane Kick not so much either... The Cobra totally works though... anyway, someone have some ideas?)

Miyagi: Captain of the ship (later an admiral and then retires to take care of his bonsais). Obviously has a soft spot for Daniel, whom he probably spotted doing some whiz-kid stuff on a shitty, broken down civilian ship and took onboard. You know, you probably don’t even have to mess with his backstory that much to make it fit, he grew up on a planet on the outskirts of the Federation and saw some shit and is doing good, a la similar to Kirk’s backstory. He’s experienced abandonment from the Federation, so he may work within the system, but he’s fucking with it at every turn he gets and does what he thinks is right (a la Sisko. If Kirk and Sisko had a baby? Strange thoughts, but tell me I’m wrong).

Daniel: Engineer. Low key kind of a prodigy with engines. Engineers aren’t as often officer-class (unlike science/medicine and command, which I believe always are), so I can see Daniel coming into that from a less privileged space – definitely not the Academy – and initially butting heads with Johnny (as well as a bunch of others). He’s not head of engineering, but he works for the Lead Propulsion Engineer. Also he talks to the warpcore. You know he does. All the time.

Johnny: Security Babey! Also backstory is maybe he was trying to get into a command situation onboard a different ship led by Captain Kreese and he was the golden boy, but things went South when he was pushed to doing something he didn’t feel right about, so he was demoted for something bad that he’d done on Kreese’s orders and then couldn’t let go of. And he brings that baggage aboard Miyagi’s ship.

At this point people joke about Miyagi taking on lost causes and strays…. (but never to his face).

Ali: Doctor, of course! Did everything by the book and sometimes dreams that she’d let go of her parents expectations and could go out and do something outside of Starfleet. I feel like she might’ve studied with Johnny at the Academy and for a short while been onboard Miyagi’s ship with him and Daniel, but gotten transferred into a more specialised field at some point (chasing the dream).

Kumiko: Okay there’s three different things I see for her

1. Presumably this is a galaxy-class/exploration ship (similar to the Enterprise) and so civilians are also onboard. If Kumiko isn’t with Starfleet, maybe she was using it as transport as an incredibly famous dancer and there’s a whirlwind romance that can’t last vibe.

2. if Starfleet, definitely in Command somewhere. I kind of love her for a first pilot/flight pilot.

3. Command. Even if she’s not in Starfleet I can see her having command of her own ship: Quietly competent, but steely in conviction and capability, that’s her!

Kreese: Used to be a Captain, but quietly was ousted from Starfleet during an internal investigation that showed up a lot of problems during his command and even before that. Star Trek has depicted war, and bigotry, and I think Kreese would probably have some dirty laundry there (some of which hasn’t been uncovered). Still bitter about losing his command and losing Johnny and has some personal business with Miyagi that he puts on Daniel, like in the movies.

The OG Cobras: They were all on Kreese’s ship originally, but dispersed after the incident with Johnny. I wonder if only Bobby stayed on, studying intergalactic faiths and assisting in various first communications and interchanges.

Someone help me out with Jimmy, Tommy, and Dutch. Continue on in Starfleet, yay or nay?

Yukie: I caaannot see her as Starfleet. She obviously grew up with Miyagi on that planet and I feel like she’s heavily involved in the rebuilding efforts and has been her whole life. She’s traveled to earth multiple times to petition for relief efforts, and is incredibly anti-war – there’s a whole department dedicated to her work – wait is Yukie basically some hotshot activist who condemns Federation Neo!Colonialism… I feel like… that’s poetic… also you know where Kumiko gets her calm competence from!

Sato: I mean he’s some big-shot admiral while Miyagi’s still Captain and they have History! I think Sato bought into the Federation a lot more and is consistently angry at Miyagi’s choices and wants to initially trip him up, but he just can’t. And eventually they find themselves back home and patch things up – it’s the intergenerational environmental Trauma babey. You need to go back to the source to begin to heal.

Chozen: Speaking of intergenerational trauma… I mean, he’s gone through the Academy, he’s wound up as a combat pilot/second pilot on a great ship, (in this Sato isn’t captaining a ship, he’s risen in the ranks, but he’s pulling strings), he’s going through it. Unsure of what actually would happen, but I like him for combat pilot as a counterpoint to Kumiko’s flight pilot. Poetic.

Terry: OOOOKaaaay, who the heckening is Terry Silver in this? In canon I already HC him as almost a ghost, so how does that translate here? He’s an intergalactic crime boss, he’s got 50 different stories told about him (he’s an augment like Khan, he’s worked with Borg, he’s got contacts throughout the Federation, he came from the Gamma Quadrant) – only Kreese marginally knows him and knows he used to be an ensign, but before that… even he’s not sure…

Barnes & Snake: They work for Terry… do you think he’d do a longterm con of getting his own people into Starfleet through the Academy? I feel like he would. Officer Class, except Snake probably wound up in lowgrade security, I cannot see him having the brains to move that far up the ladder. I’m inventing a whole conspiracy now…. or maybe Terry hired Barnes after he got kicked out of the Academy, hmmm...

Jessica: I want her to be Science Class, so that’s what she is. Research and Development. Social sciences and Xeno-archaeology. She makes and collects gifted pots.

Carmen: She’s a nurse. I feel like she also came through in an unconventional way, possibly studying nursing in a civilian capacity and worked on civilian ships for a few years, using it as payment for traveling with her mom and her kid. Then, eventually, ends up on the same Starship as Johnny and Daniel and Co. (and now I kinda want to see her training under Ali, but in my head Ali left before Carmen entered the picture).

Rosa: I feel like the Diaz family didn’t grow up on earth – I’m aware that this puts people of colour mainly off-earth, but I’m thinking about Star Trek’s earth-metaphor as “paradise” (DS9) while it lets all the nasty stuff happen outside, which is… very similar to “first world/third world country” rhetoric + how in Karate Kid and Cobra Kai first Miyagi and then the Diaz family are immigrants. I think Rosa Diaz would get on with Miyagi – like a type of Guinan and Picard situation, where she’s definitely a civilian, but constantly ends up on conversation with the Captain and he’s not quite sure what exactly her history is. Also I’m imagining a lil toddler-Miguel on a big starship.

Amanda: Similar to Kumiko I can see Amanda in a lot of places – administrative? Officer class? Intelligence officer/analyst? Bridge crew? Captain-in-training? What are we thinking here? Also I wonder about her past, but that’s something I do in canon as well. I kind of like the idea that she’s worked incredibly hard for what she has, putting herself through the Academy, presenting the front of someone who grew up with giving parents on the “Paradise” of earth, but actually she didn’t…