#except now i feel like i should exercise my right to the Final Say

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it's my AU that I'm referring to here but I don't know how to bring it up that dirkjake and shipping in general make me actively uncomfy,,,

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for —(and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: chapter twoooo i hope you guys enjoy!! and i take this as pure reason to knuckle down and finish chapter three tehe <3 let me know what u think!! a million mwahs to @strangerstilinski for being my beta too, even tho i yelled at u sorry :/

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: Azriel trains you and is particularly unforgivable about it. Together, you tackle tonics. Azriel ponders the unmistakable pull he feels and you try your best to keep your secret under wraps. fem!reader, mulan-esque au

— CHAPTER TWO :: ALLIES

The storm had calmed come morning. The Mother's Kiss slowed, quietened to only a whisper between the trees.

With it, the ache in your forearm too. The torn skin knitted up in the night, the heat from the fire like a balm on the wound.

But right now, the ache was threatening to make a reappearance.

You glare across the clearing at Azriel from your place in the mud, where he's just knocked you down. Your lungs burn. Your chest heaves as you try to catch you breath. The last hour has been spent on the same infuriating exercise.

The sludgy dirt, still sloppy from the melted snow of last night, drips off your arms as you scramble to get to your feet. Your wings shudder, flicking off the cold dirt with a shake.

"Try again." Azriel says, his voice calm.

He has no weapons on him today with the exception of one knife, strapped high on his thigh. Its obsidian hilt glimmers under the winter sun, rays catching the decorative jewel on the end. The rest of his weapons won't be far you're willing to bet. No Illyrian warrior lets themself be so unprepared.

Or perhaps he truly only needs one blade to hold his own in a fight.

A flicker of envy. You suppose you should feel little more gratuitous of his offer to train, especially considering he's such a mighty warrior.

But between the built-in wariness that comes with having a secret such as yours and the way he keeps throwing you in the mud... it's hard to dredge up some gratitude. You must have been at this for hours now.

Besides, a little part of you can't help but be skeptical of his offer. What exactly did he stand to gain from helping you?

"Why are you helping me again?"

You're panting lightly, bent over with your hands on your knees. Your bound chest twinges in pain. You weren't out of shape by any means — you were an Illyrian warrior after all. But getting knocked down endlessly was beginning to wear you down.

"And," You huff, waving a hand behind at the mud pile he keeps dumping you in. "How does this help?"

Azriel crosses his arms across his broad chest. In the daylight, his shadows shimmer and wisp about. You had been unsurprised to find he's even more devastatingly handsome in the light of daytime.

After his final words the evening before, Azriel had disappeared out into the storm without further explanation, his shadows swirling around him like falling snow.

Come morning, you rose before the sun and stepped outside, prepared to head to training—and there he was. Posed up against a tree, the obsidian-hilt blade his hands, sharpening it in long, precise strokes.

"Lord Mylind has been spoken to regarding your training." Azriel had said, in place of a greeting. "He knows of your expected absence whilst you train under me."

You hadn't said anything; half convinced there had been something coated on Brudam's knife that made you hallucinate the whole thing.

"Though," The male before you continued, finally sheathing his dagger away into the holster on his thigh with casual precision. "He tells me that your absences during training have come to be somewhat expected."

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"Why do you think they hate me so much?" You asked, a bitter edge to your voice. It's a non-answer.

"Because you neglect your duties as a warrior?"

"Ha. Did Lord Mylind use that word?"

"It's true, one is not considered a warrior until one passes The Blood Rite." Azriel commented, his head tilting to the side just an inch. "You're a warrior-in-training. Provided you go to training, that is."

The combined mention of The Blood Rite and your missing time during training had you tensing up. Azriel had noticed, his eyes shifting to your stiff posture. He hadn’t commented — just stalked off into the snow, wings held high and proud, not checking to see if you bothered to follow.

Now, muscles aching and skin coated in mud-slick, you briefly wonder if you were regretting following him.

"You're smaller than usual Illyrians.” Azriel says. “They rely on brute strength but someone your size is better to rely on your agility— a skill they've been neglecting. No doubt to try to discourage you."

A flush of nervousness rushes through your system at his comment on your size. There's a good reason you don't size up against Illyrian males—being that you aren't one at all.

For good measure, you wipe your face haphazardly with a muddy hand. Any pesky scents that might give you away get smothered beneath it.

"And I believe in what you're doing," Azriel continues, his hazel eyes watching you closely. "It's honourable, no matter what Brudam and his brood say."

Something akin to pride blooms deep in your chest at his approval, at his belief in your mission. Having fought on your own for so many years had taken its toll— one you weren't aware of until it eased. Just a touch.

"Could've sworn you just enjoyed knocking me on my ass."

That glimmer of amusement is back in his hazel eyes. You swear his lips twitch as if holding back a smile.

"Try again." He says, in lieu of an answer. Not a denial.

He gestures to his neck again. Tan skin that hides beneath dark, scaly armor. This has been your task for the last hour — get your hand on his throat, through hand-to-hand combat.

Considering how you'd managed to stick him with a fork just yesterday, you had assumed it was easy territory.

You had been sorely, sorely wrong.

Straightening yourself up properly, you roll your shoulders back and flare your wings out a bit. Your boots sink into the mud an inch. You assess the distance between you and Azriel, eyes narrowed, and try to put together each piece of advice he's given you in the last hours.

Plant your feet when you're striking.

Stay on your toes if you're advancing.

Use your environment to your advantage.

Punch through, not just at.

Your height is as much an advantage as it is a disadvantage.

Some of it was nothing more than a reiteration of your training in camp. And yet, when delivered from Azriel, under his focused gaze, it seems easier to absorb. It holds a different meaning.

This time as you survey your approach a thousand other details whisper in your ear.

The rustle of the trees, the whirl of the wind, the stance he sinks into like second nature.

If you can't overpower him, how can you get a hand on his neck?

Your boots sink deeper into the mud and you tense, your wings held taut and high behind you as you ready yourself to pounce.

The wind picks up, a whistle in the air, and you can see, even from afar, how the swirling of his shadows perk up — as if listening for any whispers in it.

Time to strike.

You burst forward and stay low this time, letting your knees take the brunt of your weight. Instead of trying to get past him, you need to bring his neck down to your level. A half-baked plan scrambles together.

Feigning moves against a proficient warrior like him is nearly laughable and his thick forearm moves to parry your punch as quickly as you form it. Good. It's what you're relying on.

You pivot your energy and focus it on kicking out his bent knee— and you catch him enough by surprise that he stumbles back a step. He doesn’t fall though.

You grit your teeth and know you have about half a second before he’s going to have you dodging punches and landing back in the mud. You keep pressing forward.

Skin meets leather as you land a sharp snap against his shoulder, your knuckles stinging deliciously but he deftly blocks your next blow. And the next, and the next.

Then you’re hitting more of his hands than you are anywhere else.

Frustrated, you snarl, increasing your speed and letting him focus on your incoming punches so he doesn’t see it when you send a kick into his groin.

His defense drops razor fast— both his scarred hands wrapping around your calf and capturing it between his legs, stopping it 2 inches from making contact.

Your eyes dart up to his face, nearly grinning at the incredulous look he gives you.

It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for — and something gleeful in you sings when you shoot your hand up faster than both his can move. The palm of your hand connects with the skin of his neck.

“Aha!” You shout, unable to help yourself.

You’re panting, out of breath from the fast combat and yet, still savouring the victory. A foreign glimmer of admiration and approval flashes deep in your chest. It's gone as quick as it appears.

Azriel doesn’t waste a second to sweep your feet out from beneath you.

Unprepared, you crumple and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. A groan rumbles in your chest. Mud squishes up against your cheek, sullying it.

For a moment, you just lay there and groan in pain.

You're pretty sure every single muscle in your body aches as you gather your strength and push yourself up from the mud, elbows quivering. If you thought regular training was rigorous, this has been brutal.

True, there's less hitting you while you're down which you were more than accustomed to — only once have you thought Azriel might give you a kick while you were defenseless and too tired to cover your face.

But instead, he had surprised you and offered a hand. You had hesitated before taking it.

And as you're finding out, when you're spending less time worrying about Illyrians unfairly targeting you due to your size, you're a hell of a lot better fighter.

With a much better opponent though.

You win some, you lose some.

"Anyone ever call you a prick before?" You seethe quietly; because you had done the task he wanted you to do and he'd still sent you back on your ass. You spit into the mud and wipe your mouth.

"Definitely." Azriel answers. Again, there's that hint of amusement in his voice.

You huff and push up to rest back on your heels, planting your hands on your knees and glaring up at him. The muck on your wings makes you shiver, sludgy trails of mud sliding off them unpleasantly. You're well used to the cold.

"Good." You huff. "Prick."

Azriel smiles at that, not bothering to hide it. You find yourself smiling back at him, an out-of-breath laugh making your shoulders shake and your head bow. The muscles in your stomach hurt as they move.

When you look back up at him, he's offering his hand again.

You take it, this time without hesitation.

—

The day is for training. Azriel, the mentor. You, the student.

The night is for learning. You're both students here.

The second part of his offer that you clearly hadn't expected, given your wide-eyed look when he turned up at your door on that first evening, bringing all manners of plants needed to make healing tonics. Things you hadn't been able to find or afford on your own.

It had been then, he thinks, that you realised how serious he was about helping you. That his offer extended beyond training you physically.

"Is there really a difference between cutting and slicing?" Azriel asks as he peers down at the table beneath him.

In his marred hands is a root vegetable, something that flowered prettily— nice purple skin with a golden centre. He frowns down at it, his gaze shifting slowly from the vegetable to the knife in his hand.

It’s strange, he thinks. Strange to hold a knife and have it not be for violence.

"There is a difference," Your reply floats across from the other side of the room.

Nearly a week he's been here. Azriel had been pushing you more each day he was here, brutal one-on-one training to hone your skills.

It’s working; already he can see the certainty of your stance, your increased agility, the hunter's glint in your eyes. The clumsiness of the first day of training has already been worn away. Beneath it, the Illyrian warrior emerges.

He's exhausting you, he knows. Working you twice as hard to try to fill every gap in your training that seems to be missed. Finding every weak point left by the Lords of this camp, to disadvantage you no doubt, and training it up.

But if you’re tired from it, you don’t complain.

Azriel lifts his head to look at you properly, his eyes watching your hands as you strip leaves off one of the plants he had brought with him today.

Hands, weathered and much smaller than most males, that work diligently at your task. Your focus remains strong, even as you talk over your shoulder.

"Well, slicing is cutting but a more precise form." You shift your wing back, tucking it in, as you finally turn your head back to look at him.

You're a very peculiar male.

Azriel can't say he's ever met a warrior, or even an Illyrian, like yourself before. You're small. It's the first thing he had noticed when he had slipped into your tiny home those nights ago, a sturdy shelter against the harsh wind of the mountains.

You're small but your wings are still large and beautiful, tucked up neatly behind your back. Most warriors in camp must have at least a head of height on you.

The armor you wear looks old. It's been worn down, softened against your body but even still, it sits a little too low on your hips. The shoulders hang out an extra inch.

You're small and you're hardened at every edge.

It's the way anyone who grows up here has to be. And for you to have made the cut to become a warrior, even with the impairment of your height... Azriel knows you're made of tougher stuff than most.

Within that, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to you.

Azriel hates the Illyrian mountains. Loathes the culture he comes from that festers here, their swift brutality and preferred cruelty against even their own. Invisible standards that made one Fae better than another.

The lives they taught him to take so easily.

So the last thing he had expected to find coming back here, to a place haunted with wretched memories, was... an ally.

But staring across the space to you, he can't think of any other word to describe the stirring in his chest. The drag on his heart, as if it's lurching forward.

"Look, let me show you."

You drop what's in your hands and take a couple steps to cross the space. The shelter is like you, small, just shy of cramped. The ceiling could stand to gain a few inches and the inside is as bare as Azriel would expect of a home in a war-camp.

One rickety table. A bed tucked into a corner. A fireplace with slanted, mismatched soot-covered bricks. There's the general rustle about the place that indicates someone sleeps here. Things hang off nails, bedded into the wall.

Hovering beside the table, you gesture for the knife in Azriel's hand. There's tenseness in your shoulders. You're still wary of him— or perhaps so used to your own company. He wonders which it is as he hands over the knife wordlessly.

"You just gotta—" The vegetable gets re-positioned on the board and when you bring down the knife, it's with an elegance that Azriel had been severely lacking.

You slice a long strip off, lengths-wise, and then pause, looking up at him to make sure he understands. "Slice?"

Azriel smiles despite himself.

That's the other thing.

You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful Fae he's ever seen in his life— not to mention, by far the most beautiful male he’s ever laid his eyes on.

It had taken him by surprise initially, even his shadows rearing back in shock when you had turned and sprung at him, cutlery in hand. Azriel had fumbled one of his blocks and it led to you sinking the fork into his shoulder— all because his mind had been whispering beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

It's the reason you had managed to land a hit at all— or Azriel tells himself that. Because otherwise, he had a serious reason to brush up on his own training.

He also tells himself it had nothing to do with his offer.

It hadn't swayed his reasoning in the slightest; not the way he can't take his eyes off you for some peculiar, unbidden reason. Training you and learning how to make tonics alongside you was entirely due to his belief in your mission.

Liar, one of his shadows seems to whisper in response.

Azriel was over five hundred years old — tangling with a male was not entirely foreign to him. And yet, Azriel had found it was not as to his taste as females were.

Another glance at you has him, once again, second-guessing that.

As quickly as it enters his mind, he snuffs it, his wings giving a minuscule twitch, right as you offer him back the knife.

He opts for a question instead. "How did you come to live here?"

It's one of the other unusual parts of your intriguing survival out here. Not only did you make the cut to train to become a warrior against the odds, but you also live alone. Azriel lets himself survey the shelter once more.

It's far better than some of the conditions he's been subjected to before and yet... it's not quite homey. As though you've never relaxed here, even when it's just you.

"I built it."

Azriel blinks. Then he turns his head down to look at you, perplexed.

"You...?"

You've walked back to the plant you were handling, starting to strip off the leaves again. You hum in response to his words, sparing a glance up at the ceiling.

That certainly explained why it was on the smaller side, made to your stature. Azriel can't fathom how you managed it in the blizzardly conditions of the mountains, entirely on your own.

"As I'm sure you're familiar, bastards don't get anything in these camps."

Your voice tightens with the pain of an unhealed wound.

Azriel doesn't say anything, just presses his lips together thinly. He nods.

"It was already a ruin, the fireplace and floorboards were about the only thing left." This time as you tug the leaves off the plant in your hand, it's a little meaner. "It took me years to properly finish it because the males in camp kept coming by to see if they could knock it back down."

Something roars in Azriel's ears, a familiar icy fury at the injustice that roamed so freely in these mountains. A plague amongst these people. So many Fae, so eager to kick those who are already down.

Looking up from your hands, your motions slow, and a distant look dawns on your face as though you've been whisked away into an old memory. A cold smile graces your mouth.

"So eventually when one of them came around, I showed them why they shouldn't fuck with my stuff. Or with me."

How you gained your solitary fortress out here.

It had piqued his interest on the very first evening, the sole shelter out from the cluster of cabins in the camp. That even though the drunken warriors were first to point it out when Azriel came asking who was causing trouble, none of them would go near it.

He can guess a multitude of things you did to protect it and yourself. Something akin to admiration blooms in his chest. Something heavier, deeper, lurks beneath it.

As your hands go back to work, Azriel can't help but watch you silently for a moment. His shadows pour over his shoulders, seeping down his arms the longer he looks; as though they, too, want to figure out the enigma in front of them.

You're a very peculiar male, Azriel thinks for the second time that evening.

The runt of the litter and a bastard just as him.

A natural born fighter and an Illyrian warrior against all the odds.

A Fae with long hair like Cassian's, chopped at the shoulder and scraped back — and a voice softer than most. A Fae with eyes that burn with a promise for retribution, with icy fury like his own.

Azriel picks up the knife and slices the vegetable as you had, slow and long. He steals one more glance at you — to find you're doing the same, chancing a split-second glimpse to look at him.

Azriel averts his eyes back to the table.

He feels the treacherous glow of his cheeks and is thankful you can't see his face clearly in the dim light. He slices again.

And as he mulls his thoughts, the pair of you working in tandem as the fire crackles loudly in the corner, Azriel makes a point to ignore the thundering feeling that seems to sing right out of his heart.

No matter if he's half-sure he knows just what word it's singing.

(Mate. Mate. Mate).

[NEXT PART: COMPANIONS]

—

tags below!

@janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka

(if i tagged u and u would like to opt out, no hard feelings! send me an ask and i’ll leave u off :D)

[itshype]

Please don’t pet me! I am working! (DC x DP)

The Service Animal Cujo notfic that I, personally requested but just like my extremely cringe Batman x Witcher fic, I have to do everything myself. I wrote this but held off during DC x DP week because I’m not participating in that. If I keep writing these, I’ll have to make a masterpost or probably whack them up on Ao3 for archive purposes at some point but for now: Here is the Space Obsessed Danny story and Here is the Kingmaker Danny story! CW for mention of panic attacks in this one!

So! Let’s get going. Danny died. He can’t stop thinking it. He was dead. He’s walking and talking now but he knows deep in his soul that everything’s different now. He was dead and somehow nothing has changed? He feels like something of his journey to hell itself should be visible in his skin – something more than the small exit scar on his left foot. Another dimension was opened through his body and his hairstyle didn’t even shift?

Sam and Tucker are just as freaked out as he is, but they aren’t nearly as frightened. The ghost powers and Halfa stigma won’t come until later, but right now Danny is having difficulty even considering the possibility of leaving the house. With Danny in such bad condition emotionally, there’s no way to cover up what happened, and Jazz takes them all to the hospital.

Now, I know in a lot of fanfics Danny has weird physiology even in human form (lower body temp, slower pulse etc) but I don’t remember any of that being canon so I’m ignoring it. And if it is canon then I am exercising my right to debone the original show like a small chicken and use it to make a flavourful stock.

So, Danny checks out with the doctors except for a weirdly tiny burn but he is having like 5 concurrent panic attacks about everything from “there’s nothing after we die”, “The electricity cooked me”, “Life has no meaning”, maybe even throw in a fun “I came back wrong”.

Hell, maybe he does have weirdly low vitals, but the rapid pulse is countering his slow heartbeat and decreased blood pressure etc. Up to you!

Danny probably ends up being sedated if he can’t calm down but by then there is a different issue. The doctors Fenton have arrived. Now, I think it’s no stretch of the imagination to say that under the wrong circumstances they would dissect Phantom if they got their hands on him but also I know they somewhat care for their children and canon has shown more than once that under good circumstances that they could accept Danny.

When his ghost sense goes off for the first time it’s pretty obvious. He’s in a hospital and instead of a tiny little whisp of silver breath; it’s like a fogbank creeping along a moor, its sea mist rolling in from the horizon of his mouth and whiting out his private hospital room. No one can see two meters in front of their own face, and it takes over a minute to fade. Sam screams out for Danny and tries to grab his hand where she knows it was but can no longer see. Tucker starts at the sound and drops his device, screeching gratingly at the clattering plastic of his PDA hitting linoleum, hard.

When the mist finally evaporates, the Fentons want to take him home immediately and run tests. They think the ghostly influence is ‘obvious’ but the 68-year-old nurse, Beatrice stands like a 5-foot-nothing wall of solid rock and won’t let them touch him. Jazz also angles herself between her parents and the door so if they did somehow manage to get their hands on Danny, they wouldn’t be able to leave without steamrolling her. Then the heartrate monitor goes wild as Danny panics about being a guinea pig for his parents’ less-than-lukewarm lab safety practices and they back off without further interruptions.

That’s the point when it hits them that everything that has happened to Danny is their fault. His accident was because of them, he’s melting down because of them, both of their children genuinely believe that they will hurt Danny just because he’s having weird ghostly side effects to almost dying in a ghost portal. One they built.

It’s a few hours later when they breach the subject of going home, of at the very least making a decision about school even if that decision is to formally take a leave of absence. Sam and Tucker’s parents had made them go home and he’s a lot calmer now but at this stage, his weird ghost powers are causing problems. It seems to the orderlies and nurses that his anxiety is getting worse because he’s turning intangible through cups and cutlery – making it look like he’s shaking so hard he can’t even hold a single cup, and is flat out refusing to eat.  

Even though it’s been less than a day it looks like Danny’s shock is just getting worse. He phases through his bed right as Beatrice and his parents walk through and they think he’s hiding under there out of fear. He tries to explain, confused, and disoriented and deep in denial. Jazz shuts him up. She doesn’t know completely what’s going on, but she knows enough, and she isn’t letting 12 hours of changed behaviour force her to blindly trust her parents.

Beatrice is most concerned. It hasn’t been very long but there’s no reasonable cause for his steep and steady decline. No reason outside of something-something-ghosts.  

That’s when the first few pamphlets come out about therapy animals. They require some time to be trained and the middle of nowhere Amity Park doesn’t exactly have a pool to choose from, but it’s okay to adopt a younger animal and train it themselves.

Danny looks at the pictures of the fluffy bunnies and alert-eared dogs with big, glistening eyes. Then puts them down. There’s no way an animal would be safe in his house.

That’s when the ghosts attack. Danny isn’t the only spectre with a ghost sense and these ghosts are less human due to a lack of ectoplasm. Obviously, the silver fog reappears, and, in his terror, Danny drops to the next floor of the hospital, glitching through his bed and the floor underneath it. He crashes painfully in the middle of the gift shop.

His parents reach the conclusion that due to his extreme ectoplasm contamination; he’s developed a serious allergy to ectoplasmic weaponry, including things like ectoblasts that ghosts have naturally. They’re not…the wrongest that they could be. Unfortunately, they decide that Evil Ghosts TM can sense this weakness and are trying to kill their poor baby boy. Everyone else is freaking out about ghosts being visibly proven but the Fentons knew ghosts were real with zero doubts so they’re rolling with it.

Now, due to the knowledge that he died, Danny is having difficulty worrying about other things like catching up with schoolwork, his weird new allergies/powers or even Dash.

BTW KUDOS to anyone still reading, I know this part was really long, but I really felt like I couldn’t just flim flam over the details of why Danny would need an emotional support/service animal even if it’s fictional.

First day back at school, the Lunch Lady attacks. Danny barely eeks out a win just like in canon.

His parents decide that this is because of the allergies and the ghosts being able to sense Danny’s weakness as I said above. And they take it upon themselves to root out the problem at its source, to find all the ghosts who could hurt their son and imprison them, partly for Danny’s safety and partly for study. Not even they are sure where the divide is between their two loyalties.

So, they look to their now-functioning portal.

Unfortunately, they were massively underprepared, and they don’t come back.

 Jazz sees the locked lab door and leaves them to it, making dinner and making sure Danny knows she wants him to be at school.

He doesn’t go, she lets him not go.

Two days later the boredom is worse than his fear. He goes to school. Danny, Sam and Tucker enter like a single unit. Dash tries some shit and either:

Jazz emerges and smacks his head hard enough he loses vision for several seconds – long enough for her to knee him hard enough to put the continuance of the Baxter lineage into question.

Danny starts panicking again. The teachers always want to side with Dash but him openly attacking a kid who was just in the hospital who doesn’t even lift a finger in defence of himself is beyond the limits of any sane adult’s “boys will be boys”.

Doesn’t really matter, the point is that he’s not looking to fuck around any time soon now that he’s already found out. But he did in fact attack Danny.

Danny goes home. His first attempt at school following his death has failed.

Tucker, separately, goes to a garage sale to buy old electronics to use in his PDA upgrades. He buys a boxful of weird lab equipment that definitely has a microchip or two. When he opens it at Danny’s house as an effort to distract him, a small pink teddy falls out. No one notices it bounce beneath the sofa. Sam or Jazz brings up the support animal idea again but is reminded of the whole “our house is a toxic waste site” thing and backs off.

Weeks pass, Danny develops his ghost powers and Jazz realises their parents are actually missing. She submits a missing person report mentioning the switched-on portal – the lab door was locked from the inside.

So, when Danny wakes up one day and there’s a glowing green dog already with a collar and a toy he thinks “ah yes, a dog that my sibling has procured for me as we discussed many times to help me cope with my own mortality, the near-constant ghost attacks and my parents who vanished.”

So, he puts a leash on Cujo who is happily chewing on his little pink teddy and takes him off to school while Jazz is using her first free period to go bother the local cops about their parents. (Why haven’t they been taken in by child protective services? Either:

Because I said so

Jazz is 18

Jazz used her improbable psychology powers to bamboozle the social worker into leaving)

Everyone at school loves Cujo. He gets all the love and does a very good job of dragging Danny away from ghost attacks (so he can fight them!!)

Jazz doesn’t find out about Cujo until the afternoon but probably lets the whole thing lie because it’s a great solution.

This could go on for some time. Both Danny and Phantom have Cujo but as Phantom Cujo stays in his big form so there’s no connection made. Canon mostly proceeds as normal except the parents aren’t there and there’s no huge issue with Valerie.

Realistically, a fair few high schoolers are probably also on the hunt for a pet ghost dog because if Danny and Danny both have one there must be heaps going around. Danny is also worried about his parents and periodically looks for them but that isn’t the focus of this story so I won’t go into a lot of detail – just clarifying that he’s not a sociopath who finds out his parents are missing and goes “oh ok”.

This could be its own story but let’s get to the DC part now!!

Eventually the Justice League connects the two calls, one about the ghost dog and one about the parents disappearing through a portal. Maybe Valerie complains, or even fanon favourite Wes contacts the authorities about the ghost dog with no official training or certification. Either way the JLA algorithm picks up these two very strange claims from one town and send someone to investigate.

But I mean, parents vanishing from a locked room and a green dog aren’t exactly world ending stuff, so instead of sending an actual busy superhero they send one of the kid heroes.

Now a lot of people will go ahead and put Damian into this. But I don’t really care for him in a dynamic with Danny. But I have another vigilante in mind, one who is less animal crazy, but more dog focused and also has issues with being seen as an actual person.

That's right, it's Conner Kent. And his faithful alien dog Krypto. I've seen a few fics where Danny adopts him, but you know what other family member should think you're an actual person? Your significant other. This could totally be a friendship thing no problem, but I do feel like some versions of canon Connor Kent would get on great with Danny.

Without the looming, repeated threat of vivisection, I think Danny would be a lot more chill about his secret identity and would probably disclose Cujo’s origins to Superboy. Once Connor knows about Cujo (Phantom’s dog) being able to shrink, he can see Danny with the dog once and connect all the necessary dots. Because I stand by the fact that the main reason Danny’s secret ID isn’t discovered more is because there’s no reason for a dead person to have a secret identity but once the concept is introduced then it’s pretty simple. Connor can hang out with Phantom while Phantom does ghost fights because the Kryptonian can’t really contribute but he’s there for moral support.

Eventually, Danny reveals to Connor that he himself was cloned before and talks excitedly about his clone who he considers a cousin. I definitely think without the parents there that Dani would visit more even if she has an obsession with travel, wanderlust or freedom that prevents her from permanently moving in.

This knowledge makes him very upset about how he was treated by his genetic donors, and Connor decides to move in with the Fenton siblings (without really asking the Fenton siblings) and decides that he’ll commute to the watchtower/titans tower/mount justice (depending on which version of canon he’s in sorry I can’t be bothered to figure it out).

Unfortunately, on top of not asking the Fentons, he doesn’t notify or ask anyone in the caped community. So as far as any of them are concerned, Connor went on a minor mission to investigate some missing people and is now himself missing.

Just as a caveat because I don’t feel like getting into an argument today, I used the terms both “service animal” and “emotional support animal” even though in most countries these are not interchangeable legal definitions. I use it in a non-legal way here because emotionally helping Danny – especially when that emotional stress causes physical damage is a service, and also there is the potential for Cujo to help Danny in other physical ways.

Also, there is definitely room here for Dani being buds with Match. I think that'd be neat.

If I could draw, I would make art of Cujo and Krypto being besties but I cannot so just picture it for two seconds. Done? Great, thanks!

[traincat]

got the sudden urge to re-read 'work song' this weekend after years of not really being into spideytorch anymore. the fic is still incredible, it's reminding me why i used to love them, but it got me wondering -- was there ever any canon fallout from sue, reed, and the kids being gone like that? i had already stopped reading the comics at that point.

It's funny, I've been thinking of Work Song recently too. I obviously like to get into the guts of canon in a lot of my fic, but Work Song was really an exercise in getting into the emotional fallout that comics tend not to deal with -- for both good and bad reasons. (I think the modern lack of dealing with pretty much any emotional fallout is bad, but also if you have a serial story you have to keep a certain amount of action going. Idk, complicated thoughts about pacing and sacrifices made for genre standards and the shifting of those standards from decade to decade, etc., etc.)

And the answer to whether the fallout is ever addressed in 616 canon is... kind of no? I think there were attempts made -- both Zdarsky in his Two-in-One series and Bendis, somewhat, in Infamous Iron Man were sort of digging into things, albeit notably before Reed and Sue were actually back. (Both of those series deal HEAVILY with their absence, though.) But both of those series were also cut short, and they have finales I'm not quite satisfied with, which in this case is the fault of neither author. I think Zdarsky tried with his final two issues of Two-in-One especially, especially the one that focuses on Johnny and Sue, but just didn't have the space to address the issue of Reed and Sue essentially leaving Johnny and Ben with the gravitas and nuance that it deserved. And given that Johnny is, you know, flat out suicidal over this issue in the first ten issues of Two-in-One, that's a problem. (IIM also has a disappointing final two issues, but it focuses much more on Ben and Doom than on Johnny. Hell of a setup, wish it didn't feature the biggest copout resolution of all time.) And again I don't think this is either writer's fault -- they were both clearly trying to do something interesting and emotional, and 2n1 had a really good set up and character work. It just wasn't given the space to stick any kind of landing before everything had to be wrapped up in a tidy little bow so Slott could write some mystifyingly bad stories. (I don't believe Slott ever seriously addresses the fallout, but I could be wrong. I skimmed the back half of that run hard.)

And also I think this was something of a foundational problem that sprung from Reed and Sue and the kids going missing not as an actual story point but as a hissy fit over film rights. There was never any solid plan in action for where they were or what they were doing or what Ben and Johnny fought over that caused Ben to leave for space and Johnny to spiral out of control -- it was all just "this is happening now because we canceled the Fantastic Four comic because we want the film rights." It's very hard to build a story on shaky ground like that when you've got multiple writers, all who seemed to have slightly different takes, and apparently no one on an editorial level actually managing all of that to make sure there was a cohesive story in place. Even if the reader doesn't have that information, there should be some kind of established story for the writers to follow, and it kind of seemed like there just wasn't. (I say "kind of seemed" because obviously I wasn't there and I don't know for sure, but also like, we know for sure that there wasn't. By reading the comics it was very clear that there wasn't.) It's frustrating to think about it now because it could have been some really great storytelling, and instead it was addressed just barely and then kind of rushed along. And I feel similarly about Superior Spider-Man's fallout, except they keep resurrecting that concept every two years and kicking it around like it has anything interesting left in it.

[putschki1969]

【2023 LAST】 I Wanted the Final Video to be a Conversation

Hello, this is Hikaru. Thank you for watching! This time, as this is the last video of 2023, I wanted to feel connected with everyone so I asked you submit questions and messages on Instagram. This is a video that answers your questions! Once again, it is a laid-back and casual video 🍀 I've answered all the questions except those that I can't answer on my own! The video ended up being over 50 minutes 😂 Please kill time during the New Year holidays 🙇‍♀️If you have any video suggestions, please leave them in the comment section📝

I loved this so here are some of my highlights┗(•ˇ_ˇ•)―→

What do you do to take care of your throat and vocal health? She always carries lozenges with her and uses a face mask all-year round

Do you take voice training lessons? From time to time, yes. But those lessons are extremely expensive so she can't afford them too often

Please share an episode with Keiko that left a lasting impression! Hikaru gets asked this question a couple of times but she doesn't really come up with any specific story or anecdote. She does however say that being able to perform together again has been really special this year. She also emphasises how Keiko is like a sister to her, a precious senpai/nakama she looks up to.

Any tips on how to distinguish Hikaru's voice from the other two in Kalafina songs with harmony? Hikaru can't really give any advice because for her, her own voice is obviously most noticeable. She asks all fans who listen to a lot of Kalafina to provide some suggestions in the comment section. [LOL, I am surprised there are still so many people who struggle with this]

Any fan messages that have left a lasting impression? Hikaru makes sure to read every letter, message and comment. They all mean a lot to her. But sometimes someone will tell her something along the lines of Hikaru's music having changed their life and of course Hikaru can't help but be incredibly moved by a sentiment like that.

Something she always pays attention to when singing? Never neglect your emotions, they should always shine through.

Are you in love right now? Hikaru obviously thinks that's a decidedly private question but kudos to her for even including it in the video. She wonders if anyone else aside from the person who sent the question would actually want to know about this. In her mind, the person is probably in the minority so she tells people to leave a comment if they really want to know about her love life. Also, she feels like no matter how she answers that question, people would start worrying about her and she would rather not have that happen.

How to take care of your physical health? Exercise to some extent, stick to a balanced diet with lots of protein, do a lot of strength training to build muscle.

Any overseas food that left a lasting impression? Not particularly but she enjoys trying local items at Starbucks or McDonald's whenever she is in another country

What's your ideal type? What stuff did you fight about in previous relationships? Another question about her love life but since it's not really about her current relationship status she tries to answer some of it. Her ideal type is someone who truly values their family and takes care of them. As for fights, Hikaru is a bit vague here on whether this refers to actual past romantic relationships or just all relationships in general but basically, she is not the type to have emotional outbursts or anything so she doesn't really "fight" with people. It depends on someone's definition of a fight though. For her that's everything that can't be resolved through a civil discussion and she personally never lets it get that far.

Will Hikaru do any anisong covers on her YouTube channel? Hikaru struggles with rights and licenses so it's hard to find songs she can sing on her channel but if she does, she will give it a try

What is your ambition for next year? Hold a solo live in a bigger venue.

What are your thoughts on Kalafina's current situation? Wakana, Keiko and herself are all pursuing a solo career so she would be happy if everyone listened to their music and continued to support them [very neutral but precious answer]

I love Keiko! What should I do? Hikaru is a bit baffled that she would get a question like that. She then goes off on a tangent about the difference between "ai" and "koi". The person asking the question is using the word "ai" to describe their love for Keiko but in Hikaru's opinion, "ai" is probably not the correct term here because if you are worrying about what the other person thinks of you and wonder how you should act, it's more likely a case of "koi" instead of "ai" (with "koi" being more frequently used for romantic love whereas "ai" usually refers to a more general concept of love). As for what that person should do, they should definitely support Keiko's activities.

Please share an interesting anecdote from Kaji.Fes? She thought it was special that she got the chance to change her outfit for the final song (into the world) even though ever performer was supposed to only have one outfit. Then, at the after party she was fortunate enough to be seated close to Yuki Kajiura on her table which is how she ended up drinking a bit of alcohol even though she never ever drinks. That was a fun experiences.

Will you be eating mucchan manju in Fukuoka? [This is a local snack in Fukuoka, Wakana has been doing a lot of promotion for it, it's that thingy she eat in Kalafina's 10th Anniversary Live] Hikaru hopes she has time to eat it

Hikaru's Appearance at "26 Hours Music Champ 2023 Winter" Event

Broadcast date : 12/29 20:00 – 12/30 22:00 Platform: Music Champ

Hikaru's part aired on 12/30 (Sat) 16:00-17:00. She had a special Talk Session and then performed at the "SPECIAL DREAM LIVE 2023 Winter" LIVE🎤airing from 17:00 to 21:00 Official HP: http://music-champ.com/26h-winter Line-up/Schedule :https://www.music-champ.com/26h-winter/26h

Tweet 1 | Tweet 2 by Hikaru

[amvro]

pairing: amuro tooru x gn!reader

summary: HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMURO !

cw: none :) (please lmk if i should add any!)

He could not remember when, but at some point he stopped celebrating his birthdays. Well, somewhere in him he knew it was most likely the first year he was alone.

But it really didn't matter to him, just as long as he knew how old he was. There was truly nothing exciting about getting a cake and lighting and candle for him to eat alone, and he didn't see the point in getting himself a gift so it was just like any other day.

Now, this year was a little different. The two of you had been dating for three months now and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder if something would happen for his birthday this year. However, he did not mention his birthday in any way, let alone tell you when it was so there was no way you would know. And he didn’t plan to tell you either because he really didn’t think his birthday was a day necessary of celebration. It was just a little thought in his head.

His birthday had finally rolled around, but it was truly just like any other day. He got up bright and early to exercise and he was working until horribly late, just like always. It was only until late in the night that he was finally able to check his phone and you were asking if he was still at work and telling him to take care. This was practically your routine at this point. If he didn’t say anything by 9 pm you’d text him a few messages, except these days were unfortunately far more common than not. Yet, this was all he needed to feel a little better after a long day at work.

“Furuya-san, did something nice happen?” Kazami asked.

“Hmm, why?” he questioned.

“Well, you looked so delighted,” Kazami replied. 

“Oh...” Amuro said, smiling. It was nothing but sweet to him that he’d let something show on his face, and that it’d be happiness out of all things. “I got the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten in my life.”

“Oh, what did you get? Hold on it’s your birthday today Furuya-san? Happy birthday! I hope--” Kazami started to go on.

“Hmm... it’s a secret,” Amuro responded. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was finally driving home after he sent you a message that he was done work and that he’d be alright. The whole way home he could tell he was ecstatic and he was horribly embarrassed, he felt like a little boy for getting so excited. 

He was finally getting over his little burst of excitement when he reached his place and turned the lights on but his eyes shot open.

“Happy birthday Rei!” you said, cake on the table and a few balloons here and there. He wanted to cry.

”How... did you know?”

“Of course I know my boyfriend’s birthday!” you said, acting a little offended almost, but then you laughed. “It was a lot harder to find out than I expected.”

“I didn’t think someone still knew my birthday,” he said, still shocked.

“Sometimes I really think you don’t get just how much I love you,” you said, grinning. “Because I would rather die than miss your birthday.”

Everything was finally sinking in and he walked over to you without a word and kissed you. It was long and sweet, but he went in for another one right after, and yet another one after that, before he finally pulled away.

You were ever so slightly out of breath, looking so caught off guard, and he started to laugh.

“Hey!” you said, pouting slightly.

“No, I’m sorry it’s not that. I would never laugh at you,” he said. “It’s just that there’s no way I don’t love you more.”

[greentrickster]

Oh! Oh, Yue Qingyuan has a qi deviation thanks to not quite knowing how to handle the energies of a female body properly (note: this isn’t a ‘haha, man turns into woman and discovers how hard a female body can be to deal with’ situation, it’s a ‘this man has been holding on by his fingernails for forty years and sprinting towards his breaking point since Tianlang-jun got dug up and this was one detail to keep track of too many’).

Fortunately (for a given value of fortunately), it’s not one that has him baying for blood or on death’s door or anything, it’s a relatively mild one that just leaves him feverish and a bit delirious, with Tianlang-jun swearing and doing his best to replicate the meridian-cleansing YQY has been doing for him with that big ol’ well of spiritual energy his plant body has to make sure this idiot doesn’t die on him or anything. Because everyone would probably blame him and also he hasn’t even fixed the guy enough yet to get his revenge via petty bullying yet. This man is getting such an earful when he’s lucid enough to understand it!

Except when YQY does finally wake up enough to get complained at, he’s still not fully in his right mind or aware of his surroundings.

Oh, and he’s absolutely convinced that Tianlang-jun is Luo Binghe, in spite of the fact that Tianlang-jun is currently woman-shaped.

Tianlang-jun: About time you woke up! You know what I-!

YQY: (dazed) You?

Tianlang-jun: Yes, me! Now-

YQY: Why are you helping me?

Tianlang-jun: What?

YQY: Why are you helping me? It’d be better for you if I was dead.

Tianlang-jun: (mental gears grinding because um, what now, it’s been pretty established at this point in the forced-bonding exercise that they both need each other very very much if they’re going to survive this...?) ...what?

YQY: (curling up on himself a bit) We both know it’s true. You know I love him, and he hasn’t noticed he’s in love with you yet. I’m just another obstacle to get through. Even though he doesn’t remember why I call him ‘Shen Jiu.’ Even though he doesn’t remember that he hates that name and hates me calling him by it and hates me. He doesn’t even remember that I love him, or why he should hate me, he doesn’t remember-!!! (starts crying, not big and noisy or showy, just soft and quiet and utterly heartbroken)

Tianlang-jun: ...

Tianlang-jun: (So, on the one hand, he’s emotionally vulnerable, doesn’t realize who he’s talking to, and in no mental state to consent to doing or saying anything)

Tianlang-jun: (On the other hand, juicy sect gossip about the sect leader, that guy my son’s in love with, and probably my son)

Tianlang-jun: (in his best Binghe impression) Please explain, Sect Boss Yue, perhaps this shizhi can help.

On the one hand, it works! Tianlang-jun is the first person to ever hear the full story of Yue Qi and Shen Jiu’s shared history! Getting all this out there even helps calm these long-time heart-demons enough to get him out of qi deviation and to sleep - success!

On the other hand, it works! And Tianlang-jun gets to stare at the surrounding forest for the rest of the night processing the experience of, “Damn, you live like this bro?!” mixed with “That’s so tragic and romantic, someone should write a play about this!” along with a healthy dose of, “What the hell am I supposed to do with this information? You know, besides tell him to tell that idiot he’s in love with when we get back to the sect. And maybe force him to do it. Purely because this is the main issue this man has and if I can fix this then I can finally start getting him to respond to my teasing properly, and not at all because I relate to this situation in any way, shape, or form and miscommunication tragedies have kinda lost their appeal to me since I discovered everything bad in my live for the past twenty years has been the result of one. I don’t like him or feel sorry for him. I don’t.”

[wedreamedlove]

MLs reaction to mc beating the shit out of someone with a sandal like a pervert who tried to touch mc😂

this really exercised my brain. ngl i was like "how am i supposed to possibly write this?" at the start but the more i thought about it the more the plot bunnies came. touché anon!

You were having one of the worst days possible. It was as if the universe conspired to have everything that could go wrong in a day go wrong, starting from you sleeping through your alarm, to not having time for breakfast and being late for work, to being sent out on an impromptu work trip, to a slew of ridiculous emergencies happening at said off-site work location, and finally to missing the bus home by two minutes. All of this has resulted in you sitting at the bus stop, waiting for the next bus that would only come half an hour later. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem for you either, except for the fact that this was not a normal day and your patience was thoroughly exhausted. So, when a man came to the bus stop and stood exceptionally close to you and even repeatedly stepped into your space when you stood up to move away, your temper immediately began to fray. Honestly, when he copped a feel of your butt, you were only too glad to have an excuse to start pummeling him with your sandal. Who could blame you for defending yourself, right?

OSBORN

It was a whistle of appreciation that snapped you out of your rage-induced haze. You froze, mid-swing, and turned your head to the source of the sound only to see Osborn leaning against the bus stop shelter, watching you with raised eyebrows.

“Looks like I should be grateful our Lil’ Xiao Five doesn’t seriously swipe her claws at me, or should I start calling you wildcat?”

You blushed with shame at being caught like this by your boyfriend and, for a second, you weren’t sure whether you should put on your sandal or hide the “weapon” behind your back.

Osborn’s eyes moved to the pervert, who was cowering on the ground in front of you and covering his head, and he gave a wicked smile while narrowing his eyes. “Do you want me to hold him for you?”

“Huh?” Both you and the pervert stared at Osborn with incomprehension.

“I can hold him in place until you’re finished venting,” Osborn explained casually, as if helping his girlfriend beat someone up was an everyday occurrence.

“N-no, I think I’m done now,” you stammered sheepishly as you slipped on your sandal again, took a few steps away from the man by your feet, and smoothed the wrinkles on your clothes, trying to look put together again.

“Oh.” Osborn bobbed his head in understanding and then he directed a polite smile at the other man, but his eyes were like chips of ice. “Still not leaving? My girl says she’s done with you.”

The pervert scrambled to his feet, cursing the two of you for being psychopaths, and then ran off as fast as he could, disappearing around the nearest street corner.

Osborn walked over and took your hand. “I’ll send you home. By the way, when you’re swinging something, don’t just use your arm, use your hips too. If you throw your weight behind your swing, it’ll make it more effective.”

You nodded obediently and let Osborn lead you to his motorcycle. His hand around yours was solid, warm, and reassuring.

... Some time later in an alley, unbeknownst to you.

Osborn tossed aside the metal pipe in his hands and stared at the man on the ground howling in agony over his broken wrist without any emotion. This was the pervert from earlier in the day.

He grabbed the man by his collar, dragged him up, and then slammed him against the wall. “Remember me? If you even think about finding trouble with my girlfriend again, things won’t be settled with just a broken wrist. In fact, if you ever think about harassing another girl like that, I’ll find you like I’ve done just now and do something even worse.”

Osborn wasn’t that little boy anymore who didn’t know what to do and failed over and over again to change anything in society. He was strong enough to protect whoever he wanted to protect now.

EVAN

“Miss Rabbit?”

When you looked over and saw Evan, your immediate reaction was to hide your sandal behind your back in one hand and use your other hand to tuck your disheveled hair behind your ears in an attempt to neaten your appearance. The contrast between your messy clothing and Evan’s immaculate suit was just too dismal.

Evan’s eyes moved between you and the cowering man by your feet before his eyes seemed to darken. “Zhou Yan, take care of that man.”

“Yes, sir.” His assistant, Zhou Yan, replied without hesitation and the pervert was swiftly taken out of your view.

Evan walked up to you and then kneeled down on one leg before you could react. “Could you raise your foot?”

“Wait, your suit!” You automatically protested, but just as you were going to tug at his arm to urge him to get up off the dirty ground, he ignored your words and directly lifted up your bare foot.

The sudden loss of balance caused you to drop your sandal and reflexively grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. His forceful mannerism was uncharacteristic of someone who was brought up with a gentleman’s etiquette and so you cautiously asked him, “Are you angry?”

“Is there something I should be angry about?” He calmly returned a question to you while he pulled out a pure white handkerchief and began to wipe your foot.

“Urk...” You were made speechless. It wasn’t right to say yes, but it also wasn’t right to say no when he caught you doing something so reckless. Now that you were calmer and could reflect on your actions, you realized how the situation could have escalated.

As you racked your brain over how to answer this dilemma, Evan already cleaned your foot, picked up your sandal, and slipped it back onto your foot. He set your foot down gently and then stood up, patting off the dust on his pants indifferently. Then he wiped his hands with the handkerchief, folded it into a neat square, and passed it to Zhou Yan who had returned.

“If you know what you’ve done to make me angry, then take care of yourself better in the future. Don’t make me worry.” Tilting his head down to look at you, Evan reached out to stroke your hair.

“Mm, I’m sorry.” You lowered your head with contrition.

Zhou Yan, seeing that the two of you were done, cleared his throat politely and gestured to a car nearby. “Young Master, Miss, this way please.” 

In the future, if there were suddenly more company cars and drivers to send and retrieve employees from off-site work locations, well, no one was going to complain.

SARIEL

"What’s going on here?”

A subarctic voice froze both you and the pervert in place. You turned your head to the side to see Sariel with a dark expression, his eyes moving slowly from the sandal in your hand to the pervert on the ground and then to your face. Your lips twitched in an awkward attempt of a smile, which only seemed to make the temperature around him drop more.

“Put on your sandal.” Sariel came up to you and, after you did as ordered, he grabbed your wrist and began to walk away, forcing you to follow him to avoid being dragged. His hold on you was tight but it didn’t hurt.

During this entire course of events, he didn’t give another glance to the man on the ground and instead you were the one who couldn’t resist looking over your shoulder to see that the pervert was still sitting on the ground, completely baffled at how you two just left without a word.

To be honest, you were also trying to catch up with everything. “Are we just leaving him back there?”

“Or what? Do you want to go back and hit him some more?” Sariel shot a sidelong look at you and coldly snorted.

“N-no...” You shrunk your head back and pulled up your shoulders.

“Good. Your hands shouldn’t be used for such things.”

A lightning-quick emotion streaked from him into you through the skin contact between you two and, although you couldn’t catch the particulars, you could sense the heavy swell of negativity, like a dark cloud weighed down with rain to the point where it brushed across the top of his heart and threatened to unleash a flood that would swallow him.

You tugged at your hand until Sariel, who was walking ahead of you and looking forward rigidly, released you. But then you curled your fingers around his and swung his hand lightly to try and ease the atmosphere until his fingers entangled themselves around yours in return.

“What should my hands be used for then?” You put in as much innocent curiosity as you could into this question.

“Finishing your overdue draft design.”

... Okay, you were the clown for asking.

CHARLIE

“Fiancée?”

You startled at the familiar voice and turned to look at the new arrival along with the pervert. The sun happened to shine on Charlie from the back but, to be honest, your eyes were dazzled more by his eye-catching sea silk than how he looked like an angel who descended to rescue you.

Charlie swiftly assessed the situation in front of him and you saw the warmth and smile that hung on his lips upon seeing you be replaced with an arrogance and domineering expression that reminded you of the time back at the bar when you still barely knew him.

“Tsk, tsk, who is this person with no eyes that dared to anger my fiancée?”

It must have been the sneer that triggered the pervert’s strange sense of pride, because the man clambered to his feet and pointed at Charlie in anger. “Who the hell are you?”

“You don’t recognize this perfect face of mine?” Charlie sounded surprised before he nodded after a second of contemplation. “No, that’s understandable seeing as our social statuses are simply too far apart it would be like expecting an ant to understand the existence of a hawk.”

The pervert opened his mouth, about to retort, but Charlie interrupted him by snapping his fingers. Immediately, a group of men in black suits appeared out of nowhere and surrounded the pervert, scaring the man into shutting his mouth.

“As you can see, I’m not someone you can afford to anger. Which brings us back to the subject of how, if you can’t afford to anger me, then you must have the courage of a thousand men to anger my fiancée, someone even I don’t dare cross.”

By now, the pervert realized that things weren’t going well at all and Charlie was someone with money and influence who could likely do anything he wanted to a poor, ordinary man like him, and so he began to apologize profusely to both you and Charlie.

“Give this man a lesson in etiquette.” Unfortunately for him, Charlie ignored him, gave his bodyguards an order, and then turned to you. “Fiancée, you didn’t injure your hand, did you?”

“... No.” Your reply was delayed because you were still processing everything that just happened and also the sight of the bodyguards forcing the pervert to read a gargantuan book on gentleman’s etiquette out loud. Faintly, you could hear a bodyguard tell the pervert that he wasn’t allowed to leave until he finished the entire book. Please, there had to be 1000 pages to that book!

Charlie took your hand and helped you put your sandal back on before he tugged you away from the spectacle in front of you. Gentleness had returned to his eyes, although there was a proud smile on his face now. "Don’t you think it’s a romantic coincidence that I came across you here? So, under this happy coincidence, will you give me the honor of dining with you tonight?”

Later on, there was a massive donation to the city to make them install more cameras in public areas and also promote awareness of sexual harassment. But this was a story for another day.

JESSE

A loud and shocked gasp interrupted your beating of the pervert. Looking to where the noise came from, you saw Jesse on the other side of the street. You felt a rush of relief, knowing he would support you unconditionally, but before you could even say a word to him after he rushed over, he passed you without a glance, helped the pervert up, and supported him away.

“Sir, I know some physiognomy and the second I saw your face I knew I had to tell you that—”

You stared, dumbstruck, as Jesse and the man walked farther and farther away. But just as they were about to turn a corner, Jesse looked over his shoulder at you and winked.

Realizing he must have a reason for doing what he was doing, you put your sandal back on, tidied your clothing, and waited for his return.

Sure enough, several minutes later, Jesse came back alone and briskly walked up to you before holding you gently by the shoulders and examining every inch of you.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Concern radiated from him.

“Not a scratch,” you reassured him, and then you really couldn’t hold back your curiosity anymore. “So, what were you doing with that man?”

Jesse’s eyes darkened momentarily when you brought up the pervert, but then he slipped into a good mood and shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, him. I just made it so that he won’t bother anyone in the near future because he’ll be too busy looking over his shoulder. He’s under the impression that there’s a star of bad luck over him and, if he’s not careful, he’ll meet with a terrible accident.”

Your mouth dropped open. “How did you get him to believe that?”

“You know I can do some basic fortune telling, right? So after I convinced him I was legit, I made the rest up.” Jesse’s grin widened, impishly revealing a canine tooth.

"Jesse! You’re awful!” Even though you said this, you couldn’t stop laughing at the pervert’s karmic retribution. Jesse began to laugh as well, infected by your delight, and the two of you ended up leaning against each other to keep the other standing.

In the past, you used to be the one who protected him but now he was showing you that he could protect you too.

[princesssarcastia]

child superheroes, child soldiers?

taking the child sidekick thing in superhero genre seriously is a lovely thought exercise that can make for some exceptional stories.  [please note: i like child superheroes.  i love them, in fact.  im not saying don’t write stories where child superheroes are socially acceptable, okay, this is just a killjoy thought exercise that i find fun]

at the core of it is the tension between a child’s autonomy over their own life, and adults’ responsibility to do what’s best for children.   that is a tension that is very clearly weighted in one direction in our society—adults have near total control over the children in their lives.  children are an oppressed class in our society.  children are arguably the largest class of oppressed people in our society, in fact.  what they want so rarely matters to the adults around them, or to the law or society governing our lives.

it’s easy to take the child superhero/sidekick thing seriously and say “the adults shouldn’t be allowing this.  they should stop this” with the underlying thread of, by any means necessary. 

what complicates this, if you’re doing it right, is that children are actually human people that deserve the same rights as everyone else, even if they aren’t entitled to them right now in our society.

take a moment and try to remember when you were a child, if you aren’t still a child today.   do you remember how much that sucked?  It sucked for me, personally.  My parents were great parents, but I spent my entire childhood seething with rage because I had no control over everything. 

let us turn for a moment to the eternally relevant bill watterson for an illustration of this:

[image description: a calvin and hobbes comic strip.  in the first panel, calvin’s mom says “get up, calvin!  i’m not going to call you again!”.  in the second panel, calvin is still in bed, under the covers, with a thought bubble that says “i bet.”  In the third pannel, calvin’s mom is telling him, “you’re going to miss the bus!  now get out of bed!”  in the fourth panel, calvin is at the chalkboard in his classroom.  calvin’s teacher is telling him, “you don’t know the answer?  then sit down.”  in the fifth panel, a bully is holding calvin up against the lockers and telling him, “hey twinky, want to see if there’s an afterlife?”  In the sixth panel, calvin is sitting at a table that has his homework on it; he’s looking out the window; one of his parents is saying, “no, you can’t go play until you finish your homework.”  in the seventh panel, calvin’s family is at the dinner table; calvin is looking disgustedly at his food; calvin’s dad is telling him, “just eat your food.  you don’t need to play with it.”  in the eighth panel, calvin is playing on the floor; his mom is telling him, “stop stalling and get in the bathtub.”  in the ninth panel, calvin’s dad is turning off the TV and telling him, “no, you can’t stay up a little longer.  go to bed.”  in the ninth panel, calvin is getting in the bed.  in the tenth panel, calvin’s mom is tucking him in, saying “ have a good night’s sleep.  tomorrow’s another big day!”  in the eleventh and final panel, calvin is alone in his bed, with a distressed face, sighing heavily. end image description]

Living as a child with adults, for me, was like living under a benevolent dictatorship—sure, they’re great and all, but that doesn’t change the fact that i didn’t vote for them, I didn’t choose this, they didn’t ask for my input, and they can ignore me and do whatever they want with me at any time.  the adults could ask what I wanted, and try to follow it, but that’s not a matter of “my rights as a human being,” that’s a matter of personal preference on the part of the adults in question.  it’s a facade of rights, a little dance you can do to make the child feel better. 

if you were a kid like me, you understood the difference and found it infuriating. having autonomy as an adult, to me, was like....being able to take a full breath for the first time in my life.

at the same time, to circle back to the child superhero question—holy shit, children should not be superheroes.  like.  that’s a lot of violence; that’s a lot of violence for a kid to commit, that’s a lot of violence for a kid to endure.  it’s absolutely 100% bad for them, it’s wrong to endorse it, and it’s wrong to allow it in any way.  no one should frankly be put at risk like that, but children especially should not, given the trauma it’ll inflict on their body, mind, and soul. 

a great character to explore this with is captain marvel/billy batson, actually, because you can’t stop him.  not without seriously injuring him physically or mentally, and even that is incredibly difficult if not impossible for most people to do.  he forces you to respect his autonomy as a full human person, something most children cannot do. 

another great character to explore this with is jason todd.  he died being a child superhero, it fucked him up immeasurably, and he’s pissed as hell about it on multiple levels.  at the same time, he is also a human person with rights who deeply, deeply values his autonomy and ability to control his own life. 

so.  in front of you is a child who is or wants to be a superhero.   this is their express wish for themselves, this is how they want to help, how they want to interact with and serve their community; this is what they have training to do or are asking for training to do.  

do you let them?  do you help them?  do you stop them?

[stewardofningishzida]

Chapter 14: Weathered

The final chapter of the meta-fic! Special thanks to Tear, Trix, PrettyWitch, Weevil, Fox, Hana, Laer, Alexis, and Tuatara for collaborating with me! <3

T for language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*After the group sleeps off last night’s impromptu party in the living room, PrettyWitch takes Stephen to retrieve the replica Sling Ring.  As soon as they return, he tries it on, feeling its shape and weight while inspecting the engraved details.*

Stephen:  …It’s definitely close to mine.  

Prettywitch: I’ll say…

Trix: Certainly has the weight to it.

Me:  Think you need a bit more energy before trying it out just to be sure it works?

Stephen:  It might be a good idea.  Who hasn’t given energy lately?

Me:  My eyes are almost healed.  Let me do it.  I’m back to being able to see colors and movement again.

Stephen:  *Sigh*  Stubborn, huh?  It might delay your recovery by another day.

Me:  Worth it if it helps.

Tear: Or…I could just do it instead. The bakery is closed for the weekend. Besides, if the spell works, you’ll want to have your sight back so that you can give Stephen a proper goodbye.

Me:  You sure you’ll be okay?  That spell takes a lot out of each of us…With the exception of PrettyWitch.  She seems to be a natural at it.

Tear: …Is this supposed to be an argument in your favor? Because you’re just giving me more reasons for why I should be the one to do it. You’re healing. I’m not even hungover. I just have a sore throat from last night. *I lean over so I can give Stephen a look* Back me up here?

*The former surgeon is about to start up.  I can feel it.*  

Me:  Okay, okay!  I’ll step aside.  Go ahead, Tear.  *I yield.* 

Tear: Huh, maybe I should start threatening you with Stephen’s medical lectures more often. *I give Steward a fond nudge before I proceed to cast the spell that has nearly become second nature to us all. The energy drain is quite significant, and I feel as if I just rushed through an entire day’s worth of activities in only a couple of minutes* Ugh, now I’m feeling hungover. This brand of it just lacks all the fun we had last night.

Me:  *Before the spell*  Heh…Medical stuff, I’m fine with.  It’s lectures I can’t stand.  *I curl my lip.  *When I hear Tear do the spell and notice sluggish, stumbling movement afterwards, I try to go help her so she doesn’t fall over.  Though I do have trouble finding her arm to hold her up.*  You okay?  Lemme help you get to a chair.   

Stephen:  Allow me.  *He helps Tear sit down.*

Tear: Thanks, Stephen. *I rest my elbows on my knees and take deep breaths to help me get used to the sudden physical change* It’s the heart palpitations that always freak me out. Feels like I’m panicking over nothing when I haven’t done the exercise to go with it.

PrettyWitch: Heart Palpatations!? *Looks at Stephen.* She’s gonna be okay, right!?

*He looks Tear over just to be sure that she’s okay.  Meanwhile, I stand close by, worried.*

Tear: *I smile in amusement, but let my friends see for themselves that I’m alright* You’re hovering again~

Stephen:  Well, it seems like you’ll be okay.  Just take it easy.  Hopefully you won’t need to cast that spell again.  *He pulls out his phone and texts the group, saying that he’s going to try the Sling Ring and a few goodbyes to the various members who couldn’t physically be here.*  Thank you again for everything, ladies.  *He gives us a genuinely grateful smile.*

Trix: Anything to help. In a roundabout way you helped all of us get introduced so we’re just returning the favor.

PrettyWitch: Hey, it’s our pleasure. 

Me:  I’ll let you borrow the key to my shed in the backyard so you have a safe area to do it out of sight.  Goodbye, Stephen.  It was seriously amazing to meet you. *I’m sincere and keep a straight face.  Though I have a slight lump in my throat.  I hide my emotions as best I can as usual.*

Stephen:  Goodbye, Steward.  Keep doing your best and for Vishanti’s sake, please be more careful.  

*He gently puts his hand on my shoulder.  I raise my hand and put it gently on his wrist.*

Me:  I will.  *I barely manage to conceal a voice crack.*

*He lets go and goes to Tear.*  

Stephen:  Thank you for being such a kind young woman, Tear.  *The Cloak gently hugs her when Stephen gets close.  Its grip is weak and sluggish, but still there and as soft and warm as ever.*  

Tear: Silly, you don’t have to thank me for that. *I give him a quivering smile, eyes quickly tearing up as my emotions all tangle in a knot in my throat. When the Cloak moves, I reach over to pet it fondly* You take good care of him for us, okay? 

*The Cloak waves very faintly in reply.  Stephen stops at Trix.* 

Stephen:  Keep being resourceful, Trix.  Your joy and love of life is contagious.  Many others in the world could learn from you.

Trix: Always glad to help. Thanks for everything you’re doing. *smiles and is trying not to cry*

*Stephen goes over to PrettyWitch.*

Stephen:  I’m not sure how your spells work here, but I’ll say it again.  You would have made an excellent sorceress in my universe.  Keep practicing and help keep your friends safe, all right?

PrettyWitch: *Blushes and smiles* I will. *She hugs him.* Thank you so much, Stephen!!! I’m so glad I got to meet you! You’re more than welcome to visit anytime.

*He straightens up and takes the keys from me, heading to the shed with the Sling Ring as the three of us watch from the garden sidewalk.  After the door closes, there are a few seconds of faint crackling before a loud bang followed by a crash.  There are the sounds of gardening tools and shelving filled with pots falling over.*

Trix: Oh god I hope he didn’t blow himself up immediately! *runs for the shed*

Me (alarmed):  Oh crap!  *I attempt to stumble over to the shed, tripping a few times and almost falling over.  I can only really see colors, movement, and very blurry shapes at this stage.*  

PrettyWitch: I’ll help you to the shed, come on! *I take hold of Steward and guide her to the shed door.* 

Tear: Stephen!? *I run after the other two, panting harshly as if I had run ten times the distance with the lingering exhaustion from the previous spell. I wince at the sight of the mess inside the shed after Trix yanks the door open*

*He’s on the floor of the shed, covered in potting soil and fertilizer.  The sorcerer also has a few bruises from the shovels and pots that fell on him.  His arm is scratched from the rake.  The wall of the shed has a crack in it now and the shelves have fallen down on the side that he collided with.  In addition, the air inside the shed smells spicy and almost greasy.  That same odd, otherworldly smell as the last time he cast a powerful spell.  Stephen gets up, cringing from the bruises as he brushes off all of the filth.  The Sling Ring is cracked almost completely in half.*  

Stephen (raspy from the dust that got in his mouth and throat):  That did something, at least.  

*He coughs before checking himself for further injuries.  Besides the cuts and bruises, Stephen is okay.  However, the Cloak hangs from him…differently.  The sorcerer feels the difference and checks on his relic.  He tries to get it to move, talking to it, prodding it, and even removing it and giving it a shake.  Nothing.  A dark cloud of hopelessness passes onto Stephen’s face.* 

Stephen (quietly):  No…

Tear: *I cover my mouth with my hand to hold in a gasp at the sight of the Cloak. The picture Stephen paints is heartbreaking, but I swallow down my tears and carefully tread my way through the path Trix helped to clear out. When I reach Stephen’s side, I place a comforting hand on his shoulder like he did to us so many times in the past and crouch down to be at eye level with him.* I know. I know, but let’s go outside first. It looks like the spell damaged the structure of the shed. It could be unsafe to linger. *I speak gently, not to dismiss the situation but to make sure no one gets more harmed for now. I move my hand to hold his arm, ready to steady him if he needs it while he gets up even though I am shaking quite noticeably myself*

*He’s silent and numb, letting Tear help him up.  Stephen clutches his Cloak tightly, holding it close.  It went through so much with him.  Tens of millions of deaths to Dormammu, Thanos, and countless other foes amongst the near-infinite timelines.  5 years as dust.  Through rift after multidimensional rift.  Yet, two weeks in this accursed, non-magical universe is what did it in.  His only remaining tie to his home universe.  Gone.  Despite trying to be persistent and brave this entire time, the sorcerer finally breaks.  Tears silently roll down his face and he can’t be bothered to conceal them.*

Trix: Come on, we need to at least get outside. We have to keep you safe. *ushering him towards the door and trying not to cry*

PrettyWitch: Cloakie…

*I can’t completely see what’s going on, but I can guess judging by the limp, red blur hanging in front of the dark-blue moving figure.* 

Me (shaking and quiet):  Oh God…D-Did Cloak…?  I…I’m so sorry…*The last part comes out as little more than a raspy whisper.  I’m struggling to stay composed, though I’m stunned and heartbroken.*

Tear: *I carefully guide Stephen out of the shed without letting go of his arm, hoping it serves as an anchor point through his shock. I relax slightly once Trix follows us outside, where we’ll all be safe if the shed ends up collapsing. Once we reach Steward’s side, I reach out for her hand and guide her to hold on to Stephen’s other elbow* Here, let’s head back together to the bench on the porch. He should sit down. *I don’t bring any attention to his silent tears, not wanting him to shy away from us. Instead, I only offer comfort through a gentle squeeze to his arm*

*I’m quiet for a while to let Stephen collect himself, simply keeping him company.*

Me (sincere):  …If you need some time to yourself, please feel free to let us know.  Otherwise, we’re here for you no matter what, okay?  *I make sure I don’t sound pitying or condescending.  Frankly, I address him the way that I wanted to be addressed after losing my friend back in college before I had even met the group.  It was horrible then and still stings occasionally.  Unfortunately, I was on my own at the time and having at least someone there would have been appreciated even though I did want to be left alone for quite a while afterwards.  So, I’m gentle while remaining sincere with him.*

Trix: No matter what, we’re going to be here for you. *trying not to feel guilty for suggesting the sling ring in the first place*

*Stephen just sits there silently for several minutes.  He’s at a complete loss.  After a long time, he speaks.*

Stephen (hoarse and trying to pull himself together):  I’m going to spend some time alone for a while…  

Me:  Take all of the time you need.  We aren’t going anywhere.  

Tear: Just… *I swallow thickly to keep my emotions in check. Being used to offering physical comfort when someone is in distress, I make sure I hold back the instinct so as to not distress him further. Instead, I grip the fabric of my jeans tightly and mentally pick the least overbearing concern currently circling in my head* Just promise me you’ll get the first aid kit. Take care of that slash on your arm, okay?

*He gives a small nod.  It’s all he can muster now.  He carefully stands up and silently walks into the house still carrying the now-inanimate Cloak.*

*I’m quiet and trying to stay composed.  I hate being vulnerable in front of others.  Even those close to me.  I want to be the strong one that others can depend on.  I want people to feel safe around me.  Yet, with this, I no longer know what to do.  So, I just sit.  There is a lump in my throat.  So, I don’t really want to talk anymore in a vain attempt to hide the emotions threatening to spill out.*  

Tear: *With Stephen now back inside the house, I let a few tears fall but quickly wipe them away. Looking out to the trashed shed, determination and possible denial steel my nerves. Let hope and positivism stay with me until I die. I turn to PrettyWitch* We gotta help the Cloak somehow. There must be a way to modify the energy spell to direct it toward the Cloak instead of Stephen. Or maybe there’s a different spell altogether.

PrettyWitch: *I bite my finger.* Gee, I don’t know… *I look at where Stephen disappeared; seeing that crushing defeat in his eyes makes my heart ache and it makes me determined.* It’s worth a shot.

Tear: *I glare at a distant point in the garden, upset at the overall situation and not at my friends. I hate feeling so impotent.* Then I’ll text the others too. I’ll let them know the research to conjure a portal will be put on hold while we concentrate instead on finding a way to re-energize the Cloak. We have to bring it back. *I whip out my phone and already start composing a text for one of our old group chats, one Stephen has not joined so that the conversation doesn’t trigger him further. I don’t want to risk him stopping us from helping him again either.*

Me (grim and quiet):  *I gently put my hand on Tear’s to indicate to stop.*  …I think we’ve done everything we could to send him home…I don’t like pessimism, but even with a group of us taking turns casting over and over, it wasn’t enough.  Realistically, I think we need to help him integrate into life here quietly.  He’s been through enough and he already feels guilty about how much we give to him.  Let’s do our best to help him restart his life and not get more hurt than he already is.  *My voice cracks a few times, but I’m finally too emotionally tired to care about hiding it.* 

Tear: *I pause typing and turn to look at Steward, although I’m not erasing my half-written text yet.* Alright, so maybe finding a way to open a portal through the multiverse was too ambitious for us, but even if our world lacks the magical energy for such a powerful feat, we owe it to Stephen to at least try to find a way to wake the Cloak up. We can arrange for him to stay longer with us, permanently even, but we know better than anyone that he won’t be able to integrate without the Cloak. Not after everything they’ve lived through together. *I turn to Trix, in need of her sunny fighting spirit now more than ever* Or am I wrong?  

Trix: No, Cloak is the priority now. We help them and we help Stephen.

Me:  I don’t know how we could do that, but yeah…*I’m just letting things transpire now.  I feel as though I failed our group and Stephen.  So, I let Tear lead, withdrawing into myself.*  

PrettyWitch: I just hope we can find something soon. Magic is pretty weak in this dimension based on what I know. But it’s not like we knew if my protection magic would replenish or not.

Tear: Well, we didn’t know we’d find interdimensional portals in an old mine either… *I lean sideways to press my shoulder to Steward’s in a small supportive gesture before going back to composing my text.* Plus, PrettyWitch was able to find that energy spell too. It proved there’s at least some magic here. I’m sure we’ll eventually be able to find something new to help the Cloak. We’ve got Laer’s researching prowess on our side, too. *I give a small smile. At this point, I’m not even sure if I’m trying to cheer Steward or myself up.*

Me:  The more I think about it, the more I suspect that Stephen landing here is what triggered the whole magic and rift things, to be honest.  *I’m just trying to find something to analyze and keep my mind busy so I don’t continue to spiral.  I return the lean from Tear so she knows that I appreciate the gesture.*

Trix: The question is if it’s retroactive in our history because people disappeared from the mine in the past. Was it always like that or did changes happen when the rift did?

Me:  I’d theorize it happened when the rift did.  Since magic can alter reality itself, who’s to say it didn’t just rewrite what happened to those guys?  Though honestly, that’s pretty out there.  On the other hand, this isn’t anything we’ve ever dealt with before.

PrettyWitch: No, you’re right. I mean until now, I’d only been using my protection magic on people and places, but I had no guarantee if it worked or not.

*As an unintended side effect of tearing up before, my vision somewhat clears a little bit more.  It’s still rather blurry, but I can at least navigate better.  I subtly and grimly chuckle to myself about it.*

Me:  Heh…Natural eye drops…

*There’s an odd sort of shimmer in midair in the garden.  After a few seconds, it’s followed by a few sparks.  I notice the sudden bright bits and stare, unsure what it is.*

Me (a bit scared):  …Erm…Tear…?  You see that, right?  My eyes didn’t somehow get even more damaged, correct?

Tear: *I look up from my novel-length text and follow Steward’s pointing finger. The sight of the strange energy makes my heart give a painful jolt in fright and I curse loudly in Spanish* I do. You don’t think…that Stephen’s spell just summoned another entity like the one in the mine, right…? *I tense in fight or flight instinct and shoot a hand out to grip Steward’s arm. Out of everyone here, she’s the only one who’d understand the terror linked to that thought.*

Trix: Oh shit! Guys we gotta go! We gotta move!

PrettyWitch: Right!

*I look pale and about to vomit, staring at the new rift developing in my garden as I flashback to the horror we experienced down there.*

Me (knowing that he’s the only one who can possibly fend it off):  Oh God…STEPHEN!  *I yell at the top of my lungs.*  

*A fiery ring of sparks opens up.  The interior is blurred and shimmery.  It’s uncertain whether it’s some sort of ‘interference’ from whatever is crossing over into our universe or simply from different multiverse energies.  There is a broad shadow about to pass through.*

Tear: Go. Go go go go. Back inside. *I grab a hold of Steward’s hand and help her run back into the house, urgently herding Trix and PrettyWitch to run in front of me too.* STEPHEN! *I try yelling next, begging the universe he decided to stay in the house instead of going out on his own to mourn.*

*Stephen bursts out of his room, his eyes red and puffy.  However, he’s ready to fight.*

Stephen (worried):  What’s going on?

Me: RIFT.  GARDEN.

Stephen:  Shit!  *He goes out to the garden, silently praying that he still has enough energy to be able to protect us.*

*It’s quiet for a second before we hear…Relief?*

Stephen (outside):  Wong!  How’d you find me?

*I silently mouth at the group, confused for a second.*  

Me:  Wait…Wong?  

*It takes a moment to fully process.*

Me (lightbulb going off in my head):  Oh my God!  Wong finally found him!  Though is it the right one…?

*I look at the group.*

Tear: *I stare back at Steward, my brain trying to catch up after such a horrible fright as well.* Wong… Oh, at this point I don’t care if he is. Oh, thank God. *I press a hand to my racing heart and close my eyes tightly. The wave of relief is so strong my knees buckle* Oh God, there goes my low blood sugar… *I practically melt against the kitchen counter and sink down, the combination of casting the energy spell and the spike of adrenaline finally catching up to me*

*I catch Tear quickly and help her sit down.  Don’t need good eyesight to tell where she’s falling.*

Trix: Fuck- *wheezes out a breath* That could’ve been really really bad. Thank god we have some good karma built up.

PrettyWitch: *Runs to the cupboard and comes out with a box of crackers.* Here, have these, Tear. *I hold the box out to her.*

Me:  Are you gonna be okay?  

Tear: Yeah, yeah. Just pass me a soda and I’ll be good as new. *I wave their fear away and reach out to accept the crackers with shaking hands. The floor feels like it’s rocking underneath me as black spots flicker in my vision, but I concentrate on controlling my breathing and accept an already opened soda when it’s offered.*

*Stephen re-enters the house, followed by Wong, looking exhausted, but relieved.*

Stephen:  Wong finally found me.  *He’s processing this, a veritable parade of many emotions flashing through his mind at once.*

Wong (relieved as well, though he remains stoic as ever):  It was not easy.  I attempted to trace him several times to no avail and had no leads until a week ago when I used the Orb of Agamotto during another round of searching and detected a faint magical trace in another dimension.  Yours.  However, it was so brief that I couldn’t quite make it out and lost Strange’s trail again until now.  The failed portal sent enough of Stephen and the Cloak’s mystical energy through the multiverse for me to trace them more properly.  However, I see that it has effectively drained the Cloak of Levitation’s energy completely.  

Stephen (grim):  …Yes…

Trix: Can the Cloak be helped when it gets back home?

Wong:  …We will have to see about that.  I’ve never seen such an extensive drainage of magical energy before.  I’ll have Stephen take it to Enitharmon the Weaver to see what can be done.  Being trapped here in this non-magical dimension effectively starved both Stephen and the Cloak of energy.  Hence, why the signatures from here were so weak.  The only reason that any of this worked was the multidimensional rifts caused by Stephen’s arrival here leaking small amounts of energy into this world.

Tear: *I push myself back to my feet, still a bit pale but the sugar boost is already working its magic.* Aren’t rifts between dimensions supposed to be extremely dangerous? As in, incursion-level dangerous?

Wong:  It depends on how big they get, how long they last, and what gets through.  Mercifully, since your universe hadn’t had any rifts occur before and it is non-magical in nature, the damage was not as extensive as it could have been.  Your world has not yet attracted enough “attention”, so to speak.

Me (staying nearby Tear to make sure she’s stable):  …Do we have to worry about anything else?

Trix: Yeah, that sounds both good for Stephen but also worrying on our side since we don’t have a way to defend ourselves.

Wong:  That, I’m not sure.  Us returning to our world should typically allow the rifts to close over on their own, but Strange has been here for almost two weeks.  We generally don’t stay in other dimensions for very long at all.  Typically, not even 24 hours.  This is unprecedented.  

Stephen (gratefully, to the group):  If there IS any problem here, then I’ll do my best to help you.  

Me (warmly):  Thank you, guys.

PrettyWitch: Hey, what are friends for?

Tear: *I smile fondly at the two sorcerers* With you two in our corner, I’m feeling safer already.

Trix: Hey, at least we got our emotional goodbyes in before you kinda blew up! Plus we get to meet Wong! *slightly leans to the side and completely focuses on Wong* Hi! Pleasure to meet you, you’re my favorite other than Mr. Cheekbones here! 

*Wong looks at Stephen and then back at Trix and very slightly raises an eyebrow without changing any more of his expression.*

Wong (respectful, but a bit confused):  …Thank you?  What is your name, Miss…?

Trix: I’m Trix! To make things slightly less confusing, we know a decent bit about your universe as it is a popular media source via comics and movies and tv shows. Stephen wasn’t exactly impressed. 

Wong:  Interesting.  Nice to meet you, Trix.  *He gives a small nod in her direction.*

Trix: *grins back*

Wong:  Now, if everything else has been sorted out here, Strange and I should get going.  

Stephen (giving us a small smile):  Thank you for everything while I was here, ladies.

Me (finally deciding to drop my defenses and be warm and cordial):  We just did what we thought was the right thing, hon.  Good luck and stay safe as best you can out there, okay?

Trix: Goodby- WAIT. I NEED TO GO GRAB SOMETHING FROM THE HOUSE, DO NOT LEAVE YET! *She sprints into the other room.*

Stephen:  Hmm?

Trix: *Running significantly slower coming back with a large bag.* Here! *Shoves bag into Stephen’s arms.* After movie night we have a bunch of our movies and shows and music to send back with you! As something to remember us by!

*He grunts at the weight, but accepts the bag.*

Stephen:  Thank you.

Me:  Aw, hell…Keep the phone.  I’ll just finish the payments on it.  Dunno if it’ll even work interdimensionally, but eh.  It’s a souvenir.  If you can somehow contact us before the end of the month, I’ll keep your plan active.

*The sorcerer looks amused.*

Stephen (smirking):  Fine.  We’ll see.

PrettyWitch: I don’t really have anything to give you, so… *She hugs him again.* Don’t give up. There’s always another way, even if it seems like there isn’t…

Tear: Ah, fuck it. *I follow after PrettyWitch, tugging Steward with me, and hug Stephen around the middle as well. Trix only needs a little wave before she’s enthusiastically joining in on the group hug.* You’ve done amazing, Stephen. Thank you for everything.

*I follow Tear and gently hug Stephen, secretly grateful that she made me do this.  I wanted to, but was too shy before.  If I hadn’t done it, I probably would have regretted missing out.  Stephen is surprised, but lets us.*

Stephen (his face now brick-red):  Thanks, ladies.  I’ll miss you too.  You did a lot for me and I won’t forget it.

Wong (teasing a bit):  It seems you’ve gathered some admirers here, Strange.

*Stephen is still blushing.*

Stephen:  …I just got lucky.

Trix: Damn straight you did. *Sticking her tongue out at him.* Imagine if you didn’t land near some nerds.

Stephen (sarcastic, but more in a friendly way):  Har har…

Wong (slight grin, teasing him):  Come on, Strange.  Don’t worry.  We’ve already cleaned up the mess you left behind.

*Stephen huffs, but heads with Wong back outside and to the portal, waving goodbye as he leaves.  The media bag is slung across his shoulder while he carefully holds the Cloak on his arm.  After the two leave, the portal closes as we watch.*

Me:  …Is it sappy to say that I miss those three already?

Trix: Nah, same here. Bit of a crazy time, huh? Now we have to go back to same old boring regular life.

Me:  I’ll say…Also, blegh…Then again, I think we all need a bit of a break.  

PrettyWitch: I just hope he lets us know if Cloakie’s gonna be okay.

Tear: *I throw an arm around PrettyWitch’s shoulders and give her a squeeze* I’m pretty sure a being as powerful as Enitharmon will be able to figure something out. Gosh, I can’t believe we’ll just have to go right back to work as if nothing happened though… *I groan out loud and rub my eyes with my hands, not looking forward to the pile of chores waiting for me back at the bakery.*

Me (tired and with mixed emotions, but getting back to business):  …I suppose I should see if the shed will still stand.  Otherwise, I need to repair it.  Life won’t wait no matter what interdimensional shenanigans happen.  Still can’t see too well, but enough to get by.  Should probably be back at almost 100% by tomorrow.  By the way, thanks for believing me and helping out when all of this went down.  Seriously, I don’t know what I would have done without you all.  *I smile gratefully at the group.*

Tear: Well, thanks for trusting us with the secret to begin with. I can’t say it was all a walk in the park but…I don’t regret a second of it.

PrettyWitch: Yeah, me too.

Trix: If you think you’re fixing that shed without help you’re insane at this point. *Smirking and gently teasing.* 

Tear: I’ll go get you some drinks and snacks from the fridge!

*We grab our tools and happily get to work once more, even stronger as a group than before.  Despite everything happening in just a couple of short weeks, everybody grew in one way or another and there is no challenge that each of us isn’t willing to face together.*

***THE END***

[taruruchi]

ᴛᴀʀᴜᴄʜɪ: ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇʟɪɴᴇs & ᴄʜᴀᴛs

Note: I know MCs don't usually have voice lines but 🤺 I'm giving her voicelines. There are no rules in this household. You also don't understand how unexpectedly long it took me to come up with a chat for Azul . And I'm an Azul simp

❜ ─ VOICELINES ─ ❛

Tutorial: Oh, are you lost? Yeah, same... No, just kidding! Sure, I'll show you around.

Level Up 1: Does this mean I can use magic now? ...No? Well, it was worth a shot.

Level Up 2: Pretty surprising for a magicless human to get higher grades than a lot of people, huh?

Level Up 3: I bet you I could beat all these people if I had magic.

Level Max: I might not have magic but I think I'm at least more familiar with it! Now, if I could just steal someone's pen... Kidding!

Vignette Level Up: Hey, I know I don't say it enough, or even at all, but... I really do appreciate the friendship we have.

Spell Level Up: It's pretty fun learning about a completely new world.

Uncapped: At this point, I should just replace one of the housewardens... No, never mind, they'd kill me. Except Idia, I bet he'd be glad.

Groovification: I'm in the mood for fun! Heyo, wanna do something together? You can decide what it is, I trust your judgment and taste.

Lesson Select 1: I'm sleepy... Do you think I can sleep through the next class?

Lesson Select 2: The duality of history class is real. It can be interesting but so boring at the same time. How is that possible?

Lesson Select 3: Please don't pick flight class. I can't sleep and I have to exercise? What a nightmare.

Lesson Start: Do you have your stuff ready?

Lesson Finish: Can I go back to my room now?

Battle Start: I have a feeling you're gonna regret this...

Battle Won: You shouldn't rush into fights you can't win.

❜ ─ CHATS ─ ❛

Perfect Blend

Riddle: Taruchi, there will be an Unbirthday party tomorrow afternoon.

Riddle: Would you like to come?

Taruchi: Will you let me have coffee instead of tea?

Riddle: But why? Unbirthday parties are essentially and traditionally tea parties.

Taruchi: I just haven't found the right blend of tea, and sweetened coffee is just good!

Riddle: Is that so? If that's the case, we just need to find the perfect blend for you.

Riddle: So come to the party tomorrow, all right?

Sleeping Spot

Taruchi: Leona, I have to admit something.

Leona: Are you about to admit you actually like me and were just in denial before?

Taruchi: What? No. That's stupid.

Taruchi: I wanted to say that sleeping under a tree is surprisingly relaxing.

Taruchi: It's very peaceful. So I also wanted to apologize for interrupting your sleep when you were under the trees.

Taruchi: Only for those times. This is a truce just because I see the appeal.

Leona: Hmph. You finally came to your senses, Herbivore.

Unexpected Idea

Azul: You're in luck today, Taruchi. I have you to thank for my latest business idea.

Taruchi: Should I be worried?

Azul: Not at all! I came here to give you my thanks. I owe you.

Taruchi: That's nice and all, but... I already don't like where this is going.

Azul: Because of your explanation of "gacha games", I had the idea of employing a similar method for an event in the Mostro Lounge.

Taruchi: No. Stop. I already don't like this.

Taruchi: You're becoming just like my worst enemies! The companies that run gacha games...

Homesick

Taruchi: *sigh* This place is way too cold for me.

Kalim: Were you from somewhere with hotter temperatures?

Taruchi: Yeah, it was much warmer than here.

Kalim: In that case, why don't you visit Scarabia? It never snows there!

Taruchi: True, I've always felt more comfortable whenever I visit your dorm.

Taruchi: Are you sure you don't mind?

Kalim: Not at all! We can even have a sleepover!

Kalim: I'll ask Jamil to prepare for our sleepover tonight!

Taruchi: Wait, I didn't even agree yet—

Unhealthy Habits

Vil: Taruchi, did you stay up late again?

Taruchi: Wh— How did you know?

Vil: If I know one thing about you, it's that you have the bad habit of staying up late.

Vil: It's also evident on your face.

Taruchi: What? I thought I looked normal.

Vil: That's because you're used to that look.

Vil: So, I've created a regimen that you must follow every day.

Vil: I'll keep checking up on you until it's engraved in your memory.

Taruchi: Man, what... I mean— Thank you, Vil.

Free Pass

Taruchi: Hey, Idia.

Idia: T-Taruchi. What are you doing here?

Taruchi: I was wondering if I could be something like... an honorary Ignihyde student.

Idia: What...? What do you even mean?

Taruchi: Please give me free access to Ignihyde and its Wi-Fi. Please?

Taruchi: Ramshackle doesn't have Wi-Fi—I'm dying out here!

Idia: I don't know if I have the power to make you... What did you call it? Well, whatever.

Idia: But I can give you the Wi-Fi password. Just because you're one of the decent people here.

Idia: And... you know. You can stay in Ignihyde. Just remember we have strict boundaries.

Taruchi: Yeah, obviously. Me too. Anywhoozle, thanks, bestie!

Late Nights

Taruchi: Mal-Mal, I know I stay up really late but...

Taruchi: Do you really have to visit me at two in the morning? That's prime bed time.

Malleus: I apologize, Child of Man. I fail to realize what time it is, given that time moves differently for humans and fae.

Malleus: I was also not aware of the “prime bed time.”

Taruchi: That's fine, I'm not that mad.

Taruchi: But could you at least visit me, like... seven hours earlier?

Malleus: ...Of course. The next time I visit, I will come earlier.

Taruchi: Why did that sound unsure...?

[evelyne-am]

22nd March 2023

Day 9

I’m still slacking and to my horror others are struggling too here and there. Most of the cast is finding it tough to remember the new cues and lines and line distributions. We spent two hours on the first five lines today barely getting through the act one. Director is understandably furious. We got a proper yelling because we are just stumbling at every line. He reminds us we haven't even done the first two pages and we have 58 left. The song we open with is the one I made and I havent locked it, so we keep making mistakes on that first opening scene for over an hour.

I feel very angry with myself, even though my lackings are in a different place than others, M is correct when she says that we still haven’t jumped in fully. I wonder if I should stop writing the blog, it makes me feel like I’m still an outsider because I’m writing about it. But I also don’t want to stop because our director is really something and I would like to remember how I have been learning, how he is directing, and also these heightened emotions that I feel that may inspire me later. I already feel myself changing, my tolerance for inefficiency in my own teams is lowering. Even though I’m doing the same thing. Get to 100 percent AM!

We are on the 3rd version now. Originally we had thought it would be each person reads one part and is M1/M2/M3 turn by turn. 2nd version we played her at the same time, line by line like we are one person. Today's version seems final. There is only one M1/M2- though everyone else has dialogue its in 3rd person now. Sir seems to have picked M1/M2 as Sharm and Srab. They've played it the second day in a row. Sharm is doing super it I have to say. She’s the most experienced of the lot except M. shes able to stay in the zone and concentrate. We are working on act one which is basically pre 71, happisg times. I realise that we haven’t cried in a few sags. The first 6 to 7 days I was crying in rehearsal every day as we were learning the script. But as we are only figuring out the intros and beginning sequences none of it has been of the war of the crimes south so it’s very sort of mild. Md says that now we are forgetting the person who is actually telling the story. She is so right after rehearsal we are all feeling a bit down because I didn’t go well, I don’t blame the director for saying that he is going to see this for one more week before deciding if we will go through or not. Even though I know there’s a lot of preparation, the actual booking of the theatre, budgets, everything else is being done, so if you want to cancel you still can. After the rehearsal M calls me aside and says we need to fix that opening sequence, I’m very shame at least say yes let’s do it. She says come to our meeting tonight. I had plans to join the gym today because at this point I realise that we are no longer doing our morning exercise as we come in and go straight into the rehearsing of the play and I gained weight in the first nine days of rehearsals I’ve gained about 2 lb in any case postcode with my hunger is through the roof, stress from recent projects and personal stuff my hunger is through the roof, and though I still try to walk a little bit it’s not every day anymore like it used to be still only a few days week. also I missed the gym I haven’t been for over six months I used to love it so much. My plans though are now canceled. I go home and take a 20 minute nap and then I rush off to the meeting. Traffic is absolutely insane and I abandon my car and get a bike and thanks to a really nice bike I reach exactly at 7:29 when I am supposed to start the music work at 7:30. The meeting is in someone’s house, one of the core members of the group. I the first time see everyone in a more relaxed situation. The entire living room is split up the keyboard is kept open for me on one side on the other side people are making dinner on the other side the entire floor plan is being made with things draw been drawn to scale. The director seems to be in a better mood and everyone is figuring out logistics and planning things et cetera et cetera. everyone looks really nice they’re all dressed up in their normal clothes.

Did I ever mention that we have a sort of outfit that we wear ?. It’s T-shirts and pants that are not too loose or too tight; this is why you see me in a different T-shirt every day that is the actual uniform for rehearsal as it’s the one that is most flexible for all of our physical work. I’m the only one who still wearing my T-shirt and sweat pants. M is dressed in a sari and she keeps covering her head and I asked her why and she says that ever since the start of the play she dresses as a birangona at home. I have been considering doing a few things to keep the essence of the play with me when I go home, and I wonder if I can do the same or not I don’t know yet. I’ve considered giving up some of my favourite things to eat to do, just to channel a bit of the story is a bit more but A part of me realises that I might be best used to do the musical aspects then being a novice actor on stage, and the fact that I am in a Inner Circle meeting doing the structures for the music means that that’s also what everyone else is thinking. this is the first time that it is acknowledged at all in these circumstances that I have a sort of following all my own identity as a media person. Reference being we are trying to calculate how many shares to do how many tickets need to be sold how many tickets can be sold at certain prices and The host jokes that oh don’t worry Armeen will bring her own crowd. I have no idea if that’s true I know my friends would come. Overall it’s very light and jolly situation however once we wrap up our introductory song so I remind Sir that there is a second one to do and I actually feel like giving him ideas. I try to do a rap like spoken word piece and Azhar sort of points out doesn’t go. So I sort of give up for the day, I don’t know why I give up so easily these days. I don’t have a push sometimes when I don’t get my first brilliant idea naturally I give up very easily. The first song that I made for the intro it was literally the first thing that came out of my mind and it was based on a bunch of chords that I know that are good. The second song is different it’s not a soft song so not in my genre and obviously I am struggling with it and I just give up. but I admit it was nice to see The director a bit more relaxed; they all joke about each other and their romantic partners even Sir teases M, I’m a bit embarrassed so I just smile and sit in the corner. Our host is really sweet though she is evidently someone who has seen a lot of my work already and both the host chat with me a little bit. It feels weird to have references to my non-theatre life in theatre mode.

I’m struggling to fix my sleep schedule, when I go home it’s already pretty late, but I have my own things to do thoughts to have that I cannot ignore, I wish we were there were more days in the air, or more hours on the day that I could use to spend a little bit of time just thinking and also bloody apartment I don’t even have an AC right now and it’s getting really hot and I haven’t had the time to actually buy an AC and get it installed. Also I am dying to just organise my bookshelf it’s the first thing you see you when you enter my flat but despite the fact that I’ve had all the books nicely done I still do not have even 10 minutes to put the books in the order that I want to. I’m up till 2 am again with my own stuff. I haven’t memorised M2 either, I won’t say that I’m not enjoying being part of the music but I do realise it might lower my chances of getting any proper lines.

Oh God after disastrous rehearsal day I am a bit more relieved to see that the play is still being planned, they have decided to lower the number of shows from 25 to 19. M says it’s only physically durable to do the maximum 19 shows in a row. I have performed many many days in a row but never 19 shows I’m actually deeply looking forward to those 19 inches. Your girl hasn’t been on stage in awhile and it’s coming through.

[jeannedarkterraguard]

Day five of Jeannes Pokemon Scarlet Nuzlocke

Okay apparently Black Friday/Christmas has decided to kick my ass this year and I have to work between 12 and 15 hours a day so I only have time to play on the weekend but here is the next day of my pokemon scarlet nuzlocke

I know after the last couple of flashbacks I'm supposed to be sympathetic towards him but... his entire design just makes me angry...

I'm sorry Ortega but the game wouldn't let me choose a body type... otherwise I would look like one of the (unusually many) buff women that are all around paldea

Oh... shit... I forgot about obedience levels

Slightly under leveled and my two main pokemon didn't obey me... but I managed to beat him without any casualties

Right back at ya kid... right back at ya...

I can't imagine why... is it because of your stupid bowlcut? Your pink/white suit with blue and gold accessories? The fact that you carry around a walking stick despite not actually needing it to walk?... I could go on...

That... that doesn't sound like a bad thing

Yeah Cassiopeia... most bullies are cowards... I feel like you should have predicted that

Urgh... double battles... WHY?!?

well... let's hope I don't accidentally kill one of my own team members...

That wasn't difficult but still... fuck you!

Look... a rap battle sounds fun... but I'm a basic white girl with no sense of rhythm so let's maybe not...

Please don't be a double battle, please don't be a double battle, please don't be a double battle...

FUCK YOU!!!!

Did it... and I probably should have done it earlier... I was way overleveled

Little training Session... Hydra, Adrasteia (I accidentally deleted the screenshot of catching her) and Hestia evolved

Okay that was by far the most fun I had with any of the gym challenges so far

Ah yes episode two of “let's confuse all the straight people”

I'm gonna be honest... I didn't pay attention for a minute here so I'm not sure how this happened but Hephaestus died

Aphrodite still carried the rest of the fight though

Okay... Ages in this game confuse me... we have Arven, a grown ass man, still going to school... (and I'm pretty sure I've seen a 60 year old trainer that was also a student) and then we have a literal toddler in the Elite Four...

Exercise... not what I expected in the psychic type gym

Ahh... there it is...

Oh hey it's one of the hot teachers (seriously why is every NPC hot? Like obviously the male ones are not my type but with the exception of the toddler I haven't met a single female NPC that wasn't at least a little attractive)

Don't you specialize in fighting types? And you really thought you had a chance against the psychic gym leader? (also I think the internet has ruined me because when she said “do what the winner says” my mind went to a very different place)

Final Gym Test...

Man, that was annoying

Last gym battle. This time against a supermodel

Should have done this one before Grusha

I know I made fun of Nemona a bit but she's genuinely one of my favorite rivals in the entire franchise

So I'm fighting a wrestler now... wouldn't be the first time... I mean... Crasher Wake was literally a wrestler

You know... I have a hard time believing some of this team star story... mostly the part about them getting bullied... I mean Atticus and Ortega, absolutely... Giacomo, sure... Mela, I guess... but Eri... that woman is 6 feet tall and looks like she could break a human in half... she would not get bullied... even if she was the nicest person in the world I would be afraid that one day she would snap... then again, bullies aren’t exactly known for being smart...

Bless her... she tried so hard but her stats are so garbage...

And that's the last boss defeated

What? Nooo... I would never have guessed...

Oh right I somehow forgot to post some of the screenshots of pokemon I caught... so here they are first Ananke the Riolu

Hemera the Charcadet

Nerites the Wugtrio

Ares the Bisharp

And Apate the Zorua

That leaves only the Pokemon League (and the Arven and Cassiopeia part but I wanna do the League first) I'm worried

Okay so Lisa told me that I should have my team at around level 58-60 (she didn't tell me anything about their types or anything but when she looked at my team she said I should train because my highest level team member were Aphrodite and Hydra at level 54 followed by Gaia at level 48) so I decided to do some grinding to level up my team, evolve all of them (well almost all of them... Stupid Hydra won't evolve until level 64) and decide which Pokemon I want to take with me... so here's my final Team...

Gaia The Meowscarada lvl:60

@ Expert Belt

Ability: Overgrow

Jolly Minted

- Flower Trick

- Night Slash

- Play Rough

- U-turn

Hecate the Farigiraf lvl:59

@ Expert Belt

Ability: Armor Tail

Quiet Minted

- Hyper Voice

- Psychic

- Thunderbolt

- Shadow Ball

Ananke the Lucario lvl:58

@ Loaded Dice

Ability: Steadfast

Modest Minted

- Aura Sphere

- Steel Beam

- Vacuum Wave

- Bone Rush (why can't Lucario learn a good special Ground move via TM?)

Sana the Dachsbun lvl:60

@ Expert Belt

Ability: Well-Baked Body

Adamant Minted

- Play Rough

- Ice Fang

- Thunder Fang

- Fire Fang

Hemera the Armarouge lvl:59

@ Wise Glasses

Ability: Flash Fire

Modest Minted

- Psyshock

- Flamethrower

- Aura Sphere

- Dragon Pulse

Hydra the Zweilous lvl:60

@ Muscle Band

Ability: Hustle

Adamant Nature (didn't need a Mint for this one)

- Crunch

- Zen Headbutt

- Thunder Fang

- Tera Blast

...

And that's it time for the league... tomorrow... I'm still nervous

RIP

Hephaestus the Bronzong (lvl: 39-47)

Adrasteia the Tinkaton (lvl: 20-50)

[putschki1969]

2022/08/10 Blog post by Wakana  特訓と修行〜甘いものへの道〜

❗This is Fan Club EXCLUSIVE content❗ ❗PERSONAL USE ONLY❗ Do ❗NOT SHARE❗ on other sites ❗Join her FAN CLUB! Check out my detailed TUTORIAL ❗

Special Training and Practice〜The Road to Sweet Things〜

I don't usually have that much of a desire to eat sweet things, so I tend to not have a lot of those at home. The one exception is ice cream, I will always buy a giant cone ← That’s pretty sweet I would say. However, there are times when I am craving stuff like chocolate or baked pudding. When I go shopping, I never forget to buy salty things (snacks, nuts, cheese, etc.), but I always forget to buy sweet things. After a series of such failures, I finally remembered to get something the other day, "oh yes, just in case, let's buy something sweet!" I bought shaved ice, some red bean soup with mochi and frozen chocolate fondant...But surprisingly, every since I bought all those things, I haven’t been craving anything sweet. Is it because now I actually have something at home so so it’s no longer appealing? The refrigerated red bean soup with mochi was getting closer and closer to its expiration date, so I decided to eat it with coffee in the morning. Alas, I couldn't finish it. When you have to struggle to finish, it really doesn’t feel like an indulgence anymore, right? 

Hello, this is Wakana (0￣▽￣0)／

I'm a little worried because I can't eat a lot of sweets all at once. I'm planning to go out with my friend and order a big portion of shaved ice but last time I had shaved ice during one of my rehearsals, I could only eat a third of it. Eating this much requires special training and a lot of practice 🤨Mmmm. 

Well, lately I've been preparing for next month's Billboard Lives so I haven’t really been going out much\\\\٩( 'ω' )و //// That’s not to say that I am not moving or exercising at all due to summer fatigue, I am in fact doing some light exercises. Well, for the most part I am just walking around at home. I am moving and working out but sometimes I'm literally stuck at home for 5 days straight.  Overall I'm doing fine though. 

When you take a bus or train for the first time in a long time, you should ideally feel relaxed and calm but I always suffer from pretty bad motion sickness. Why does this happen when you ride public transportation for the first time in a while? I particularly struggle with subways since I can’t see the scenery outside. Then again, I get motion sickness on the shinkansen too despite the scenery. Maybe because the scenery is flying by and that’s making my eyes tired or something like that? It's not like I follow everything with my eyes. I try to look into the distance. Maybe I'm just not good with all the shaking. I always get motion sickness when I take the limited express train, that train goes so fast that I have to wonder if it is on a path for revenge. It often sways sideways, it’s crazy. It happens every time, so I try my best to prepare myself for it but I still struggle quite a bit.

These days when I go out, I try to do my errands in the morning or in the evening, basically I try to go out at a time when the heat of the day is still bearable. I really admire people who work outside during the day...Please be careful of sun-strokes and heat-strokes 🥺 

A few days ago, when I went out for the first time in a long time to meet up with my manager, there was a pretty big thunderstorm so it got pretty cold. I much preferred it to the humid heat so I was quite happy. And miraculously, the rain stopped while I was outside. Once I got home though, it started raining heavily again. Thank God!

Oh well, this has been my life recently(´ω｀) Everyone, please take care of yourself and have a great summer! Until next time ☆( *'▽'*)/

＊＊＊Wakana＊＊＊

[slowburndoxxing]

1

I’m not sure why this is titled this way. I think it might be because I believe, at my core, that I am a terrible person. If I can figure out whether or not that’s true, then I can figure out what I should do about it. If it’s not true, then I’ll have a couple of steps. First, and foremost, convince myself that I am a good person, in black and white. Then, figure out where I gained this belief from. Finally, figure out how to prevent backsliding. Maybe those steps will have to be in a different order. 

It’s dad’s birthday, and I told him I’d call him. I completely forgot about it until just now. I would have called him back as soon as I realized this, but then I realized that I’m incredibly high. I don’t want to call my father while high. It feels like a betrayal of the person he thinks I am.

I have a tendency to do this. Put on masks, portions of the whole that would appeal to the person I’m talking to, hiding the rest that they may (would) object to. I have read that on some level, everyone does this. This is not the comforting thought it should be; instead, it feels sad. Humans are so terrified of people not liking them that they filter, cover, hide. I just think I might do it moreso than most.

Even if I call Dad now, it would not be the correct time. I should have called him relatively soon after I got off work. A good son would have done this. I didn’t, therefore I am not a good son. These are not really what I necessarily think, they are what I believe he thinks. I think this might be because that is how I view the world. That is the type of reasoning I would use. Which says something about how I might view other people.

The human brain is a vast and complex dance of nature and nurture. While it is true that genetics have some say on how we think and act, it is not in the way that Nazis, racists, and other believers in the idea of eugenics claim. Rather, genetics involving anything except one’s brain has no real effect from birth. However, they do shape how we view the world, and more importantly how the world views us. 

Take, for example, the phenomenon of urban development. Before cars

I’m going to call dad at 9:00. I should have sobered up by then. 

Part of me is horrified at that sentence. How did things get this bad? I never thought I was this kind of person, an addict, a druggie, a burnout. But then, that’s unrealistic, as unrealistic as the idea of different “kinds” of people. The human brain, for the most part, starts in the same place for everyone. It is the world outside that makes the differences.

We might come back to that. It seems like something I want to talk about, but don’t think I should. Which is weird, since I’m the only one who is going to read this. But I’m typing it out in a… I don’t want to call it a hope. But I want someone to read this someday. I want someone to understand. More importantly. I want someone to want to understand. I want to be interesting, mysterious, vulnerable, open. I want to be everything. Instead I am worried I might be nothing.

That is, I think, what is at the core of this exercise. I am no longer sure who I am. I’m not sure if I ever was. But I think if I can figure out who I am, if I am anyone, then I might have a chance to make it out of this cage that I have unconsciously yet meticulously constructed. Except that’s not quite right, is it? Because I don’t think, or maybe don’t want to admit, but mostly I’m not convinced that this is my fault. And until I am proven either right or wrong, I don’t know how to proceed. There is no guide that truly speaks to me, completely, totally, utterly. Because in the end, everyone is different. The journey to discover if I am is one I have to take alone. 

And that terrifies me. To my core. Because I know at least one thing about myself-I am very bad at concretely identifying pitfalls.

So here’s what I’m going to do. We’ll make this a blog. An anonymous one, for now. And I know the reader, myself included since the chances of a blog with no real tags being viewed and followed is astronomical, has no reason to believe this. I don’t really believe I won’t backpedal on this by the end. But at least now, in this first and possibly last post, everything I have said is my truth. My truth. Because one thing that is starting to become clear to me is that no one’s truth is the same, and no one’s truth is The Truth. How the world really is. I want to know that. But I’ve tried finding it by listening to other people, and for some reason they all contradict each other. 

Maybe there is no such thing as The Truth. 

[cristel-is-noveling]

Thank God almighty, I'm free at last! (report and... book review? ish? - august 26)

I can't do the Night Owl Thing anymore. I could in my teens and early twenties. Now, whenever I start Sleeping Weird, it's not as easy as shifting my schedule around, even for a freelancer like me, who technically has the freedom for it.

After two or three days, there always comes a point when I'm exhausted regardless of hours slept. Sleep cycles get increasingly chaotic, too. Getting my eight hours from 8am to 4pm quickly turns into sleeping two four-hour shifts, and then taking two-to-three hour naps every three or four hours.

All of this to say: I was useless all day yesterday, even while I was awake. Alas. I'm making a concerted effort to get more sunlight, and exercising, and taking my meds on time.

It must have done something, because here I am today, still living at night, but sleeping better! And GUESS WHAT? I'm finally DONE with my history book!

HISTORY 👑

I really can't impress upon you the sheer relief that comes with being finally done with this fucking thing. At best, it was a painfully dry read that needed so many more edits, if you ask me. I think part of it was the author's incompetence, and also the fact that this was the second book on this series. So, if we want to be charitable, we can attribute the book's lack of polish to a time-crunch. But I don't know how charitable I want to be here, because Yofre isn't a good writer, but he's not This Bad. The man is an accomplished journalist. He knows how to turn events into passably enganging narrative. So I get the feeling that no small part of this... general messiness was a conscious decision to obsfucate the telling as much as possible. This is a book trying to paint a literal dictatorship as a "failed project", and the human-rights-violating perpetrators as incompetent and dishonest. It's not that they violated human rights. It's that they should have come clean about it, you know? It's not that they took down a constitutional government (after all, it was just SO unpopular), it's that they weren't any better at the job. And I think think this even comes through in the formatting. Gone are the character portraits of the first book. He'll drown you with dates and names and events, but will refuse to tell you who's who except for scant career details, and their current position in government. Gone are the footnotes at the... well, foot of the page, where they'd be most convenient. Are they at the end of the book, the second most convenient place? Nope. They're at the end of each chapter. So, if you want to be diligent about checking them, every time you start a chapter you have to flip ahead to where it ends, and stick a second bookmark there, so you can jump back and forth. Every time. I did it. I can easily picture most people not bothering. Unfortunate decisions? Maybe. But awfully convenient, if you ask me, when you compare the purpose of the two books: One was a chronology of the previous government's downfall. It was an objectively bad government, and clarity played in the author's favor. At least where the government was concerned. Whenever he touched on members of the armed forces were concerned, you got the same kind of minimalistic profiling you got in this book, while terrorists and government officials got extensive character portraits. But hey, it was slightly competent journalism, if obviously biased. Here, though? There's no part of this book where clarity would help the point. Any point. This book is so biased it can barely say anything without shooting itself in the foot, so constantly throwing raw, barely relevant data at the reader is its best bet. Do I regret choosing it as reference? No. It was on hand (inherited) and I got what I wanted out of it. In fact, this last day was especially fruitful. I took more notes today than during the whole previous week. But I won't be going out of my way to find more books by this guy. Forget the dubious ethics. I just don't want to be bored to death.