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sugarakis-p2 · 2 years

Text

Shigaraki's songbird ch2

art shared by Jaime Grant

You wouldn’t be on his radar if hadn’t stolen from him on a very bad day. When he kidnaps you he needs help, Kurogiri is super helpful, to keep you around but he puts up with it since you are such a sweet singer and screamer for him.

Sensei and Kurogiri are gone. Shigaraki needs to find a place to sleep for all of the LOV while making sure his darling is safe. He's slowly growing out of his gremlin phase.

Warning: Non/con yandere Shigaraki, fluff, lov being jerks, mild torture, threats and music.

@juuxo

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Shigaraki's little songbird was used to a low standard of living. But this was grim even for her.

When his Master was arrested, Shigaraki was worse before slowly getting better. Too damn slow, in her opinion. He forced her to share her prison with a bunch of total psychopaths. The house was shabby before, but these guys came in and thrashed the place.

"Hey, whaz yer name? Play something? This place is depressing. No, it's not! Best hideout ever!" The chaotic guy slurred to her drunk. She had already learned better than to ask what music exactly. She sighs and plays the entertainer on the rotting piano. Some know it as the ice cream truck song. That seemed to cheer him up, which was good because this one was always on the edge of a full-blown mental breakdown.

"Another!" he wept when others trickled back in. She sighs and plays another.

Aside from having one of the many weirdos crashing here at all times as her babysitter. They asked her to perform like a music monkey as a punishment. They try to take what she loves and warp it—jokes on them.

Dabi shows up out of the blue. He's not here often, but when he is, she hopes he makes a mistake like he did the first time and lets her escape.

The introduction was cold and quick when they first showed up.

"This is my songbird. Don't talk or look at her. Lock the door from the outside," Shigaraki growled, throwing a blanket over her. He tossed her some convenience store onigiri as he turned back to the group. She was confused as to what was going on. He never brought anyone here. Are these guys now living with her?

Shigaraki never bothered to talk to her much. He spoke of nefarious plans to the group before dragging her to the only bedroom in the place. Calling it a bedroom is generous.

A few days later, Dabi shows up all swagger.

"Toga and Spinner are arguing," he announces to Shigaraki. Shigaraki snarls and gets up to check on it.

"Shiggy. I still want to talk about going out. I can earn some money for us. I'm so hungry, and I have been good," she begged before he left.

"Baby. I told you already. Your voice and body belong only to me. Don't worry. I will get you more food," he rasped. For a long moment, Dabi just stares at her in awkward silence.

"Do you have a name? I'm not calling you songbird," Dabi asked in his smoky voice. She jerked in surprise he was talking to her. She checked the door to ensure Shigaraki wasn't hidden in the shadows.

"Song," she says quickly. Dabi's eyebrows shoot up.

"Song, huh. So that's why he calls you his songbird. How cute," he says. When you don't respond, he chuckles, "Has you scared of him, doesn't he? What's your quirk? Is it a music quirk?"

She nodded and picked up her ukulele and played him over the rainbow.

"Weak quirk. No wonder he is terrorizing you. I have a soft spot for pathetic little birdies. So, I'll tell you what. If you can run out the front before I shut the door, you are free to go," he said with a cruel smirk. He was itching to slam the door on her face.

He clearly didn't know about her real quirk. She wiped that smug look off his face as she kicked him in the balls before escaping. It didn't take her long to realize why there were bars on the windows of the rundown place before she arrived. The neighborhood was rough.

After robbing plenty of scumbags that thought she was an easy mark, she performed on the streets. The area five blocks away had good foot traffic with people looking to party. It was easy. Song normally liked earning with her music, but she was so hungry she turned to something she hated. Pickpocketing.

Now that she thinks about it. She could have pickpocketed a key from anyone of those dirtbags back at the hideout. She thinks of this now as several shady characters start to surround her. They couldn't grab her here with all these people around. She had to think quickly before she finished singing.

"You know, I've seen a lot of what the world can do

And it's breaking my heart in two

'Cause I never want to see you, sad girl

Don't be a bad girl

But if you want to leave, take good care

Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there

But just remember there is a lot of bad everywhere

Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world

It's hard to get by just upon a smile -♪"

When she finishes the last notes, she bows and thanks to the crowd. When the public dispersed, two of them tried to grab her. Using her quirk she went up the building. She couldn't go far, though, she was fast enough to avoid these clowns. It looked like she had disappeared. Song watched them from the fire escape.

"Dammit! I told you she was quick! She was right here," Dabi growled.

"He told us not to bother trying to grab her. She took her mini guitar and her change hat! He told us to give him a call when we found her," Spinner huffed.

"I'm calling Tomu-kun right now," Toga announced.

"Don't need to," Shigaraki rasped. He idly scratched his neck as he looked up and spotted her, "Little songbird. It is time to come home."

She looked down at them and shook her head.

"No way. Not without some rules. I need to be seen and heard. I don't feel that way living with you guys," Song states.

"Don't be a brat tonight," Shigaraki hissed. Touching the wall, she could see the decay crawl up towards her. She can't outrun it going up, blooming like a poisonous flower. She had to jump. Twisting her ankle falling in the arms of Spinner.

They had carried her back. Song handed over all her cash. The masked guy tenderly wrapped her ankle while Shigaraki went to buy supplies and over-the-counter painkillers. Song got up to hobble to bed. But not until Dabi grabbed her ankle.

"The boss gave me a dirty look and called me a fool under his breath. Things almost got heated. All because you are a little liar and tricked me. You are going to be Shigaraki's little music box. Making him happy while he turns your crank," he snarled and dug his thumb in. She screamed in excruciating pain that shit up her leg.

"My, that is a pretty singing voice. I think I like this tune. A piece of advice. Figure out a way to keep all of us in a good mood. You wasted our time looking for you," Dabi gave one hot last squeeze before leaving. She cried into the pillow until Shigaraki came back. Surprisingly, kind.

"Poor girl. I know it hurts. My little songbird broke her wing. It's ok. I will take care of you," he said, wrapping himself around her, "Sing that song you sang to those people. Wild world?" He asked, holding her close throughout the night and sleeping like a baby.

She ran her fingers through his greasy hair as he declared this was another one of his songs. Those are songs she can only sing for him.

"There is nothing to eat. It's like I'm the only one working," Dabi griped.

"I can earn money. I was earning about thirteen thousand yen a night on that corner," She said when Shigaraki walked in behind him. She made a strangled little eep when he grabbed her and yanked her to her feet, dragging to to their room, and tossing her on the bed.

"I'm in a bad mood," he announces when he flops on the bed laying his head on her lap.

"Don't worry about a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be all right

Singin': "Don't worry about a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be all right-♫"

Song sang to him, stroking his hair. He must have washed it recently because it was soft and fluffy. He sighs, melting into her touch. The tension left his body.

"Sing me that one that makes me feel … sad and happy," he demands.

"You are my sunshine?" she asks. He nods. She never thought about the lyrics that deeply until she met him. His songbird was all about the rhythm and the beat. Her father had made her practice with a metronome for hours, day in and out. But when she thought about it, aside from its upbeat, the lyrics are about lost love.

When it comes to Shigaraki, the lyrics are meaningful because they affect his mood. He reaches in his coat and pulls out a cell phone. An indication that she had pleased him.

"I got you a present. Give your leader your cellphone," he orders. She eagerly hands him the phone. He has taken the sim out of it so she can use it as a music player. He synced it up, uploaded the music, and then decayed the phone.

She loves this. Song doesn't like thinking of the victims he picks up the phones from. But discovering new and intriguing music she wouldn't typically look for is fun. She giggled and bounced with delight while scrolling through a new playlist of Tom Petty remix folk music and Baby death metal. Things she didn't know existed until Shigaraki.

Crimson eyes studied her face. It could be the effects of her singing, but his heart flutters at her smile. He reaches out with the faintest touch with the back of his fingers on her cheek. She winces at his touch. His eyes are kind which surprises her.

"Don't try to manipulate the others. You have been punished enough. I will talk to them. Do you know why those songs are mine alone? Why I won't allow you to go out to earn money?" he asked.

Song sensing a trap, only shook her head and played dumb.

"Your voice is naturally beautiful and haunting. Like the tears of a ghost, they can be tears of joy or anguish, but one cannot deny the sound of tears. I get jealous and worried others will hear it and try to take you from me. Your voice plays through my head all day. I want more. It has been the only thing that eased my tortured soul," he said, running his thumb over her trembling lower lip.

"I think that is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," her voice wobbling. She grabbed Shigaraki's face, aggressively forcing her lips on his. Her tongue grazed his bottom lip, and he parted his cracked lips. This was the first time she had kissed him. It was different than his. Her kisses are slow, demanding, and sensual.

Deciding he liked it. And let her take the lead. Ever since he took her, there had been a change drifting on the wind. She showed him silence and that words have power. That's a lesson only he gets to keep. He felt heated by her sweet mouth, her warm tongue playing with his. Her gentle flavor lingered on his tongue. He fell back, pulling her with him.

Song pulled away, panting, chest heaving, and flushed. Shigaraki wanted her to sing for him in a different way now. Long pale fingers started to work their way under her shirt. His shy little songbird wrapped her arms around her chest, squeezing her thighs together to hide her wetness from him.

"So cute," he grinned as he tugged at her clothes. She knows she will take them off if she wants to keep them intact. She did, ever so slowly. His throbbing cock twitched at the sexy sight of her pulling her shirt and bra over her head. Her breast bounced from being freed.

His heart pounds harder when her face has no obstruction of her pretty features. Her hair cascaded like a waterfall. The tussling of her hair made her look like a wild pony needing to be broken. She kicks off her converse sneakers. Standing to take off her skirt, he stops her with two fingers hooking in the front and pulling her to him.

Her arms are back over her chest. Her eyes are watching, and she is biting her lip. This is another first. Usually, it is because she is shy. Now it's to watch him pull her panties and skirt down. He kisses and looks up into her eyes. He feels like he can down in the pools of her eyes. He rubs his face back and forth on her mons pas, inhaling her scent. She squealed, trying to step away from him. He grabbed her ass.

"I'll stop teasing. You can keep your knee-high socks on. Come here, pretty little songbird," Shigaraki beckons. She straddles his lap while he quickly undresses. He is about to free his cock when a stray thought interfered.

"Do you like sex with me?" He asked. Her eyes widened. Song looked like a deer in headlights, too afraid to answer and too scared not to. She started to tremble and quickly hugged her, "Don't cry. You can be honest with me. I won't get mad. I want you to like it."

"Well…..You are normally pretty rough. But it mostly is because you have a huge monster cock, and it hurts," she said timidly. He almost laughed in her face until he saw she was not joking. A part of him felt giddy. She thought his dick was big and painful. He picked up his cell and looked up what to do about that.

"Lay down and wait for me," he instructed, leaving. There was a chorus of "ew," then an argument that he should buy his own bottle. Own bottle of what? She wondered, shivering in the darkening room. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms and breasts. The nights have been getting cold. She pulled on his hoodie while she waited for him.

He came back with a huge grin. Shigaraki's heart stopped when he saw her in his hoodie. He clutched at his chest and panted. Her eyes widened, intimidated. She started to take off the hoodie.

"No! don't you dare," he pants. His blood feels like it is thrumming with need. The sound of his zipper coming down was loud in the silent room. His cock springs free, hard as a rock, as he pours lube over his length. Stroking his length to coat himself fully. She gasped because he had always been too quick to shove himself in. She never saw it until now.

He is as thick as a coke bottle. It's too heavy to point straight or up. She is shocked that he fits in her. No wonder she felt stretched and sore. It could be because he lost weight, but his member looked too thick, especially in contrast to his extremely toned abs and slim waist. She watched as his abs strained and flexed with each stroke.

"Spread your legs," he said gently.

He's fast as he places himself between her legs. Wide-open and ready for him. She is already wet, but he still pours more on her folds. His cock feels like it's burning with desire when he rubs his member over her tender bud. She moans her knees jerk with each glide over her clit. Shivers of pleasure travel up her spine.

"Do you like that?" he asks, jerking his hips and little faster when she nods yes. Lewd wet sounds of flesh rubbing mingle with her sweets sounds.

"Please. Fuck me," she moaned.

He is trying to be kind but hearing that drives him wild. It was permission, and he will take it. He notches his cock to her little hole. Pushing himself in deeply all at once, past her tight entrance, sliding achingly along her slick walls. He feels like steel as the head of his cock kisses her cervix.

She yelps in perfect pitch as her bliss and pain mix. He was letting her adjust to him as the article recommended. A light scrape of nails on his back sent a shudder of pleasure up his spine. Whimpering and twitching in the cutest way. Pressing down, he embraces her, kissing her along her jaw.

"Kiss me like before," is his breathy command. She wraps her arms around his neck. She was plunging her tongue in for a deep passionate kiss. His hips begin to buck lightly. Picking up the pace with each breathy gasp, pumping into her with delicious even rhythm. She was getting too hot. He helped pull off his hoodie. It should smell like her now anyway.

Her nipples harden as they brush his chest. Shigaraki loves the feel of her. Pulling away for air. He sees her pretty face, lips, and cheeks red with a high blush. Her eyes are growing dark and blown with bliss.

"You feel so good. Bend your knees and spread yourself a little wider for me," he requests.

She instantly does as he asks, writhing under him, jerking her hips to meet his cock with her greedy pussy. This was as good as the first time. No better. He has an epiphany. This is what sex is supposed to be like. He looks at her beyond lust in her eyes.

"What?" She asked, confused. Brow knitting him concern.

"Nothing," he moaned. Kissing his songbird more. He is not sure if he understood it himself. It was hard to concentrate on anything when her body sent tingles of pleasure through him. Got more excited by her sudden enthusiasm. Both groan in unison as he thrusts and grinds. Playing her body like his favorite instrument. Hard as a rock, watching her tits bounce, pressing down to capture a nipple in his greedy mouth,

"Fuck, you're so beautiful and perfect. You feel amazing, so god damn tight," he growls. Hips snapping faster, his balls taut, aching for release.

"Ahhh…uh…ah," she gasped. Music to his ears. Her legs wrap and arms around him, nails digging in as he relentlessly pounds into drooling pussy. Her heels dug in his upper thighs. Beads of sweat form on his brow and back as heat spread over their body. He plunges into her core as his need builds. He is getting dizzy from the kissing. He loves the high feeling.

Each thrust created hitching gasps for air around his invading tongue. His girth slides along her silky walls, repeatedly hitting Song's sweet spot. It's pure euphoria as Song's pussy grips him. Doubling his stroke until she unravels on his perfect length. Feeling full when he bottoms out.

Arching up into him, she claws his flesh. He doesn't care as long as her body doesn't stop constricting and tightening on his dick.

She screams magnificently. Milking ecstasy from him with her pulsing walls. Her slick flesh is gripping him tighter than his fist. He snarls as the hardest orgasm he has ever felt in his life rips through him. Dipping in and out of her sweet cunt feverishly.

Nails dig into his muscular back as she writhes under him. Shivers of pleasure flow over both, crushing your pelvises together. A pathetic stifling whimper slips from her as his dick twitches and throbs, shooting hot cum in her. Her greedy cunt sucking all his cum straight from his tight sack.

Panting and trembling cock drunk. He smiles down, watching his songbird's chest jiggle with each shaky breath, feeling her toes curl against his skin. Heart thumping in his ears, sweat stinging his back from the new marks she left. He doesn't want to ever pull from her. He feels like she has melted into one with him. It felt right.

Shigaraki's cock softens, and he is starting to feel cold. As much as he wishes to stay, he must pull away. His load spilling from gaping hole, she whines, missing the feeling of fullness of his cock.

Pulling his songbird to his hot chest, holding her tight as he runs his fingers through her damp hair. He grabs a towel and wipes both of them off before pulling the blanket over them—a sweet husky tune dances to his ears as she sings him a lullaby.

"Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

Say Nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me-♪"

He snuggles with her, kissing her shoulders, holding her tight.

"I promise I'll get you more food. My poor songbird has been roughing it for too long. Why were you homeless when we met? You have the voice of seraphim," He asked, drifting to sleep.

"My parents kicked me out when my quirk turned out to be speed based when they thought it would be music based. I didn't meet their expectations. It's impossible to pull yourself by your bootstraps. How can anyone when they are standing in the boots? Most times, what people need is real help and basic needs," she said cautiously. He nodded in understanding.

"If anyone other than my master helped me, I would not have the endless depth of hate eating away at my gut and flesh," he chuckled, touching his scares, "Your parents are stupid. You do have a music quirk. It's just based on rhythm and pace. You don't need one for your voice because it's already perfect." He yawned before drifting to sleep.

Silent tears streamed down her face. Shigaraki had given her a revelation. A guy who abused and held her prisoner understood her better than anyone else. He had made her feel safe, cared for, and good tonight. He is trying, which is more than she can say for anyone else in her life.

Sometimes all it takes is one night to fall in love.

[Writer's notes: I might have one more chapter in me but it will take a moment.]

#yandere shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia tomura #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia shigaraki #tomura smut #spicy fluff #yandere tomura #yandere #yandere male #yandere shigaraki #shiggy #boku no hero academia shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x oc #tomura shigaraki

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

Out of curiosity, do Callie and chris ever run into each other/ confront each other after

CW: Referenced head-banging and resulting injury, brief ableism references, gaslighting, vaguely referenced institutional pet whump

(for context, see This Isn’t Hypothetical For Chris, “Can You Come Get Me?”, No Words, and Drop)

“Um. Hey.”

Chris, in the midst of a careful, incredibly precise drawing of a tiny Easter Island moai while studying for the Non-Western Art History test, looks up, only to freeze, his fingers tensing around his pencil until he presses so hard the lead snaps off, rolling down the notebook.

His hair is pulled back, caught at his nape with a clip Mari let him borrow, but he wishes all at once that it weren’t, so he could shake it over his face, hide behind it. That it wasn’t blue but some color no one saw in a crowd, so she wouldn’t have seen him and known it was him.

He hesitates too long, and she shifts, moving herself into his field of vision again. “Chris, are you-... are you busy?”

“Hey, um, hi... hi, Callie,” Chris mumbles, looking back down again, clicking the end of the mechanical pencil to get more lead, enjoying the sound and the very slight press of the eraser against his thumb. “I’m just, just studying. What, um, what do, do, do-do you... what do you want?”

She seems to take it as an invitation, which it isn’t. When she pulls out the chair across the table, the legs scrape along the floor impossibly loudly, but only Chris seems bothered by it. The sound makes his teeth itch, a feeling he can’t possibly describe in any other way. When he moves the chair, he picks it up, carefully placing it back down, avoiding the sound that shudders through him and digs into the tiniest bones.

Everyone else just scrapes.

She tucks some of her own bouncy, wavy brown hair behind one ear. It’s chilly today, it was so foggy this morning Chris could barely see from one side of the bridge to the other when he crossed over the highway to the other side of campus to get some coffee to help him cram before the test. Callie is wearing a heavy cable-knit sweater that drapes just so off one shoulder, showing the silken strap there, and skintight dark jeans. She looks really pretty, but Chris mostly thinks everyone looks pretty.

Even Dylan in the morning looks pretty, with his hair all messed up. Even though Chris is still kind of mad at him and probably always will be.

Chris is in his usual thick black compression shirt, helping him hold off the weight of the lights, keeping the prickle of the Student Center from digging too deeply into his skin. Over that, a t-shirt from the Lion King musical that Mari brought back from her last trip home - (”I have like five, now, Chris, I’ve seen it in like six different places you can have this one, if you want? It’s from when I saw it in Chicago.” And of course he did, he is starting a small collection of shirts he had gotten from nearly everyone he knows), and one of Jake’s heavy sweater-coats, borrowed - but really stolen - from the house last weekend. Jake pretends not to know. Chris brings them back eventually.

Between Chris and Kauri, it’s a miracle Jake ever has anything warm to wear at all.

“So, I just-... I wanted to, um. I haven’t seen you around-... oh, did you get hurt?” She cocks her head to the side, and Chris looks away from her, spinning the pencil in his fingers, his foot tapping on the ground now, nervous energy bubbling inside him.

There’s a bandage, still, on his forehead. He wishes he could say it was from the day in class, but it’s not. It’s from a few days ago, after meeting with the grad student to sign stuff to drop the class. It’s from coming home with all his hurt and fear a spinning top that he could only calm by breaking its rhythm, and he’s, it’s regression, but it’s okay, sometimes you go back and you get back up and go forward again, Dr. Berger says it’s okay sometimes to backslide as long as you know you have people to help you get up-

“I’m fine,” He says, flat and smooth words, barely his own voice at all. “Hit my head on, on, on a cabinet.”

Technically true.

She nods, folding her hands in her lap, watching him with those sort of big sad eyes people get sometimes, when they’re working up to something and want you to know they’re not the bad guy. Her drink has a cloth sleeve on it with tiny little bow ties. He wonders if she made it herself.

She clears her throat. “Okay, um. Good to hear it. So... I just... I heard you dropped.”

“Yep.” Chris keeps his eyes down now, on his pencil. The gentle weight of his feather necklace reminds him that he has other options, too. For now, though, he spins his pencil on top of his open notebook, the drawing of the moai. “Who told you that, um, that-... that I, I dropped?”

“I mean, when you weren’t in class for a couple weeks-... you know at first I thought you just, like, you know... the teacher told you not to come by, but then you kept not coming, and...” She kind of throws her hands up. Hers are painted a cheerful blue-toned red. Chris’s are black, but they’re heavily chipped. He’s been picking at them again. “I asked Esh, finally, and he said-”

“Eshiram.”

“What?” She blinks, confused.

“Not Esh. His, his, his name’s Eshiram.”

“No, I know, I just-... whatever. Look, so, I get that you’re probably still pretty mad, and... I’ve kind of been trying to hunt you down to say I’m sorry.”

Chris, caught off guard, pauses in spinning his pencil and turns to look at her again. “What?”

“About... I would never, ever have wanted you to feel you had to drop the class, Chris, I swear.” She leans forward, all earnest sincerity, and there’s a look of guilt on her that makes him think she means it. It wasn’t her idea, after all - if she’s even fucking talking to him, she doesn’t know what he is, she didn’t catch it like the grad student did.

After the drawn out moment, his foot starts to tap on the floor again. “It’s, um, it’s, it’s, it’s okay,” He says, wishing he had his own drink, something to hold in his hands and sip. The nerves start to wind up inside him, and he drops one hand down where she can’t see it, starts to tap on the side of his thigh.

“No, it’s not.” Callie sighs, shaking her head. Her hair moves with the motion and he catches a hint of her shampoo, it smells like fruit and honey. “It’s not, Chris. Look, I just-... I took everything you said super personally, and that wasn’t okay. I get that you, you know, you weren’t really talking about me.”

Chris turns to look at her, blinking wide green eyes, thinking, Yes, I was.

He opens his mouth to maybe tell her, but the pause goes on too long and she’s already talking again before he can. “There’s all these reports about abuse, and everything, I swear more than ever, and it just-... puts me on edge, you know? So I heard you saying-... well, you know. You don’t know that things are better at our house. All you know is what you’ve, you know, seen on the news.”

Chris takes in a breath and holds it, tapping hard against the seam of his jeans. He isn’t going to get angry. Getting angry made him have to drop and lose points off his GPA, getting angry gets him noticed by too many people all at once, angry feels heavy and hurting, angry draws attention, attention mean eyes and hands and-

Let the breath out. Exhale. He has to purposefully remind himself to do it.

“I, I, I know more than, um, than that,” He manages to say, but his voice is small. He’s no good at being angry, when it’s not in the moment, when there’s nothing to draw him out of himself. “I don’t, don’t just... build sets all day, Callie, I’m, I’m, I know other, um, other things.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Like, I’m surprised you’re not, like, a math major or something, like in that movie-”

Chris sits back and snorts out bitter laughter. “You, you, you mean, um, The Gift?”

“Yeah! Vincent Shield did such a good job, they said he did a bunch of like, work to really get into character which is so cool since he was only, like, sixteen when he did that one with that, you know, the other guy he did movies with all the time-”

“Owen-... Owen Grant.”

“Yeah! I wonder what happened to him. Anyway-”

“Do you, do... do, do, do you think-... Callie, I suck at, um, at math.” Chris can’t help himself. He starts to laugh at the absurdity, and Callie looks like he’s hit her across the face, wide-eyed, shocked. “This is, um, this, this is, this-... this is a really, really-... really bad apology.”

“Yeah, I know.” Callie kind of laughs along with him, then, but there’s something fake and brittle to her laughter. “But I swear, I just came to say I’m sorry. It was just a misunderstanding, I really didn’t mean for you to have to drop. I swear, Chris, I don’t, like, hate you or think anything bad about you-”

You called me a fucking spastic.

“-or anything like that. I just... can you forgive me for losing my temper? I’m sorry, it’s just, when my family is attacked by people who don’t even know us, I get super defensive, and-... and I should have realized you weren’t really attacking us, just, you know, the system.”

Chris stares down at his shoes. He thinks, you are the system, it doesn’t exist without people like you who buy us, but he doesn’t say anything.

She seems to take this as agreement.

It isn’t.

“So, yeah. I’m just... I’m really sorry, Chris. Will this throw your whole, you know, graduation and everything off, or do you think you’ll still be good?”

Does she even really care? Chris swallows and raises his head, to look at her again, fixing his eyes just slightly to the left of her face, where it won’t be obvious he isn’t focused on her. An old trick, one he used to do to stay safe in training, maybe... maybe before that.

Even though he can’t remember a before that anymore.

Because of people who buy people like him.

“I’ll, um, I’ll be good,” He says, and the words taste like dust and feel like gravel on his tongue. “I worked out a, a, a-a plan with, with my, um advisor. So I’ll... I’ll be-”

so good for you

“Fine.”

“Great.” She relaxes, all smiles again, and reaches over putting her hand over his left arm, gripping a little. Chris feels the weight of it like the clap of restraints forcing him down on a table and stiffens, looking right at her the way he’s supposed to.

Years go by, but the training isn’t gone. Not all the way.

“Listen,” She says, voice low. “I really am sorry. But you just-... can’t go around thinking everybody who does something you don’t like is bad, you know?”

His heart races in his throat, he can barely swallow around it. “Yes,” He says, softly. She doesn’t hear the first stirrings of panic. But he feels them. “I... know.”

Good boy.

“I’ll see you around, Chris, okay? I’m glad we talked about this.” She pats his arm, like a handler almost, and then pushes herself to her feet. The chair scrapes back and Chris’s teeth grind together as the sound ricochets around inside him. The dim warm lights overhead lay heavily over the fabric he wears to protect himself from touch like that.

It’s not enough.

He can still feel the hand on his arm as she walks away, heads out the double-doors and is gone.

Chris’s hand slides to the feather and he pushes the silicone plastic between his teeth, letting his tongue press up against the carved vanes, sinking into the familiar sensation, letting it wrap around him, calm his pulse, help him rebuild the thin wall he needs between himself and the world.

He stares blankly off into space, chewing the feather, unnoticed by the few other people in the Student Center this early in the morning.

She probably feels so much better.

Like so many other people in his life, she made herself feel better by making Chris feel so much worse.

After a while, still chewing on the feather, he picks his pencil back up and starts to draw another moai.

He’s probably going to fail this test.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #trauma recovery #caledonia and her family #box boy #box boy universe #ableism tw #stimming #neurodivergent whumpee #recovering whumpee #gaslighting tw #bbu capitalism #honestly I suppose it kind of hits on that #trauma response #conditioning

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bittervitter · 4 years

Text

ang0mang0′s “copycat” claims

I didn’t want to have to make another post about this, but since people on sonicfan799 / thatAnge / @ang0mang0′s Tumblr profile are getting riled up about this ridiculous drama that should have died ages ago, I figured I’d defend myself. Some people who are trying to support me have been saying incorrect things too, so I also wanted to clear that up. This crap has been going on for months, everyone is sick of it by now. Instead of being brief like I did for other social medias, I’ll be as detailed as possible this time.

[1] “she’s copying/imitating/heavily referencing from my art style!!!”

Like people have said a million times, no I’m not. And nor is anyone else. Just because someone draws the Sonic characters in a similar style to you does not automatically mean they took, copied or “stole” those ideas from you. You don’t own the concept of buff, fluffy bodies or chubby muzzles. COINCIDENCE, as much as you hopelessly deny it, is very much a possible thing- even in crazy situations such as this. There are several other artists who have similar art styles by mere coincidence. IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE. As examples, these Instagram artists have similar styles: @ azulytoons and @ indigonite0 / @ magenta_mel and @ zer0finix / @ himemikal and @ natirix. NONE of these artists are “stealing” or referencing from each other- they just have similar art styles, and that is perfectly okay! They draw completely different things with completely different mindsets. The world does not revolve around you, ang0. Not everyone knows who you are, so some people who use the same traits that we do don’t even know we exist.

Also, to anyone unaware, an art STYLE is not merely how one chooses to portray a character. An art STYLE is also what brushes you use, how you sketch, how you line, how you colour, how you shade, how you choose to portray certain objects or ideas- basically your entire fucking understanding of how something’s supposed to look and how you LIKE it to look. It’s not just “chubby faces, poofy curly hair, buff bodies”. It’s everything in a piece AND that.

[2] “she’s tracing my art/ redrawing my ideas!”

Literally no. People have constantly asked you to provide evidence and you refused to. All you did was scream “but it’s so obvious, just look at it!” or “are you dumb? use your eyes!” and several other insults. If you want to prove a point or make someone see something, GIVE. EVIDENCE. The only person who actually provided “proof” was pin_kpeach, your ever so loyal whiteknight, but her “proof” only backfired and proved that the both of you are extremely delusional. In the drawings of ours that she layered over each other, next to NONE of the lines lined up. It looked like a clustered mess of scrap, and the reason for that is because IT WASN’T TRACED. In the one or two drawings where ONE. SINGLE. PIECE. actually lined up was entirely zoomed in to make it seem as though the whole thing was traced. No, honey, that’s not how you provide proof. That’s how you pull a muscle by reaching so desperately to lie about me. The rest of the drawings in those pictures didn’t line up at all, and one- or I believe both- needed to be titled to line them up in the first place. You could say that some people trace things and resize or rotate them, but if I were as dumb as you persist to say, then I wouldn’t have done something like that. Either way, one aspect of a drawing lining up is a common thing for people who have similar styles because- well, I just said it. THEY HAVE SIMILAR STYLES. If they draw something the same way, well fucking duh, it’ll match someone else’s drawing almost exactly sometimes.

[3] “she’s too petty and too much of a liar to credit me! saying the art isn’t hers will hurt her oversized ego!”

Ahaha no. The only one here with an inflated ego is you, ang0. You call me the egotistical one yet you act as though your life is falling apart just because someone else draws like you on the internet. Stop acting like a special snowflake, you are not the only one on this planet with an art style of that nature. I don’t credit you because crediting you makes no damn sense. Why should I credit someone who’s had absolutely no impact on my work whatsoever? What in the hell did you do for my drawings that makes you deserve so much credit? Did you sketch it? No. Did you line it? Nope. Did you colour or shade it? Not a chance. Just because I came up with a design for the characters that happens to look like yours does not mean I owe you jack shit. You cannot. own. a style. Get over it.

[4] “she worsened my depression and is the reason I can’t draw anymore! I have no motivation when there’s some idiot copycat stealing all my art!”

I don’t want to sound like that kind of person, but you worsened your own depression. You painted this false picture in your head and continue to hang onto that belief like your life depends on it. I haven’t done ANYthing to you. You came to ME with these stupid claims back when my art looked LESS like yours, before I even knew who you were. You’re making yourself feel horrible because you, for some paranormal reason, refuse to believe that you’re not the only one with that kind of style. This is why people call you childish, you’re like a whiny baby that can’t accept another child having a toy similar to yours. I can’t even decide whether I should say “grow up” because you’re older than me- not to mention you’re an ADULT.

[5]”she constantly sends her whiteknights to attack me, harass me and send me threatening messages!”

I’ve said several times to my followers NOT to harass you or your followers or anyone against me in this mess at all. I do not send anyone after you. People say things to you out of their own free will and with their own words. I can’t magically know when this happens, why they decide to and I especially can’t control anyone. I’m sorry that my friend Koro sent you all those DMs and horrible messages wishing a lot of very bad things onto you and your family- I asked her several times before and after not to do that, but I didn’t have a clue she did it until after the fact. Either way, don’t go around assuming that I put people up to this or I intentionally ask people to do these things to you. Why in the hell would I do that? What good does that do? All I wanted to do was talk things out but at this point, you don’t even take me seriously, so I can’t even try anymore. The few times we did talk you refuse to see my point of view and just see me as a liar. What the hell am I supposed to do then?

[6]”all vio does is lie, she’s so fake all the time, lying for her petty ego”

I’m not even sure how to respond to this but I thought I might as well bring it up. No matter what I do or say, ang0 sees me as nothing but some retarded liar that can’t help but lie their way around everything, even though I’ve been nothing but genuine all this time. It’s why I can’t even communicate with her anymore, because “shut up, stop lying you copycat” is all I get in response basically.

[7] her insane hypocrisy

Ange and pin_kpeach have said numerous times that I’m rude or insult her, and there have been times where I’ve been mean out of anger, but I know for a fact I apologized for it in DMs. Ange apologized too. I don’t remember ever insulting her after that, but ang0 doesn’t ever stop ridiculing and insulting me with almost every comment she makes on the drama. If she really was sorry, she wouldn’t have done it again, but I guess she said “fuck it” and just continued anyway. Pin_kpeach likes to say I’M the hypocrite for saying Ange is harassing me yet being rude to her a couple times, yet they do they exact same thing, but even worse?? I try my best to be as civil as possible, but ang0 and pink don’t waste a second calling me and my supporters all sorts of colourful names just because they don’t agree with her claims. In fact, here’s a list of every single thing ang0’s ever called me:

retarded, retard, stupid, idiot, dumb, low IQ, mentally ill, crazy, talentless, skill-less, copycat, art thief, (dumb) cow, fuckhole, asshole, bitch, wanna-be artist, unreasonable, clown, fake, liar, hypocrite, delusional, dick, stalker, bittershitter, dumbass, immature

There’s probably more than that, but that’s as much as I can remember. Not hard to forget when she repeats them almost all the time.

[8] gatekeeping ideas

Ange and pink act as if two people drawing a character in the same outfit automatically equals “du bist kopying mein style!!”. I can’t even begin to imagine the mental gymnastics you need to do in order to believe a thought process like that is logical. She thinks that anyone who draws Amy in a dress with a white under-skirt or white ruffles underneath is nothing but a copied idea from her. She thinks that me drawing Amy in a green tank top, blue backwards cap and blue sports shorts is copying her drawing of Amy in a green unidentifiable top (you could only see her back, she didn’t seem to have straps) and blue sports shorts with a slightly different design is automatically copied from her. The poses, shading, angle and idea behind the drawing were COMPLETELY different- but nonono, “this is stolen because the outfit is the same!” They also use the excuse of the whole chubby faces, curly hair, blah blah blah- see point [1] as to why that’s BS.

[9] her perception of my followers/supporters

Aside from Koro, I don’t know if anyone has seriously threatened or harassed her. Her followers comment on my posts, my followers only comment when she brings up the drama or whines about it. She insults my supporters when they don’t agree with her and act like they’re a bunch of immature brats who are wrong while she’s the high and mighty mature one seeing through non-existent lies. I’m used to her making fun of me, but I’m sick and tired of her insulting people who have nothing to do with the drama just because they don’t agree with her. Like, seriously? You call everyone immature and stupid yet you’re the one insulting people non-stop just because they realize how ridiculous and childish you’re acting. That’s why “childish” has become a popular adjective for you, ang0. BECAUSE YOU’RE BEING CHILDISH. CONSTANTLY. You get pissy, insult others and put people down but whine and cry the next minute because you constantly like to play the victim. Speaking of which...

[10] the victim card

I have absolutely no idea what ang0 goes through in real life, but there is no excuse for how she’s behaved during this drama AT ALL. Ange constantly defames her own artwork, calling it shit, calling it every bad name in the book, but doesn’t hesitate for a minute to gatekeep her style as if it was the best thing in the world. She says it’s because she “worked her ass off” and doesn’t want people just stealing her hard work. Okay, but you do realize that other people put just as much work into their own art, no matter if it looks like yours or not, right? She demands that people change their style to stop looking like hers, acting as if that can be done in a matter of minutes, because people having similar styles makes her uncomfortable. Well, surprise motherfucker- welcome to the internet. No one is original and everyone is original at the same time. People are bound to come up with similar ideas and you’re just going to have to deal with it. But despite the similarities, people are still original in their own right. If you believe that people can change a style so easily, why not just change your OWN style? Because you worked your ass off? Well, THEY WORKED THEIR ASS OFF TOO. So don’t act like you’re the only one who’s put effort into their craft. Art is hard, and that applies to EVERYONE- even professionals.

You blame me and other “copycats” for all your problems, blaming us for worsening your depression, ruining your passion for art- when you’re the only one who does this to yourself. Yes, there have been genuine art thieves in your life, and people who have stolen your art- but what I’m talking about are the people like me who DON’T steal your art or are merely inspired by you. People who say “you should be happy they’re inspired!” aren’t saying “you should be happy they’re copying!”. They’re saying that you should be glad that your work is so inspiring that people create their own unique ideas based off your own. Inspiration doesn’t require credit unless they’re purposefully taking a massive part of the original. But being inspired by a hair style or even a pose isn’t stealing. It’s inspiration, that’s it. I’m not inspired by you at all, but I can at least appreciate your art- even if you think I’m just being fake.

[11] ang0mang0′s history and why this shit doesn’t even make sense

Ange has said publicly and to me in detail about how she’s been accused of the same “art style theft” in the past. From what I’ve gathered or heard, people used to accuse her of copying a popular artist called myly14 who’s Sonic art is pretty much everywhere. Whether it be in edits, MVs or whatever else. Looking at her old art when she went under the name sonicfan799, her art does look similar to myly’s, but ang0 insisted that she didn’t copy myly and didn’t even know who she was. She legit said “it’s not my fault my art looks like someone else’s”, so basically- it was coincidence. She said she changed her art style because she “isn’t an asshole and didn’t want to make the other artist uncomfortable”, even though art style theft isn’t a thing and no one needs to be forced out of a style just because someone else already draws that way. I have no idea what myly’s stance on that situation was, but the fact that it happened just proves how stupid her current claims are.

Ange says that her style is “too complex” to be coincidentally similar to someone else’s, even though the fact that it’s happened 30 times (according to her) just proves that no, ang0, no it fucking isn’t. Your style isn’t complicated at all. Detailed sure, but no style is too complicated to be similar to another’s. Being complex doesn’t make something any less likely to be identical to another complex style.If you didn’t copy myly14 in the past, what right do you have to accuse me of the same damn thing? If I really am copying you, then you have to admit to copying myly, because you can’t just lie about your past and then shit on me for doing the same thing. So it’s either you stop this nonsense or you drag this drama down with you to your grave and admit you copied myly14.

Another thing, myly14 didn’t even have a “simple” style. The fact that her art was almost instantly recognizable and popular meant that she had a signature style that stood out. Yes, she used a lot of the original Sonic style’s anatomy, but her stylization of said anatomy, her shading and the way she composed her pieces gave her a signature style. The most stylized thing I could see was how she drew muzzles, and guess who drew muzzles in a similar way as well? You did. People saw how your way of drawing faces and some parts of the body and thought it looked liked myly’s. The similarities in your anatomy, and not your shading or colouring, was what made people think you copied her. That exact same thing is happening between me and you. My shading, colouring and composition is entirely different from yours, but some parts of the anatomy are similar.

If you really didn’t copy myly14, you have absolutely no. fucking. excuse. to accuse me of the EXACT. SAME. SHIT. that happened to you.

You never needed or deserved to be pressured out of your old style just because people thought it looked similar to someone else’s, and that’s why I refuse to change my style now. Because it isn’t. fucking. fair. To ANYONE.

[12] how I feel (this is copied over from my DeviantART)

At this point I've grown used to what she has to say, but it still hurts. She thinks that I'm some kind of cartoon villain maniacally laughing behind a computer screen every time I post something because she's so deep into her belief that I really copy everything she draws and that nothing I've never posted has any true effort put into it. She genuinely believes she owns all my art and that I devote my entire gallery into recreating her image or some crazy shit like that. It sounds really dumb, but from what I've read from her poorly constructed comments and rants, that's basically what she believes.

She thinks I don't care at all about how all this affects her or anyone at all, but I do. It doesn't just hurt me in the sense that she makes me feel awful with all her insults, but I just feel so bad for her. I feel guilty in the sense that I couldn't do anything at all to help her, not that "shes prolly feeling guilty and made that april fools joke to let out some guilt!!". (If you don’t know, on April Fools Day, I changed my Instagram bio to say “clown” and call myself “the ultimate copycat” as a joke.) That was a really stupid reaction from her by the way... who the hell comes up with that? Now that she's going away for a month, I feel even worse because all I wanted to do was try to make her come to her senses and end this mess. I thought I could talk some sense into her- that didn't work. Her delusions are so strong, she's like a brick wall. I thought I could ignore the drama- that didn't work. She "clowns" and talks about it so annoyingly often. Not to mention people do things on their own to stir shit up. I thought I could support her regardless and maybe try making her feel better about her art- that didn't work. She thinks I'm fake and that everything I say is a lie. Because of me, she probably doesn't believe other people too- and that makes me feel even more terrible.

No matter what I do, I'm automatically the villain and she's the tortured, helpless artist that everyone is against because "everyone is dumb, supporting a copycat" and she's just "used to it, because she's dealt with so much shit already!". It's so ridiculous. If she would just try to actually better herself or the situation, she wouldn't feel so horrible all the time. Like... for god's sake, she relied on a video game to make her happy- that's not healthy, and just like I suspected, it didn't fucking work.

more of how I feel

Because of ang0, I just feel like garbage. My self esteem and confidence in my art was already low. Thanks to her, I don’t feel original (or as original) anymore- and I’m afraid to show many of my new or old ideas because she or her whiteknight pin_kpeach may spring out and say “copycat! stolen! you’re not original!” and a plethora of other insults. I can barely sketch or draw Sonic content without panicking and feeling worthless because all I have is her words and her opinions stuck in my head. She blames me for her demotivation and shit like that when she’s done the same thing to me. She thinks I don’t care about her or her art, when I do, but when I say that, she calls me fake. In reality, ang0 couldn’t give a damn about me and I’m pretty sure she’d be happy if I were dead. She has said before that she doesn’t care if I killed myself soo... there’s that. Anyway lemme not drag my feelings out too long, I just thought I’d say it to anyone willing to listen since her immediate response would’ve been “fake, liar” etc, etc. I really don’t want anyone to feel bad for me or anything like that, I just want people to listen and understand. That’s all.

a final note

I’m really thankful- like, REALLY thankful- for everyone who’s been on my side throughout this. I don’t like picking sides, and I’d hate to make people do so, but there doesn’t seem to be any in between to this at all. It’s either you believe I’m copying her or you don’t. Most people don’t- thank goodness for that- but some do. And there’s nothing I can do about it. At this point, whatever man.

Please please PLEASE do not harass ang0. Don’t threaten her, don’t insult her, don’t do anything rash or fucking illegal. It’s all fair game if you want to POLITELY SPEAK to her, or try to start a discussion, but please don’t do anything stupid. And especially don’t do things in my name. If you want to debate with me or her, do research first- don’t just jump to conclusions or make assumptions.If you want nothing to do with this drama, then simply don’t say anything- just be aware of what’s going on, that’s all I ask. So nobody gets the wrong idea on either side.

Sorry for this being so long, I think I’m done for now.

Thank you if you read the whole thing.

[9.4.2020]

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indipindy16 · 4 years

Note

Heyyyyy, so about that doc with the AU ideas.... (Please feed me I yearn for content)

im obsessed with the idea of monoma and aizawa being related to afo lol. you only see like 3 quirks in the whole series that are based on other quirks - what i would call ‘meta quirks,’ that would only have any function in a world of quirked people. so ofc these 3 quirks have to be related:

afo decided to have a bunch of kids, to see if he could make noumus out of them which retained their brains after being given a bunch of quirks. he impregnated a bunch of women lol, but he kept tabs on them. as soon as the kids turned 4 and presented their quirk, they would be kidnapped by the doctor and brought into the lab. most of the kids had quirks based on quirks (seeing quirks, stealing quirks, copying quirks, erasing quirks…) and are various ages. aizawa, monoma and midoriya were some of them, but aizawa got saved by his badass mother when he was still a kid, so he was already gone by the time midoriya and monoma came around. the two of them manage to escape while afo is still recovering from his fight with all might, and since monoma’s mother was killed by afo, he goes to live with midoriya and his mother. they go off the grid and run away from afo. in this au midoriya is quirkless, up until he meets all might and it goes as usual. umm could be from monoma’s pov, and include monoshin because that’s cute. basically after the sports festival, afo finds monoma again and in the summer camp they kidnap him instead of bakugou. (the reason why aizawa was never caught or taken back by afo is because he won the whole sports fest and became too famous/well protected to be easily stolen back - since monoma didn’t make the fight rounds, he’s a perfect target. afo only knew the kids by their quirks, he never actually met them, so he doesn’t realise that midoriya is one of his kids as well because mido has a quirk now.) anyway so after they kidnap monoma back, he and midoriya spill the beans to the ua faculty, aizawa has a midlife crisis over the fact that he now has younger siblings, and afo continues to be a dick who doesn’t pay child support.

just some sweets stuff as well:

Christmas cake: Japanese slang for an unmarried woman over 25 who is considered undesirable as a wife, in the same way that Christmas cakes are considered useless after Christmas Day.

Good thing for Jirou, she never cared much about being ‘desirable’ to the opposite sex anyway.

-> a momojirou story about jirou’s 26th birthday and momo reassuring her that she is the best gf ever, and that she loves her very much. pro hero gfs <3

like. the trope of aizawa adopting shinsou? well what about instead… hawks adopting tokoyami?? maybe he comes from a super religious family and they tried to exorcise the ‘demon’ from him, protective services put him in the foster system, and he ends up with really shitty foster families, and his quirk is considered ‘dangerous.’ but then our boy hawks swoops in and goes ‘u know what? i’m not letting my intern get disrespected like this’ and adopts him. obviously hawks is still young himself (22 i think), so he’s not very good at the whole parenting thing, but miruko helps him out. he becomes an older brother figure for tokoyami. gen found family fluff ensues

bEST JEANIST AS A TEENAGE FASHION ICON

thats it, thats the idea

HAIKYUU AU - no quirks. just volleyball

so the ua boys volleyball team is on the rocks. its been pretty much non-existent and turned to dust at this point. but, it once own the nationals.

izuku’s mum runs this second hand / antique / trinket store, and izuku helps out sometimes. one day, he finds some old sports tapes in the back and watches them - they’re of the year when ua was at nationals, and their striker, yagi toshinori, inspires izuku to play volleyball.

bakugo is on the school team and he threatens / bullies izuku not to join, so izuku has to train on his own. he learns shitty technique, but he ends up building some muscle by clearing out the beach.

izuku gets into ua, and when he goes to apply for the volleyball team, ofc bakugo picks a fight. the other first-years who join the team are todoroki, kaminari, shinsou, kirishima, and iida. there aren’t any second years - they all got expelled - but mirio and tamaki are on the team as third years, and nejirou is the team manager. their teacher sponsor is a new teacher this year, and it’s left ambiguous. there’s the whole ‘get over ur differences if u want to join’ thing, and then woohoo! team!

turns out their teacher sponsor is aizawa. he drags in the now-retired-due-to-injury yagi toshinori to be the coach. when aizawa went to ua, the volleyball team was too small to go to any tournaments - he’s determined to turn it around and let these kids live their dreams.

some ‘canon? what’s that?’ ideas:

just a really wholesome story about inko and mitsuki being besties. met in middle school or something, supported each other through everything… just gals being the best of pals...

or i mean u could make it gay, that’s always an option (and have izuku and katsuki grow up as actual bros, and actually be friendly to one another? what a shocker) - like, the two of them get sperm donors and are pregnant at the same time so the kids can be twins or something. and ofc you’d expect katsuki to be closest to mitsuki and for inko to be closest to izuku, but then to make it a TWIST add some great bonding between inko + katsuki and mitsuki + izuku!! i’ve never really seen any mitsuki + izuku bonding in stories before, so that’d be pretty cool

izuku gets hit by a villain’s quirk during a big villain attack when he’s 7, turning him part-cat. the villain dies during the attack, so they can’t erase his quirk’s effects - they’d have to surgically remove the ears and tail, or get an expensive quirk specialist in. izuku decides he likes being a nekomimi, so he keeps them and gets being part-cat officially registered as his quirk. he has better senses and agility, and he can talk to cats now i guess. also his eyes are cat eyes. he doesn’t pass the ua exam, so he goes into the general department instead, but he does really well in the sports festival and gets transferred into the hero course with shinsou. (this is all just because i need a valid excuse to make izuku have cat ears.)

some ‘future au’ ideas:

all of the pro heroes merch lines - deku’s ’t-shirt’ shirts, tokoyami’s edgy emo/goth hoodies, iida’s ingenium trainers, bakugou’s popping candy chocolate, todoroki’s own brand of scar cream, HAGAKURE’S CAMO COLLECTION OMG the possibilities are endless

---i made hagakure’s camo for her bday drawing

(i use a strikethrough so i know which ideas i’ve used or posted anywhere. i think that once i put an idea on the internet, it’s probably free reign, so if you want to use any of these for fics or art go ahead. i’d just appreciate it is you could link back to me haha)

5 years after graduating from the General Studies department of UA, Hitoshi opened his own agency. As a private detective.

By the time he’s 25, he’s settled in and relatively comfortable with his career choice. So when his work phone rings one day and he’s still half-asleep he easily opens with, “Shinsou Detective Agency. Before you ask, I do not investigate cheating spouses or missing dogs and I do not screen potential employees for companies.” He paused. “I’ll investigate missing cats, though.”

The person on the other end took a harsh breath, like an almost-laugh, and responded gruffly, “Hm. Good to know if Jelly ever gets lost.”

-> aka shinsou is a PI and aizawa contacts him for help on a case. aizawa never sought out shinsou after the sports festival, being too busy with 1-a’s insane antics, and so shinsou went on to never become a hero. maybe he’s also a vigilante on the side? idk. anyway so yeah aizawa gives him temporary permission to use his quirk during the case. they investigate, blah blah, the point is that afterwards aizawa gets shinsou a licence and takes him on as a sidekick (the same way ingenium offered to koichi in vigilantes)

i have new ideas on the daily. this doc is just growing

keep in mind, i have given to you here only a few of the shortest ones. there are several huge paragraphs of full-au ideas (like where izuku has a quirk, and the entire story follows canon)

these are, ostensibly, ideas for fics that i never write because i’m lazy. but some of them i do end up using for art or comics, so... yeah. most of the comics i’ve posted were originally just little scripts in this doc. an example:

yamada and reformed!shirakumo are walking together, with coffees

shirakumo: so then i - oh, your phone’s wringing

(yamada’s ringtone is the nyancat song, and the contact name is ‘daddy’)

shirakumo: haha, you still call ur dad ‘daddy’? i thought you got over that in high school (taking a sip on the coffee)

yamada: (answering the phone, keeping eye contact with shirakumo) hey, shouta, what’s up?

shirakumo: (spits out coffee)

—- made this a comic on tumblr

damn this post is longer than i expected

whelp, i hope you liked it

#answered ask #bnha #bnha meta #bnha au #au ideas #bnha au ideas #free ideas #come along kids get ur free au ideas #dad for one au #haikyuu au #momojirou #inko x mitsuki #i will go down with this ship #there's a lot of dadzawa here as well #dadzawa

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secretgamergirl · 4 years

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Hate Mobs Gotta Go

Last night, I did something I have never expected to do, and just full on gave up on a fun RPG writing assignment. Which I had to do because I hit a point where it was so overdue and unfinished that I was falling asleep sitting up and stress vomiting and other such things. There’s a whole lot of factors behind that. Other health issues, the toll of being on total pandemic lockdown for months, with neighbors just straight up open mouth coughing at my door, emergencies with friends and family, multiple fires and hardware failures, but the main thing was, and still is, the constant harassment from a militant hate mob, completely out of touch with reality.

Years ago, I remember there was this thing the internet at large was fond of doing with foaming at the mouth far right religious extremists- Mercilessly ridiculing them in public to expose how disconnected everything they said or did was from reality. Remember seeing this one float around and laughing your head off?

And if I mention the Westboro Baptist Church, you immediately picture a single family of raving bigots picketing funerals and such with their big homophobic signs, with a bigger crowd mocking them, right?

For some reason, the modern version of that particular flavor of fringe weirdo doesn’t get that sort of ridicule. Presumably because they’re focusing almost exclusively on trans people, and most people have this weird thing where like if you stick up for trans people you get cooties or something and never dig into the real juicy ridicule fodder. But for real, this stuff is OUT THERE. Just look at a few examples here.

Come for the weird ravings about harvesting baby organs. Stay for the... adult woman who apparently believes breasts get their shape from actually being sacks filled with milk under women’s skin? Now, how about this colorful comparison?

For anyone who wasn’t aware, pronouns are words like “I” “you” “he” “she” “it” and “this,” while rohypnol is colloquially known as “the date rape drug,” so this is utter gibberish. The full context of course is that this person is trying to make the argument that forcing this bigot to refer to women she’s prejudiced against as “she” instead of arbitrarily tossing around “he” or “it” is... raping her brain, I guess?

So... this is pretty clearly some creep’s weird little fantasy. The obvious giveaway is pretending that trans women “aren’t in the correct bathroom” when going to... the correct bathroom, and that the non-existent law about this is somehow enforced by... random bigots opting to deputize themselves. What DOES happen for real though is bigots like this being arrested for barging into public restroom stalls with camcorders aimed at the crotches of women on toilets and trying to defend themselves by insisting they have some duty to check what their genitals look like. On which note...

That’s just disgusting. It’s also as close as I feel comfortable to posting all the graphic fantasies I see from these people about the barbaric genital mutilation they imagine trans women subject ourselves to which really has no basis at all in reality. Well maybe I can post this one.

I’m not going to go through and itemize all the baldfaced lies in that, because I really kinda hope I don’t have to, and also because the person who slapped this together was kind enough to break it up in such a way that I legitimately can say “every single line of this is a completely baseless lie.” Also the art in the corner is stolen from a child-friendly comic whose author is trans, so, that’s extra slimy. Also wow that “bone scans” bit is actually one I’ve never seen. Where the hell do they even get these ideas?

Also this one needs some setup. If you have time, this right here is a freaking journey, if not, I’ll try to summarize.

So a while ago, this one particular unhinged bigot decided the most productive way to spend all her time was to get in touch with a bulk sticker printing business and order thousands if not millions of these weird gross poorly framed slabs with a really crude drawing of a penis and bunch of gibberish she really wishes were the names of popular twitter hashtags that nobody else but her ever uses. And then after receiving these, just... wandering around the city she lives in all day every day plastering them on phone booths and power poles and the mirrors of bathrooms in like.. elementary schools and park benches, just everywhere. And then makes multiple passes a day apparently to make sure nobody has tried to remove any of them, as detailed in this amazing thread I’ll link again.

So the latest break in that particular saga is that same zealot going around plastering stickers like this around too, to make it seem like “both sides do it.”

It should be obvious that that’s a “blacks rule!” sort of fake between the baffling text and using the extra inclusive, particular emphasis on supporting people of color, general purpose LGBT+ flag, but also, like their fellows on 4chan, they plan this sort of “false flag” crap in broad daylight:

I should really properly credit the whistle-blowing on that particular oddity, and I should also note that aside from the breast milk sacks, this is all just stuff I saw TODAY catching up on my twitter feed, but my main point with all this is to illustrate that we really are dealing with Jack Chick/Westboro Baptist-level unhinged zealotry... but again, nobody’s out there pointing and laughing. And it turns out, when you don’t have people pointing and laughing at this sort of thing, you get people taking it seriously. So... when I went to quickly search for a news story to link with the bit about creeps barging in on women with cameras, the results I got were... this.

That... sure is a lot of stories about totally innocent people in a demographic I belong to being murdered by total strangers goaded into blind murderous hatred by the sort of people I’m pointing and laughing at! Ha ha! There’s a very real chance of that happening to me every time I step outside, for any reason! Tee hee! I live in a state of constant fear! Whoopsie!

And it’s not just stuff like that. The people posting these rambling tirades about “breast milk sack implants” and putting crude penis stickers everywhere, never being called out as the unhinged weirdos they are, either have the world turning a blind eye to all this crap, or have everything they do downplayed in the media to the point where outright sexual harassment, doxing, and slurs I don’t want to repeat get headlines like “so-and-so made comments that some fringe trans activists on the internet deem ‘possibly transphobic’” and that’s AT BEST. More often you get stuff like the one incident I managed to bring a lot of public attention to way back when, where some bigot just literally walked up to someone on the street, grabbed them, savagely beat the hell out of them until pulled apart, had friends film the whole thing, and bragged after the fact about it, and every story that appeared as a result claimed the assailant was the victim, because they were all written by her friends.

Face obscuring provided by me here, by the way.

And that isn’t a one-off incident. Because, see, most of these unhinged weirdos spewing out all this transphobic gibberish are not, as you would think, a bunch of barely educated Trump hat wearing members of some fringe religious congregation. They’re editors and producers in major British news outlets. This isn’t me shouting conspiracy nonsense either, this is well-documented. Like, The Guardian gets public internal protests over this crap. So does the BBC. Yes, other respected news sites cover this. Media watchdog groups do their best to reign this in with hearings and such, but, don’t actually have any power to enforce anything really. So when there’s “reporting” on this crap, it’s coming directly from the “breast milk sack implant” people. Oh and here’s some screenshots of the headlines of those stories you’re too lazy to click through and actually read:

And of course, sometimes when they want to really come across as respectful, they try to find “scientists” and “doctors” who back up their ravings but all they have to fall back on are disgraced quacks who spend most of their time on activism work to normalize pedophilia.

I’m not bringing that point about Cantor up to discredit his writings about trans people by the way. He doesn’t really HAVE any writings about trans people. He just pasted the names of a bunch of random studies from the 70s about whether playing with barbies makes you gay into his blog a few years back and this crowd was so desperate for validation they declared him an “expert in the field” and started passing out links to his.... pro-pedophila blog. Which is part of this whole pattern, but I’ve written about that before. Oh and the governments of multiple countries manage to treat all these people as “experts” and make policy decisions based on their ravings. That’s fun.

Anyway, aside from encouraging random people to, you know, just randomly murder anyone they see who looks like maybe a trans woman, every so often this weird little cult pulls in an actual celebrity who then has a public meltdown as they post all this gibberish to a wider audience. Currently this is going on with Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling (who’s actively promoting the pedophile guy up there on Twitter), and I think also William Shatner, but I haven’t really looked into it. The last big one though was Graham Linehan. Who you might remember from co-writing some sitcoms that were popular decades ago in Britain, or from being the weird cartoon villain who tried to kill the funding of a children’s charity, prompting this strange pledge drive marathon of Donkey Kong Country.

You might also know him as one of... I think honestly just two people who have ever managed to be such out of control stalking hate mongers that they were actually given a permanent no possible appeal ban from Twitter. Personally though I know him more as, you know, that one absolute creep who’s been obsessively stalking me for like 5 years and never shutting up about his weird personal obsession with me.

I WOULD link the recent freaking filmed interview he did where he spent forever rambling about me, but I’d have to actually watch it to confirm I had the right link, and also the only place I could quickly find a link to it would be on his twitter feed, which as stated, no longer exists. Oh and random side note there, despite being personally, by name, the person he was explicitly targeting all his hateful ramblings at, he wasn’t banned from that site for any of the disgusting stuff he said to me. He just slipped up and mentioned a cis woman with a professorship while shouting about this crap recently and that caused people to actually take action. I do so love being invisible.

Anyway, point is, prior to Rowling grabbing the baton from him as his social media presence went up in flames, this guy was name-dropping me a LOT. Presumably he still is, just in places fewer people see it. And when you have as big an audience as he did, and that audience is as full of hatemongers as his was, that has a pretty noticeable effect. I’ve been deluged with so much hateful garbage for so long it’s impossible for me to put any numbers on it. The closest I can do to quantify it is note that hate dump was big enough that I was also flooded with more weird messages intended as support from total strangers than I could deal with, totally losing access to social media feeds and my e-mail from the volume for a good bit, and THAT flood was big enough that I got this whole second wave of creepy stalkers who’d built up this whole weird fanon where this stalker here is like, someone I used to date or be business partners with and not just some creepy dude like twice my age stalking me over the internet, from a completely different hemisphere.

And I mean... in the broadest of strokes, I can kinda laugh all this off. Because... these people are completely ridiculous, out of touch with reality, and mostly live in other countries. But... all the threats and shouting are very real and very constant and like.. picture someone outside on the street shouting at your windows about how they’re going to break in and kill you. You really can’t ignore that. Even if they’re unarmed, and all they’re really capable of doing is shouting and pounding on your door, you can’t really just ignore that shouting and pounding and just watch a movie or play a game or write this article you promised would be done 3 months ago. You can certainly try, but a pretty big part of your brain is going to be occupied with thoughts about how maybe you should call someone to see if they’ll escort this violent person away, or maybe you should barricade your door in case all that pounding does something.

And I mean this isn’t a bad metaphor for how all the constant threats and stalking I’m dealing with thanks to celebrity bigots personally obsessed with me impacts my life, but it also does a pretty good job of describing how my night went pretty recently when I ACTUALLY DID HAVE SOMEONE POUNDING ON MY ACTUAL REAL PHYSICAL DOOR SHOUTING ABOUT STABBING ME TO DEATH, and no, there was no resolution to that beyond the sound of sirens causing that person to back off.

I also had an experience not too long ago where I was supposed to take a cab to a routine appointment, a car showed up with the cab company’s name on it, somewhat early, and proceeded to drive me... out to the middle of the freaking woods like an hour from where I live, and when my phone rang with my actual cab asking where I was the driver freaked out, had me get out of the car, and took off leaving me just... stuck in the middle of nowhere freezing to death and trying to find a landmark an actual cab could pick me up from. Still don’t know what the hell that whole thing was about and whether a cab driver just REALLY didn’t know what he was doing and panicked or what, but I do know that talking about it publicly in the vaguest of terms lead to a bunch of unhinged shouting from... apparently some unconnected ride share driver with a habit of dumping trans women between stops when they try to get medications or something, convinced I was calling him out for that.

So.... yeah. Things aren’t exactly going great in my neck of the woods. I’d really appreciate it if people would properly treat these unhinged violent weirdos like unhinged violent weirdos and not respectable members of society so they quit getting so bold and public with the violent stuff, and people who listen to them get properly shouted down for doing so.

#transphobia #stalking

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janeysharkrps · 5 years

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Beneath The Plot

Here are some plots based on the “Beneath” series by Meghan March. Honestly, the NOLA group is just a fun bunch and now it’s pretty much plots I want because I just can’t let them go!

Muse A just needed to get away. Their father was sent to prison for embezzling and their world as a pampered rich kid was thrown into chaos. So where better to make a new life? New Orleans of course. After almost a year and a drastic make-over complete with new hair an a lot of ink, Muse A is working in a tattoo parlor off the French quarter and doing just fine. That is, until a former frat boy with political aspirations stumbles in with his friends for some drunken tats. Muse B is instantly taken with Muse A and is determined to get to know them better... only problem? How would Muse A ever look on Muse B’s arm with a criminal father? Also, did Muse A forget to mention that the FBI is currently looking for them to figure out what happened to that stolen fortune?

Muse A doesn’t give a shit about most things outside the tattoo shop they own, except for a certain rich kid who took a walk on the wild side one night... a night that Muse A can’t remember. Muse B can’t deny that it was one rocking night but they have their own life to get back to full of galas and upper-crust events, and a problem. They land they need for a new non-profit building belongs to Muse A and Muse B is going to lose their position with their organization if they don’t secure it. Muse A will sign the deed... for a price. Muse B has to give them a shot, a night that they’ll both remember and keeping it on the dl is fine by them. What could go wrong?

Muse A has never exactly been one to take things lying down. They own their own pawn shop and because of that have held their own against some dangerous people. But when Muse B walks through the door of their pawn shop taking the “help wanted” sign as a clear invitation, Muse A had one word. NO. Not only is Muse B a wild rich kid gone full grown hurricane, but they are also the best friend of Muse A’s sister in-law. But Muse B doesn’t seem to have that word in their vocabulary and soon Muse A is playing protector against an interested head of a gang, a suspicious cop, and someone who is making the irritations in both Muses lives go away... in the deadliest way possible.

Muse A knows how to get what they want. Working hard to own a multi-billion dollar company and a large chunk of New Orleans means that they usually know how to bend people to their will. Until they find Muse B skinny dipping in their pool and a string of curse words followed with vehement hate that isn’t exactly misplaced. Muse A wasn’t exactly tactful when they blackmailed Muse B’s friend into faking a relationship to make business connections. But what the fuck is Muse B doing in Muse A’s pool? That’s simple. Muse B runs the shop where Muse A’s little brother works and after Muse B’s secret violent past comes knocking, home isn’t so safe. Now little brother is out of the country, and these two have to share a space, even though they can’t seem to stop arguing about every damn thing. Muse A wouldn’t care except Muse B is the one thing they want but can’t seem to get.

Muse A has always been on the right side of the law. Child of one of NOLA’s most prominent judges and all around good person, they’re just trying to keep their life steady after an attack, even helping a young girl with a job at their art gallery and getting her into art school. But shit goes sideways for Muse A when they get a call from their employee asking for help and giving an address. A party full of gang members in a bad part of town is where Muse A finds themselves, and after almost getting attacked again, Muse A finds themselves getting rescued by Muse B... who just so happens to be the leader of said gang. When Muse B agrees to locate Muse A’s missing employee, they both find themselves in the middle of a budding gang war, and now Muse A has to decide if being bad is really all that wrong if Muse B is really the baddest, even with their secrets.

Muse A may be the illegitimate child of the scariest mafia boss in New York, but they are also the most innocent secret that mobster has ever had. A life lived in a high rise might seem great but damn if it isn’t the worst Rapunzel parallel ever! When mob dad is facing a grand jury indictment, Muse A is told to disappear. It’s their first chance to see anywhere in the world... or well, the states, and they can’t let go of that love of New Orleans culture. But it’s a shock when battling pre-mardi gras crowds they end up getting rescued by Muse B, who doesn’t like a change in their routine of working in the tattoo parlor off the French quarter, randomly hooking up, and making no commitments. Muse B has seen too much of life and can’t even fathom the way Muse A keeps getting into one dangerous situation after another due to their innocence at the outside world. Muse B sees someone dying to live, but can’t shake the feeling that Muse A is hiding something, especially when the subject of family comes up.

Muse A lived by a rigid code of honor as a decorated officer of the NOPD, but when their retired father is outed as a dirty cop with ties to a drug cartel, Muse A gives up on the code and hands in their badge... after all, there is no career when you’re the kid of a dirty cop. When Muse A’s father is killed, they have to find out what was really going on. Muse B is the little sibling of Muse A’s best friend, and owns their own tech company... not to mention being a hacker in their spare time. They give Muse A the help they need in trying to uncover what motivated a good cop to go bad, and who else the drug cartel has in their pocket. It’s just a little hard when Muse B is the epitome of the grey in Muse A’s black and white world, even down to staying away from family of your best friend.

#plot inspo #plots #wanted plot

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thenightling · 6 years

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The many things wrong with The Dreaming issue 5 (2019) ...I will not be kind...

Warning! It’s long!

1. Let us begin with the stupid Trumpisms. I feel like Simon Spurrier thinks he has to punish or “re-educate” us poor, ignorant, Americans for electing Donald Trump. It appears that no one has broken it to him yet that Trump lost the popular vote by over three million voters. So why are we being punished because we’re stuck with him? We’re already resisting as best we can or does he not watch the news?

There’s no way in Hell the color palette for this cover was an accident or happenstance. For you non-Americans, the Republican (Trump) Party have a popular symbol. An elephant that is usually drawn in red, white, and blue.

2. The ugly and immature symbolism. The Dreaming is bleeding color! (says the plot synopsis from the solicitations and DC Vertigo’s Facebook page). Without diversity, without color, The Dreaming becomes bland, all white, and dreams die. Do you know where I first saw this same literal story? Rainbow Bite in 1985! Not only is it condescending and lacks the charm of the symbolism from The Sandman: Overture but it’s stolen, whether accidental or not, this is from a kids show from when i was a toddler in the 80s!

3. ‘Y’all.” I know Judge Gallows is meant to be a cliche, old west style judge. But this is like watching a 1970s Doctor Who Brit actor put on what they think is an American accent. The y’all(s) feel forced, and that takes a lot when it’s not said out loud. He sounds like the damn chicken lawyer from Futurama.

The accent, it burns!

4. “His creator.” It’s like Simon both knows and doesn’t know the original lore, all at once, it’s baffling. As Lucien’s dying it looks like he’s half-reverted to a raven form. @missghostlymoonshadow you were right!

However as he was one of Dream’s ravens that indicates he used to be human (even if Lucien claims otherwise). There was even some suggestion that he’s Adam. Not sure about that as it’s very close to the novel Lilith but not impossible either.

5. It’s Daniel the asshole, ladies and gentlemen! I’ve complained about this before. That whenever anyone other than Neil Gaiman writes Daniel, no matter how hard they seem to try, Daniel comes off as a f--king asshole. Supposedly he has no choice, he has to leave. But he’s so f--king cold here, so, so cold.

You... Heartless... Little... Asshole...

Morpheus was more kind to Dora in the flashback than Daniel is here! WHY do people keep making Daniel crueler than Morpheus was pre-character-growth??! Granted I’m starting to think there may be something wrong with Simon Spurrier, himself, that he thought what Lucien did on the steps of the castle with “I did warn you” is perfectly okay. He doesn’t treat it like anything bad that he just uncreated a bunch of Merv’s friends on the steps of the castle. In fact he treats Merv like he’s overreacting for being upset by it! (Clearly he never read the start of Sandman: Overture or even The Dolls House.) And yet we’re not supposed to be sympathizing with Merv’s behavior. He made that clear. Who (besides Dora) Are we supposed to care about?!??

His narrations try to keep us from pitying those that actually deserve pity.

Because how dare Cain actually give a damn that his brother is acting weird!

Unless Daniel turns out to be wearing a control collar ala X-Men, or has a magical-bomb implanted in his spine (Suicide Squad) this is going to be very hard for The Dream Lord to justify and even then it’ll be a little hard to forgive. Daniel’s walking around, obviously still has access to some power. Whatever his “I have no choice” is all about it seems like it can’t be quite equatable to Morpheus in the binding circle, in his glass bubble.

6. I still want to know what the Hell happened to the griffon. That griffon wasn’t of The Dreaming. He was a gift from The Greeks. Why did you replace him? For the sake of cultural diversity? There’s no in-story explanation. Eve being any race she feels like makes sense. But this doesn’t make sense and it’s jarring. The Griffon wasn’t a dream entity. See “The Wake.”

7. Oh, look, someone skimmed Dream Hunters, or they didn’t and just picked up a few bits and pieces of Japanese folklore...

8. MIlam Cascades is being far over-used and retroactively at that. Trying to insert that into the original Sandman now doesn’t work. I get the lore, I understand it’s origin, but really stop. You’re just trying to make a mini Dream vortex. or Vortexes... er Vortices.

I NEVER want to be subjected to Milam Cascades again! I’m starting to hate it as much as I hate the stupid revisions to Nuala’s necklace to make it a Macguffin, the existence of Echo, Cain and Abel’s sister wives, and Danny Nod. (Creations from the first version of The Dreaming.)

Do NOT retroactively describe things you want to insert into the original Sandman! YOU are not Neil Gaiman! Only he has a right to do that! How dare you!

This is egotism. Not only is Milam Cascade being used as a mini Dream Vortex (the way Matthew’s death in the first version of The Dreaming was used as a mini knock-off of The Wake) but to have the audacity and arrogance to insert it into the original Sandman lore, to retroactively TAINT the original Sandman with this crap! No. if Neil, himself, did it, I would begrudgingly accept it. But not here. Not like this. I don’t care if it’s “With Neil’s consent.” He consents to a LOT of stuff, including the first, now defunct, version of The Dreaming.

Wow, I’m more angry about that than I originally thought...

9. How dare you! How DARE you do this to Lucien! How dare you! You saw how much it was despised that Matthew was killed off in the late 90s / early 2000s version of The Dreaming and yet you go and use Lucien like this? And what’s worse is we’re supposed to pretend his behavior in issue 2 was okay because of it. And no one reacted badly to him uncreating dream entities on the steps of the castle and acting like it was a form of punishment (”I did Warn you.”) except Mervyn, who was OBVIOUSLY in the wrong, because he’s an EVIL racist now!

So, first you write Lucien badly, but I guess the memory fading was supposed to make that justifiable. Then you don’t even address that what he did was wrong, except through a character who you’ve gone out of your way to make unlikable and ridiculously out of character. And now poor Lucien is dying and “Won’t be at peace in The Dreaming.”

Thanks, Satan.

10. Still no explanation for randomly turning Mervyn into a redneck Trump supporter and classist caricature. The biggest OOC (Out of character) moment being when he made the “You people” comment to Erzulie in The House of Whispers comic book. Do you not remember how Merv would look like a deer in headlights if caught backbiting Morpheus but you think he’d be racist to a Voodoo goddess to her face?! This... Does not make sense...

Yeah, no....

He should be afraid Erzulie will turn him into a spiced pumpkin jam in her cupboard.

11. The only sword in Destruction’s realm should have been his own and he took that with him when he abandoned his post. (See Brief Lives.)

12. He writes Cain as a knife-happy muppet that wants to stab everything. We’re supposed to know something’s wrong with how Abel’s acting but this is what he thinks is normal for Cain? Cain ONLY kills his brother, it’s his compulsion. As they are both mostly immortal this is kind of a thing for them. And Simon Spurrier has yet to justify having THE KEEPER OF MYSTERY spend nearly three pages explaining who and what he is. (There’s no way in Hell he’s murder incarnate. That’s like saying Bill Gates is Windows OS Incarnate.)

_________________________

Things I’m okay with:

I’m okay with Dreamkin. We can keep that term. I’ve been trying to figure out what to call the creatures of the Dreaming for over a year and a half now. Dreamkin works.

The Morpheus flashback was... Okay... I sort of liked those.

Matthew’s still being written semi-decently.

The art is decent.

There. It’s done. It’s written. I’m going to go back to re-reading Goethe’s Faust again...

I’m tagging all the Sandman fans who may want to see this.

@jr4cats @sorry-for-the-chocolate @deathlyendless @winterbirdybuddy @vagaryhexxx @endlessemptynight

#Neil Gaiman's The Sandman Universe #The Dreaming #Anti-Simon Spurrier #Matthew The Raven #Lucien The Librarian #Dream of The Endless #Daniel Hall #Morpheus #The Sandman

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littlemissgeek8 · 6 years

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Okay I just wanted to say I love your dnd art like so much!! It’s amazing!!! If you don’t mind me asking, can you summarize what you’ve done in your campaign with Jemima Appleblossom so far? She’s so cute and I would literally die for your PC

Aww!! Thanks! It’s always a joy to run into people who likemy characters! :3 I can totally give you a summary of our campaign thoughunfortunately it is 30 episodes atthe time of writing, with 31 going up later today, and I was unable to shrinkit to a reasonable size. I’ll put it under a cut to save on people’s dashspace, and I’ll also put links here for the youtube playlists in case there’sanyone who’d like to watch it instead of just reading about it. XD And for anyone interested in the series, this recap will catch you up in time for today’s episode to go out!

For those not wanting to read through all 8,930 words ofthis, TL;DR: “Ragtag group of adventurers get pulled into another world wherethey find themselves rubbing elbows with gods, fighting monsters, makingfriends, reviving demigods and unwittingly unleashing some massively dangerousthings onto the planet. In between accidentally dying a few times.”

[Ghostwolf] [EscoNitz] [CriticalHat]

Well, we started off in Parnast, sent by our individualfactions to investigate a missing wizard. My halfling bard Jemima is a Harper,same as our other bard, the human Gineye. Our other party members included Lei,the Tortle Paladin, Zuradar the Tiefling ranger, Lilystra the half-orcbarbarian and Zareem, the Aasimar warlock (who works for the Zhentarim, theonly other faction I remember.) On our way to find the missing wizard, we raninto a bunch of Kobolds who attacked us, but one Kobold --with distinctivewooden legs and one arm-- was trapped inside a cart by his own people and gaveus some assistance. When we finally found the wizard he was in the process ofsummoning something that turned out to be a Water Weird, which subsequently atethe whole party, ending the first session.

We woke up a week later inside an infirmary, which we soondiscovered was in an underwater city—the water weird didn’t just eat us, ittransported us basically to another dimension far away from Faerun. Seeing usas adventurers, one of the triton soldiers from the town we woke up in took us upto the surface to the port town of Audio Bay. (I might be spelling it wrong,sorry, I don’t have good notes this far back.) There, a dwarven merchant namedJonah gave us a quest to track down some missing gear that was stolen from him,a quest which lead us to a well with a Zhentarim symbol on it (surprisingly,since none of our factions exist in this dimension) and inside said well, weencountered a “dungeon” of a dubious nature filled with hobgoblins and bugbearsin leather armor and chain shirts. (Yes it was a kink dungeon, no I don’t wantto remember much about it. XD) After thoroughly stomping everyone involved, aminiscule orc calling himself “Bob” entered the room, shouting at us forhurting his people (whom he then revived with no effort at all.) We told him ofour mission and he agreed to let us take the stolen weapons back, along withgifting us a mysterious box filled with magic coins and a magical shield to ourpaladin. It wasn’t until later that we discovered that “Bob” was actually thegod of slaughter, not until after Zareem managed to roll a natural 100 and hithim with an eldritch blast.

As we left the dungeon, we were greeted by a pack of strangelooking wolves and a tall, blond man in a black coat who asked us to give himthe weapons we’d retrieved. He wouldn’t accept “no” for an answer, nor did wehave much time to try convincing him that we’d been assigned to collect thembefore our hair-trigger warlock decided to cast Charm Person on this newcomer.Unfortunately, the man was carrying a Staff of Charming and nullified the spellbefore it could affect him, before wildshaping into an earth elemental andproceeding to do his best to squash us. It wasn’t until Zareem and Zuradarmanaged to capture one of the “wolves” who turned out to be another druid thatthe man relented, changing back and calling off his friends. He admitted hisactions were hasty and together we traveled back to Jonah’s store with thestolen weapons, where it was revealed that the weapons were a special orderfrom the druid himself, Edan. In return for the weapons, Edan financed someupgrades for our group through the organization he works for (including a sweetring for Jemima which changes her vicious mockery from a d4 to a d6.)

The next day saw Edan taking us to an open air market on thedocks to shop around for supplies, before taking us to a tavern and treating usto lunch. (It was a pretty low-key session though there was a lot ofnon-story-important horseplay.) At the tavern we ran into the druids we’dfought the day before as well as a familiar face: Hanzi, the Kobold with thewooden limbs. While we ate, Edan mentioned that the druids, Hanzi and himselfwere all from Faerun originally and offered to let us join the organizationthey were working with when they went back to their base at the end of themonth. Shortly afterwards (after Jemima spent some time performing for thetavern patrons) Edan left the tavern, citing a “call” from his celestial parent(which Jemima immediately recognized, due to her own bardic master having beenan Aasimar as well.) Before they could pursue, the party was given a quest toinvestigate something in the tavern’s cellar, which turned out to be a wholeton of giant spiders (and a lot of screaming from Jemima) as well as a mimicwhich had taken the place of a box intended for Jonah.

As we returned to Jonah’s shop with his shipment, a heavystorm had started rolling in off the ocean, and after checking in with Jonah(and asking him if anyone would have been trying to kill him by sending him amimic) we headed out to the courtyard to find Edan standing by a scorched areawhere several lightning strikes had taken place. One of the lightning strikesleft behind a glowing orb that turned into a box which he quickly pocketed andrefused to tell us what it was, but we learned some troubling information aboutthe how though the portal we’d come through was a common occurrence, somethinghad interfered with it and kept his organization from closing it on time. Afterthings nearly came to blows between him, Zareem, Zuradar and Gineye, we allheaded off to prepare for whatever the next day would bring and eventuallysleep.

The next day was stormy again, but we set out with Edan anda few others to the docks, hoping to stave off whatever horrible thing wasapproaching the town from the portal in the ocean. Almost immediately, Edanflew off towards a monster out in the ocean, leaving us to deal with a largenumber of minor water elementals who did a good deal of damage before welearned we could destroy them by damaging the summoning circles they came from.Meanwhile, Gineye (with his Special Eyes) noticed “Bob” and several cloakedfigures watching the proceedings from the air nearby. As we defeated theelementals, a massive bolt of lighting shot from the storm over the ocean,right into the monster Edan was fighting, killing it and throwing Edan’slifeless body onto the docks nearby. Jemima tried in vain to use Healing Wordto revive him, only to be shut down by someone sending her a clear mentalmessage that she was wasting her time. Soon afterwards we found ourselvesfacing the same Wizard we’d been sent to find, who had merged himself with thewater weird. The battle was short and fairly one-sided as we all charged himbefore he could do much, eventually leading him to attack Lei one-on-one.Nobody’s entirely sure what happened but the wizard disappeared and Lei learnedhe could shoot a beam of radiant energy from his mouth.

That concluded, the realization of what happened to Edan hithome as a few of us tried to go over to him, only to be stopped by two of thecloaked figures Gineye had seen. One, a massive bugbear went to solemnlycollect the body, while the other (a skeletal form we couldn’t see well) tooksome glowing orb from Edan’s head before leaving. We’d managed to save thecity, but we’d lost a friend in the process. The next week was spent helpingthe city rebuild from the attack, though for Jemima it was a week of privatemourning and a grim realization that the fairy tale heroics she’d dreamed ofwere only a fantasy in the face of harsh reality. Then, we were called in toJonah’s again, only to find “Bob” sitting there, along with a large box and thedruids we’d met earlier. He gave us a mission we couldn’t really reject—travelwith Jonah and the druids to take the mysterious box to a town calledSylvenstand, checking in with a few towns along the way. When asked why hechose our group to do this, he admitted that we’d been specially requested, orrather Jemima had been requested for this job and it followed that everyoneelse would come too. In addition, Jemima was given three gifts—the owl-headedStaff of Charming that Edan had used, his bag of holding, and Bob’s holy symbolon her wrist as a sign of protection. And so, the group set off cross-countryto Sylvenstand in an enchanted cart with a box they weren’t allowed to touch(or let anyone else touch either, save for one contact they were told to meet.)

Their first destination was Flatol, where they were sent toinvestigate some reports of some strange goings on. This lead the party toinvestigate a crypt, one decorated with symbols and writing praising Orcus, andinside we found the necromancer that we’d been sent to find who almostimmediately trapped us into seeing our worst fears, but before anyone couldreally dwell on them, the Necromancer himself was murdered by the thingconjured up by Hanzi’s fear: a terrifying shadowy cleric. The battle thatensued was brutal, with us trying to defend against the cleric’s powerfulattacks or healing each other as best we could, but in the end the nightmarecleric was defeated. However, the cost of fighting him turned out to be Lei’slife, for the killing blow on the cleric sent our unconscious paladin into hisfinal death saves (Thanks, Zareem for not moving your Shatter spell somewhereelse.) However, instead of outright dying, a glow surrounded him, bringing himback but without his hard shell and with a much longer tail. The coins we’dreceived from “Bob” on our first meeting with him had each bonded with one ofus and this was the first time they’d revealed their powers: saving the bearerfrom death but bringing them back with a change or two.

We ushered our now semi-naked Tortle back to the cart andprepared to move on (though not until after a horrifying lunch in which ourTiefling nearly petrified several people with some of the dishes he’d made and did actually petrify himself for a shorttime.) Then, we moved on to Glens, the next town on our journey. TheNecromancer we’d run into had gone to Flatol from Glens and we were informedthat another necromancer had been in town as well, along with a frighteningbounty hunter who was hunting him down. Our search for clues turned up little,but as we all went to meet up in the town square, a huge hulking barbarianleaped down into our midst, wielding a massive axe. We weren’t much of a matchfor him, until Lei managed to grapple him, giving Gineye a chance to use a boltof petrification he’d picked up earlier. The Barbarian failed his save hard,turning to stone before our eyes, but as Gineye removed his hood, a familiarface stared back—Edan’s, thoughframed by dark hair instead of blond. Needless to say, Jemima didn’t take itwell, and we carefully moved the petrified man back to the cart to be restored.Before we left, however, the axe the barbarian had been using decided to attachitself to Gineye, revealing itself to be not only cursed but sentient as well.

A cleric who was currently traveling with us managed torestore the barbarian, and a conversation later revealed that he was not, infact, Edan. He introduced himself as Ivan the Lucky, a bounty hunter who hadbeen chasing down the necromancers we had run into, and he’d been working longenough to have a solid reputation, so the chances of him being Edan withamnesia or something was extremely low. However, we couldn’t let him leave asone of the jobs in our contracts was to investigate the grisly murders in Glensand there was a good likelihood he was involved somehow. So, with Ivan in towwe headed off to the next town, Crance, which was currently embroiled in arebellion of some kind. However, we had to stop there to meet up with acontact, and since we weren’t given a description of the contact we had tocross our fingers and hope we found him. A couple of men in a tavern claimed tobe the people we were looking for and agreed to come back to the wagon inexchange for some help with a situation they were in. It was only after givingthem the information we had and letting them inspect the box (which thankfullythey didn’t tamper with) that we found out they were not, in fact, our contact,but a mysterious half-orc in town might be. They were with the resistanceagainst the tyrannical government in the area and they directed us to a guardshack where the half-orc and some of their own people were being held.

Our group headed over there and found the guards to besurprisingly easy to defeat, and in the cells were a group of heavily injuredresistance fighters and one massive, angry owlbear. The half-orc however wasnowhere to be seen, until we headed to a room in the back. There, we found himstanding over the corpse of the head guard, pulling a knife out of thestill-warm body. The distinctive red teardrop tattoo on his face marked him asthe person we were searching for, since it matched the mark Jemima had receivedfrom “Bob” at the start of our quest. The half-orc, Grug, followed us back tothe cart to properly inspect the box and pay us for the tasks we’d alreadycompleted, but took an immediate dislike to the currently sleeping Ivan. Heexplained that Ivan was Edan’s Alternate—somewhat but not quite the same personborn in another dimension, though many differences in environment and home lifecan lead to wildly different characteristics, jobs and lives. He then warned usto keep Ivan away from the box, stating that it was dangerous to have himaround when Edan was in such a “weakened state.” Yet again, Jemima freaked out,demanding to know what he meant by that before Zareem completely stopped theconversation by boasting about how Bob approved of him b/c Zareem had managedto hit him. In a fit of rage, Grug dragged Ivan’s sleeping body away andunleashed a bunch of monsters on us, since pissing off a paladin by boastingthat you’d hit his god is probably the worst idea ever.

Once the monsters were defeated we raced outside after Grugand Ivan, finding Ivan yet again possessed by Gineye’s axe as he’d been thefirst time we fought him. After getting the axe back from Ivan (which sent thelarge barbarian back to sleep) we turned our attention to Grug and the animatedswords he was currently attacking our cart with. A few near deaths later, ourfight was interrupted by Grug vanishing and “Bob” appearing in his place,demanding to know what was going on. Thankfully we were in our rights to defendourselves and “Bob” admitted that Grug was overzealous and a huge problem forhim, but he was obligated to keep the half-orc around due to Grug’s familyconnections. Still, Bob fixed our wagon for us and decided to travel with us toSylvenstand, stating that he couldn’t just teleport there due to the nature ofthe place. A few days of travel later, we reached the woods surroundingSylvenstand, a dark frightening forest that seemed to twist and move around,confusing travelers who dared venture into it.

Which is when we ran into the dinosaurs. About halfway intothe forest we were stopped by a dead end and a voice demanding to know why wewere there. When we explained our mission, the voice told us we could only passafter it had “tested our mettle” upon which an allosaurus and a swarm ofdeinonychus showed up. The battle was surprisingly long, made worse by thearrows being shot from an unknown source deep in the woods. However, thedinosaurs eventually backed down, but not until after Jemima heard a veryfamiliar male voice saying the phrase “You can do better” before their woundswere healed. The fight over, we trooped back inside the cart, following theAllosaurus (named Sharp) to the secret town of Sylvenstand.

When we arrived, Jonah took the mysterious box away, whileour group accompanied by “Bob” went to a building built into the massive treein the center of town. Before we could turn in our quest, we checked in with aman at the front desk by the name of Eldon. It was he who finally explainedwhat exactly it was we had been transporting all this time—Edan’s body,magically preserved and warded to prevent decay so that a reviving ritual couldbe performed once his soul was reclaimed. Then, we were ushered upstairs intothe massive tree to an enormous room where a humanoid figure seemingly made ofwood or possibly completely encased in wooden armor sat. Seeing as it wastechnically her quest, Jemima was chosen to speak for the party, turning in theletter they were sent with as well as being given a bag of coin to be dividedamongst the team later. Lei’s divine sense however, picked up the massive amounts of divine energy comingfrom the figure in front of them, as well as noticing the oak leaf symbol onthe man’s chest. Though the contract said we’d been sent to report in to a mannamed Tay’rados, there was little question that the true originator of thequest was none other than Silvanus, the god of nature and druids himself.

After some impromptu shopping at a small bazaar in town, weheaded off to the temple district to meet with one Captain Taylor who wassupposed to be able to help Zareem with a mysterious mark he bore on his chest.Captain Taylor agreed to help on the condition that we spar with him, anexperience none of us were quite prepared for, as he turned out to be anextremely high-level paladin who was pulling his punches. Midway through thefight, having taken a decent amount of damage, Taylor grabbed Jemima beforereaching an arm into her bag of holding, coming up with a purple coin that she’dnever seen before (she’d been getting small trinkets including a bag of dragonbone from Edan’s bag over time, but never seen that coin in all her searching.)Again, Edan’s voice chimed in with the phrase “You can do better” as Taylor’swounds began to heal. In an almost uncharacteristic display of kindness, Zareemhelped her get the coin back and to keep Taylor from taking it again, Jemimadropped it down the front of her shirt with a glare. Then, taking the staff ofcharming she’d inherited from Edan, she stormed over and slapped him deadbetween the eyes, shouting at him “How dareyou touch my things?” only for Taylor to shout back “How dare you take mybrother’s things?” When the fight finally ended, she confronted him about thosewords, discovering that Taylor (who is, in fact, the real Tay’rados and thenext in line to take over for Silvanus) wasn’t kidding about Edan being hisbrother, and the coin he’d taken was an Ioun stone that Edan had obtainedduring one of his many travels. The voice she’d been hearing was simply theHealing Word spell he’d kept inside it being activated.

After our sparring match ended, Tay invited us to join himat the local tavern for drinks to celebrate Edan’s approaching revival, thoughnot before we returned to the large tree building to answer a few questionsabout the wizard we’d fought back in Audio Bay. That was where, after the armorthe wizard had worn attached itself to Lei, that the wizard hadn’t justdisappeared that day, he’d been stowing along in Lei’s brain the whole timewithout anyone knowing. He hasn’t shown his hand yet, but the eventual effectsof this are unknown. Then we trooped off to the tavern, Lei and Zareemintending to party and have a good time, Zuradar and Gineye picking a fightwith a time-manipulating satyr who’d magic’d away some of our gear earlier (wegot it back thankfully) and Jemima meeting a nice man who gave her a book oncreating a Guard Drake from dragonscale (which she conveniently had thanks tothe bag of bones and scales in Edan’s bag of holding.) The party lasted allnight, though most were passed out before it got too late, particularly Zuradarwho was the first out after he failed to seduce an elf lady two times in a rowand left to drink until he couldn’t remember anything.

The next few days were less eventful, mostly everyone havinga bit of downtime and resting up, preparing for the next phase of the revivaloperation: retrieving Edan’s soul from wherever it had ended up. The owlbearthat we’d encountered in Crance had been put into a crystal by Grug fortransport, and thanks to Eldon, it was healed (though it had to be magicallyde-aged to save it) and given to Zuradar as a companion under the name Pip.When the time came for the expedition to set out, Jemima made sure our team wasinvited, since she desperately wanted to be able to save Edan. The expeditionwould leave Sylvenstand through a portal that had been set up over the last fewdays, though the endpoint was unknown until the portal was actually opened,bringing with it a group of dimensional “police” who wanted to know why we hadopened a portal onto a plane known as “Lunacy.” Tay seemed visibly distressedat the mention of that location, but in the end we were permitted to pass,providing he didn’t come with us (astipulation he didn’t challenge at all.) Armed with a glass jar with a locatingspell cast on it, we headed off into Lunacy.

The jar lead us through marshy woods until we came upon ascene of grisly carnage. Two hags had been torn apart along with a shambling moundor two, and as we approached we saw the one who had caused such destruction: acreature seemingly formed of wood with a featureless wooden mask. Immediatelythe jar Jemima was holding began to glow and vibrate, but just as quickly thecreature melted away into the ground, causing the jar to go dark again. Afterwe were set upon by another hag (and discovered that the damaged Weave on thisplane made casting spells a risky chance that often triggered wild magic tohappen) we continued on, the trail having been picked up again by the jar.After some walking we came upon a small tavern, the inside of which was emptysave for a lone barkeep in fancy eveningwear. He offered to give us informationor magic trinkets, and explained that the creature we had encountered, the“Beastmaster” was keeping him trapped. Our whole party was sure it was a trap,with the notable exception of Zareem, who made an agreement to smuggle a blackshard out of the plane in exchange for a magic sword and an axe.

Thoroughly disgusted at our companion, we continued on untilwe came to another clearing. As Zareem dashed across the grass towards a gate,the ground turned into more shambling mounds which proceeded to attack theparty. Midway through the fight, a large bear with a wooden mask lumbered in,attacking the mounds with us. However, once the mounds were destroyed, the bearturned towards us instead. Jemima had already put together that the jarresponding to both the Beastmaster (whose mask looked shockingly likeSilvanus’s) and the Bear (one of Edan’s common wildshape forms) were somehowconnected to Edan’s soul and she was reluctant to fight until being remindedthat druids change back from their wildshape forms after losing all their HP.When the bear finally fell, it morphed back into Edan, before dissolving intodust with a cry of distress, causing part of the jar to light up. This spurredthe party forward, towards the next location. There they ran across Eldonagain, who had followed them into the plane. He was badly wounded butsurrounded by corpses, including one giant spider wearing a wooden mask.Another piece of the jar lit up as Jemima approached it.

Then, Gineye managed to spot something across a nearbylake—on an island in the center, strapped to a cross-like structure, was Edan,or at least his soul. Coming from his body were five tendrils, two of whichwere rapidly dissolving. Using the teleportation that he had gotten from a wildmagic surge, Gineye teleported over to the island and summoned his axe, usingthe soul-collecting power of the axe to free Edan by having him slice off thetendrils. Edan’s soul disappeared, along with the fragments in the jar and theBeastmaster across the lake, but as soon as he’d done that, a massive shapeappeared in the distance. Sensing danger, Gineye returned, driving us all torun with Eldon in tow, back to the portal we’d come through.

The giant creature, which revealed itself to be a Terrasque,chased us all the way to the portal, eventually parking itself right on theother side of the portal but very much within striking range should we try toescape. Then, it revealed itself to be the same person Zareem had made a dealwith--the one who had marked him with the symbol of Vecna—itself an old andpowerful Primordial. It offered to let us pass as long as we kept the guardsbusy enough for it to escape, since the plane was rapidly dissolving around usas the weave unraveled. We agreed, while secretly planning to alert the guardsonce we were through, and escaped through the portal. The dimensional “police”were on hand to help, and drove back the massive claw that came through, butdespite our efforts, a tiny portion of the creature broke off and disappeared.Still, we had what we had journeyed for and after relinquishing the axe to Silvanus,so that he could extract the soul, we nervously awaited the revival itself. Wewere graciously allowed to be present for it, and the process went surprisinglysmoothly for all the trouble we put in. Upon waking up, groggy and disoriented,Edan asked for his bag which Jemima unquestioningly returned. However, insteadof keeping it, he simply took out the wooden box from the month prior andopened it, revealing a deactivated Void card from the Deck of Many Things. Witha glare he turned to Silvanus, telling his father to try harder the next timehe wanted to kill him before storming out of the room (just in time for Gineyeto return from searching the town for a saxophone in order to serenade Jemima’sreunion with the man she was clearly crushing on.) Gineye’s return lead to anembarrassment-fueled brawl, culminating with the party members involved (sansZuradar and Zareem who had left to talk to Jonah again) waking up the next dayin the infirmary.

When the party reunited in the tavern the next day theyfound out about a list of jobs open to them, now that they had been acceptedinto Mantle, the organization based in Sylvenstand. The party was very excitedover an upcoming tournament (though Jemima had her eyes more on the Bardcollege which nobody even looked at twice) but Gineye demanded they go to thecapitol city Paplus first, upon seeing not only the capture of the resistanceleader they’d encountered in Crance, but also a name he recognized—Lord Darius,a man he’d known before we first met up who seemed to be somehow connected tothe scars Gineye hides under a porcelain mask. As we geared up to go, we askedEdan if he wanted to come along, which he agreed to do, as he wanted to get asfar away from Sylvenstand and his family as possible.

The furthest we could travel by portal was to Paplus’sneighboring town StoneHelm, a two day’s walk from Paplus. Once the journey byportal was completed, Edan took his leave, stating he would be taking the jobat the Bards college there, though the party (save for a heartbroken Jemima)were too busy making plans for marching order and cooking arrangements to evennotice. A days walk later, they set up camp, dividing the nighttime watch intoshifts. During the second shift, after Jemima had bedded down for the night atthe end of her watch, a group of drow appeared, demanding Zuradar tell them thename of the halfling in the nearby bedroll, and at her last name ofAppleblossom the drow attacked, easily subduing the sleepy party and cartingthem off.

We awoke in darkness, with our arms and legs bound, with theexception of Zuradar who had been inadvertently untied by his owlbear Pip, andZareem who instead found himself in a nice room as if he’d been invited as aguest instead of kidnapped. It wasn’t long before the drow returned, removingtheir blindfolds and walking them out of their cells to a large central roomwhere they saw Jemima trussed up and suspended over a fire, and a hooded man atthe end of the room. The man demanded Gineye be brought forward and demandedhim to take off his mask or risk Jemima’s life. Grudgingly, Gineye complied andthe man removed his own hood, revealing the face of a man Gineye had worked withbefore during a similar rebellion back in Faerun, Tiberius. Like many of the peoplethey’d met, Tai had found his way to this world as well and joined the currentrebellion due to his own curiosity at how similar it was to the one in theirown world, even down to the blonde lady behaving shockingly like Gineye himselfhad done. A betrayal from within their ranks had gotten her caught by LordDarius’s forces, and the traitor in question happened to be the reason theywere captured in the first place—they were searching for a young halfling manwith the last name of Appleblossom who was known to use polymorph spells withthe aid of an enchanted broom. Alternates again, the party realized as theygrouped back up.

As we had found our way not only to Paplus but the rebellionwe were supposed to aid, we found ourselves tasked with helping them take downsome high-priority targets. Namely, we were sent to investigate a guard house(since trying to talk a gnomish inventor into helping us without copiousviolence was sadly not anywhere close to our forte.) Inside we found no guardsat all, but instead a massive iron golem guarding the place which we wereforced to fight after the attempts to bluff our way past it failed. With sometricky maneuvering (and a hand grenade), Gineye managed to deactivate the golemand we entered the captain’s office. Our suspicions were on high alert when theguard captain’s voice didn’t quite seem to match his body, but before theErinyes possessing him could do anything, Gineye petrified the captain with acrossbow bolt, then shattered the resulting stone form to prevent the Erinyesdoing more harm.

By the time we returned, the other team had safely securedthe inventor who was currently very clearly possessed himself. After a gooddeal of fooling around and failed attempts at exorcism using the Command spell,Lei realized that as a paladin, he could perform the exorcism himself. With theinventor finally free of possession, he demanded we shut down the factory thathad been making the golems and mechanical enforcers for Lord Darius, butinsisted that we not harm Darius when the time comes for he was in fact, a goodman. The revelation that the revenge Gineye sought would be deflected by yetanother Alternate did not go over well.

So, we set off towards the golem factory with Gineye leadingthe charge, revenge still smoldering behind his mask. When we arrived, thefactory seemed deserted, but when the guard dogs that came out of a few nearbykennels turned into hellhounds, and an ice devil dropped in from above, werealized we were in trouble. The battle, though brief, was tough, painful andlikely made worse by the absence of help from Zareem (who spent all of his timeattempting to get one of the hellhounds to trust him in an attempt to keep it.)Meanwhile, the ice devil managed to get inside the mental world Gineye used toconverse with the spirit of his axe and begin to corrupt it, leading to Gineyebeing unable to get back in. In a desperate bid to regain control, he demandedLei kill him, hoping that the soul trapping powers of the axe would give him aback door and a chance to find “Axey” again before his coin revived him. With aheavy heart, Lei and Zuradar complied, using their own weapons to kill theircompanion.

Gineye fell, then disappeared, reappearing shortly afterwardsacross the room, but something was very much different. Instead of the cheerymask he wore, there was a more sinister one with a jagged smile and a sinisterred glow from his eyes. As it had several times before, the axe had taken overGineye’s unconscious body, puppeteering it into using all of its abilities toattack his friends. Hoping to somehow break its control, Lei, Jemima andZuradar threw themselves into combat while Zareem continued to ignore the fightand attempted to gain favor with the hellhound in the corner. Even aftercalling for help, Zareem didn’t join the fight, stopping only to retrieve anice spear that had fallen from the ice devil’s body and throwing it into a furnace,completing the job of destroying the factory that they had been given.

Meanwhile, inside his head, Gineye was locked in a battlewith a being that resembled a corrupted version of the mostly benevolent spirtwho had helped him for the last several weeks. Assuming (probably correctly,though no confirmation has been given on this point) that this was in fact thepower source of the axe, built from the many slaughtered souls trapped insideit, and having corrupted the actual “Axey,” he sought to free her from thecorruption. A few times her consciousness seemed to flicker, as if his attemptswere getting through, but he was running out of ideas. In one last desperate move,he pulled her into a hug, and when that didn’t work, he used the power of theaxe to summon two spears, stabbing them both through her back and into his ownchest, aiming for the coin around his heart.

Back in the real world, the spear tips manifested out ofGineye’s body before they and he vanished again, leaving only the axe behind.The party barricaded the factory and then rested, worried about their friendbut too battered and tired to leave (save Zareem who had done basically nothingthe whole fight.) As they were ending their rest, a figure began to crawl outof the axe nearby, eventually solidifying into Gineye, though mysteriouslywearing the dress his spirit friend had worn. Naturally the team had questionsbut Gineye was evasive and wanted to move on, stopping only to shoo Jemima awayafter noticing that her poking his leg was causing no sensation of touch.

Their mission complete and their party gathered, theyventured forth to return to the rebellion’s hideout, only to find the doorwelded shut and a trail of blood leading them towards the other door and an unconsciousTai. Thankfully his injuries were minimal, but Tai’s story was grim: during thetime they were away, the hideout had been attacked by the robotic enforcersthat Lord Darius was using, but during that time they had made contact with adivination wizard by the name of Monty who was also a transplant from Faerun,one willing to aid them in their cause. Monty had given them a tip, telling thatthe leader of the rebellion was going to be publicly executed the next day, whichhappened to be only hours away now. Together they went to the town square, nowfitted with a gallows and a horde of people gathered to watch the execution.

Something was very much off, however, as the party hid amongthe crowd, waiting for their chance to strike. The man introduced as LordDarius was a far cry older than the man Gineye had known, and something feltvery wrong about the whole scenario. Those feelings were proven right whenGineye was attacked by one of the masked enforcers and the cloak was knockedoff of the “prisoner,” revealing yet another masked enforcer. The crowd ran asour heroes found themselves surrounded by more of the metallic men. Having dispatchedhis own attacker, Gineye used his axe to create a rope and swung over to thebox with the elderly Lord Darius, soon after followed by Lei using his ownmisty step ability to teleport over.

Inside the box, while the old man may have been recognizedas Lord Darius to the crowd, behind him, hidden from the audience, sat a muchyounger man with a stony expression on his face. The same Lord Darius who hadscarred Gineye’s face. Gineye readied one of the many small powder keg grenadeshe owned, but before he could exact his revenge, the two figures flanking theyounger Darius revealed themselves—one, an arch devil and the other, a demonlord. The demon quickly whisked Darius away, while the arch devil took off intothe city, leaving a swath of destruction in his wake. Before long, our heroesfound themselves in the midst of a holy war, with hordes of demonic forcespreviously hidden in the town, rising up to fight an onslaught of paladins, clerics,and other warriors blessed by divine forces.

Flanked by Zuradar, Gineye ran after the arch devil that hadfled from the observation box, but quickly ran into a group of paladins andclerics who were also pursing the same target. Two of the group, marked by thesymbol of the Raven Queen, immediately took offense at Gineye’s existence, callinghim a “filthy undead” as one attempted to smite him with a lightning bolt. AsGineye protested the inhumane treatment (while the gaping hole in his chestproved their accusations correct) a paladin marked with the symbol of “Bob,”the god of slaughter they had met previous, came over and uppercut the one who castthe lightning bolt (said storm cleric looking shockingly like Zareem.) Thepaladin of Bob revealed soon himself to be in fact Grug, released from thepunishment he had been given by Bob, who urged them to leave before somethingworse happened.

The older Lord had been retrieved from the observation boxby the time Gineye and Zareem returned, but as they returned so did the archdevilwho Gineye had failed to catch before. Introducing himself as Bael, he demandedthe old man be turned over. The party refused, attempting to stop him throughcombat, but their efforts proved futile as he simply walked over and took whathe wanted, before disappearing. Through the use of a haste spell and his own paladinskills, Lei was able to track Bael’s movement back to the Lord’s castle, but itwas decided that the party should rest before continuing on. After a short rest(in which Jemima hounded Gineye for a while in regards to his new undeadstatus, one he couldn’t really deny when the gaping hole in his chest magicallypatched itself up) they trooped off to the castle, preparing for a confrontation.

Lord Darius was inside when they entered, Gineye fullyprepared to take him down one-on-one, were it not for the young noble killinghis older counterpart in front of the bard. Remembering the request from thegnome earlier, Gineye used a new spell, revivify, to revive him before whiskingthe old man outside to protect him. Then, as he returned, finally ready for hisrevenge, that moment was stolen from him as a dark shape appeared behind theyoung Darius, taunting the party before snapping his neck and summoning shadowsto attack our heroes. After having fought them once thanks to Grug, the partyknew how to deal with these shadows and the fight was brief, but by the timethey finished the shadowy creature had left, leaving behind the empty husk thatwas once Gineye’s most hated foe.

Gineye was all set to use his magic to revive or preservethe body, but the arrival of a man through a dimensional door stopped him. Itwas Monty, the diviner they’d been told about, who was more than happy to usehis magic to prove that even if Gineye preserved the body, there was no soulleft to revive him. However, Monty was able to speed them along on their waytowards finding the rebellion’s missing leader, as he directed them towards a dungeonarea that his scrying couldn’t see into—which must be the place as he couldfind her nowhere else.

Inside the dungeon lay a maze of traps, pitfalls andsentient doors who kept their rooms locked with riddles. Inside the very last doorin the maze was a set of stairs leading down to a large room, where a strange,sinister ritual was taking place. A number of cultists surrounded summoning circles,two of whom were wreathed in flame, the one in the middle conjuring up a domeof solid darkness. As stealthily as they could, the party slid closer, Gineyemanaging to make it all the way to a door on one side of the room where he cameacross a terrifying sight: the same exact cell in which he had been tortured.

Unleashing the full power of the axe, he demolished the cultistsin a single hail of swords, which left the summoned fire elementals free toattack at will. Again, the fight was short, the most notable event was Jemimadoing her best to attack one of the elementals with the rapier she’d beencarrying all this time—while forgetting that without magical properties to it,the enchanted fire could easily melt it. Rest in peace, rapier, you were loved.Once the fires died down (literally) the team set about investigating the roomand the dome of darkness in the center of the room. Sadly, efforts to dispel itproved fruitless so the party turned their attention towards a mural on thewall, one depicting a multi-segmented circle, each with a crowned creature carvedinside. After close inspection—including noticing that one segment seemed todepict the same tarrasque they had unleashed upon the world previously—the partyguessed the mural was related somehow to the cult they had encountered, worshippingprimordials from the different planes (each of the elementals seemed to bedepicted, along with ones that looked celestial and infernal.) Finally, theygave one last attempt to dispel the dome, finally breaking the spell with awell-placed arrow, but instead of finding the leader inside as they’d hoped,all they saw was a shadowy creature who disappeared in seconds, followed by hermagical cloak which Zareem kept for himself.

As they went to leave, who should they run into but Grug andthe same paladins and clerics from before? Gineye, remembering their reaction tohim, attempted to hide in the stairwell, but the storm cleric (who still lookedshockingly like Zareem) detected him with his own divine sense. As the partyrushed to protect him, Zareem himself squared up, drawing his sword anddemanding that the paladin face him instead. It only took one single mightyblow from the paladin’s mace to instantly kill the already injured Zareem. Therepresentatives of the Raven Queen left, telling the group to keep “theirundead” on a leash, as everyone tried to figure out what to do now. It was thenGineye posed an idea: someone should let him borrow a 3rd levelspell slot. His words were cryptic, but nobody had any third level slots leftafter the long day they’d had, so Gineye lowered it to a second level slot. TentativelyJemima offered him one of her second level slots, and Gineye in responseplunged his hand into his own heart, pulling out an axe and handing it to her,fading into the axe as his mask appeared on her face. From inside her mind, heused her body and magic to cast a spell to preserve Zareem’s body, before the groupset about a much longer rest.

About halfway through their rest, Zareem revived, his coinhaving activated—giving him permanent wings and a new set of powers. Gineye leftJemima’s mind and reformed in the physical world, and after a bit of foolingaround with him trying to mind-hop into Pip the owlbear’s mind that ended withGineye accidentally killing (and immediately reviving) the poor creature, the teamdecided it was time to move on. The war had died down across Paplus, and theirmission was over though at great cost. After delivering the news of the outcometo Tai, the team set off in search of a Gnoll paladin of Silvanus who they weretold had a scroll for them

What they found instead was a mysterious bar—the same barthey had encountered in Lunacy, still run by the extremely shady feeling manwho just so happened to sometimes be the primordial of Earth. Zareem andZuradar both asked to see what goods he was peddling today, leading to Zareemgaining a +1 chain shirt and Zuradar acquiring himself a +2 bow (for only twoof his hit dice, a total “bargain!”). Meanwhile, Jemima found the gnoll seatedat a table and retrieved the scroll from him. The man let them leave afterthat, noticing how uncomfortable the other three were, but with a reminder thatthey could find him if they only looked for him.

Outside the shady bar (which had mysteriously vanishedagain) they discovered that the scroll was a teleportation sigil, but one thatthey weren’t capable of activating. One person however, was, and it took only asingle utterance of Monty’s name for him to appear through a tear in reality,casting the spell that would take them off to the tournament.

After the chaos of a holy war and a rebellion all in thespan of less than a week, the gang was happy to have a chance to settle down andrelax. Once in the tournament building, they had to sign up, either in solo matchesor groups of 2, which lead to Zareem and Zuradar becoming a group (fittinglynamed Heaven and Hell), Lei and Jemima teaming up (as Swords and Chords) andGineye going solo (under the name “The Entirety of France.”) Then, with an hourto prepare, the teams wandered the building, discovering their old friend Jonahhaving set up a merchants stall there. Jemima immediately informed him of theloss of her rapier, relinquishing the melted remains. In return, he gave her asword he’d fashioned from some of the dragon bones she’d given him, a rapierelegantly combining master swordcraft with the sublime beauty of the naturalworld.

Geared up once more, the matches began. Zareem and Zuradarfound themselves heavily outmatched by a pair of orcs. After Zareemaccidentally hit the younger (and far more badly damaged) of the two with acritical hit poison spray, inadvertently killing the orc, the older and moreexperienced orc proceeded to knock both of them out. Jemima and Lei’s roundwent much smoother, against a lizardfolk and a man in a strange leather dusterwho carried what could only be referred to as guns. Despite the strange man’sapparent prowess with his weapons, he managed to score only one hit on Jemimabefore he was knocked unconscious himself, and the Lizardfolk surrendered soonafter.

Gineye’s match however was stranger still. His opponent wasa man who seemed to disappear shortly after the match started, stayinginvisible or hiding behind dust clouds the whole match, but doing significantdamage to Gineye in the process. Finally, angered, Gineye readied a crossbowbolt, striking as soon as he saw the man’s arm clearly. The petrification boltworked perfectly, petrifying the man and winning Gineye the match (though notbefore a contingency spell activated, using lesser restoration on the man whograciously conceded.)

After their match concluded, Gineye left to find his friendsin the infirmary (though only Zuradar and Zareem needed much attention.) In themidst of their conversation, the man he had just fought walked in, joining thediscussion of the fights he had witnessed. He introduced himself as James and extendedan offer to Gineye to meet him for breakfast at a specific tavern the nextmorning. Tired from their battles, the group headed out to an inn to rest. Itwas agreed that Gineye should go to the tavern to meet James the next day (sincethey might be more relaxed if it was just him) while the rest would return tothe tournament location to find out what was going on. The tournament itselfwouldn’t start for two days, and the actual matches were entirely team-based,but since Lei and Jemima both had passed their matches (as well as Gineye) theywere allowed to form a team and invite the two who had failed their matches aswell.

Gineye’s investigation only put him more on edge. Jamesseemed very eager to recruit him away from the others, even offering to “helphim leave” should Gineye need it, in a way that suggested assassination wouldbe involved. He also knew more than he should, particularly about the war inPaplus and how Gineye’s party had come through a portal in Paplus that shouldhave originated north of the town of Tance, the same as another group whoarrived recently (where, unknown to James, the hidden town of Sylvenstand waslocated.) Gineye played along as best he could, mocking his teammates and theirdecisions and offering to send a package later that day that might be useful toJames’ group. However, once he returned, he clearly wasn’t eager to join such ashady group, but instead had Lei send a package over to the tavern—one containingthe Axe Gineye had pulled from his own heart yet again. However, to his dismaynobody actually took the axe while he was there and in fact nobody was home forthe full day, leaving him to sneak out the next night with a pilfered spellbookand a sour mood.

Finally however, the day of the tournament arrived. The gangwas among the first to compete, finding themselves soon in a large arena packedwith thousands of onlookers. In the middle of the arena, a Kenku introducinghimself as Veo Elmwood was acting as the Emcee, introducing first our heroes asthe “NaCl Pain Delivery Service” and their opponents as “The Hands of Nature.” Theparty (and especially Jemima) were pleased to see Edan again, along with hisalternate Ivan, the ranger Alice (whom Zuradar had attempted and failed to seduceback in Sylvenstand) and Leafsong, the Gnoll paladin from earlier.

However, instead of a fighting competition as the party hadexpected, it was instead a series of games and tests of skill, each with a “firstto 3 points” system of one-on-one matches. The actual games were chosen by diceroll, with the first being a drinking contest. Gineye stepped up, certain hecould win with his undead constitution, even against his opponent Ivan, butonce again Ivan’s luck was on his side as he came back with three points toGineye’s two. Next, Jemima found herself face-to-face with Edan in a challengeof pure luck as they rolled dice, each hoping for a higher roll than theiropponent. Right at the last moment, when it looked as though Edan would scoreanother point for his team, Jemima caught a glow around Ivan’s hand for amoment as the dice flipped over onto a natural 1. Finally, it was Lei and Leafsong’sturn, a test of endurance as they were forced to withstand increasingly harderthrown rocks without crying out in pain. In the end however, Lei managed tohold out the longest, scoring another point for our heroes. And as we left themat the end of that session, they were preparing for the next round of combat: atrial by combat, forced by Ivan again using his luck to twist the die to his favor.

And there you are, thirty episodes summarized as best Icould, with deep apologies for not being able to condense it even further. Ihope you enjoy reading it, and feel free to check out our episodes on youtube!

#d&d #dungeons and dragons #dnd #NaCl D&D #i'm so sorry about how long this took #turns out 8900 words takes several days to write #i could have been more succint i'm sure but i didn't want to miss anything #consider this a recap for anyone wanting to catch up?#again i'm sorry for the extreme length XD i'm more wordy than i think #venusvirago

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chickensmoothie-hell · 6 years

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Blog rules/FAQ/Ask & submission rules [for mobile users]

Blog rules, disclaimers and conduct

Disclaimer: The use of this blog is for humorous purposes, with no intention to harm/bully others. Anything posted that features or is against any users on chickensmoothie is not for bullying reasons, and not to call people to bash them. Those posts are to spread awareness, and to prevent others being scammed in this game.

This blog reserves the right to block/blacklist anyone from interacting. We do not allow any disrespectful opinions, but encourage respectful and civil discussions, regardless of where the bearer of the opinion stands. Those who send Replies/submissions/asks/reblog replies that are disrespectful, hateful, and/or rude are in subject of a permanent ban from this blog. If you want to voice your opinion, keep it civil, non insulting, and respectful. Do not turn healthy and friendly debate into a heated one.

This blog does not allow cyber bullying/harassment. Those who send replies/submissions/asks/reblog replies that contain hate, slurs, threats, salt against others are in subject of a permanent ban from this blog.

This blog does not condone to harassment/cyber bulling. The purpose of this blog is for humor, not to send people to harass others. Do not harass anyone that’s on here, even if it’s something against chickensmoothie’s rules. Instead, block and report them on chickensmoothie. This blog is not responsible for your consequences for your actions if you do decide to harass/bully them.

This blog does not allow excessive profanity and slurs. Using profanity to verbally harm/insult others are not tolerated. Some profanity is allowed, as long it’s not used to harm/insult anyone, come off as rude, and not used repeatedly. (As in every sentence)

This blog does not support homophobic, racist, and ableist views. Homophobia is a major issue that’s allowed on chickensmoothie, but any homophobic, racist, ableist comments/content that’s only used to harm others is not allowed on this blog. Posts to warn others about someone who’s homophobic, racist, and/or ableist so they can stay clear of them is allowed, since any homophobic/racist/ableist content should NOT be allowed on a kid’s site.

This blog reserves the right to not post everything that comes in. We can’t have rules for everything, but please use common sense. If we feel something is too strong and controversial, I might privately respond to your submission instead of posting it. If in doubt, check the submission/ask rules and use common sense. I want this blog fun for everybody. c:

FAQ

Q.) Who runs this blog?

A.) I do not disclose who runs this blog, such as my Chickensmoothie username, tumblr user, and any social medias.

Q.) Can I apply for a mod position?

A.) Sorry, it’s not open for these at this time, and probably not in the future :c This blog is managed single handed, and is actually a place to get things off my chest.

Q.) Does OP bite?

A.) Nope! I admit I’m chaotic good, and hate to see kids being scammed. You’re more than welcome to interact, I don’t bite! I go by he/him pronouns, feel free to call me “Chaos”.

Q.) Is there any rules of conduct for this blog?

A.) Please see above, under the heading: “Blog rules, disclaimers, and conduct.” in this post.

Q.) What are the rules for asks/submissions?

A.) See below, at the large heading “Ask/submission rules” in this post.

Q.) Why are you against ninja trading?

A.) Ninja trading is another type of scamming, to take advantage of other players by offering crummy pets to the user’s rarest pets. (For example, a user who doesn’t know that their pet they got on December 18th is a list pet, then another user sends a trade with random rares that doesn’t equal to the list pet to the player. If they player accepts, they got scammed out of their list pet for a bunch of terrible ones.) This commonly occurs to newer players, and this scamming practice is done by players who know what the pet is worth. As for all types of scams: There is no excuse/reasoning that this is okay to do.

Q.) How do I send in a submission about someone scamming/ninja trading? What about anything concerning such as content in their signature or about art theft?

A.) Check here for sending in stuff for scammers and ninja traders: https://chickensmoothie-hell.tumblr.com/post/180539620621/december-18th-2018-is-coming As for art thieves and anything else concerning, see the heading “Ask and submission rules” heading at the bottom of this post.

Q.) Why are you against greedy demand?

A.) Greedy demand is basically driving up the cost of a pet, making players fork over much more rarer pets than what the pet’s value REALLY is. (Example: People are claiming Raven dog is worth a non, but it’s actually not that rare.) Users that practice this on purpose are actually scamming others for their crummy pet to get better pets. Demand does NOT equal rarity. Demand is USER based.

Q.) Are you against hoarding?

A.) My answer has changed for this many times, but I’m okay with hoarding. Even for Rare+ hoards. You might see old posts on this blog that’s different, but that was then. The only time I’m against hoarding is if someone is trying to hoard list and store list pets in order to remove them from the economy, and to purposely use greedy demand if they wish to trade one away. If you hoard store pets, go for it! If you like the pet because of it’s design, go for it! If you hoard ex-lists, go for it! If you wanna hoard for fun, go for it! <3 I actually do hoards, and I even recently started hoarding the 2019 store deer! It’s fun and a challenge. In shorter terms, just don’t purposely hoard with the intent to purposely kill the pet’s value by slapping your greedy demand on it. But hoarding for fun or just simply you love the pet? Go for it! <3

Ask and submission rules

To have your ask/submission posted, you MUST follow these guidelines:

- Submissions must be tagged accordingly. If you don’t know what to tag, tag it in these three tags: chickensmoothie, chicken smoothie, submission. - No threats like killing, telling to kill themselves, harm, etc… - No slurs. (Profanity IS allowed, as long you’re not saying it every sentence and using it to insult others.) - No using your opinion to harm/insult others. This is considered salt, and I don’t allow anything like this. - When calling out a scammer/ninja trader, proof is required. Include the following when making a post: * Link(s) to trade(s) and screenshot(s) of the trade(s) that includes the trade message. * Make sure to provide the scammer’s/ninja trader’s account #ID, since usernames can be changed easily. * (I know I have some posts reblogged without it, these are speculations and they were posted from a LONG time ago when I started this blog. If you can’t post proof, simply explain what’s going on and I can try to dig some proof. If I cannot find any proof, I will privately respond.)

- When calling out an art thief, include the following: * Screenshots of the stolen work and the original works. * Usernames of the art thief and the user(s) they’re stealing from. * Include the art thief's account #ID and username.

- *NEW* Any posts of touchy subjects to spark debate, such as politics, prolife vs prochoice, religion, and any other controversial subjects are not allowed. However, if you do see a user who is explicitly showing anything concerning on their profile/sig, you may submit it. Chickensmoothie is a kid’s site, and having anything homophobic, hatred and political shouldn’t be there. (It’s my personal opinion, I honestly use CS to get away from reality. My country sucks currently and it drives my anxiety up the wall) In other words, calling out users for having that stuff is okay, BUT don’t try and start a debate on this blog or with me. For the sake of this blog, I’m politically neutral. - *NEW* It’s okay to have an opposing opinion, but do not abuse it to insult others and to disrespect. You do have a right to Freedom of speech, but it does not protect you from any consequences if you use your opinion to harm others. I actually enjoy civil and friendly discussions, but heated debates are not allowed on this blog. It’s okay to not like something, not everyone likes everything. <3 If in doubt, just ignore. Other than that, you’re welcome to voice your opinion! Keep in mind that I will stay neutral for the sake of this blog.

—-Other disclaimers—-

- This blog was originally to take things off my chest, but now it’s a humor blog to showcase the oddest posts on chickensmoothie, and to warn anyone on any scammers and ninja traders, to even art thieves. -

- Please do not ask for my chickensmoothie username, this is for my protection, since anything can happen on the internet. -

- Disrespectful opinions/attacks against this blog and their posts are not tolerated. I try to keep an open mind when it comes to things. -

- This blog reserves the right to not answer/post any asks/submissions that is felt too extreme. Any asks/submissions just to cyberbully others is not accepted. -

- This blog has the right to block/blacklist anyone that breaks these rules, even if it’s in the form of replying/reblog replies. -

#blog rules and conduct #FAQ #ask and submission rules

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skepticraven · 6 years

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15 Reasons Not To Be a Christian

It's sad that this has to be said but it does because unfortunately, too many people take disagreement as hostility. At least if its an atheist who is doing the disagreement. I do not hate Christians. I don’t think they are all bad people. I harbor no ill will towards them. I just happen to think they are wrong. I get asked why I’m not a Christian a lot so I thought I’d answer the question. I could probably write a small novel on this but this seems like a good start for now.

1) The concept of Christianity is entirely based on the Bible. We have no original manuscript for it so you have no idea what it said originally. The oldest version we have of the Bible isn’t even in the language that would have been spoken in that part of the middle east and in that time period.

2) The Bible was supposedly written by a lot of carpenters, shepherds, farmers, fishermen, and similar types of professions. Such people would have been totally illiterate during that time period.

3) Based on the date that the original Bible was supposedly written, the Book spent over a 1000 years being copied, translated, and intentionally altered by hand until the printing press came about in the mid-1400's. You couldn't copy it once without making some error accidentally and it was handled entirely by powerful men with plenty of reason to alter it for personal gain. Churchgoers were often illiterate until the past couple hundred years and mass was given in Latin on top of it back then. So most people would be none the wiser if something had been altered. In fact, we know for sure the Bible has been intentionally altered numerous times. There are literally hundreds of versions of the Bible just in English and thousands of sects of Christianity. 50+ Books were either left out of the Bible or later excluded (some were excluded by Martin Luther and some by Pope Clement VIII). If Christians can’t even get their story straight, why in the hell should I believe it?

4) The Bible plagiarized stories from numerous pre-existing religions: both monotheistic and polytheistic. For example, the Persian scriptures of the Zoroastrians tell the story of how their god created the world and the first 2 humans in 6 days and then rested on the 7th. The names of these two human beings. Sound familiar? The Zoroastrians also invented the concept of heaven and hell and their art portrays the prophet Zarathustra as being surrounded by the same halo of light in which Christian figures are often depicted. Zarathustra even looks like Jesus before they white-washed Jesus. Chapter 125 of the Egyptian Book of the Dead is the same as the 10 commandments only written in negative confession. The story of the great flood was stolen from The Epic of Gilgamesh- right down to using birds to find dry land and the fact that the boat landed on a mountain.

5) I find it morally contemptible that the Biblically conceived God supposedly gives you enough free will to hang yourself with so that is not really free at all. Love him or burn forever? They'd call that abuse if he were human. And if Christianity is so true, why must they drill it into the heads of children before they have the capacity for critical thought? Its easier to get people to accept extraordinary claims as children. That's just brainwashing 101.

6) I find it morally contemptible that the Biblically conceived God supposedly committed an act of genocide against all firstborn Egyptian sons because he was mad at one guy (the Pharaoh). The whole point of the Pharaoh is that he alone controlled Egypt and why could this God character have not just unilaterally eliminated him with a bolt of lightning? Instead, Christians believe he murdered a bunch of random people and children who had nothing to do with the decision to keep or free the Jews. But then again, Christians also believe this God murdered the entire fucking world in a flood because our "free" will became a pain in the ass. Not just people but also animals. I guess those giraffes were really acting up!

7) The Bible has dozens of current versions and resulted in hundreds of sects of Christianity with wildly varying beliefs. So if they can't agree on what it says, why should anyone else believe it?

8) Most Christians believe in the Christian god because they were born in a country where Christianity is the dominant religion. Most people in India are Hindu because they were born into it too. And the same with Muslims in Iraq. And so on and so forth. If there was any divine truth to Christianity over any other faith, why don’t we see more conversion? Why aren’t non-Christians flocking in? Because it sounds absurd to anyone who hasn’t had this stuff drilled into their heads for their entire life.

9)If you read the Bible, there is actually some pretty sick shit in it besides just the aforementioned genocide. The whole idea of the Bible is that it is supposed to be the divinely inspired word of god. I don’t know why God couldn’t just write his own book but supposedly he told his prophets what he wanted to be written. So if that is true, God is not an entity deserving of my praise or respect. Here are examples of this contemptible god character condoning sexual slavery: In Numbers 31:17-18, Moses commands his people to kill the men, the children, and any women who aren't virgins. Then tells his people that they may KEEP any woman or girl who is a virgin for themselves. Then in, (Deuteronomy 21:10-14) Moses spells out a ritual to purify a captive virgin before sex. Then in (Leviticus 19:20-22), The Bible tells you that if you bang a slave while engaged to another woman, that you must beat the slave girl and sacrifice a sheep.

10) Either the Bible is bullshit or god sanctions sexism repeatedly. For example: 1 Timothy 2:12, "I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man, she must be silent." 1 Corinthians 14:34-35: “Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience as also saith the law.” Colossians 3:18: "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord." Deuteronomy 22:20-21 "If however the charge is true and no proof of the girl’s virginity can be found, she shall be brought to the door of her father’s house and there the men of her town shall stone her to death…” Leviticus 15:19-30 I’m paraphrasing here but it basically says, menstruating women are unclean. Anyone or anything that touches she is unclean.

11) This God character in the Bible also sanctions physical slavery many, many times, not just sexual slavery. Here are a few examples: Ephesians 6:5, "Slaves obey your earthly masters with deep fear and respect." Colossians 3:22: "Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything you do. Try to please them all the time, not just when they are watching you. Serve them sincerely because of your reverent fear of the Lord."

12) Either the Bible is bullshit or the God character in the Bible sanctions murder many, many times.: (Numbers 16:41-49) In this verse, the Israelites complain that God is killing too many of them. So, God sends a plague that kills 14,000 more of them. (Deuteronomy 17:12) says to kill people who don't listen to priests (Exodus 22:17) Kill witches. (Leviticus 20:13)Kill gays. (Leviticus 20:27) Kill Fortunetellers. (Exodus 21:15) Kill someone who hit a parent. (Proverbs 20:20) and (Leviticus 20:9) Kill people for cursing their parents. (Leviticus 20:10) Kill adulterers (Leviticus 21:9) Kill a priest’s daughter who has sex. (Exodus 22:19) & (Numbers 25:1-9) Kill people of other religions. (2 Chronicles 15:12-13) Kill Nonbelievers (Deuteronomy 13:13-19) Kill the Entire Town if One Person Worships Another God (Deuteronomy 22:20-21) Kill Women Who Are Not Virgins On Their Wedding Night (Leviticus 24:10-16) Kill Blasphemers (Exodus 31:12-15) Kill people who work on the Sabbath (Isaiah 14:21) & (Leviticus 26:21-22) Kill the children of Sinners That’s not even a complete list and it leaves essentially no one alive.

13) God is supposed to be this big divine being who created an entire universe full of billions upon billions of planets and stars. And yet the Bible claims he cares an awful lot about incredibly petty, stupid human things. Here are a few of his downright stupid rules. Don't get a tattoo or a piercing. (Leviticus 19:28) Don't eat Shellfish. (Leviticus 11:10) Don't cut the hair at the sides of your head or clip off the edges of your beard. (Leviticus 19:27) Don't get divorced. (Luke 16:18) Don't wear cloth of blended fabrics. (Leviticus 19:19) Don't eat pork. (Leviticus 11:8) Don't work on Sundays. (31:14-15) Don't have pre-marital sex. (Deuteronomy 22: 20-21)

14) The Bible contradicts itself all over the place. If the Bible doesn't have any consistency, why would anyone believe it? Again, there are way more examples than I can list here. STATEMENT 1: Genesis 1:26-27 Adam and Eve were created at the same time. CONTRADICTION 1: Genesis 2:7 and 2:21-22 Adam was created first, woman sometime later. STATEMENT 2: Genesis 1:24-27 Animals were created before Adam. CONTRADICTION 2: Genesis 2:7 and 2:19 Animals were created after Adam. STATEMENT 3: Genesis 1:31 God was pleased with his creation. CONTRADICTION 3: Genesis 6:5-6 God was not pleased with his creation. STATEMENT 4: Exodus 20:13 "Thou shalt not kill." CONTRADICTION 4: Look back at #12. I listed a bunch of people the Bible says to kill STATEMENT 5: Genesis 6:19 "And of every living thing of all flesh, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark." CONTRADICTION 5: Genesis 7:2 "Of every clean beast thou shalt take to thee by sevens: and of beasts that are not clean by two.

15) There is simply is no evidence for any god, much less the Christian god. In fact, there is some scientific evidence that debunks biblical stories. Here are a few examples. Darwinian evolution debunks the idea that animals or people were created as they are today. We have archeological evidence of human beings existing long before humans were supposedly created according to the Bible. There is no geologic evidence of a worldwide flood. And even in theory, how did kangaroos get to this ark from Australia? Fly? Millions of species couldn’t have gotten to the ark if they tried. There are an estimated 6.5 million land animal species. That's just land animals. If all this flood water was salt water, it would have killed all the freshwater animals (or vice versa) so Noah would have had to include either all saltwater or all freshwater animals as well. And some species need shallow water to survive so that becomes a problem with a flood that reached the tops of mountains. There is no fucking way all those animals fit on any boat, much less one with the dimensions described in the Bible. Besides, there just is not enough water around to account for the water levels rising above the highest mountaintop. Then Noah supposedly lived to be 950? lol. Come on. People had significantly shorter lifespans in ancient times than they do today for obvious reasons. Only 0.0173% of Americans live to be 100 with the benefits of modern medicine and sanitation.

Conclusion: I reject Christianity because it does not make sense to me. It's not a phase. It's not teenage rebellion that has stretched into adulthood. It’s definitely not devil worship since I don’t believe in him either. This is just the conclusion I came to after careful contemplation. Nothing more. Nothing less. Hopefully, this was food for thought for someone. As always, I appreciate feedback and thanks for reading!

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dumbbelle · 7 years

Text

robber!Minghao

In the end, Chan’s the one who says it best: “So… What you’re telling me is that you broke into Y/N’s house to steal a painting, and walked out having stolen their heart instead?”

Seokmin raises his hand for a high five. “Smooth man, smooth.”

Minghao Robin Hoods the frick outta his life, and quite literally bumps into you in the process.

✄ Word Count: 3402 ✄ T/W: Swearing, attempted robbery, cute shit ✄ A/N: Heyo it’s Belle, I’m back with something that nobody asked for but I thought was necessary.

Masterlist

Contrary to what his best friend and roommate says, Xu Minghao insists that he’s a decent person.

(“And Mingyu can go fuck himself with his morals, the asshole’s the most notorious bootlegger you’ll find on campus”)

But honest, Minghao is a simple college boy.

He came to Pledis University when he was 18 as an international student, double majoring in Visual Arts, and Korean Language and Culture.

He’s there mostly on scholarship but he also has financial support from his parents, so he’s never really had to worry about his economic status.

He’s not the most social of kids but he’s also not the most introverted, so he always has just enough friends and just enough parties to attend as to not get bored.

But he gets bored anyway, because he’s always been an active child itching to do more.

So really, this whole mess started when he decides that he should pick up his old hobby:

Breakdancing

It’s mostly just a passing thought that comes to him when he comes back home for holiday and rewatches a VHR tape of an old b-boying competition.

But it lingers and every once in awhile he considers the possibility of him just quitting school and becoming a b-boy star like he once dreamed of.

After all, he was pretty damn good.

(He accidentally thinks this out loud during dinner and his mother throws her chopsticks at him)

Anyway, he returns to college for the new year and he’s almost completely forgotten about his old dreams.

Luckily enough (or maybe unluckily enough, depending on the perspective), there is a campus b-boy squad that he happens to stumble upon during his second-year clubs fair (as in, they barrelled into him with a flier and bombarded him with questions).

To be truthful, it seems pretty lame and Minghao’s sure that if he went underground, he could probably find a cooler scene,,,

But also, they said that there would be snacks at the interest meeting,,,

And so he makes the considerate decision to attend.

The interest meeting is where he meets Seokmin of all people.

The acting major makes a scene when he announces that he’s not there as Lee Seokmin but as Kang Hajoon, a lower-class high school drop out who finds his way through the power of breakdance.

(“Nobody knew who you were in the first place, dipshit–“

“–I said to call me Hajoon–“

“–Just sit down.”)

And people are snickering at Seokmin because they find his method acting lame.

But Minghao finds that lame so he proceeds to sit down right beside the boy and stare daggers at any jerk who directs a snide comment their way.

He hangs around just long enough so that he can decimate the rest in a b-boy demonstration, pretty much showing them all what they’re going to miss out on.

And then he gets up and leaves the meeting, Seokmin following behind him.

They grab some chips on their way out and properly introduce themselves.

“Hey sorry about all of that in there, Seo- uh, Hajoon. B-boyers usually aren’t assholes… Just them. Don’t let that bleed into your portrayal, you feel? I’m Minghao, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m over it. Thanks for what you did back there... It’s nice to meet you too. And you can call me Seokmin now, I’m done with Hajoon for the day.”

Which starts an odd, but well-oiled friendship.

Seokmin introduces Minghao to all of his friends, and that’s how Minghao ends up with an incredibly,, diverse,, friend group.

And by diverse, he means that he’s positive his friendship with them will likely result with him going to jail.

He should’ve realized it when the de facto leader Seungcheol introduced himself as “S.Coups” and made him sign a waiver of liability before joining the group.

It was scribbled on to the back of a receipt but yeah, it should’ve been a little concerning

But Minghao just kinda rolls with it.

And this is how he finds himself inducted into their so-called “League of Good Doers Doing Not So Good Doer Things”.

It’s a working title; LoGDDNSGDT for short.

(“What do you do, Seokmin?”

“I’m a recruiter!”

“… That’s fair.”)

It takes him a few months to solidify his role in the group (he’s the last to join), but in that time he manages to become especially good friends with Mingyu, so much so that he becomes his roommate.

Mingyu’s known for using his technical abilities to bootleg high quality concert footage, videos, textbooks, and whatever else you need.

(“We’re all just a bunch of broke college students with a bunch of broke college student needs. We’re just making those needs realities.”)

Also alcohol, he sells a lot of alcohol.

And though Minghao initially scoffs at this, it also makes him check his privilege a little

He’s always been fortunate enough to grow up with money and be smart, free to do whatever he wants when he wants.

Growing up, he’s had a lot of interests and a lot of phases, all of which he more than excelled in.

Gosh, there was even that one ninja phase…

THE NINJA PHASE

He’s eating a brownie that’s probably been laced with weed one Friday night as he watches tv with Mingyu and Seokmin when he remembers the ninja phase.

He remembers how stealthy he is and just how good he is at picking locks.

And so he decides to Robin Hood the frick outta his life, robbing the expensive belongings from the richer students and pawning their items off so he can donate to the poor.

He excels at this too, much to Mingyu’s chagrin (“the kid’s just fuckin’ good at everything!”)

It definitely alleviates him of his boredom, and he’s so subtle and precise with it that most of the time, people don’t even notice when things are missing.

He’s become some kind of town legend, and so many people idolize this mysterious robber that the authorities aren’t even too concerned.

He’s also somehow acquired this odd nickname?? The8?? They say it’s because you never know how his crimes begin or how they’ll end.

Like the only thing anybody knows about his victims is that they’ll be wealthy (but gosh, Pledis U has too many of those roaming the place),,,, but then next thing you know the underfunded art department will suddenly get a donation of a few thousand, or the Culture Club food drive will find a gazillion non-perishable cans when they come back the next morning.

Minghao likes to think he's spontaneous.

Now this is where you come in (“finally,” I can hear you sigh from behind your screens)

Unlike everyone else around you, you do not have the biggest crush on this mysterious figure.

(“Just for the record, ‘The8’ is literally the dumbest robber alias I have ever heard.”

“How many have you heard before?”

“Not. The. Point.”)

All he does is go around and undermine people’s hard work, invading their personal space and infringing on their privacy.

All so that he can make a quick buck.

And sure, maybe he’s not spending all that money on himself, but to make students feel unsafe and unprotected in their own freaking homes and dorms?

And to have nobody do anything about it?

Absurd.

It becomes such a constant source of ire for you that you rant about this almost daily.

But it’s like you’re the only one who understands the gravity of the situation.

Your closest friends are all about this guy, singing his praises and commending his selflessness.

Your junior, Chan, is particularly adamant about the quality of his character (you have no idea about his involvement with the LoGDDNSGDT, of course; after all, he also had to sign the receipt contract).

So you’re a party of 1 in the Anti-The-8 Movement.

He’s three months into it when he makes a rather stupid mistake:

He decides to rob you.

Minghao will later complain that anybody could’ve gotten the wrong idea.

He sees you for the first time in his Korean History class.

He doesn’t exactly know how he missed you before.

First of all, you’re fucking gorgeous

First of all, there is a certain air that you carry yourself with–

It’s poised and self-assured and kind of breathtaking.

You raise your hand to read a passage and even the way you speak is levelled and controlled.

You remind him of royalty some of the other wealthy kids on campus.

Probably trained to uphold a certain degree of eloquence so that you can one day take over your parents’ company and maintain good business relationships.

And socialize at those hoity-toity parties with the little hors d'oeuvres.

His thoughts are confirmed after class when he overhears you talk with your friends.

You’re asking your friend to take notes in place for you when you go off to vacation with your family next week.

“Heading off to the island?” Your one friend chirps.

“Yeah, dad just finished a successful case and we’re celebrating.”

And wait, an island? These guys must be fucking loaded.

Your friend lets your name slip and it’s all starting to make a lot more sense.

Now he’s heard of your name around campus.

Your parents are lawyers who built an empire, opening up law firms around the country.

They’re known for being ruthless and never sharing their wealth.

In short, they’re prime targets!!

Minghao feels like it’s Christmas– this will be his biggest catch since that one kid who was the heir to the electric toothbrush company.

He trails you and your friends for a few minutes just to confirm the details and then he’s off to plan.

Fast forward a week later to when you should be going off to vacation.

But instead you come down with the stomach flu, and not a pretty one either.

You experience the full range of systems:

Vomit, fever, dizziness, fatigue,,, There’s no way your parents are letting you tag along on the trip.

And you’re too busy vomiting to argue.

So they ditch your ass and head off to vacation by themselves, once you assure them that you’ll be fine on your own.

After all, you are a certified GDI who can take care of yourself.

… Who just so happens to be dressed up in a onesie, cuddling a large teddy bear as you watch Netflix from your nest of pillows on the couch.

You’ve scrolling through your recommended feed when you hear it:

The door opening

And you have to wonder if the vacation ended early because who else… Would…

You gasp when you realize what’s going on, rushing to turn off the television as to eliminate all sources of sound.

All your nightmares are coming true, and you haven’t even fully developed a game plan to approach this awful situation.

Now you’re not dumb, you’re not gonna run headfirst into a situation where you don’t have the upper hand.

Instead, you’ll hide and discreetly notify the authorities when you activate the alarm system.

And so no, you’re not dumb,,

But you are clumsy.

You’re trying to navigate your way to your bedroom, remote in hand as a backup weapon, checking over your shoulder at every possible moment.

Perhaps you’re checking over your shoulder a little too much, because next thing you know you’ve crashed into a wall.

Except the wall moves and you know that it’s definitely not a wall.

The wall makes a sound, a little grunt and you snap your head back around so quickly, you think you hear the whip of the wind.

The man in front of you is tall and skinny, and seems oddly familiar even with his ski mask on.

You don’t have too much time to contemplate this however , as you’re too busy trying to whack the heck outta him with your remote.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU ASSBUCKET.”

It's all just too much, and you're surprised you haven't shat your pants because of how scared you are.

But,,,, The8 is kinda just taking it??? He's trying to block you of course (and mostly succeeding to, the jerk) but he's not trying to fight back. What kind of shitty robber…?

You're c o n f u s e d, which is why you stop to look up at him expectantly.

“You done?” His voice incites a whole new wave of panic to wash over you, and you raise your remote to start hitting him again but The8 quickly raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey now, I'm not here to hurt you.”

You're skeptical, of course you are. But you think back to all the gossip you’ve heard about The8, and realize that you can’t recall any accounts of violence.

This doesn't change the fact that this asshole is robbing you, so you use the remote to gesture towards his ski mask.

“Take it off.”

And he sighs, as if it's inevitable, but holds up a finger and starts to negotiate,,,, as if he has any right to in this current situation,,, and gosh, how is he so damn calm right now??

“Okay, but if I do, promise you won’t call the cops immediately.”

You don't know why you agree to his terms– you're sure it won't make a difference.

He’ll get the cops called on him sooner or later.

But if it gets him to cooperate… You agree with a swift dip of your head.

The tension in the room is palpable, and you have to remind yourself to breathe as he starts to take off his mask.

And oh fuck you know who it is you know who it is you know who it is.

You recognize him immediately as the cute guy in your Korean History class, the one you've had a crush on since forever and a half ago.

The one that's always hanging out with that group of loud kids…Chan's Precious Seniors

And somewhere in your subconscious, you're freaking out about the possibility of Chan being involved in a crime syndicate.

And further freaking out about how you’ve confided in Chan about your crush in Xu Minghao, who just so happens to be The8 and holy fuck you can’t believe it’s him.

You really don’t have much time to dwell, because the shock and overexertion of the situation starts gets to you, and you’re starting to feel dizzy. It’s like the fever finally catches up to you–

And then you’re falling, fainting–

The last thing you hear before you pass out is the startled cry of your name.

…

You wake up to the smell of broth, and the feeling of a damp cloth pressed to the top of your forehead.

Your headache is devastating, but you’re otherwise positioned comfortably

It takes you a minute to process that you’re back on your living room couch, low hum of the television sounding from somewhere to your right

You try to locate the smell of broth, which is when you meet eye-to-eye with a very timid looking Minghao

He’s more tense than earlier, as if he’s scared you’ll jump up right then and there to attack him

And you would, honest, but the broth,,, smells,,, so,,, good,,,

You motion for him to give it to you and he relaxes before quickly complying, letting you sit up before gently placing the bowl in your hands.

He settles into a stool beside you– one that definitely wasn’t there before, but it’s whatever.

You sit there in silence for a good couple of minutes, Minghao watching the drama playing on TV as you drink your broth.

It’s kinda nice

Minghao’s the first one to speak.

“Please don’t exert yourself like that if you’re sick. You could’ve had a heart attack or something.”

He sounds so small that you just manage to resist throwing the rest of the hot soup at him in the sudden bubble of anger that erupts from you in the form of a hiss.

“Um, my memory might be wrong here but wasn’t it you who broke into my house in the first place, assbucket?”

He chuckles at that, and you’re slowly losing that sliver of self-restraint.

“Assbucket, that’s a new one.” You notice that his accent is more prominent when he’s amused.

“You deserve worse, you assbucket.”

At that he really laughs, and you have to look away to distract yourself from how attractive the sound is.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

You’re not sure what to say to that, and Minghao can tell. He quickly changes tact.

“Listen, I get why you’re mad.” Oh, now wouldn’t that be the understatement of the year.

“But I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I-I won’t even steal anything from here anymore. But please, please don’t make yourself more sick because of me.”

And man, fuck Minghao for making it damn near impossible to call the police on his ass. You don’t say anything more until you finish up your broth.

“Why… Why do you do it?”

Minghao shrugs. “Just because.”

“Just because? You’re violating my home, Minghao. This is my private space, and you’re infringing upon it without my consent.”

Minghao furrows his eyebrows, as if he’s never considered it before. And God, why did it have to be him?

Minghao finally hums. “Would you miss it?”

W-wha… “Huh?”

Minghao nods towards an abstract modernist piece that hangs high up on your wall. “Would you miss it?”

Your silence is more than enough to answer his question.

“But I’m sorry, you know. I truly wouldn’t have come around if I was aware you’d be home. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“. . . Minghao, that’s creepy. Don’t do that. Besides, how do you know my name?”

“How do you know mine?”

The fucker. You blush, shrugging and dropping the subject completely. You’re avoiding his eyes so much that you miss the fond smile on his lips. He’s about to say something when a phone sounds. You realize it’s coming from Minghao’s pocket and watch as he takes it out, curious.

Minghao checks his phone and immediately scowls, closing his eyes in what seems like exasperation.

“I… I have to go, so sorry. My roommate just did something unbelievably stupid because he’s unbelievably stupid.”

You refrain from asking; you really don’t wanna know.

“Will you be alright by yourself? I’m worried… I’ll try to stay longer if you don’t think you will… I mean, if you want. Or I can call someone to come or–”

Where was this bashful kid an hour ago? For the first time that evening, you let out a small smile. He sees it and is stunned, momentarily blinded by your beauty.

“I’ll be fine Minghao, go help your roommate.”

He nods, getting up to leave, but not before taking your phone from the coffee table. He holds it out so that you can unlock it, and you do, though the question hangs in your eyes.

“I-I’m not taking it, just wanted to give you my phone number. In case you start to feel worse. Call me or don’t... It’s whatever.”

And so you do.

...

Bonus:

Three months later, you’re recounting the tale to the rest of the boys during one of their weekly movie nights. (You don’t dare touch the brownies, Minghao tells you they’re fucked.)

In the end, Chan’s the one who says it best: “So… What you’re telling me is that you broke into Y/N’s house to steal a painting, and walked out having stolen their heart instead?”

Seokmin raises his hand for a high five. “Smooth man, smooth.”

Your boyfriend ignores it, though Seokmin stubbornly keeps his hand up and waits for anyone to complete the exchange. You tap your palm against his in pity.

“Actually,” Minghao starts, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “I would say Y/N is the one who stole my heart instead. Just had to fall straight into my arms like that… A true master of seduction.”

You giggle, turning your head to peck his lips. The boys groan, losing interest in your story and turning back towards the movie.

From somewhere in the corner, you hear Mingyu fake a gag.

(Perhaps it’s the brownies, you can’t really tell.)

Masterlist

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

Cerebus #14 (1980)

This is what happens to Cerebus because he still hasn't taken my advice to stab everybody he meets before they become a huge annoyance.

I'm not suggesting everybody stab everybody they meet so that they'll never have to deal with any non-stabbing drama because then everybody I meet would be trying to stab me. That sounds like a bad social contract. A good social contract is to not talk to anybody at all in public unless they work in the service industry and also maybe don't make such aggressive eye contact with people on the street? I'm just trying to get from Point A to Point B with as little human contact as possible. I wouldn't mind interacting with people except for one huge problem: most people are way more terrible than they realize. And the more enthusiastic and social a person is, the more likely that they're the real life version of Red Sophia or Elrod. On a similar note, I really love this thing where we're all wearing masks. Now if we can just develop a virus that spreads through eye contact so we're all forced to constantly wear dark glasses, I'll be pretty fucking happy about the state of the world. I mean I'd be happy with the state of the world in regards to what I have to deal with when I go outside (which is people trying to talk to me and looking into my eyes). I don't mean I'd be overall happy with the state of the world which is fucking terrible because a bunch of assholes think teenagers telling them they can't say retard on the Internet is worse than Donald Trump and the GOP's self-serving style of governing where they think taxes shouldn't be used to make the country better but should just go back into the pockets of corporations and Wall Street pricks and other politicians and the already extremely wealthy. Also, a lot of centrist Democrats think the same way. They're only more acceptable because they mostly aren't racist, sexist homophobes. Now that all the snowflakes have stopped reading and went to hug their guns in consolation of my mean Internet words, I can get to the review. In "A Note from the Publisher," Deni claims this is the funniest issue of Cerebus to date. Since it's Cerebus' first visit to Palnu, I'm not even questioning her claim. It's almost certainly true. Dave Sim's Swords of Cerebus essay is a textual stroking of Prince Valiant creator Hal Foster's dick. Sim's mostly talking about Foster's art style but he obviously decided to mimic some of Foster's story telling style as well. See, Prince Valiant was a continuous story that ran (or has run? Is it still going by his son or grandson or something?) for decades, a story which chronicled the life of Prince Valiant and, eventually, his children. Cerebus is a comic book that didn't run for as long but whose continuing story was easier to follow and had a drunk aardvark as the main character. So there are some similarities there, right? This was also the first issue of Cerebus after going to a monthly schedule. Dave Sim would now have to do 300 issues instead of the 150-something he had been planning. Ha ha! Sucker.

This would have been a most opportune time for Cerebus to start his stabbing people upon meeting them practice.

I knew at some point I was going to have to admit this so I might as well begin with it: I don't think I've ever sat through an entire Marx Brothers movie. It's possible I have but I just don't really remember because it happened so long ago. But I need to also reveal this: I loved Groucho Marx as a kid. I've revealed before that I had a grandfather fetish as a child. I loved hanging out with old men and I loved watching old men on television. Going in Style was one of my favorite movies and I simply adored Art Carney. I also loved The Shining because it was about a young kid who got to hang out with one of my other favorite older guys, Scatman Crothers. Groucho Marx in You Bet Your Life fit into the old guy category. I don't think he was as old as the oldest men I loved but, as a young kid, he certainly seemed ancient. I think the duck that dropped down when somebody said the secret word helped a lot. But I would watch reruns of You Bet Your Life whenever I found them on television because it was like hanging out with an old man, my favorite pastime from around four to ten or so. As for Groucho's movies? I've definitely watched parts of some of them as I stumbled on them on television and realized he was in it. But I've never made the effort to start one from the beginning and watch it all the way through. I should probably rectify that. Cerebus has wound up in Palnu thanks to a short diversion in a comic strip that appeared in The Comic Buyers Guide. He wound up marooned on an island with Lord Julius' son, Lord Silverspoon. Upon being rescued, Lord Julius decided to reward Cerebus for saving his son. I don't have the issue of Swords of Cerebus with that story so I can't comment on how annoying Lord Silverspoon almost certainly was. Cerebus' reward is to be put in charge of Lord Julius' security forces and granted the title of "Kitchen Staff Supervisor." It doesn't make any sense because Lord Julius invented bureaucracy. He realized the only thing that can really keep a leader safe is to make sure that nobody else knows what the fuck is going on.

Oh, see? I suppose I could have just read a few more panels and realized Lord Julius explains it himself.

As Kitchen Staff Supervisor, Cerebus' job is to keep assassins from assassinating Lord Julius. Aside from that, he was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted. Unless he only thought he was free to do whatever he wanted and whatever he wanted was whatever Lord Julius was manipulating him into wanting. Lord Julius is a master of getting people to accidentally do the thing they didn't think they would ever do that Lord Julius also didn't want them to do but actually secretly did want them to do. Basically anybody who has recently spoken with Lord Julius is actively doing Lord Julius' bidding, whether they know it or not. For some reason, Cerebus decides to take on the role of Kitchen Staff Supervisor even though it's the most boring thing he's ever done in his life. At least it's entertaining for the reader because nearly every line out of Lord Julius' mouth is a solid gag. And since I haven't really seen any of Groucho's movies, I can't say how many of the gags were stolen outright! I have to assume it's all new material and only Groucho Marx parody. Some people, in an attempt to never be fooled by anybody, never believe anything at all. I am not one of those people. I believe everything I hear until somebody slaps me and yells, "How can you believe that obviously falsified tripe, you fucking moron?!" Assassins try to poison Lord Julius and Cerebus tracks them down to an underground group trying to free the city from the clutches of Lord Julius. When the assassin, Cerebus, and Lord Julius wind up in the same place, Cerebus outs himself as a spineless centrist.

The Centrist loves to believe that not taking sides is the only logical conclusion to any matter that doesn't seem to immediately affect their lives.

Some people are probably wondering how that previous caption is a negative criticism. "Um, yeah. Seems about right. If it doesn't affect me, why should I offer up an opinion!" And yet when a situation exists where one side is full of abusive and manipulative people controlling the reins of power and the economic purse strings of the country and the other side is being bullied, cheated, and abused by that side, not taking a side is siding with the powerful and the abusive. Even if your life hasn't been affected. Of course, Cerebus doesn't need to take a side here. I mean, he does take a side: he sides with the people who have all the money. But he doesn't really care is the point. You'll see he retains this philosophy of rich people winning every argument later when he's Pope and gives out his wisdom that "God loves rich people which is why they're rich and hates poor people which is why they're poor." Pretty much the philosophy of evangelicals in the U.S. Cerebus survives the battle with the assassin and then gives Lord Julius some free advice about running the country. So Cerebus kind of does agree with the assassin but also the assassin wasn't paying him anything so he deserved to be thrown five stories to his death. Lord Julius says, "You can rest assured that I'll give the matter all the attention I feel it deserves." Is there a better way to tell somebody to shove it than that? It's so elegant! In Aardvark Comments, Dave Sim answers a letter on how to go about self-publishing. And so his role as Independent Comic Book Publishing Mentor begins! In his list of things you'll need to get together to successfully publish your own comic book, he kindly leaves out "talent." Obviously Dave understood how to go about getting something published but he also put in the hard work and had the talent to produce a comic book that began well above mediocre or average. I can't imagine a lot of self-published books began at this high of a plateau. And even if they were eventually capable of Cerebus quality, how long are readers going to give them to get there? Probably not even two issues, would be my guess.

The Single Page had a comic called "Sex Education" by April. I thought the first two panels were cute.

Cerebus #14 Rating: A+. As with Elrod and Red Sophia and The Cockroach, Lord Julius' first appearance is a banger. Dave Sim never once falters with Lord Julius' repartee. Solid gags throughout. Sim really is a master of dialogue and, to think, it only gets better.

#Cerebus #Dave Sim

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

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Pls imagine wondercoldwave and their strange courting. Two thieves attempting to woo her with stolen artifacts and good food. Because jewelry is kid of useless but old relics? Or Weapons? Ah yes perfect gifts. (And also a little bit of jewelry.)

I love this pairing. I love this pairing SO MUCH words don’t even. Like, I have a million other things to be writing but I dropped everything to write this.

ao3

----

It was Lisa’s fault.

Well, okay, that’s a lie. Lisa wasn’t even there.

But she had finally graduated high school, turned eighteen and gone off to college with a handful of scholarships and all the money Len and Mick had stolen for her in a giant fuck-up of a job, which had encouraged them both to head for more forgiving climes for a while. They’d gone to the Caribbean, first, but then Len had played a few too many card games with some Family guys down there and now he might or might not own an island but he certainly wouldn’t last long if he stayed there.

So they go to Europe.

Nice, proper European tour. Why not?

Because Leonard fucking Snart, that’s why not.

“It’s the Louvre,” that’s what he said. “We have to!”

“We won’t be able to fence anything we get,” Mick pointed out.

“But it’s the Louvre!”

And so they’d broken in there. Mostly just for kicks.

Then Len got distracted by some pottery. Mid-heist. This never happened back at Central.

“Look at it,” he enthuses. “Do you even know how old this is? Look at the characteristic neck – and the design – ugh, why isn’t this out on display? Don’t they realize how awesome it is?”

Mick personally thought all pottery looked the same, but he was currently flipping through some watercolor sketches and making happy sounds, so whatever, to each his own.

“Look at the glazing on this one –”

Mick only looks up when Len cuts off mid-sentence, which was most unlike him.

He’s blinking owlishly at a statute.

No, wait.

That’s not a statute, that’s a woman. A statuesque, gorgeous woman, in glasses and a sensible business suit.

With her hands on her hips.

“300,” Len says blankly. “Crane or heavy-backed floor.”

“I beg your pardon?” the woman says. She has a faint accent – something Mediterranean.

“He’s trying to figure out how he would steal you,” Mick translates, since Len’s grip on speech has apparently failed. He’s accustomed to the bizarreness of the Snart mentality; most people are not. “Assuming you were made of marble.”

“Clay would be easier,” Len says, still sounding vaguely dazed. “You’ve got a finer neck than this vase, and that’s saying something.”

The woman abruptly grins, and it’s frankly stunning even to Mick, who takes a good while to warm up to anybody. “You appreciate art,” she says approvingly. “Why do you not come during the day?”

“It’s the Louvre,” Len says, vaguely scandalized. “We had to try to break in.”

“You succeeded,” she says. “Perhaps you will be so kind as to show me the weakness in our security system you exploited; not every thief will be as respectful as you.”

Len clutches the vase he’s holding to his chest, holding it with the delicacy you would expect from a man holding a baby. “That would be awful,” he says, and he means it, too, the moron. He very gently puts it down. “Yeah, we’ll show you.”

Mick makes a little whining sound.

“…after Mick finishes going through the watercolors,” Len amends.

“They are very fine watercolors,” the woman says. “My name is Diana Prince; I am curator here.”

“Leonard Snart,” Len says. He nods at Mick. “Mick Rory.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mick says politely. “Why ain’t there an exhibit of these? They’re amazing.”

“We’re planning one,” Diana says. “But it has been difficult to convince the museum director…”

“Does he have a name?” Mick inquires very seriously. “Or, better, an address?”

She hides a smile. “You should not threaten people over artwork, Mick.”

“I’m not gonna do anything,” he grumbles. “Just a bit of scaring. It’d be good for him.”

“You are welcome to finish perusing the watercolors,” she says. “Leonard – may I call you Leonard?”

“Sure,” Len says. “I mean, I usually go by Len, but, uh, Leonard sounds just fine when you say it.”

She smiles. “Leonard, then. It suits you. Perhaps you could show me the weakness in the security while your friend here finishes up?”

Len nods like a bobble-head doll and she takes his arm and puts it in hers and then they go off.

Mick shakes his head, amused, and dives back into his watercolors.

Diana – and she insists on it being ‘Diana’, not Miss Prince or anything else – is kind enough not to call the police, either.

Len offers her a tour of the local art galleries, after-hours. He’s got a hell of a crush on her already.

He always did like women who looked like they could break him over their knee.

“I couldn’t,” Diana says, but she’s smiling.

“Why not?” Len asks.

“Well,” she says, and then stops, considering.

“You’ve got to have fun sometimes,” Mick tells her, because he’s the best partner ever. “Or else you’ll forget why you do the rest of it.”

“Oh, why not indeed,” she says. “Very well; let us go. I am most intrigued by your unorthodox method of getting around.”

They spend three weeks in Paris, all told. Len teaches her pickpocketing and lockpicking; Mick tells her stories he’d thought he’d forgotten, about being born on a farm so far away from the water he didn’t even know what it looked like until the first time he’d gotten on a plane; she talks of art history and of kindnesses, great and small.

She confides in them that she was raised on an island with a – and here she smiled – unorthodox view of property.

“Now there’s a place I’d like to visit,” Len enthuses.

“Simply because there are no laws against theft?” she laughs.

“That’s the best sort of place! You could try out all sorts of tricks, teach yourself to be better and better, and people wouldn’t throw it in your face when you give something back,” he says.

“Tell me more about how people eat,” Mick requests. He’s really into fresh foods and community gardening back at in Keystone, but he’s run up into a wall of people not believing they can work, or thinking the food will be stolen the second it grows. He doesn’t know how to explain to them that that’s the point.

Diana’s nice, and funny, and smart.

She also, in one memorable instance, throws a truck at someone’s head.

It doesn’t start that way, of course; Diana shows up right when Mick is trying to find his misplaced gun and – upon seeing his panic – asks what the issue is.

“Kids,” Mick says. “Len – the local mafia outlet – he found out – they trade in kids, and that’s kind of a trigger issue for Len so he just jumped in –”

“He has gone to rescue them?”

“Kids,” Mick growls. “If it was anything else, he’d have planned it out first, but not when it comes to kids. I can’t blame him, not really, but I can’t even find my gun -”

“You will not need it,” she says, and it’s almost like she adds an extra foot of height when she straightens her back.

Mick gets his gun anyway. “He’s my partner,” he tells her, because he will be damned to hell before he’s intimidated out of his rightful place at Len’s side, whether into heaven or into hell. “You can help me kick his ass when we find him.”

She blinks, then smiles. She’s still a little too tall, a little too other-worldly, but the smile helps make her a little more human. “Yes,” she says. “After we rescue him, of course.”

“Can’t kick his ass without that,” Mick replies, tranquilly.

“You are a good partner, Mick Rory,” she says. “Leonard is lucky to have you.”

“And me, him,” Mick says, more honestly than he meant to be. “He saved my life.”

“He told me you saved his.”

“He saves mine every day,” Mick tells her, because Diana has a way of looking at you with her old eyes that makes you tell the truth even if you don’t want to. “Just by being who he is. Have some pity on the man and let him down easy when you do, will you?”

Diana arches her eyebrows and presses her lips together thoughtfully.

“Lead the way,” is all she says.

They find Len, who’s having it out with a bunch of assholes, a child clutching at his hip, an even smaller child held under one elbow, gun out in the other. “Don’t make a fucking move,” he’s saying, but there’s more of them than of him and they’re inching closer.

“I’d listen to the man,” Mick says, and Len’s eyes flicker to him, betraying relief.

The little movement is what the local Family assholes were waiting for, guns at ready, and they lunge forward.

So does Diana.

Diana wins.

More people run in.

It would take far too much time to explain the whole sequence of events – Mick honestly doesn’t remember much of it, torn between his surprise at Diana’s surprising strength and protecting Len, and erring to focus on the latter – but it concludes with Diana thrown a truck at the Family guys and their lines breaking and fleeing.

“That was amazing,” Len says, beaming at Diana. “Now, here, hold Lucille while I convince Isabelle to let me go get the others.”

It’s clear to Mick that Diana anticipated many possible reactions to her actions, including how impressed and starry-eyed Len is, but having a small child shoved into her arms wasn’t one of them.

“Petit Izzy,” Len croons, kneeling down. “Tu parles Anglais?”

“Non! N’y va pas!”

Diana kneels and says something in French.

Isabelle just grabs onto Len tighter.

Mick walks over and says, “Okay, brat. Hop on.” He holds out his arms.

Isabelle looks at Len, who nods.

She immediately detaches from Len and flings herself into Mick’s arms.

Mick speaks exactly zero words of French, but he’s got a way with kids.

“I’ll get the others,” Len says. “We’ll take them back home so they can rest. Then we can figure out what to do with them.”

“The police?” Diana asks.

“Probably corrupt,” Len says grimly.

“He always thinks police are corrupt,” Mick interjects.

“Because they usually are. Who the hell operates a child smuggling ring this close to a police station without someone looking the wrong way?”

“I will investigate,” Diana says. “In the meantime, I have connections with several good organizations that will help locate their parents, if possible.”

“And monitor them,” Mick says firmly as Len strides off to find the other children he referenced. “I was in the system for a bit, and there’s risk involved.” He hesitates and glances in the direction Len went. He doesn’t want to mention unpleasant things, but if Diana will be placing the kids… “Len’s got some things to say about blood relatives not being too trustworthy either, if you want to hear it.”

Diana nods, her expression solemn. “They will be guarded. I will confirm it myself.”

“This way,” Len sings out cheerfully, leading the children out of the dark like some sort of Pied Piper. He has a way with kids, too. “Follow me, mon lupins. Hop, hop.”

“Lapins,” the older children, the ones with a big of English, giggle. “Not lupins!”

“What’s the difference?” Len asks innocently.

They take the children to Diana’s friend.

The children are all quite fond of Diana, who is also good with children, especially once little Isabella tells the others about the truck; Diana is apparently called L’Princesse Amazone, or ‘Wonder Woman’, in Paris for her little way of solving issues. They go happily.

Len looks after them wistfully for a few minutes before turning to Diana. “That,” he tells her solemnly, “was wonderful.”

“That,” Mick grunts, “was awful.”

Diana laughs.

They leave shortly thereafter, albeit regretfully. Len wants to avoid any Family recognizing him and Diana is occupied with the placement of the children; there’s really no reason to stay.

Still, it’s hard to tear themselves away. Not just Len, but Mick, too. He’s grown more accustomed to her than he’d have thought.

“You should come visit us in Central,” Len tells her before they go.

“Perhaps I will,” she says with a smile.

Impulsively, Mick steps forward and presses his lips to her cheek. Len blinks in surprise, but when Diana doesn’t object, he steps forward and does the same to her other cheek.

And then they’re off.

Even though Len made the offer, no one is more surprised than he is when a year later, back in Central, the Central City Museum announces a partnership with the Louvre in which a curator will be swapped for three months every year.

Len and Mick are there on opening day.

Diana smiles.

“Perhaps you will show me around here, too,” she says, holding out her hands.

“Absolutely,” Len says.

Mick nods.

“And this time,” she continues, her smile widening, “I will not let you two escape with only a kiss good-bye.”

Len and Mick exchange blinks.

“Uh, we can do that,” Len says.

Mick nods furiously.

"I brought the rope," she adds innocently.

"We can definitely do that," Mick enthuses.

“Oh, and we got you a present,” Len says.

“It was in a museum,” Mick adds. “Sort of.”

“Was it obtained illicitly?” Diana asks with a knowing smile.

“No more illicitly than the museum originally got it?” Len tries.

Diana laughs.

(Fifteen years later, Diana looks down at the Flash, pinned under her boot. “You will not interrupt our dates,” she says sternly.

“I will not interrupt your dates!” he squeaks. “Also, wow! You’re real! And…dating my villains?”

“We were dating first,” she says. “I will discuss their life choices with them another time.”

“…can I have your autograph in the meantime?”)

#dccoldwave #wondercold #wondercoldwave #wonder woman #leonard snart #mick rory #my fic #Anonymous

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