#his character development starts with a concussion and too much time to think

[locria-writes]

Since you clarified that Qilian Sheng has no romantic feelings for MC at the start, does that mean we can make him fall in love with us?

mc doesn't have to do anything -- he'll be BEGGING for mc to fall in love with him

[kenyummy]

✰ 01. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 01. sparkless life.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: guys i couldnt resist posting criesssss . also master is used as a gender neutral term!!!! couldn't be bothered to put master/mistress every time so

prev. ✰ masterlist. ✰ next.

When you wake up, your eyes are permeated by a hard light. Your eyes are squinted hard and you're having a difficult time getting your eyes to focus.

Your brain is fuzzy and feels like melted candy in your head. What was going on, again...? This bed... it's really comfy. It's like laying on a bed made of clouds, fairy dust, and your hopes and dreams.

(Nothing like your lumpy mattress back home... May told you it built character.)

You reach your hand up, to try and block out the harsh glare directed right into your retina. It dims in a second, and for a moment—you think you've finally developed mutant powers of telekinesis. You sit up—only to discover you were not actually the one who turned off said lights.

"Apologies, Master [name]." An older man with a distinct British accent stands in the door—a few feet away from the bed you're resting on. "I did not realise you had awoken already. I would've turned down the lights, if I was aware."

You blink, surveying the room around you. It's big. Unfamiliar, as well. Modern. Really big. Wait, did he just call you—

"Master [name]?" Your mouth moves faster than your mind, and your brows furrow deep. "What... where am I?"

The older man looks genuinely puzzled at how defensive your stance is. "Oh dear. Perhaps you did end up getting lead poisoning. Or a concussion. ... No matter. This recent amnesia is common within traumatic injuries."

He clears his throat with strict elegance and straightens his posture, "[name]. I believe you were attacked in an alleyway, when your brother found you. You were in the hospital for a few days, and brought back here—back home—this morning. You're currently in one of your father's guest rooms. The doctors said you were healing miraculously fast."

You hiss lowly. You really hope they hadn't gotten a blood sample—you haven't had the best of experiences with people getting your blood.

"You seem to be alright now. A bit..." He looks at your exposed, scarred shoulders. "Scuffed up—but better than when Master Jason had found you."

Your brother... Jason...? Who even...?

What's going on here?

Your heart seems to skip a beat as the calculations start going off in your head. A world you had never heard of... a place you'd never seen before—perhaps you weren't on a different world, and like you had suspected... it was definetly some multiverse shenanigans again.

You knew you should've made Jess take that mission instead of you. Damn. You and your dumb rivalry with Doc.

But you couldn't understand why this random man knows you. He speaks as if you've lived a life with him—like he's known you since...

You chew down on your bottom lip. "... This is... my home. I live here, don't I...?"

You play with words cautiously, speaking slow and methodical. It only serves to confuse the man even further.

"Yes, you... do? Master [name], perhaps you should go back to the hospital. You're sounding rather frazzled—"

You almost jump up, out of the sheets, "Uh—no! I... I'm fine. My head's just a bit... messed up right now. Sorry."

It's not—after that flashbang, you're feeling fine. Your shoulder only burns with a stretch whenever you put too much pressure on it—but you're completely okay otherwise. But you don't think you should let him know that just yet.

"If you insist, Master [name]." He bows his head. "Do you require any further assistance?"

You blink, considering your choices.

Eventually, you land on the safest option. Search your surroundings. Find out what's going on here before going all Spider-ham on them. For all you know—they're super skrulls waiting for the right moment to strike. You need to be smart about this.

"Yes... I would like to go to my room... could you... walk me there?" You don't meet his stern gaze. "I'm not sure I'm able to walk on my own two feet just yet. I'm sorry."

You don't see how his stare softens at your words. "Of course, Master [name]."

He walks over to the edge of the bed and steadies you with a hand on your shoulder as you shakily stumble out of the bed. It's bouncy enough to launch you forward slightly—and it takes every muscle in your body to stop your Spidey-instincts from taking over and jumping backwards.

He slips your arm within his and steadies you as you both slowly walk out of the large guest room. If this was a guest room—you wonder what your room looked like.

The hallways weren't anything to sneeze at, either. Decorated with contemporary art pieces—sleek and so shiny you could see your face in the tiles below your bare feet. You felt so out of place—the civilian clothes you sported since you got here still dressed your body, and it wasn't even close to fitting in.

As you stumble down the halls with a bit of overdramacy, a man suddenly appears from around a corner. Deep black hair and the brightest blue eyes you'd ever seen. His smile is wide and he waves enthusiastically, "Hey, Alfred! I got back from Blüdhaven after uh—I heard what happened."

"Hello, Master Dick. It's lovely to see you back home again." Alfred nods his head. The man in question—Dick, apparently, which makes the immature teen in you giggle—gives you a sorrowful expression.

But... doesn't say anything past that. He continues small talk with Alfred—and you're left propped up in the older man's arms with a lost expression.

Did he... just blow you off?

One—that was pretty rude. Two, did he not just say he came back after he heard what happened? Not to toot your own horn or anything—but you'd assume being shot kind of counts as a "what happened".

You press your lips firmly together. This was getting awkward for you, especially seeing how comfortable this huge Dick (yeah, you're taking it and running with it) seemed to be with leaving this sickly, wounded (maybe you're being a tad dramatic) person to stumble like a baby fawn, in silence.

Alfred, however—catches sight of your one-sided tension, and abruptly ends his conversation. "My apologies, Master Dick, but I must help [name] to their room. I would love to continue this conversation at a later date."

"Oh yeah, no sweat, Alfred." He gives the older man a gleeful thumbs up. Then, his eyes meet yours. "Get better soon, okay?"

You avert his stare and only nod in response. Well, at least he noticed you were there. You're still in mild shock, but you somehow manage to keep a pleasant expression. With one last small smile, Dick walks away—where, you don't really care about.

Alfred slowly helps you up a flight of stairs. He only breaks the silence after you find yourself standing in front of a room with a faded name on it. Your name. "... All these years, and only now, you've suddenly changed. I wonder..."

His words are cryptic, but his expression even more so. What was he talking about? "... Huh?"

A small smile fades on his face. "Ah... no. It's nothing. I was thinking out loud. Call me if you need anything else, Master [name]. I am at your service. And please... get better soon."

Somehow, it sounds nicer when he says it. You smile a little, and give him a nod.

"Thank you..." You test out his name on your tongue. It feels natural. "Alfred. I'll try my best."

He leaves with a curt nod and not another word. You finally slide the door open, and take a look around.

You step inside, and it's like you've entered a whole new world, again.

It's... small. Not by regular standards—it's almost double the size of your room at home—but compared to a guest bedroom in this overly massive home... it's rather small. Like a closet, more than a bedroom.

It's empty, too. Your room at home is decorated with posters and trinkets of your favourite shows, pictures of you with Harry and MJ (sometimes even the four), and memorable items you've collected with your friends and family over the years.

Memories. You had memories.

There is nothing here.

It's like you're standing in a blank slate—in a world where you are nothing and yet everything you've ever had. It sends a chill down your spine.

You walk barefoot across cold wood and take a seat on the bedsheets. Bare white with a childish print. Something a young child would use. It looks pretty scuffed up. Old. The mattress creaks under your weight and you wince.

There's a bookshelf just opposite to you. There's not much in it—in fact, it's smaller than small and is almost completely empty. There's nothing but school textbooks and thick novels. And...

It catches your eye almost immediately. A little pink slip in the midst of deep black and brown colours. You stand up—ignoring the creak that follows—and walk over to the shelf.

You slip the book out, and immediately take in its cover. Pink, and with your name in wonky cursive. It's rather dusty, as if it hadn't even been touched in years.

You flip open the cover. Big bubble letters spelling out My diary flash you and you quickly flip the page before the glitter sears into your eyelids.

The first entry is there. Exactly seven years and two months ago. It's nothing like those entries you've seen on those corny 2000's TV shows for tweens—nor is it like those aesthetic journaling girls on Pwinterest.

It's something, familiarly, you. A short clunk of text about your day, on days that had some sort of exciting event going on—something you'd undoubtedly do. It almost makes you grimace.

This whole multiverse thing might be worse than you thought.

Two days ago I moved into a new house. My mom said she couldn't take care of me anymore, and I had to live with my dad. I've never seen him until today, but he's really busy, so we don't talk much. Alfred is nice to me, and his cooking is really yummy.

There's a little sketch of a baked dinner—and despite your pre-tween art skills, it does seem rather tasty looking.

You flip the page. The next entry is a week after the last.

I still haven't talked with dad yet. But I did meet two new people. Alfred said that they're my new brothers. Mom never wanted any more babies, so I was very excited to meet them! Jason is fun to play with. He's really bad at hide and go seek, though—I always win! Dick is fun too, but he's busy a lot, like dad. But he always makes time for me and Jason. I really like it here.

There's a small picture of three stick people holding hands. One is significantly short than the other two—labelled with your name above. The one on the left to you is Jason, with black curls and a wide grin. The one on the right is labelled Dickie, much taller than the other two and with shaggy black hair.

The drawing is innocent. Cute. Wholesome, if you will. There's even heart stickers pasted (and peeling, by now) between each of your heads.

You flip the page with a small, fond smile. The next entry is three days after that one.

Dad played with me, Jason, and Dickie today. He was really bad at hide and go seek too—but Dad and Jason chased each other all around the house before I caught both of them. I was so happy I won today! Dad took us all out for dinner, even Alfred. Alfred said he only came because I always look very happy when we're together. The dinner was really yummy!!!!

The drawing underneath is a picture of what looked like a smaller version of you, standing triumphantly with a little tiara on your head.

You flip the page. This time—there's a significant gap between the dates. This was a whole 5 months after you last wrote in your diary.

I don't know where Jason is. Dad and Dickie look really sad. They've been really busy for a long time, and we don't play much anymore. The only times I see Dad is at dinner. But we don't talk. Sometimes he doesn't eat dinner, either. Alfred still puts my drawings on the fridge, and he says that Dad and Dickie are just sad now, and they'll be better soon. I miss Jason. I want him back home.

There's no silly-looking drawing to go underneath this entry. This Jason—apparently the man who saved you—seemed rather fun-loving, despite whatever happened to him. You wonder what it was.

You flip the page, again. This entry was 3 months after the last.

I miss Dad, and Dickie. Dickie told me he had to go away for a bit, because he has something important to do somewhere else. Dad is busy all the time. I haven't seen him in 4 days. I don't play with anyone but Alfred now, but he's not that fun to play with, because he's so serious all the time. Dad tells me to go on my iPad and not bother Alfred when I'm bored, but I miss them.

Next one is 2 days after.

I met a new boy today. Dad told me he's my new brother. I was pretty excited because he's my age. But he didn't want to talk to me. He said he was too caught up in important stuff, and that I should just come back later. But he looked real annoyed when saying it—so I didn't come back. He didn't say anything, so I don't think he cared.

A week later.

My dad is Batman, and my new brother is Robin. I'm freaking out. He never told me—I saw them sneaking out one day and I got really mad. Why didn't he tell me? Did Dickie and Jason know? Was I the only one who didn't? Tim got mad at me when I started yelling. I felt really sad so I hid in my room to get away from them. I've been here since. Alfred brought me dinner, but I'm not hungry.

So... this Batman who you saw before, is actually your dad? In this world, this is your father? You almost drop the diary in shock, but you can't tear your eyes away. You can't stop reading.

The next few entries don't catch your eye—it's all teen angst about how you're sick of how busy your dad is, how annoying Tim can be, how Dick won't even visit your room anymore—until something else catches your eye.

3 years later.

Jason is back. He's back home. I don't know why, but he's back. I was so excited to see him again—everyone else has become so busy and won't even talk to me. Nobody else has time for me, but Jason did. But he looked different. He's way older than me, now. He won't even look at me. I tried to hug him but he just put a mask on and walked away. Why is everyone doing this to me? What did I do? It's not fair.

Your writing grows into chicken scratch near the end—as if conveying your frustration. You skim through a few more entries. More teen angst. More about how you can't even hold a conversation with your siblings anymore.

Some were sweet, like how you met some people, unnamed, and treasured their friendship so deeply, but they were few and far between.

I met a girl today. She's my sister now. Her name is Cassandra, and she has very pretty eyes. I tried to talk to her, but dad got pretty mad at me because apparently she doesn't like to talk much. How was I supposed to know that? She didn't even look at me as dad pulled her away. Who even is she? Why does my dad like her better than me? Why does he like them all better than me? It's not fair.

You're bitter. You're upset, and so, so bitter. It's so abundantly clear that as time went on, you became progressively more and more spiteful. It was rather sad to watch.

This stupid little kid tried to kill me. Claimed I was unworthy. I couldn't give less of a shit what he thinks—but my family couldn't give less of a shit about me. They said he's troubled, that he needs patience.

The new few words were less than family friendly. Unkind? Definitely. Deserved? Possibly.

I can't believe this. I'm so sick of this. I want to get out. I can't take this anymore. Jason kills people now, but Bruce still loves him. Even Steph and Babs get more love from Bruce than me. They're not even in the family, but they're better. Because they're superheroes, they're better. Maybe I'll be a hero myself. Maybe then, they'll see me.

You flip the page. That's the last entry. The last page of the book—but behind it, there's a page made of sticky notes on the back cover. Your eyes widen in shock at what you see.

It's all...

"Spidey," you read out the name atop this pasted page in a low whisper.

Your fingertips trace over the detailed drawings. Your costume. Though not made of nanotech—the suit was intricately designed with spider patterns falling all around your arms and legs, with a large spider torso. It looked somewhat like Silk's suit.

Web shooters, with thorough calculations on how much you'd have to bulk up to swing without taking your arm off (which, by what you're reading, was humanly impossible for a regular you), and detailed explanations on what the web fluid was made out of.

More environmentally sustainable than your ones. You'd have to take these notes back home.

It wasn't like your family would go looking—you can't help but think, chewing on your cheek. This was incredible. You must've been a real genius to figure all this out.

Back home, you had Reed and Tony help you with all your spider stuff. Sure, you were the one who came up with all the base ideas and constructed it all yourself—but they helped out a lot with all the technicalities. But to come up with something like, from what you can tell, all on your own...

It was nothing short of incredible. And your family had no idea.

You snap the book shut, eyes narrowing down at the ground. Your Aunt May never would've treated you like this—and if you were correct, this other you must be with your aunt right now.

Good for them, you think. Maybe they'd be happier there, anyway.

A sudden knock at your door brings you out of your stupor. You slip the book away quickly as Alfred opens the door, bowing his head slightly. "Master [name], dinner is ready. If you're feeling better, please come down."

The prospect of a family dinner leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, especially after all you've read from this diary. No matter. You don't know how this you behaved before, but you have bigger issues to deal with than becoming a copy of this sad child.

But despite everything... Alfred really did seem to care for them—for you. You nod, smoothing out your cami. "Thanks. Let's go."

You and he both head down the stairs, and you finally come face to face with the family you've heard so much about.

They're all grinning from ear-to-ear, laughing about something that "happened on patrol" as you take a seat at the end of the table—beside a blonde girl who you think was called Stephanie—chewing on the food.

It was good. Really good. Almost as good as Aunt May's meatloaf. The thought makes you feel a little homesick, but you persevere. The hard glare given to you across the table by this small kid (definitely Damian) isn't helping, though.

Dick catches the look and follows his little brothers gaze to you. He doesn't say anything about it—only ruffles the boy's hair, chuckling, and asks why he seems so glum. The child hisses and starts trying to stab the man with a steak knife, to no avail—of course.

That was the last time you were even glanced at for the rest of the dinner. You almost can't believe it. How could somebody really fade into the background like that? How could such a family let it happen?

How could they be so ignorant? You lose your appetite soon enough, and stand up. The chatter dies down for a second. Stephanie—being the closest toward you, gives you an uncomfortable smile, "Are you not going to finish? You were out for a while... you need energy to get back up and do..."

Whatever it is you do at home, you guess that's probably what she was thinking. Who said you hadn't gotten a telepathic mutation?

She doesn't finish her sentence. You'd just met these people and already you were sick of this. Seriously, you don't think you could get any more uncomfortable if somebody strapped you to a chair and tossed you down a dark well.

You miss the most fantastic of fours you know. They'd never do this to you. Sue was far too sweet.

You shake your head, plate held tight in your hand. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. There's much more important things out there in Gotham, isn't there? Besides—I have more than enough time to heal. Not like I'm doing any hero stuff, huh?"

Your laugh lacks any kind of humour, and you walk out in your typical Spidey fashion. The chatter doesn't spike up for a good ten minutes until after you leave.

You meet Alfred in the kitchen, and he's doing countless dishes alone. There's a stack of plates almost as tall as he is. You roll up your sleeves.

He gives you a confused look. "Master [name]? I have told you before, you—"

"I don't care what you told me." You say, suddenly—but you backtrack when you realise how flat your tone was. Cheeks flushed, you correct yourself, "Ah—sorry. I meant... I don't care what you told me, because it doesn't matter if you don't want help... I'll offer it anyway, you know? I can't help it. It's how I am."

It's why I'm Spidey. Not because I have powers. Not because I'm good at swinging around. Not even because the costume is awesome.

It's because you can't help but help others. You have the power to do so—now it's your responsibility.

You take a sponge, and douse it in dishwashing liquid. You scrub down a porcelain plate beside Alfred in silence.

The pensive look on his face was now replaced by a small, fond smile.

we getting into the typical diary entry stuff okokokkkk but. love interests next chapter. smirks let me cook!!!@

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if you asked to be on the taglist but aren't there, your account couldn't be tagged for whatever reason. im not too sure how tumblr works, but if you manage to fix it, ask me again!!!

[cosmic-giraffe]

Hiroaki remains one of the best Tetro characters with very little competition.

He's totally gonna die isn't he??

He has had SO much development this chapter and it would be thematically conclusive for him to die this chapter, either as the victim or the uncovered killer.

For him to mistakenly believe for an entire month that the rest of the group betrayed his trust and violated his privacy by reading his student profile, and thus resented them all for it. Only to find out that none of them did (barring Ken and Hama in the Chapter 4 Investigation, but that was a necessity).

I would be freaking out too, especially if you had somebody as volatile as Tamba constantly hounding you over that stupid fucking note that you've insisted MANY times that you didn't write it.

And now he's relapsing HARD. He's shooting up and on top of that, he's suffering from food allergies because somebody has been spiking his food/drink.

I'm really interested in knowing who is pulling all this shit off, and HOW.

Tamba's planted note, the buckets of gasoline and caltrops pouring onto Hayashi, getting Ken high, getting Ojima drunk, stealing Wada's food stash so that he's starving to death..

It all seems really calculated for one person to pull it off without suspicion. And you know who I'm starting to think it is?

Yanagi.

He's the only one that hasn't been messed with in any way. Yes, he says that he's sick, but he can just explain that away as side effects of his concussion. He's the only person that has the chance to do all this meddling too.

He knew about Wada's food stash and food insecurity, so he could have gone in his room and taken it.

When he was treating Ken's eye injury, he could have given him way stronger pills and simply lied and said they were painkillers.

He knew Tamba's schedule because he was practicing with her for so long, which is how he knew when and where to plant that note, which also directly references her schedule.

He told Mai that he had nothing to do with those buckets, but again, he could have simply lied. Not to mention how Mai herself said that the contents of the buckets wouldn't have seriously injured her, merely made her more cautious about wandering around the school, which is what Yanagi has been preaching for ages now.

Yanagi knew about Hiroaki's allergies and could have laced his food and drink with those substances, undetectable upon taste but the side effects would come on soon. Plus, Hiroaki constantly saying that he only trusts Yanagi would definitely blow up in his face if it turns out Yanagi has been behind all this shit.

Ojima getting drunk is the hardest one to figure out, but maybe Yanagi could have made him drink alcohol while he was disassociating or something? Maybe he could have acquired alcohol from the medbay or warehouse or something.

These were some very stream of consciousness thoughts regarding this week's events but DAMN. The tension is really ramping up, it's actually way more intense than I anticipated.

..............Maybe Chapter 5 is my favourite one so far?? IDK IDK we'll have to see how the murder plays out but so far, I'm HOOKED.

Edit: AS SOON AS I POST THIS I GET SCARED TO DEATH BY [Call of the Void] ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

[kittythelitter]

I've seen Steve goes back in time and befriends Robin early fics. But now I'm thinking about dweeby band geek closeted friendless lesbian Robin Buckley trying to find a way to get King Steve Pre-character-development-concussions Harrington to listen to her and help her keep Barb from dying along with everyone else.

Time travel AU where theyre supposed to get a do-over like they're sent back in time from the end of season 4 to when it all started for them but for whatever reason Robin remembers in like August of 83. And she's like. It's fine I can wait like two months for Steve and Nancy and the kids to be in the loop and then she sees Barb and realizes that depending on what the catalyst is for them to remember it might be too late for Barb. So she decides to try to interfere ahead of time.

She like decides she knows Steve so well and he knows her so well that she's more likely going to be able to wake him up. So she like approaches him and like offers to tutor him and like. Knows too much about him and is a rambler who struggles to lie so she comes off as a stalker. And it's angsty and funny and devastating in turns. And he kind of believes her at some points but doesn't remember. And then she like. Accidentally comes out to him and they bond and become real friends again and then season 1 starts happening and everyone's remembering. But Steve doesn't.

Maybe it was too many blows to the head over the years. Maybe it was because Robin diverted his life so much that he can't remember. But he's still Steve. But he also doesn't remember what everyone else does.

And it's angsty and everyone's like reflecting on their relationships with Steve and how they can regain them when he doesn't remember and they do. And some of them blame Robin but like. Barb's alive and will got rescued early and everyone else remembers so they are way better equipped to go thru this again without as many losses and suffering. But Steve doesn't remember.

Anyway Steve remembers when they win. Or maybe when he gets hit in the head for the first time since they came back and he just managed to go so long without getting hit in the head and it was his trigger. Or he still gets drugged by the Russians and it all comes back in the worst most disorienting way possible. I have a lot of ideas.

[True loves kiss! Eddie version. Platonic cheek kiss Robin version. Joyce or Claudia giving him a motherly kiss on the cheek or the top of his head version. He unthinkingly drops a kiss on the top of one of the kids heads in a fraught moment where he's comforting them and suddenly remembers. There's a lot of love to choose from. ]

It has a happy ending and maybe there's Steddie but it's primarily a platonic soulmates Stobin idea.

But before the happy ending there's a lot of angst and like conflict revolving around all these people having their very specific very close relationships with Steve and he just. Doesn't remember them.

And of course there's a moment where someone says something devastating about how it doesn't really matter if Steve remembers the monsters and upsidedown stuff because it's not like he's ever been useful in the planning stages. He doesn't need to remember to swing a bat. Like really going for calling Steve dumb in a state of distress because they're really upset that Steve doesn't remember them and they're lashing out. I'm thinking Dustin or Mike but really there's a lot of good devastating options that hurt in different ways.

[philtstone]

Shawn/Juliet, "holding hands under the table"

i cant actually find which number it is from this list of prompts but that could just be my brain being fried from the week. also, everyone can feel free to send me more prompts lol. strike while the iron is hot, etc. this might be the most sedate tone i've ever hit with a psych fic. set immediately after the s5 finale -- like, hours after -- and hopefully the characters are all at the right place, emotionally. theres definitely a bit of a grey zone there in s5-6 where a lot is left unsaid but kind of known but also kind of not known. oh, jules.

She asks Lassiter to give her a ride because she probably shouldn’t be driving with a recent head injury. EMTs said no concussion, which is a good thing, but Juliet feels shaken enough that she’s going to do the intelligent, grown up woman thing and ask a friend for a favor.

She can’t help but wonder if maybe she does have a concussion after all, because Carlton behaves extremely fucking weirdly for pretty much the entirety of the drive.

Considering it’s Carlton, that’s really saying something.

“Vick gave me Shawn and Gus’s check,” she says as smoothly as she can, as they get in the car. It’s not entirely a lie, but it does feel oddly duplicitous in a way that holding hands with Shawn under the briefing table earlier didn’t. “Can you drop me off at the house?”

“House?” says her usually gruff partner, high-pitched. She’d caught him at the last second and kind of serendipitously, right as he was making his way out of the station, looking spooked, his jacket only half-on. At the time Juliet felt relieved, but now she’s wondering if maybe he’d needed some time to decompress before being made responsible for another person’s safety again. “What house? Spencer’s house? Doesn’t he live in a laundromat?”

“Henry’s house,” Juliet says, giving him a weird look while he turns the car on. His right eye is twitching. It’s possible that the evening’s events shook him more than he’s willing to admit; wouldn’t be the first time. “Gus told me they headed over there for the night. Carlton, are you alright?”

“I’m just spiffy,” he says through oddly gritted teeth, and sounds the opposite of. “One drop off, coming right up.”

Juliet decides she’ll figure it out in the morning. Her head kind of hurts, as does her elbow, and the catharsis she’d hoped to achieve through finally putting her signature down on that paper has left her a little bit shaky.

It feels good, though. She’ll probably have a good cry in the shower later on.

We did it, says Shawn’s voice in her head, so firm and final and confident. Her stomach and chest and general person are suddenly overcome with a slamming wave of affection she definitely was not prepared for. Swallowing, Juliet tucks her phone between her legs and shoots him a quick text. Wrapped up at the station.

Incoming text from SHAWN SPENCER:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BABE WITH THE POWER!!!!!!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

u gonna go home & rest?

Shawn’s texts were exuberant before they started dating, too, but the million heart emojis are a recent development. Something about their introduction makes Juliet want to clench her hands together, melt into the ground, and laugh hysterically at the same time. Shawn turns being a walking contradiction into an art form sometimes. So terrified of facing all the love he’s got to give head-on, but so reckless and sloppy about leaving a trail of it around.

Maybe that’s why she’s fallen so hard for him, Juliet thinks; it matches her inexplicable combination of extreme trust and extreme caution.

Okay. Woah. Too much. Chill out, Juliet; now’s not really the time.

Not with Carlton showing all the signs of working through a hernia in the driver’s seat beside her, mere hours after Serial Killer Takedown.

Yeah, Juliet replies to her boyfriend, then lays her head against the cool car window, closing her eyes before she can notice Carlton’s alarmed glances at her phone.

When they pull up, half the house lights are on. Clearly no one is sleeping, despite the horribly late hour. Juliet glances down at her phone again and realizes it’s pushing three in the morning. She winces. 

“Are you going to be okay driving home?” she asks, one hand on the door handle. Carlton’s staring directly out of the windshield at the house, looking aggrieved in that way that gives him the general look and demeanor of a wet cat. She really hopes he’s okay.

“Fine,” he says. Juliet holds her phone against her lap and sighs. 

“Alright.”

“O’Hara –” he begins, pained, as she opens the door.

“Yeah?”

“I …” A beat. “Nothing. I’m – you get some rest tonight. And – and stay safe.”

“I will,” Juliet replies, surprised by how sincerely the words come out.

Given everything that’s happened, she didn’t expect her own confidence on the subject to be so strong.

Juliet steps out onto the front lawn and watches her partner drive away. Behind her the house silhouettes itself in its own lit glow and the quiet sounds and salty smell of the ocean close by begin to properly filter into her consciousness. She stands still for a few long moments in the dark, which is less threatening now than it was a few hours ago. The humidity thickens her hair and her breath fogs in front of her. When she got Shawn’s text that he and Gus were crashing at his dad’s house instead of the Psych office, call if u need anything jules, she’d been yearning for a shower a bit too much to really think about it. Once her paperwork was out of the way, though, a shower became less important than – whatever feeling brought her here.

Shawn would say it was the idea of pancakes. She likes to think she’s capable of marginally more emotional vulnerability than he is.

She bites her lip, then presses send on the text.

Home.

The response is an immediate string of emojis, mainly the heart bubbles but with the addition of a few inexplicable inanimate objects too. She’s not sure what the megaphone or candelabra or pineapple are supposed to represent, but she’s smiling when she knocks on the kitchen door, which is meaning enough for her.

Henry opens it. He looks — exhausted, about the same as Juliet feels, despite the lack of head injury or general bodily trauma. The lines in his face immediately soften at the sight of her. Juliet refuses point blank to allow her eyes to well up.

“In you come,” Henry sighs, making way. Dr. Spencer — Maddie, Juliet supposes — is at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. Muffled sounds of a television come from the next room. Juliet vaguely recognizes them as Phineas and Ferb.

At her entrance, Madeline raises an interested eyebrow and glances at Henry, but beyond that moment of silent communication says nothing.

“Do you want some tea?” she asks simply.

“Please.”

Henry squeezes her shoulder, gently enough that she realizes he somehow noticed and filed away all her injuries earlier. Henry Spencer the detective still surprises her sometimes. “Boys are in the living room,” he says, and goes back to the table while his ex-wife putters around the kitchen more comfortably than is probably wise.

Juliet chews on her lip again. An amused smile fights its way to the surface, coupled with an odd twang of yearning that doesn’t really make much sense. Poor Shawn, she thinks, and it's almost a laugh in the same way she’s almost about to cry. But that’s been true all evening. Henry pulls out another old photograph from the box they seemed to be sorting through before her arrival and peers over the top of his reading glasses.

“Oh God, can you believe I used to wear this stuff in public? You hated this thing.”

“If by this thing you mean that horrible yellow suit …”

“See, it wasn’t the yellow that was the problem. The cut did nothing to flatter my physique.”

Madeline is laughing when Juliet slips out, chamomile tea in hand, to the living room.

At the entrance she stops and takes her heels off. Phineas and Ferb is playing, and loudly at that. As promised, Shawn and Gus are huddled on the couch nursing their empty pancake containers, smelling like sugar and more or less dressed in PJs; she spots what’s surely one of Henry’s old fishing t-shirts, cartoonish in the logo and slightly too baggy on Shawn. She knows any old clothes he keeps in the closet here probably don’t fit him anymore. Juliet wonders if Gus went home to change or if he, too, borrowed clothes. Shawn’s hair has flattened a bit where he must have yanked his shirt down over his head, floofy the way it can be in the mornings sometimes. He’s holding a pillow against his chest. Gus’s sock has a hole in the big toe. Every so often one or both of them will giggle at the TV. 

Her eyes do well up, then. 

Of course Shawn picks that exact second to notice her.

He notices a lot of things, Juliet has come to observe, few of which fit congruously with the many things he forgets or overlooks or can’t be bothered over. She wonders if that’s just an extension of how the spirits work, and if he’d explain it to her if she asked him. There’s a resigned part of her that doesn’t think he will, and a practical part of her that guesses at an attention deficit diagnosis that probably gave him some grief growing up and doesn’t really pair well with psychic visions or an enduring fear of being too vulnerable.

Three in the morning is too late to be mulling any of this stuff over, Juliet thinks. Besides which, most of it becomes suddenly irrelevant as she’s hit with the expression that takes over his face at the sight of her.  

Three in the morning, she reminds herself. Near death experience. Don’t read into it.

Shawn doesn’t say anything, only looks at her with all that throat-closing tenderness Juliet has ignored so many times before. I think you’re swell, he’d said. In some ways, she’s always been able to see right through him without even trying. 

Gus is wedged right beside him, hogging the blankets. There’s enough room on the couch for Juliet to fit on the other side of them. 

She walks over, hands Shawn her tea, and climbs into his lap. Her knees bend over his right leg, her shoulder sinks into his chest and her head settles against his neck. Shawn still doesn’t say anything. He just sets the mug down carefully on the floor, takes a deep, relieving breath, and wraps his arms around her. She hadn’t really worried that Gus might complain, but when he reaches over unprompted and squeezes Juliet’s unhurt elbow, the last little knot in her chest dissolves fully. She gropes her hand over the upholstery and squeezes his arm back.

“... latest in my brilliant line of ‘Inators, I call it the Unlikely-Inator! She pairs beautifully with the Likeli-Inator 2000. Together, Perry the Platypus, I shall use them to somehow take over the Tri-State area, and then the world!”

“You wanna change?” Shawn murmurs into her hair after a moment. 

“Later,” Juliet says.

“Mmmkay.”

The old t-shirt is soft against the skin of her cheek and smells like laundry detergent. The rest of the house smells like a family lives in it, even though Juliet knows that’s not really true, and it also smells like Shawn, a little bit. Shawn smells like Shawn, too. His chest rumbles beneath her with every soft laugh the cartoon pulls out of him. 

“Oh – oh, remember this, this next bit is really funny,” Gus says. His voice is just as soft as Shawn’s.

“Man, you know I have this whole show memorized.”

“I’ve never really seen it,” Juliet says quietly. They watch as the little platypus karate kicks Dr. Doofenshmirtz in the head.

“I know,” says Shawn. “But that’s being rectified. Ha! Gus, we should turn the Psych office into a funhouse next week. Just to see if we can.”

He pats her thigh and Juliet feels a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth against Shawn’s neck.

“Shawn, I am not stepping foot in another amusement park since that crazy-ass chick and her boyfriend tried murdering everyone last month. We can try turning it into a bunny sanctuary instead.”

“I like the way you think, hermano. Wait wait, here comes the explosion. Classic!”

She falls asleep slowly, lulled by the comfortable heat of Shawn’s body and the muted, silly sounds from the television. 

When Juliet wakes up, her cheek is pressed against an actual pillow, she’s horizontal, and she has no idea what day it is. She blinks against the grit in her eyes and the fact that her whole body is sore before realizing she slept on a couch. Someone put a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body and took the time to change her out of her gross work clothes. She looks down, only mildly discombobulated. She’s wearing the old fishing t-shirt Shawn had on last night and what must be a pair of Madeline’s pajama pants. They’re a pretty purple color and silky against her legs. She definitely still has her underwear on. A soft snore comes from the ground below her and Juliet realizes she’s still in the living room at Shawn’s dad’s house; Shawn himself is burritoed in an ancient sleeping bag on the ground directly beneath her and Gus is sprawled on a camp bed that’s a bit too small for him on the other side of the coffee table. They’re both still fast asleep. The light coming from the window is light enough that it’s properly morning, but the rest of the house is still dead quiet. A soft blue light appears suddenly on the coffee table; her phone is vibrating, which she realizes must have been the thing that woke her up in the first place.

She reaches carefully over Shawn to grab it. The home screen shows a text from Carlton, received minutes ago.

Got home alright?

She could say that Gus gave her a ride; it would be another easy lie, and he’d happily corroborate it. She hates the idea, though. She looks down at Shawn’s sleeping form, the unruly tuft of hair poking out from beneath the blankets and the drool on his pillow. Telling Carlton would be a bad idea, she knows.

Juliet types, for a second time trying not to think too hard about it, Yes, home. Safe and sound.

She sinks back into the surprisingly comfortable couch cushions, instinctively curling into herself, full of feeling she can’t quite articulate. After a moment of staring silently at the wall, Juliet turns onto her back and reaches one quiet arm down. The tips of her fingers meet the soft warm skin of Shawn’s ear, and when he doesn’t wake up, she keeps her knuckles there, barely moving, only rubbing her thumb up and down every so often. 

Everything else can be a problem for tomorrow. Slowly, she falls asleep again. 

[maryawrites]

Sfumato - Chapter 11

It was hard to write this one because I've spent all of the last two days going on and coming off of drugs cyclically. I pretty sure you can tell in this chapter. Yeah, (Name) has a TBI. Supplemental: religious shame turns people into huge sexual freaks and maladaptive masochists (Personal experience).

CW: religious themes and religious trauma, ugly burning yearning at the worst of times, (Name) is fucking allergic to making good decisions (I did say this was semi-autobiographical), traumatic brain injuries/concussions, mentions of physical trauma, flaky unhealthy friendship, slightly homoerotic friendships, spontaneity and poor impulse control due to neurological trauma, like one mention of blowing up someone's car, Wade Wilson, referenced physical assault and fighting, the (Name) in this is a little stupid but that's what character development (and medical help) is for

Divider by @/saradika

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

  “Fuck.” I mutter under my breath as I continue down the rest of the way down the hall, since it appears I’m being dragged out of my hiding place with the sweet siren call of-

  Food. Food. Yeah. 

  And any of my shame is both washed away and doubled at the kind greeting I receive. “Oh, Jesus- Back to your quarters, Quasimodo. We have company right now.” Wade hisses, eyeing me with a sense of disgust I knew would arise. It hurts. Badly. 

  It takes me a long moment of standing in the doorway self-consciously before Logan finally catches my eye, shoving Wade in a way that’s almost corrective. “That’s not funny.” He deadpans, without even so much as sparing a glance my way. 

  …That was a joke. Wade didn’t mean it, he was making a joke. Oh.

  They both confuse me to no end. It’s horrible. 

  “Okay, anyways,” Wade moves on without missing a stride, turning with a can in either hand. “Chicken noodle or tomato?”

  “Uh… what?” I struggle, looking between his hands and his face. Now that I’m getting a good look at him again, I see why he wouldn’t be arrogant enough to make any jokes about my bruising. 

  He just sighs, tossing a can at me, which I barely manage to catch, earning a glare from Logan that I think is all too vague. Perhaps he’s simply not feeling well, like he’s hungover. I understand how being around someone so active can make you feel antsy yet tired. But my sympathetic train of thought is disrupted when Wade answers me. “Soup, trap mouth. What do you want- chicken noodle soup, or tomato soup? He got cream of chicken, too, but… ehh. I personally think that you’ve been through enough.”

  “Chick-” I start before being interrupted by Logan, who turns to Wade in pissy confusion. “What the hell is your problem with cream of chicken? I thought you said you’d eat anything.” He questions hardly. 

  “Oh, trust me, peanut, if I wanted to know what a chicken’s semen tasted like, I’d just do a better job of seducing you.” Wade replies offhandedly, turning back to the can still in his grasp, reading it intently. I watch his nose wrinkle in disgust at something I can’t identify. It looks like a regular can to me.

  “You’re disgusting.” Logan growls, turning back to the remaining eight cans on the table, messing with them. Hm? I take a wary step forward, peeking around the look at his handiwork. The grocery bag is already gone. Why’s he rearranging them so much?

  “You know what is disgusting? This salty crap. I asked you to get the sodium free variant. You’re going to kill us all.” Wade sasses back, settling the can back on the table before picking up one from Logan’s bunch, giving it a good look as well. If I were Logan, I’d be quite offended, but I realize how weird it is to be possessive over soup cans, and shut down that thought process. I should go somewhere else, away from all of this. 

  Oh, there’s the answer to all of my suffering- God won’t kill me because he’s so confused by my thought process that he doesn’t know what to think. He can’t kill me because he doesn’t know what he'd do with me after. 

  Well, there’s my closure. 

  I step away from the room quietly, slipping off into my kitchen. It’s so odd to have people around. I haven’t had anyone over- other than our landlord, on rare occasion, and Lily, briefly last night- since I moved in. And I definitely haven’t had anyone who’s life dips so closely to mine that it almost feels like we’re… friends. I’m not sure what makes someone your friend. Lily just sort of claimed me, but I don’t think these two are my friends. That seems immature, to think they’re my friends. The last thing I want to be is childish. 

  This is neighbors doing neighborly things. I think.

  I try to distract myself from their presence and background arguing by taking a good look at my own soup can, finding it to be condensed chicken noodle soup. Perhaps I’ve never given Wade enough credit- he’s a bit of a magician in his own right. I’ll repeat my point from earlier this week: he isn’t omniscient or anything, he just does horrible things so well that it makes me think. This is what I would’ve asked for if I had gotten some room to speak. But I have it, so it doesn’t matter. 

  My eyes dry out in the light quickly, searching for a pot. My head seems to go from vaguely throbbing to pounding behind my eyes as I lean down to look in my cabinets. I know I have one good one. Yes- I do. Finally, something normal about today. I choose not to think about work until tomorrow. They’ll move on by then. 

  I just need to get rid of my face. 

  No, no- better yet, I need to get rid of… this. I feel like I’ve been too loose the whole time they’ve been here. I haven’t been myself, I’ve been something different. Something unfamiliar, and uncharted, and murky. But not necessarily new, which is scarier than if it had been new. God, if I keep thinking so weirdly, I’m going to start acting weirdly, which isn’t something you want to do around people after getting knocked around. 

  I clear my throat, ignoring the thunder in my skull as I peek around the corner, looking back into my combination dining room-living room- I’m living off of a waitress’ salary, after all- taking in the two bickering off-handedly. It’s not even a proper argument anymore. Just conversation. It’s one of those intimate snippy conversations that I don’t think I could ever achieve. 

  I’m doing it again. Being a voyeur, peeking around corners. 

  I pull myself back in, shutting them out in my mind. I will distract myself with this.

  Getting the pot on the stove- easy.

  Starting the heat- easy. 

  Opening the can-… not as easy. Which shocks me. Because it’s fucking Campbell’s soup, for God’s sake, I’ve opened more cans than I’ve heard a decent joke in my life. 

  I try again with my left hand, holding it in place with my right. I put my back into it, trying to peel back the pull tab. What the fuck? 

  I glance back over my shoulder to the doorway, gritting my teeth- big mistake, I nearly choke on the pain that shoots through my face and jaw. I turn back to the can, gripping it harder and pulling again. Seriously? Last I checked, it was my head that got busted, not my wrist. 

  I hear footsteps coming and switch hands quickly, peeling it open with a familiar ease. Huh. So I guess not everything is twisted into something unordinary. 

  I glance up at the analogue clock on my wall as Wade rounds the corner into my kitchen, confusion filling me at the time. 

  “This isn’t breakfast. This isn't even lunch. It’s five p.m.. What did you have to eat earlier?” I question irritably, turning to look at him, though he gives me little notice as he goes right to my fridge. 

  “Nothing. I told you- this is breakfast, fcuked-up-girl-next-door-trope.” 

  “No. This is dinner. Why haven’t you eaten until now?” I insist, staring holes into the back of his head, any thought of eating slipping from my own pounding head. It’s probably about ninety percent hot air in there, yet it hurts so bad. Probably just hunger. 

  Oh, right, my soup.

  “No one- No one was really hungry, you know, watching you lie there. You looked comatose.” Wade answers, but I can hear the disappointment in his voice as he looks around my fridge. He’s looking for something to drink. That makes me tread lighter. 

  “...I didn’t think watching me sleep was so fulfilling.” I offer, trying to make a joke. He seems to like jokes. And even if it isn’t a good joke, he can still make one out of me for trying. 

  But I don’t even get mocked. “It isn’t.” He sighs, shutting the fridge door in dissatisfaction, leaving with a brief “I’m going to get something from our place. Don’t get the shit beat out of you again while I’m gone, please.”

  “Oh, uh-” I start to say something, but my hesitance is rewarded with empty silence as he leaves before I can speak. Disappointment sinks deeper into my belly. 

  Five p.m. drinking. This is where I’m at, now, in life. Great. 

  You know, it really would be great if God could just finish the job already. I think he got pretty close last night. It was last night, wasn’t it? I consider, turning back to my pot, emptying the can into it. It was last night, wasn’t it? I can’t remember, but it seems about right. I mean, what are the chances that I was asleep for more than one day? Surely someone would’ve done something.

  I think.

  I have hope that they would.

  I fumble the can while filling it with water, distracted by my own ponderings. I scramble to catch it, dipping my hand into it impulsively and slicing my index finger on a jagged edge where the top of the can once was. Now, here’s my greatest challenge- what do we all do when we’re in pain? Clench our jaws. Only problem is, if I clench my jaw, I’m going to disintegrate.

  I yank my hand back from the sink, pressing my finger to my sweater just impulsively as I had when I’d cut it. Damn it all. I raise my hand back up, popping my finger in my mouth to soothe the sting and suck off the blood, careful to avoid any of my teeth. But even that does not quite feel the same. 

  I give it up after a moment, wiping my finger on my sweatpants- getting bloody saliva on my clothes for the second time in the last twenty-four hours- before successfully filling the can with water and returning to my pot, adding it.

  While I’m over the stove I get a horrible feeling, then the thought that quickly follows- if my teeth are ruined, I’ll likely need braces. It hits me like a truck. Not only am I meager as is, but braces? Yes, perhaps a good repellent for ensuring I remain sane around Logan, but I have other parts of my life. I don’t want to be an adult with braces. What would that say about me? Oh, my grandmother would have a fit about it, an absolute fit because of what it implies about her care of me.

  It haunts my mind as I watch the condensed soup meld with the water, stirring it tentatively and ignoring my surroundings for a moment to watch how they slowly combine. But the little semblance of peace I briefly attain is shattered when a voice comes from the doorway to my kitchen. 

  “How did you end up like that?” Logan asks blandly, before he says anything else, or even just alerts me to his presence. When I spin around, I nearly stumble, only barely managing to catch myself before I can make it obvious. Perhaps ‘blandly’ isn’t the right adverb- there’s something there. Something. But he appears too unperturbed for me to make a proper assessment. I’ve never been the best at reading people, anyways. 

  “Uh… what?” I reply, rough with surprise and shameful embarrassment. I never realized how different it was to be alone with Logan, versus what it’s been like to be around him with Wade present. This is the first time I’ve ever really interacted with him alone. 

  His eyes flit around the space uncomfortably, as if it’s difficult to so much as speak with me. I know there’s something about me he doesn’t quite like, but this only feels all the worse with my newfound appearance. “What,” He repeats, a bit more slowly. “Happened to make you end up like that? What did you get into?”

  Oh. That’s what this is about. I didn’t think he’d care too much. A bruise is a bruise is a bruise. 

  “A fight.” I respond briefly, clipping my voice off as I turn back to my pot, trying to shove his presence completely out of my mind. 

  “I didn’t think you were the type to get into those types of fights.”

  “Maybe I am the type.” I mutter half-heartedly, zeroing in on the off-white still-cool soup in my pot, doing anything but thinking about how the floorboard creeeeaaaks under his weight when he takes a step forward. At least now I’m aware that he’s moving. Which… somehow isn’t as easing as I thought it’d be. 

  He’s heavy. My God, he’s big. 

  He huffs somewhere behind me. “What would you have to fight over that would be worth that?” 

  My friend got drunk and went to bomb her exploitative ex-boyfriend’s car, and I went with her because I was scared she would get arrested, and her ex-boyfriend came outside before we could get away and went after me instead of her, and it was weirdly refreshing and erotic, and all I could think of was you. “Just things. It escalated.”

  “It ‘escalated’, and you had to be dragged up the stairs like a carcass?” I need him to just drop it. Now that I’ve started thinking about it, I can’t stop. It’s this uncomfortable feeling under my skin, like I’ve found a shortcut I shouldn't take. I didn’t like getting hit. I don’t like getting hit. 

  But. 

  “Yes. So, that’s it. Do you want something, or…?” I question, trying to put distance between us without sparing a glance in his direction. I can’t keep doing this. He won’t let me in, and, anyways, I shouldn't be trying to get close to him, anyways. That’s not good. I’m not good. 

  I was supposed to be better. 

  Silence fills the kitchen thickly, swallowing up any of my misguided hopes for saying more to him. I feel his eyes on the back of my head, staring holes into the back of it before he leaves wordlessly, my shoulders loosening at the sudden loss. It’s not quite a relief. It’s just… less stressful. I reach up to my face silently, nervously taking the skin of my cheek between two fingers and twisting. Pain explodes in my face, and things feel like they’re set somewhere closer to normal. I bet I’ll be better by tomorrow.

  Wait. 

  Wait. Wait one fucking second. 

  Okay, I’m not a conspiracy theorist or anything, right? I’m not insane. Well, I might be a little insane, but I’m not diagnosed. And, look, everyone knows that Wade is Deadpool, because you’d seriously have to be an idiot not to. Also, he’s kind of worn the mask in the halls before. He’s… not the best at maintaining the ‘secret’ part of a secret identity. 

  But that’s not the point. 

  I’m not crazy crazy, all right? But I am ninety fucking percent sure that Logan is a mutant. Okay, that’s not the crazy part, stay with me- not only is he a mutant, he’s the fucking Wolverine. 

  I should… probably stop saying ‘fuck’. But I have a point. He literally looks just like him, but a little older, and a little more wounded, but it’s the same. Wade hangs around X-Men all the time, right? 

  I’m a genius. Holy Hell, I cracked the code. Or… maybe I really do have a traumatic brain injury.

  I sneak around the corner in my own home, keeping a careful eye out for anyone as I slip just far enough out of my kitchen to collect some tennis shoes and retreat back to the stove, leaning on it heavily as I pull them on. 

  Look- Yes, I have guests over. But I don’t exactly have anything of worth, and I don’t think they’d do that, anyways. Besides, I’m an adult. I can do what I want. Even when I’m kind of at-risk. 

  I slip over to the window in my kitchen, glancing over my shoulder before unlocking and trying it, jolting it open with a muffled groan. Everything hurts. 

  I’m moving way faster than I can think about it. It’s like nothing I’m doing is going through the filters in my brain. 

  I’m very careful to be silent when sliding it up, going as slowly as possible, getting it open just enough to crawl over my counter and out of it, tumbling into the fire escape gracelessly. No one cares. It’ll be fine. 

  I want to tell someone. But, evidently, I don’t have many people. Who do I have? Lily. She’s not… the best. But she’s not bad. I don’t know anyone else who would practically carry me to bed. And I forgive her for hitting me that one time, because I know it was pretty much my fault. 

  So. Fire Escape. Yeah. 

[raibebe]

Dreamies in Hogwarts

Genre: fluff Words: 1595 Warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of bullying

A/N: I had this very sudden need to develop new characters and these are the outcome. And it may or may not have been to do with some post about Jeno being in a house he doesn't belong in.

So here I present (with the help of the lovely @flowerboykun who helped both with some of these bullet points and the little banners) my take on the Dreamies if they were in Hogwarts.

Comments and further questions on them are greatly appreciated. Also arguments about their houses. I very much appreciate other points of view.

Gryffindor (duh)

Muggleborn

Prefect

Golden boy of the house

Has only lost house points ONCE (and he will keep blaming it on Donghyuck until he dies)

If he doesn’t get 100% on a DADA exam, something is wrong

The first one to master his patronus spell by thinking of the day he first stepped into Diagon Alley

Yes, he too got spooked by the big lion he cast but that was before the animal let him pet his mane before disappearing

Had several mental breakdowns trying to choose his elective courses because he couldn’t just take all of them

Always has an open ear for his underclassman

Might just let it slide whenever he sees a first-year out of bed too late because he too would just get lost on the way from the library to their common room and suddenly it was after the curfew

Seeker of the Quidditch team

Refused the captain position multiple times because he thinks Jeno is more suited for it and honestly… He doesn’t need any more responsibilities

So oblivious to everyone who tries to hit on him… Like please help this guy

The amount of times he has been asked out on dates and he just thought it would be a friendly hangout and he brought more people is getting ridiculous

Ravenclaw

Pureblood

Do not underestimate him 

His skills in Charms are unmatched and he probably knows more hexes than all his classmates combined

His quick thinking probably saved Chenle’s life during a Quidditch match once when he fell off of his broom after taking a bludger to the side

Got thrown out of the library for shouting at Donghyuck and Chenle… permanently…

Makes them pay for it by getting his books… And some that he doesn’t actually need… Heavy ones…

Has a new love letter in his bag after every day… He has stopped reading them… 

And started folding them into little tiny cranes instead so he can charm them to fly right back to whoever wrote it… It’s his way of letting them down gently..?

Very fond of the merpeople once he saw them in the Slytherin common room

Also uses them as an excuse to accept Donhyuck’s invites to hang out because he of course just wants to catch a glimpse of them

Maybe beating Donghyuck in wizard chess is also a plus

Not a prefect but loves using the prefect bath (yes, he got Mark to tell him the password)

Found the Room of Requirement sometime during his fourth year which took on the space of a quiet and comfortable safe room for him to recharge

Whenever you cannot find him, he’s probably in there painting

Gryffindor

Halfblood

The sorting hat had a really hard time putting him in a house

Like it took a looong time but in the end, Jeno’s courage and drive got him sent to Gryffindor 

Captain of the Quidditch team

Plays as Chaser

Once accidentally broke one of the hoops because he threw the quaffle too hard and then there was the time when the Hufflepuff Keeper got a concussion…

Loves Care of Magical Creatures and no matter how ugly the creature is, he takes care of them with utmost respect and admiration 

Very fond of the Thestrals, especially the smaller foals and very upset about people being ignorant towards them just because they can’t see them

Wants to go into the forbidden forest so fucking badly to see what kind of creatures live there but he knows that he’ll get in so much trouble if he actually went in

So he just likes to hang out right at the edge of it in hopes to catch glimpses 

Once fell asleep in a Divination class that Jaemin talked him into taking with him

He thought it would be a lot more exciting and the calming scent of the tea put him right to sleep

Needless to say, he dropped the course for Arithmacy instead… Don’t ask how that’s going. 

Actually, he’s doing pretty well in the exams after staying up the whole night cramming, only making his way into bed because Mark found him and carried him upstairs after he passed out in the common room

Slytherin

Halfblood

Didn’t care for Quidditch much until he found out that Mark was playing for Gryffindor

Suddenly, he knew all the rules and had a brand new broom for the tryouts

Is he looking for the snitch or is he just annoying Mark the whole game? No one actually knows

Are you still rivals if it lasts longer than 4 years or are you just in love at this point?

Anyways

Always puts on a strong face but he’s fucking tired of stupid rich purebloods telling him that he doesn’t belong in “their” house

Whenever it just gets too much, he goes to the owlery because their sweet hooting always comforts him and his own eagle owl is always down for scritches and cuddles (and very menacing screeches whenever someone shows up to bother them) 

That is until one day, a small black cat also came to the owlery and curled up in his lap, purring when he started to pet it

And surprisingly, it was very easy to just complain to the little kitten about everything, it even gave disapproving meows at the correct timing

The most peculiar thing though… The cat doesn’t trigger his allergies. But it’s magic so that explains it. Right?

Maybe he should really ask Renjun whether or not there are any charms like that

Takes his divination class very seriously

No, I am kidding, he’s bullshitting himself through every essay… Successfully.

Slytherin

Pureblood

Fuck gender. Like seriously. Who invented this concept? Not them. So therefore it shouldn’t adhere to them.

Metamorphmagus and therefore they might have a new hair color every other day

Very fond of giving themself heterochromia  

Everyone thinks they’re just naturally very gifted in potions but they have worked their absolute ass off to be as good as they are since their grandma is a potion master and they have been brewing with her for as long as they could stir a cauldron 

Has a (very legal) business of selling love potions 

And always has an antidote on hand in case someone tries to spike Mark’s drink (again)

Could not care less about house points and rivalry 

Or Quidditch for that matter even though they show up for every game his friends play in

Might get distracted halfway through and play with cats beneath the bleachers

Friends with the kitchen elves and always praises them for their food

Very peaceful unless you fuck with their friends 

Someone is taking advantage of Mark’s or Jeno’s kindness? Some asshole is calling Donghyuck names again? A dude pushed past Renjun and made him spill his pumpkin juice all over his notes? They sure as hell will not enjoy their next meal when everything suddenly tastes like vomit

Will give them the antidote with a sickening smile on their face once they apologize because they’re just that nice of a person

Slytherin

Pureblood

Transfiguration prodigy

To everyone’s misfortune

He could use his gift to experiment and figure out new spells… But instead, he chooses to play elaborate pranks on his friends

They have stopped counting how many times Jisung’s quills have turned into bugs in the middle of the lecture

Figured out how to turn himself into an Animagus when he was 15

Nothing and nobody is safe from him once he turns into a sleek black cat

Has tea on literally everyone  

Cannot stand the pureblood fanatics and will not hesitate to curse them out very colorfully or turn their belongings into different bugs and animals whenever they’re being assholes to others who don’t fit their standards

Very obsessed and intense about Quidditch 

Do not ask him about his favorite team or he will not stop gushing about one of their chasers

The quickest of Slytherin’s chasers

Once got badly hit by a bludger and refused to be taken to the hospital wing because they were behind by quite a lot despite his arm definitely being broken

Yes, he had to be dragged off the field

Hufflepuff

Muggleborn

Baffled and in awe about everything around him

Still cannot believe that he’s able to do magic and make things LEVITATE

Also food just randomly appearing on the table??

Owls bringing his mail?? That’s crazy. Like how do owls know how to do that?

Really likes Herbology but is kind of freaked out by how many dangerous plants are out there

Please let him drop his potion class for his own safety

Claims that he followed the exact steps in the recipe but somehow managed to melt the bottom of his cauldron not once but twice and got the whole room evacuated because his concoction smelled so bad, a girl fainted

Despite Jaemin’s continuous efforts at teaching him, he seems to be a lost cause but at least he hasn’t exploded one of his potions in a long time

Almost failed the flying class because he was scared shitless after Chenle told him a bunch of nonsense about accidents that have never happened 

Very good friends with some of the portraits and therefore knows a lot of secret passages

The one who always ducks at Quidditch games if any players or balls are remotely in his vicinity

Also still gets spooked by the ghosts

Which only prompts them to scare him even more. Mostly by peeking their head through his food

[deke-rivers-1957]

Clambake Review

This is often considered to be the worst Elvis film ever made. Even Elvis himself allegedly hated making the film. However, it's most likely because of the fact that Elvis suffered from that infamous concussion just before filming started. A lot of fans who watched this film say that you can see Elvis is ailing. Does his acting suffer because of it or just fan projection? Let's find out.

We immediately start off with the titular song "Clambake". For a movie that takes place in Miami, you wouldn't associate the city with clambake. Or oil rigs. But we don't live in this movie's reality because both of those things exist in Miami apparently. While it is true that Native Americans in Florida developed a technique referred to as a "clambake", a traditional clambake is predominantly held on the Northern East coast. They could've just as easily reused New Orleans if they wanted to include both of those elements.

This is easily one of the worst outfits Elvis ever worn. Scott would never wear this. Based on his character he'd want to be as far away from it as possible. It makes more sense for Tom Wilson to buy this when they switch identities. I know he has to wear something at the beginning to show that he's rich, but I would've used a different outfit.

Charlie Hodge cameos at the barber and gets a line. Imagine my surprise to see that we have an actual character arc that's setup. We understand who Scott is and why he's here in Miami. He's the son of an oil tycoon and wants to make a name for himself. He had a fiancee but he left her when it was clear she only cared for his money. We now have a clear reason to support his identity swap.

I don't hate this Prince and the Pauper type of plot, I just don't like how it's executed. Heyward Oil is everywhere somehow and yet no one recognizes Scott just by the face alone? Sure he's not the head of the company but they recognize his name so they had to have seen him at least once. Maybe I'm missing something, but I think this would've been better if Tom Wilson was played by an actor that looked more like Elvis. Impossible I know, but if Elvis had body doubles in movies, I think it could've been done.

"Who Needs Money" is a terrible duet. Elvis' vocals of course are fine but Tom Wilson's dubbed in vocals just doesn't work. The film doesn't grind to a halt because of this duet, but it's still not a rememberable song. I get that we needed a duet to show that Scott and Tom are both doing this for their own personal gain, but Tom Wilson needed different vocals for this song to be just average. It's also made abundantly clear that Elvis isn't in Miami to film this with the overuse of rear screen projections.

When we get to the hotel, the scene where Jamison is talking with the women is so bizarre. Some of the women's dialogue sounded either effected (meaning they purposely put on a type of voice that suggests bad acting or bad direction) or were dubbed in. It just didn't sound like they were recorded the same way Jamison's voice was recorded. The water-skiing scene also has so much dead air that we're watching Elvis' and Shelly's doubles ski at a far angle shot with no audio outside of the boat's motor. It lasted too long and could've been redone as it just wasn't engaging.

Given that Elvis wasn't actually in Florida, at least this scene has a real background. The lighting naturally matches the time of day it's supposed to be in and they all look like they belong there. I really like Elvis' outfit though as you can at least justify long sleeve shirts with "it's night time so it's going to be cooler".

"A House That Has Everything" is fine. It allows for Scott to seemingly bond with Dianne over being poor. As much as I love Scott's part of this relationship, I just don't understand why he's in love with Dianne. She basically admits to being a gold digger, which Scott wanted to get away from. I understand the point of the movie is that she falls in love with Scott for who he is, but Scott being interested after she admits to being the one thing he wanted to avoid just doesn't make sense to me.

I do appreciate that the movie wants us to dislike Jamison by making him act like a pig for ignoring Dianne's pleas to go away. I also appreciate that this movie didn't go down the path of most Elvis films and have Scott try to fight him ultimately getting him in trouble. Instead we get shown that Scott disapproves of Jamison's actions, but also acknowledges that Dianne's a grown woman who can take care of herself.

For once we have a mid 60s Elvis film that has him have the emotional maturity to know when to pick his battles. I also admit that as much as I don't like his romantic interests in Dianne, I really enjoy seeing him wanting to respect her choices and help her. He's willing to just be a companion and doesn't let any negative feelings for Jamison interfere. A cliched love triangle would've had Scott try to sabotage Jamison to make him look bad in front of Dianne, or Scott try to convince Dianne that Jamison is no good only for her to ignore him. He doesn't do any of that and instead just let's the chips fall where they lie.

This song was easily the worst scene in the entire film. "Confidence" is embarrassingly over 5 minutes long. The editing is just bizarre with a shot that is completely upside down and a clip of the US Calvary. It's so long that there was a stretch of time that Scott isn't even singing. We're just following him and Tom Wilson play with children. Even Red West, cameoing as the ice cream gets involved in playing with the kids for literally no reason. I kid you not, it was so bad that my besties who saw the film with me all had a mini breakdown at how awful and long it was.

I can see why fans say you can see Elvis is struggling in this film. Watching this scene is like watching a man mentally regress to a child's age right before your eyes. What makes it worse is that this scene has absolutely no impact on the plot. Him singing with the kids doesn't make Dianne see Scott in a new light the way, nor do any of the kids help Scott with his boat in anyway. Outside of a throwaway line about having confidence, nothing from this scene was ever mentioned again. This scene's only purpose is to provide filler to pad out the run time.

A ride up of over 2 inches or so should never happen with clothes. That's a sign of how cheap this film was. They couldn't even bother to give Elvis a turtleneck sweater that properly fits. This whole scene is just cringy mid 60s beach party aesthetics. "Clambake" as a song is bad in that I literally couldn't understand a single word of the beginning.

The dancing in this scene isn't good and the colors in the scene hurt my eyes. The only reason why I say this song is better than "Confidence" is that there's an actual reason for this song to exist. Despite being geographically inaccurate, a clambake event was mentioned earlier in the film. Scott would want to be there because he knows Dianne would be there and just in general wanted to have fun.

I like this montage of Scott developing the goop. The whole concept of Scott wanting to make his own product is brilliant. He wants to prove that his idea can work even if his dad didn't. It adds another dimension to his character without having to include his dad. He's a genuinely intelligent man who isn't depicted as a pathetic dork or an absolute kill joy.

This gives us a rare showing of Elvis playing a character that doesn't just rizz up girls, or fights people. He also isn't a bumbling, misfortunate character that is passive to the events around him. Here, Scott's actively choosing to do this. He's making the best use of his privilege and education to not only help out a struggling boat owner, but also create a product that shows that he's more than just his dad's money.

This dynamic only makes me think that Scott is too good for Dianne. He isn't just being a decent human being and therefore deserves to be with her by default. He's actively helping a woman he barely knows get with another man by giving her advice. The fact that she's still interested in Jamison after he refused to respect her boundaries indicates that she literally only cares about his money. I know that's the point of her character arc, but watching this only makes me think that Scott deserved better.

"You Don't Know Me" only solidifies that opinion. The entire song is literally Scott lamenting that Dianne doesn't know who he is. While part of it is on him for purposely hiding his true identity, Dianne basically uses him as a tool to get Jamison to notice her. She doesn't really take the time to get to know Scott on even a friendly basis. That one night on the beach just isn't enough to say that she knows enough about Scott to even be his friend. You really feel bad for Scott because he's in a one-sided relationship with someone who doesn't seem interested in him outside of what he could do for her.

It's little moments like this that make me appreciate Scott as a character. He's so dedicated to making this product work that he works through the night and falls asleep at his work station. He isn't even doing it to impress Dianne either. He's had this idea before he even met her. He genuinely wants to help Mr. Burton and prove that his product can work.

"Hey, Hey, Hey" is a terrible song. It's similar to "Clambake" in that it has bad dancing and similar to "Confidence" in that it just comes completely out of nowhere. It also just doesn't work with Scott's character. He's only shown interest in Dianne so even though he's not committed to her, it doesn't make sense for him to give every woman a kiss. I get that it's meant to be a montage of Scott getting help to finish the boat, but the song just feels unnecessary. Each woman's reaction to his kiss is obviously dubbed in as the actress' reaction doesn't match the noise she makes. You could just as easily convey that in a way that's similar to when Scott recreated his goop.

I was absolutely shocked at how good this dynamic was. Mr. Heyward had a big beef with Scott for leaving the way he did. He was so upset that Scott took stuff from his company without asking him, that he had to be confronted. At first you think this is the cliche dad that just doesn't get his son wanting to be his own man or even bothered to know what Scott liked. Scott's relationship with Mr. Burton made me think that this was the case. However, Mr. Heyward ultimately isn't that cliche.

Mr. Heyward knows his son more than anyone else. When he found out that Tom Wilson was acting like a party animal who smoke and drank, he immediately knew that this wasn't Scott. For a time period where it was more common for a man to smoke and or drink, Mr. Heyward outright being confused to hear that "Scott" did this shows he knows his son. He really does care about Scott, but is just upset at the way Scott chose to handle his feelings. When given the chance to confront him about it, Mr. Heyward said his part and let Scott have his say too. Even though he still didn't fully believe in Scott's product, he still wanted to let Scott try. Ultimately a very well written tension that didn't give you the idea that these two outright hated each other.

This part of the movie has the most amount of tension. There's a proper build up of the audience and Scott realizing that Jamison wasn't a good person worth Dianne's affection. Watching Jamison put the moves on her when she said no, is the nail in the coffin for the audience. For Scott, since he didn't see the same things we do, he wouldn't get upset at Jamison for that reason. He knew Jamison wasn't the best person when he forced Dianne to go out with him in exchange for her missing bra. He didn't interfere because he knew that he would've gotten in trouble because Jamison was rich and he was working as an employee.

Here he had the emotional maturity to not put up a stink when Dianne was with Jamison. He didn't even fight him after she left the room. It wasn't until Jamison essentially threatened him first, that Scott had enough and punched him. As soon as Jamison went down, he left. He had the emotional maturity to know that he put Jamison in his place. Nothing else needed to be done as there was no reason to keep punching him. Punching an unconscious man is no longer self defense and is just meaningless violence. Scott understanding that in spite of his own feelings is a refreshing thing to see in a character.

"The Girl I Never Loved" is the best song in the movie. Scott's lament that he'll never be able to tell Dianne how he feels is so sad. He's so adamant about not wanting to interfere in her relationship with Jamison, that he's willing to make himself suffer. He accepts that she doesn't have feelings for him, but he also still lets himself feel hurt about it. That being said, Dianne giving up her scheme and wanting to just go home feels a little forced. Like she doesn't even want to stay because Scott was a good friend. She just wants to go because Jamison ended up not working out.

I just feel bad that Scott went through all this work only for Dianne to not seem that enthused. Mr. Heyward only wants the best for his son so if the goop works, he couldn't be any happier and supportive. Tom Wilson and his girlfriend are genuinely excited to be at the race watching him. They really want Scott to win because they know he worked so hard on the boat. Dianne just doesn't look all that emotional for him and I wonder what would've happened if Scott ended up losing. Mr. Heyward and Tom Wilson I feel would've still supported Scott. They know how hard he worked on it even if it didn't pan out as he thought. I just can't say the same for Dianne. I'm not sure if it was an acting issue or a writing issue, but I just don't feel the same passion she has for Scott that he does for her.

This hurts me. When I think about the low production value of this movie, I think of this. First off no license would ever have a picture like that. If it has a picture it was to be front on not at this weird angle. Also his name's spelled wrong! If you look at the signs for his father's company it's spelled Heyward. The worst mistake though is that Elvis has blue eyes! Why do you mark Scott as having brown eyes when he clearly doesn't have them? This whole scene summarizes the lack of effort put into making this look like Miami. Florida doesn't have any mountains and if anything, Miami is actually prone to flooding and sinkholes because of the low altitude.

Regardless, I actually like how this film ended. The whole point of Scott switching identities in theory was to find someone who loved him for his personality and not just his money. Was doing that right at a stop light the best time to do that? No but in general for a mid 60s Elvis film, we didn't get a stereotypical final number to close out the film. It could've been executed better but we actually get the plot point of Dianne not knowing who Scott is wrapped up. I still don't think Dianne and Scott will work out. They don't know anything about each other and Scott kisses her once after he asks her to marry him. I'm happy for Scott that he got what he wanted, but I honestly think he still deserved better regarding his love interest. It really shows just how much of a real person this character was that you would feel something like that.

This movie is so baffling. On one hand yeah, I totally agree with fans that say this is the worst one. The complete lack of attention to geographical detail and the most blatant case of run time padding make this absolutely frustrating to watch. On the other hand Scott surprisingly has one of the most complete character arcs I've seen where every choice he's made has made sense to his character. His ballads and emotional maturity were quite refreshing to see. He actually makes me care enough to say "you deserve to find someone who loves you. Dianne isn't good enough for you king".

That being said, I give this film a 5/10. There's just too many issues to say that this is a good film. However, I truly think if this script was redone and a different creative team made this movie, it might be one of Elvis' best ones. In fact, as long as you skip "Confidence" and are someone who can forgive production errors easily, I would actually recommend watching this Elvis fan or not. Scott's character arc has enough good elements to make it worth watching.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you @georgefairbrother for requesting this film. Also shout out to @arrolyn1114 and @xanatenshi for watching this film with me. Your input was much appreciated. I currently don't have anything planned on what to review next. If anyone wants to request an Elvis film feel free to send it in.

Tagging: @lynettethemadscientist, @motht-eeth, @ash-omalley, @spooky-hazex, @oh-my-front-door, @father-of-2cats, @stormie-ryan23, @yksuwyksud, @tacozebra051, @alienelvisobsession, @vintageoldsoul, @ohmygiddd, @lovininapinkcadillac, @stephthestallion, @mistyspresley, @bisexualwvtson, @karel-in-wonderland, @moonchild-daniella, @musiclover712, @worldofyns, @sillybookmarks, @g00d2balive, @leighpc, @generoustreemystic, @peskybedtime, @thetaoofzoe, @renegadewarrior, @vintagepresley, @tupelomiss, @myradiaz, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @kiankiwi, @presley72elvis, @delulubutidontcare, @elvispresleywife, @ilivebecauseiamforced, @jaqueline19997, @richardslady121, @if-i-can-dream-of-elvis and @lookingforrainbows.

[pinkgrapefloyd]

I don’t know if you answer asks so although I want your input on this, i’m not really expecting it so don’t feel pressured!

But basically, I just wanted to say I absolutely LOVE your writing. You’re seriously one of my favorite writers and I literally read all your stuff. But specifically I wanted to ask about Anti-Hero.

I’m a writer as well and I’m trying to figure out how exactly to write a fic. I’m kind of struggling with working with an overarching plot (like Robbie’s concussion, in yours) and balancing it with what people actually came there to see (yknow the actual ship). But you literally did it so well like everything with Robbie’s arch felt so relevant and interesting, even when technically the reason I started reading it was for Daniel and Johnny.

So I guess I’m just asking for tips. Like how to balance out your writing easily with that you know. And kind of just advice for writing a fic in general? Of course if that’s not too much, that kinda feels extra.

But anyway, if this ends up staying in your inbox, I just want you to know how actually HYPED I am for that good omens fic. I absolutely love good omens and i’ve never been more excited to see someone write for characters. Lots of love!

Hi! First of all, thank you very much for your sweet message! I’m very glad my writing and especially Anti-Hero means enough to you that you came to reach out for advice! <3

I hope this is not too basic, but here are some things I think might be helpful:

1. In terms of balancing different plot elements: You need to „braid“ the plot strands into each other. A development in one strand must have consequences in the others. The consequences can be small, but they need to be obvious! Robby’s head injury gives Johnny an opportunity to step up as a father, which makes a positive impression on Daniel. The matchmaking progress in turn gives Robby a sense of purpose. It ties into Robby's character development and his view of himself. This means Lawrusso moments are significant for Robby’s character arc, and Robby’s character arc is significant for future Lawrusso moments. Once I’ve established that connection, I don’t need to convince my audience to not ‚skip‘ through the Robby plot, because the Robby plot is an integral part of the Lawrusso plot. They wouldn’t work without each other.

2. General advice: Make sure that you’re having fun! It honestly sounds so cliche but I can always tell when a writer’s heart is really in it, and that makes the reading more enjoyable. If you’re passionate about something, it shines through. Go with the idea that makes you foam at the mouth, not just what you think the fandom will like. I had the most fun with „there’s daggers in men’s smiles“ because it allowed me to highlight one of my passions (fencing) and what I love about it. It’s not my most popular story, but it’s currently my favorite, and I was always very motivated to work on it.

3. If you’re writing multi-chapter: Have an ending in mind. I’ve had a lot of story ideas, but the ones that have a specific ending planned are so much easier to work on because I feel like I’m working toward a goal. With romance, I encourage you to get a bit more specific than just "They get together". I knew from the get-go I wanted Anti-Hero to end with Robby in the hospital after a second head injury, but this time there actually would be something going on between Johnny and Daniel. I knew the revelation of Robby’s misunderstanding would be the catalyst for Johnny and Daniel confessing to each other. I didn’t know how, where or when this would all happen, but having a general idea of the ending in mind gave me a sense of direction that made writing a lot easier. 

4. Optional: Knowing someone who knows the source material but isn’t hanging out on AO3 regularly makes it easier to stay in the original character voices. I didn’t have a beta reader in the classical sense, but I let my partner read every line of dialogue before posting it so they could tell me „I don’t think Daniel would say it that way“. It only happened two or three times, but I know it would have bothered me. If you want to consciously blend Fanon into your story, that doesn’t really apply, of course.

5. Skeleton Method: If you have a lot of ideas and struggle to get them written down, try writing the dialogue first (as if you're writing the script for a play). The dialogue is the "skeleton" of a scene. It's the most solid part, and gestures / feelings / reactions / descriptions are the squishy parts around it that make it come alive. Once the dialogue is doing what you need it to do, it's easier to fill the gaps and create a scene that will feel natural.

Also, I’m so glad you’re excited for my Good Omens fic! I generally don’t start posting multi-chapter fics until I’m 90-95% done writing them, and at the moment it’s still missing a few chapters. But it’s the project I’m most actively working on (besides my Carmanda one shot). Coming this year!

Best of luck with your story, too! Let me know if you want more specific advice.

[demonsfate]

idk why they used more "modern" characters in Bloodline in a story that supposedly takes place years ago, like why was Leroy there? I get that maybe they wanted to promote 7 and the DLCs but? It still made no sense. Like Julia's outfit is from 7 also. Is Bloodline even canon? It kind of felt like they wanted to take a different twist to the events of the game and it didn't work as much.

YEAH, to promote 7, as well as 8... since I'm SURE 8 was already far in development by the time Bloodline came out, and they already put Leroy in the game (which is also missing Eddy) and even though Anna, and Yoshi weren't really in the anime much - it still kinda leaves a bad taste in my mouth that Eddy was nowhere to be seen. Like the anime said we can only have one black dude at a time lol

also I still find it funny that Jin getting Angery was enough to ruin Leroy's leg forever and he now needs a cane. But Xiao can be thrown into a tree SO HARD that it leaves her IMPRINT, and all she has is a concussion and she's literally fine later. I KNOW it's silly anime logic, but still makes me laugh.

Not only was Julia's her 7 outfit (which tbh I don't even care for much) but Xiao was also her Tek6 outfit, I think. Which tbh, I would've preferred seeing her Tek3 outfit. And speaking of designs, what's funny was when Harada and Murray were talking about the anime right before it came out. They literally did say "Then there's Jin's design, which we would've went with something different... but it still looks cool." SJDFNF SO LIKE, they were politely admitting they didn't like the design much LOL. Which I was a lil bit surprised by just 'cos... yeah, it's not my fav Jin outfit (his design is actually bad but that's due to the animation style) - but like... it is still Hoodie and everything.

And nah, it's not canon. It's easy to know if something's not canon in Tekken, and that's if it's an adaptation of any kind. None of the comics or manga are canon (not even the 2017 comic based on Tek7) None of the animes or movies are canon (not Blood Vengeance, and not the 90s OVA) and the animes aren't canon, either. Only the games are canon, and even then - some of them aren't! (The tag games aren't canon, and some of the endings in the games aren't canon.)

However, Harada did say the anime "inspired" them and they may take things from it for future installments (maybe Tek8 for example) buuuut Harada could've just been talking out his ass to get people hyped for the anime. Just because as far as I've noticed, there's no Bloodline influence in Tek8. Jin still acts like Jin from the games (thank fuck) The only thing that's similar is that he's the Good Guy again, so the protagonist. Xiao still behaves like her game self, and so on.

I feel like they wanted to do a slight twist on it maybe. But yeah, it didn't work well at all. The pacing, I thought, was bad. Whiiiich I do understand they only had 6 episodes to work with. But I just felt that Jin's backstory took far too long only to not really show anything too interesting... and they did pacifism all wrong imo. Jun was kinda annoying. Which YES, some ppl say "oh, it's understandable why she's THIS strict" about it or whatever, but like... even if she did feel she failed Kazuya, the thing is... we're never shown or even hinted at it. Like we know that Kazuya was killed by Heihachi (Heihachi literally told Jin, for some reason) But we don't know Jun's feelings regarding Kazuya, we don't know how much she cared for him, we don't know how they got together, we're not even told that she met him BECAUSE she wanted to save him. Hell, despite the fact Harada & co told us we'd see parts of Jin's backstory we've never seen before (we didn't) - they STILL kept Kazuya and Jun's relationship vague. So Jun just comes off as so pacifistic and forceful, it's annoying. And plus the whole show had a very annoying, almost preachy pacifist meaning. (Where Jin's friends were upset at him... when DJ took over and started beating Heihachi to a pulp? Like they'd be upset at that - they probably couldn't even comprehend the situation.) Which I love pacifist characters and stories. I normally love Jun and Asuka, Trigun's my favorite anime, I love Batman and other comic book heroes. But there's a wrong way to explore pacifism and Bloodline did it in the worst way lmao. Also Jun's character designs sucked in the anime. Sucked so bad. She looked like generic mom.

[megslovesbooks]

Fuck it Friday

tagged by the incomparable @elvensorceress (jenwyn wtfffffff!?!? that sneak peak. i’m obsessed)

here’s something i banged out this morning when I should have been working. i wanted to finish it tonight but therapy kinda took me out at the knees this afternoon so it’ll be later. it’s spec fic for monday though so i’ll try to get it up this weekend. (this is too long and messy but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

It's been three hours and Eddie still won't look at him.

The first two were spent getting checked out at the hospital (even though he’d TOLD them he hadn’t actually been hit, just sorta knocked over) and getting the road rash on his hands and face cleaned and bandaged. It had been hard to tell then if something was really up because there had been so much light and noise and activity it had been difficult to focus on much of anything. Eddie had been there, like he always was, a solid presence in the midst of nurses and questions and instructions to keep his gauze clean before he was sent on his way, but he’d been quiet, really only speaking to the nurse or if asked a direct question. And maybe it was a little odd because usually they’d fill the moments between with snarky jokes or small talk about Christopher, but Buck hadn’t really thought much about it until Eddie had taken the discharge papers wordlessly out of his hands and started walking towards the parking lot without a backwards glance.

So here they are, back at the station as the last hour of their shift ticks down, Buck upstairs helping Hen set the table for breakfast with clumsy, bandaged hands, while Bobby finishes the food, and Eddie is–somewhere else. Buck keeps looking over to the stairs, trying to manifest the top of his head as it climbs into sight.

It doesn't work.

“Give him some time, Buck.” Bobby says, setting a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs in the middle of the table. They’ve already had the ‘that was reckless’ talk, but it had been mild. Buck can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not, he’d tried to get a read on what Bobby had been thinking but mostly his captain had just seemed tired. Buck’s tired all the time too these days.

“I just don’t know what the big deal is. Nothing happened.” Buck says, and he can tell it comes out a little petulant, but he doesn't really care.

“That’s debatable.” says Hen, but before he can protest yet again that he’s fine she continues. “From our angle it looked bad, Buck.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“But it could have been.”

They stand there staring at each other across the table and Buck can understand what she’s saying to him, he’s been on the sidelines plenty when it looked like things were going south, but that doesn't stop the irritation that’s rising up the back of his throat.

“But it wasn’t.” He says again, frustration making his tone sharp. “I’m fine, and Eddie is sulking like I broke his favorite toy or something.”

Hen’s eyebrows rise so far up her forehead that for a second Buck thinks they’re going to detach entirely, like the old cartoon characters Chris has developed such a love for.

“What?” He snaps, too worn out for any of this, he just wants to go home.

“Alright.” Bobby says, “It's time to eat, B shift is coming in a little early since we’re a man down. Hen, go let everyone know will you please?” Hen just nods and heads for the stairs. Buck sighs and flops himself down into a chair, staring morosely at the spread of food in front of him. Bobby makes no attempt to start a conversation and it only takes a moment before the silence is too much.

‘How’s Chim doing?” Buck asks, mostly because he wants to know, but partly because there’s something hot and uncomfortable buzzing around inside his head and he doesn't want to think about it.

“He’ll be fine, it’s a mild concussion but the doctor wants to keep him for a few more hours just in case. I think Hen’s going to head over after shift, give Maddie a break.”

“That’s good.” There’s another silent stretch before he looks up to meet Bobby’s eyes. “I really wasn’t trying to be…” his words taper out because he’s not entirely sure what the end of that sentence is. Reckless? Foolish? Something else, a bigger, darker word dances just at the edges of his thoughts and he shoves it away hard.

Bobby looks at him with unreadable eyes, then his expression softens and he reaches out to squeeze Buck’s shoulder.

“I know.” he says, “It's gonna be ok kid.”

There is a general commotion on the stairs as the rest of A shift trudges up to eat and the rest of the hours is taken up with a rumble of chatter and the clatter of silverware on plates.

Eddie doesn't show.

Buck half expects to find him already gone by the time breakfast is finished and the loft is squared away, but as he comes down the stairs he can see into the locker room and there Eddie is, already dressed in his civilian clothes, sitting on the bench. His phone is held loosely in one hand but his gaze is locked somewhere in the middle distance. He looks sad and it makes something in Buck's chest ache. Johnson is the first one in the room to change before Buck is even half way down the stairs. Eddie jolts a little, then smiles half heartedly at something Johnson says before pushing himself to his feet. By the time Buck makes it into the room Eddie’s head is buried in his locker, and when Buck comes back out from changing himself, Eddie is nowhere to be seen again. Disappointment and irritation get tangled up inside his throat. Fine. Let Eddie avoid him. All Buck needs is to get the hell out of here and back to the loft where he can hunker down and hide in peace. He just wants to disappear for the next 48 hours, drop into the weightlessness of ceasing to exist long enough to catch his breath. He makes his way out of the station as quickly as he can, blinking as he steps into the early morning sunshine.

Eddie is still here, leaning against the driver’s side door of the Jeep, a kind of steely determination on his face, like he’s already in the middle of an argument they haven’t even started yet.

“I’m driving you home.” he says the moment Buck is within earshot. That same old irritation flashes hot behind Buck’s breast bone, a fuse that’s been too short for weeks.

“I’m fine Eddie.” he says, voice clipped even to his own ears, “Don’t trouble yourself.” This is where he’d just get into the jeep and go…except Eddie is still leaning on the door, blocking his access. On purpose. The bastard.

“Look.” Buck says, “I know you’re pissed at me. Let’s just call it a day huh? I don’t want to fight.” Except that’s not entirely true, he feels like he’s been spoiling for a fight for hours, maybe days. Back there, on that rainslicked street, as he’d watched that driver peel away with Chim in the car, the thing that had filled up his chest so tight he couldn’t breathe hadn’t been fear, or adrenaline, or even reckless abandon. It had been anger. A rage so white hot, Buck isn’t sure what would have happened if he’d caught up to the driver in a way that hadn’t landed him on his back in the street. The thought rattles him now. Then–

“Right.” Eddie says, eyes still narrowed. “Because you’re fine to drive yourself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Without warning Eddie tosses his own keys in Buck’s direction. It's a gentle throw, a tall, clear arc that should give him plenty of time to reach out and snag with no trouble. But Buck's hands are stiff and sore, and hampered by the gauze wrapped around them, and he misses the catch by a mile.

Eddie makes no comment besides an arched eyebrow that might as well be a neon sign, then pushes himself off the jeep and walks over to scoop up his keys, holding out a hand as he straightens.

i think most people have been tagged at this point but please do let me know if you want a tag! i love reading people’s work!

[aforrestofstuff]

Chapter 150 Expert Review Time

Hey gamers, it's been a while. I'm on desktop and there's no autocorrect on this motherfucker so if you see a typo on this post, no you didn't. <3

I'm aware there's already a new chapter out as I'm posting this but listen, it's not my fault Murata clocks in at 80 hours a week of drawing ass, okay. A new chapter review will be coming. Not soon, but eventually.

There's a new martial arts technique that has never been brought up or alluded to before also I'm like 70% sure Garou's nuts are hanging out right now unless they got melted off sometime back in which case he can forget about having feral barnyard children. I didn't put any commas in that sentence on purpose.

I did say in a previous review that I wished this fight would result in more character development for both parties, Garou the disenfranchised teenager/monster/criminal/inventor of aggravated assault, and Bang the holder of the only Costco Senior Discount VIP card in the entire country, and my wish came true! All in all, it did have a bit of a rocky start, and while I thought Garou's nonverbal-ness was a mistake, it has really just given the opportunity for a more Silverfang-centric chapter. I'm glad for that. We've already seen enough of Garou's backstory while he was on his way to his 80th concussion, now it's time for the Early Bird Special motherfucker to shine.

The sudden reveal of Explosion Release Fist, while I do think is kinda thrown together, works in this case because it's not obvious ONE brought it out because he wrote himself into a corner, rather a catalyst for Silverfang's own backstory and redemption. I'm side-eyeing Fubuki's bullshit car battery healing powers so hard right now. I STILL THINK TANKTOP MASTER SHOULD'VE DIED BUT WHATEVER. AT LEAST THIS IS DONE BETTER.

*luke skywalker voice* THE SACRED TEXTS

I think that panel of Garou's shit-eating grin while reading the secret technique scroll is so funny. And since there's so much of it on the floor already... does Garou read 10000 words per minute or did Silverfang take like 8 days to get there?

Also, it's in this sequence we finally get a concrete reason for Garou actually fucking shit up at the dojo and leaving... and I was RIGHT.

Garou left due to Silverfang becoming a hero! And I think there's a bit of a miscommunication between them where Silverfang thinks Garou grew distant because he was away more often due to hero work, but I think most of it is because Garou automatically associates heroes with bullies and seeing Bang run with that crowd scared him off. He obviously walks through the world with both fists raised after his childhood, and he must've had a "get them before they get me" thought process that made him want to leave the dojo before Bang would inevitably betray him, as if just joining the Association wasn't already betrayal enough.

It's so good to see Bang wanna rectify things now. I always thought their master/caretaker/father figure and student/son/bastard relationship was really interesting, and while it's clear Silverfang is not good parental material, he still cares about Garou so much.

AND MAYBE GAROU CARES TOO??? Oh my god, my emotionally constipated string bean motherfucker. That's the closest thing we'll ever see to a tear on Garou's face.

Also, hold the fuck up wait why is his eye cracking LMAO his monster transformation just came with glasses I guess. Can't lose sight of those goals amen 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Garou: Ima be real with yall, I get no bitches! absolutely ZEE-RO play!

I was also right about Silverfang being a whore when he was younger but tbh nothing could prepare me for how Street Fighter these two motherfuckers look LMAO

Lots of parallels between young Silverfang and current Garou (except for Garou never getting an ounce of pussy in his life). For example-- body type, personality, fighting style (open hands, cockiness), these panels:

Gives me hope!! I know Garou rehabilitates eventually (sorta), but this just makes it so much more personal for Bang to see his disciple go down the exact same road and try his best to stop it. I'm so happy the manga provided us with this additional context to their relationship. And even when Bomb suggests for Bang to revert back to Explosion whatever Fist, he stays true to himself... which sets a high bar for Garou's inevitable redemption. I can't wait to see how that turns out. This fight/reunion has turned out pretty good so far!! But it's still not over, which leaves plenty of room for fuckups! Fingers crossed Bang doesn't fucking kill this teenager!

I do not see it. I do not see it. I do not see it. I do not see it. I do not see it. I do not see it. I do not

This Genos segment is tragic but we all know these two characters (Genos + Tatsumaki) have unbreakable plot armor and nobody's going to actually die so... unfortunately no tears have been shed on my end. Which sucks, because that's how I water my succulents. Anywho.

In conclusion: don't attempt to fistfight your 80-year-old martial arts master because then you'll be charged for elderly abuse! Garou has been sentenced to prison for 30 years. When he gets out, he will look exactly the same, because Murata is allergic to drawing middle-aged people who don't look 20.

[undoundue]

i don’t know anything except how stories go

i don’t know anything except how stories go

the music isn't as good as i thought it would be

i'm not sure if i've taken enough drugs or too much

when i take too much, i get grandiose: big ideas. little follow-through.

when i take not enough, i also get grandiose, but i know it,

and i sound like a graveyard glass harmonica when

the wind passes through. when i take the right amount, i do not ask

whether i've taken enough drugs or too much.

instead i hallucinate that i'm a cicada, an elegant disgusting jewel

smithed by mommy nature to reproduce a tinny song,

and i'm grateful to my parents

and the 17 years i spent gestating

and this morbid cherry tree

because nobody buckles their tymbals like i. also, cicadas lack

the relevant receptors altogether,

so the dosing question doesn't apply.

(beat) say,

have you noticed that zoomers are really into columbo?

(you nod)

i've seen him on twitter twice lately, asking "just one more

question—which would you prefer as an afternoon snack?"

and there's a poll, cheez-its

or little debbie snack cakes.

the appeal, i think, is to a generational forgetfulness, to

a generation most in need of alarm clocks and aricept,

to the desire to see forgetfulness as a superpower, as an

equivalent to innocence, to be so impervious to

reality's demands. but haven't we been here

before? didn't milennials all die for the sin of inventing "retro

gaming"? and by the way,

did you hear the one about the guy who gave himself three-hundred

and ninety-one concussions, each time suffering retrograde amnesia

which knocked out his memory of his last pokemon red playthrough?

ah. ah yes. it is not a tale the jedi would tell you.

when i take too much, i get despondent. when i take not enough, i

get grandiose. but the line breaks are for the poet's benefit anyway.

besides, there are kids smoking brick weed in lebanon, we should be

thankful for what we have.

and hex maniac is pretty cute. her pupils spiral

counterclockwise,

going from out to in; in some of the fan art they go the other way but

you can tell those guys don't "get it"; the allure of a counterclockwise

spin on how you are perceived, to have your silhouette distorted

and your details properly misunderstood, to lose at games you've

never heard of it, to eat with chopsticks incorrectly,

to trip and fall and look at the sidewalk and say "thank you.

yes. i had grown complacent in my patterns, my

nucleus accumbens

was running on fumes; and i certainly wasn't expecting that!" and

mean it. i did this once. i was in a state of rare tranquility after

masturbating for sixteen consecutive hours (essentially a

performance enhancing drug for meditation—which is why,

in the tibetan olympics, strict no-fap is required for a week

before competition—and they take semen samples to be sure!)

so (you nod), when the buddha saw me

so grateful for life's misfortunes, he made a "look

at this fucking guy" gesture to ganesh and then said "look at this

fucking guy" as if the gesture wasn't enough. naturally,

i was offended, and besides i recalled the old koan "If you meet the

Buddha on the road, kill him," which i had read in a collection

of koans for children titled "If you meet the Buddha..." which

my Mom had purchased for me in the novelty gift section

of an urban outfitters in santa barbara ("Mom, why are you shopping

at urban outftters?" "son, yr mama just tryin' ta stay cool. say, you

heard of this MF DOOM cat?" "ugh! Mom!") and which had

such thought-provoking aphorisms as:

"If you meet the Buddha in an airport, buy him a cheeseburger."

"If you meet the Buddha at a dive bar, play him some new wave—the

Buddha is big into that shit." the idea being, you're prepared for any

circumstance, which is what buddhism is all about. so i did a

bunch of fast attacks; the buddha blocked; i said "shouldn't

it be all the same to you if i kill you?" the buddha said "it would,

except i want to get home and watch columbo, and i don't

want to wait to respawn." i said, "jesus. just—jesus." then the buddha

kicked me through a brick wall. everyone in the WeWork

screamed and fled, leaving their kombucha behind, and

for some reason the sprinklers went off. then, after the initial

impact, a lone brick fell (because of torque—force times the length of

the lever, remember) and hit me comically on the head, causing a

concussion. i said "guh."

yup, (you nod sympathetically),

i was feeling mighty grim. then it occurred to me: why don't i

play pokémon red? unfortunately, on my cellphone i only had

the romhack version, you know, where all the pokémon are allegories

for depression. so you got your depressionmander, depressioneleon,

depressionizard, and for pokémon where that doesn't work

they use it as a suffix, e.g. bulbadepression, ivydepression,

venudepression. also you can't leave the starting room and

your character moves really slowly. the indie gaming press

loves it. one of the features that reviewers single out is

that, instead of a lone Stand By Me reference, the TV in your room

goes line by line through Aguirre, the Wrath of God, except the

murders are replaced with pokémon battles and at the end

aguirre tries to command a horde of mankeys ("depressionkeys"),

which is a metaphor. dark stuff. it makes me think back on my youth:

lying on my child-king sized bed, masturbating to polyhedral

stellations, suffering from severe geometric dysmorphia as i

compared myself to the grandeur of those idealized forms—god, i

used to hate myself for those wasted hours. i mean, i still do, but i

used to, too. only after years of therapy have i developed a mantra

that eases the pain:

"i am mostly a cylinder.

i am mostly a cylinder." presto. you can get off to anything, even

loomis.

(you nod, hesitantly.) on saturday night,

i throw open the window and scream at the children: "you'll get old

too! an abstractome of brittle opinions even as your bumbling

homunculus drops the data you once used to back them up!"

the children reply "not necessarily, given the rate of advances in

biotech. also, no one cares, grandpa." they play soccer. my

mad pilgrim hair blows in the wind. i scream: "suffer! suffer! i am

omniscience!" they say: "oh yeah? how many fingers am i

holding up?" "four! five! four!" "it was five, you old fart." "the thumb

doesn't count as a finger! you should have a specified!" "OK, new

game: what sort of person am i?" "you are—you are—!" and so

i peer into their souls and know the answer, but i can't

find the words. the words do not come. i have forgotten them.

silently i draw away from the window. the children smirk, but only for

a moment. for they know i am right.

ah, to reveal the soul's heist, to be seen through by the omniscient

and powerless, what a delight! who among us would not cheerfully

kill the buddha when he's comin' through the rye? who among us

has not been blessed by the kind words of a stranger? and yet, we

shouldn't incentivize people to be strangers. society would collapse.

besides, we are no longer strangers to ourselves, you and i.

(you nod.) we will have much to discuss about that.

[seventhrounder]

I went thru my folder with old hockey magazines I had saved from around 2011 to 2015 and came across this one and thought it could be a fun to make a post about now in hindsight.

This is Jääkiekko magazine from May 2012, they always have a section of "99 questions with ..." and in this issue they interviewed Teräväinen.

I’ve translated the questions I found interesting under the cut! It ended up being about half of the interview. (*) are my additions.

On the cover "seuraava superjokeri" means the next super joker, he played for Helsingin Jokerit so it's a word play from that. Under, on the blue print it says: "The 17-year-old forward will become a first round draft pick in the summer. The natural goal scorer can dominate in SM-Liiga as soon as next season."

In the 2nd photo the headline and lead paragraph goes:

"A post with dents* - A year ago Teuvo Teräväinen was known only within a small number of hockey insiders. Few passers-by recognize him now either but after a flashy rookie season the Jokerit sensation is on the radar of every NHL team and is a strong contender to become a first round draft pick. Next season with Jokerit the talented second line center will be one of the main talking points in the SM-Liiga."

(*references the net Teräväinen had in his backyard and into which he practiced his shooting)

3. You've been described as a magician, top scorer, wunderkind and a prodigy. What do you think of these descriptions?

TT: Heh, those are some descriptions yeah. What can I really say? Don't really wanna comment on them much.

4. How nervous are you about the Draft?

TT: I try not to be nervous as best as I can. In a way I don't have anything to be nervous about since I don't care which team picks me or at what number I go.

6. Which is stressing you more, English interviews or physical tests?

TT: Maybe both. Bench press (laughs) and English interviews can be tough.

12. How far along have you planned your career with, for example, your parents or your agent?

TT: Haven't really planned things with others but I've thought about them myself. I try to go step by step and not jump too far ahead.

14. How does it feel to be so young with all the star players in Jokerit?

TT: How to say it? I haven't felt like I was young but a part of the team instead. The team's been very good with me and they haven't been looking down at me like: "oh he's young". It's been fun to play in an experienced team.

15. Is there a generational gap between players?

TT: You can see the age difference, older players look older but we're all childish, at least with our topics.

17. What does a 17-year-old do in the sauna nights of the team?

TT: I actually haven't been in any yet. I've always been at national team's camps or something.

19. Did you get the number you wanted?

TT: I did, yeah. I could've taken #18 but Semir (Ben-Amor) has it. But i'm happy with #86, it's good.

23. What are your strengths as a player?

TT: Offensive play and with that playing with the puck, passing, IQ, power play and skill, just the usual skill - skill with hands.

24. And weaknesses?

TT: They are to do with defensive play, strength and physicality. Battles and such but I think I took a step forward last season. That's a good thing.

25. Have you ever been "pressed into a mold" or has your playing style gotten to develop naturally?

TT: As a kid the play was mostly offensive/attacking, I didn't have to think about playing defence. Up until 15 years old, I got to attack pretty freely. Playing defence became more important when I started to play in A-juniors a couple seasons ago.

26. On a scale from 1 to 10 how determined are you?

TT: Maybe 8, feels like an 8.

32. What kind of role are you planning to take with Jokerit next season?

TT: I think a pretty big one. I try to be a top player and not just take others' example but give others example myself too. So that someone in the team can take something out of the way I do things on the ice and off the ice.

35. If you could pick anyone, who would be your car driver?

TT: Nico Manelius for sure. He's been my driver this season. I've had others too, like Riku Hahl but he's not nearly at the same level. Nico’s clearly the best.

36. What are the most important qualifications to be a good driver?

TT: The car is obviously important. Hahl's car is totally awful, he takes a lot of heat for it from the guys too. I wouldn't dare driving with him. Manelius is a steady performer, never lets you down.

38. What sports did you play as a 10-year-old?

TT: Hockey and floorball, probably football (soccer) during the summers at the time too.

42. When did you decide to focus only on hockey?

TT: So when I stopped playing other sports? Three years ago, before that floorball was kind of a side thing, I played a couple of games in the regular season and playoffs.

45. Do you follow floorball or other sports? Go to games?

TT: I don't go to games but I like to watch floorball on TV, it's an interesting sport. Sometimes I watch football too but I don't follow it much. Feels like they never score there.

47. Have you ever played with a wooden stick?

TT: As a kid I did play with a wooden stick.

49. You won the hockey players' golf tournament last summer even though there were more experienced players too. Are you good with all stick games?

TT: Well, I've been pretty good in all of them. I've played golf for a long time and still play it.

50. How is your swing?

TT: Pretty bold, kind of a hockey swing. I don't really care where the ball goes - as long as it goes far.

52. What do you think of off-ice training?

TT: Let's just say it's more stupid than being on the ice but you still gotta do it to be better on the ice.

56. Which word describes your professional relationship (with his coach, Tomek Valtonen), tranquil or colorful?

TT: Colorful of course. At times we're joking around, other times it's more serious but the relationship is really good.

57. Coaching you has been described in many words: good, bad, worse. What are they?

TT: Heh, well... I won't tell them here. He (Tomek) keeps the discipline during practices but sometimes when things haven't gone to a plan I've had to jump on an exercise bike in the middle of a practice.

58. What have been the reasons?

TT: I'll quote Tomek: "when I haven't been present".

59. Have you ever tried to turn the resistance of the bike to zero?

TT: (Laughs) Of course I have and sometimes I've even succeeded.

60. Describe your diet in three words?

TT: Greasy, healthy and good!

64. Your first name is not common for people your age. How did your parents come up with it?

TT: I actually don't even know. Maybe they didn't want a usual Ville*....

(*very common name for men of all ages in Finland)

66. Which of these is the most important: skill, unexpectedness or courage?

TT: Skill!

68. Your longest video game stint?

TT: Six hours, at least. I've played a lot of War of Duty lately.

72. The dumbest thing that has made you upset in hockey?

TT: Probably if I didn't get an assist on a goal even though I should have. Or even worse is if I score and they mark it down for someone else.

79. Have you had any concussions?

TT: I haven't had any, I've managed to always dodge them.*

(*ouch, tho it's good the recent one is his only as far as i remember)

84. In 2011 Team Finland finished in the 5th place at the U-18 tournament. Why only as 5th?

TT: Because we lost to Team Russia in the quarter final, just as well we could have won that game too.

89. You didn't get to be on the ice to accept the SM-Liiga bronze medal (because of the U-18's). When and where did you get it?

TT: I actually still haven't received it, I don't know where it is.

93. What is the population of Helsinki?

TT: There's like 5 million people in Finland so maybe around 500k in Helsinki? (to be exact 596k) Did i really get it right...?

94. Who's the mayor of Helsinki?

TT: I don't know, I barely know the president.

95. Do you think the municipalities in the capital city area should merge?

TT: Luckily I don't have to decide but they probably shouldn't.

96. What do you check first in the news paper?

TT: The sports section.

97. Your favorite tv show?

TT: Putous* was pretty good, I liked a lot of the characters. The grandma was pretty good.

(*Finnish live improvisation comedy/sketch show (there are still new seasons, the latest just finished). Every actor comes up with a humor character with a catchy phrase and one of them wins. "The grandma" is Marja Tyrni and I just got such flashbacks from typing this sentence.)

98. Last book you read?

TT: I don't read many books. The last book was a study book, a Finnish book. I wrote an essay on Tiki (Esa) Tikkanen's biography. An eventful book, great career and a lot of chirps.

99. Who should we ask the 99 questions next?

TT: Riku Hahl could have good stories, he's also seen a lot of the world.

[anonymouslyangsty]

Been seeing a lot of taka lives au which is *chefs kiss* but it really does make me wonder just how difficult taka's physical and mental healing process would be if he survived the hit.

Chefs make out session more like it

But that's a really good question. Like, this boy has a horrible time. He makes his first friend in a death game, only to have said friend brutally murdered in front of him. Then he gets depressed, has a total mental breakdown that ends with him adopting his dead friend's personality, then gets bludgeoned half to death.

Yeah, Kiyotaka is going through it.

And yes, he's the Ultimate Moral Compass. But at that point, you really have to question if his upbeat, kind personality can endure. We already saw him break under the weight of the loss of Mondo, and I don't think he'll ever fully recover from that break.

I don't think he'd snap and break his morals, but I can't see him going back to his normal cheerful demeanor either.

Maybe he'd give up his title of Moral Compass. He failed to keep the students alive, he failed to save Mondo, he lost control and threatened another student, then he broke the rules to try to find an exit. After all that, does he really deserve his Ultimate? He's done nothing but fail the people around him.

Not to mention that Mondo's death in itself shattered his entire worldview. Because how could Mondo, a man he looked up to so much, be a killer? Taka has a very black and white view of the world, and Chihiro's murder utterly shatters that. I don't think he'd be able to pick up the pieces easily.

And honestly? I could see this segwaying into him actually making friends that aren't Mondo. Because to be honest, it's clear that Mondo was his only friend there. Makoto and Hiro were also pretty nice to him, but besides that, he’s kinda disliked or tolerated at best.He's not very popular, and a part of that is because he's so strict.

But if he gives up on his title? Then he doesn't need to be as perfect. He doesn't need to carry the burden of taking care of everyone. And sure, he'll frame it as "I'm not worthy of such a role" rather than "I shouldn't carry the weight of every life here", but the end result of him taking on way less responsibility is there.

Without that strong need to take care of everyone, Taka would feel less obligated to lecture everyone. Plus, he can be less strict with both his classmates and himself. Because let's be honest. Taka deserves a nap and a hobby that isn't studying or working out.

(Dang, now I wish Hifumi was still alive in this situation: I want him to try to show Taka some anime)

Slightly off topic here, but I don't think the title of Ultimate Moral Compass is doing Taka any favors. Yes, morals are important. Yes, working hard is vital. However, Taka is so extreme that he denies himself the ability to relax and also seriously hinders his ability to socialize.

Without the burden of that ultimate, Kiyotaka would have a much richer life. Which is ironic in a way. Kiyotaka thinks that one cannot succeed without hard work, which is true. But can one thrive without a life outside of work? No. And it's only through giving up, something Taka would normally never do, that he can start really bonding with the other students.

Also, if Kiyotaka gives up his Ultimate, then he can be mean to Togami. He doesn't need to take the highroad anymore. Taka gets to punch the hell out of Togami because his bro never got to.

This can all lead to a new Kiyotaka by the end of the game. One that is still trying to help everyone, but is far more open to different points of view. One who is more flexible, and thus more resilient. One who doesn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Because no, he is not fit to lead them. He's already failed them time and time again. But that doesn't mean he has to give up either. Mondo wouldn't want him to.

So I mainly talked about character evolution, but there's still the physical to consider. He got freaking bludgeoned over the head. And yeah, I hear that head wounds bleed a lot even if they aren't bad, so it may look worse than it is. But still. He's not walking away from that without a concussion.

And I love the idea of that being an excuse for him and Sakura to hang out more. Because of all the group, she and Hina probably have the most experience with injuries, so it'd make sense for those two to take care of while he's healing.

I feel like that situation has so much room for character development! Because let's be honest here, it would've been so cool if Hina and Sakura actually tried helping Taka after Mondo's death. It seems in character for them, because both are very kind people. So this gives the chance to make this happen.

Plus I just think those 3 would have a great dynamic. Both Taka and Hina are loud, expressive, and passionate. With Kiyotaka abandoning his ultimate, he'd have no reason to refuse Hina's indulgent attempts to cheer him up. They can eat doughnuts together <3

Sakura and Taka are both strict, determined, and moral. So I think they could both get along really well! Let them drink tea together, and Sakura can give him some wisdom. She can help him realize that good people can make bad decisions, and that bad decision doesn't immediately make them evil. Good advice given Mondo's death, plus foreshadowing.

Also! I love how this could lead into Sakura's death! Sakura being the traitor would once again fit into that whole "oh no my friend who I see as morally good did something horrible" thing. But now, without the weight of his talent and a more flexible worldview, Kiyotaka can withstand that type of blow.

I can see him and Hina being the ones to vouch for Sakura, to look for solutions rather than attacking her. And when Sakura does die, and Hina has her breakdown, Kiyotaka can be there for her. He knows all too well what it's like to lose a friend to the death game.

Just...let Taka and Hina be friends. Let them be part of the "I made a buff friend in the death game but they became a blackened and died. Also fuck Togami" club together.

So basically: Taka gets a more healthy level of depressed (not comatose) and abandons his talent. That lets him explore more things about life, even if they aren’t related to school. He makes friends with Hina and Sakura, who help him with balancing work and fun (Hina), and having a more flexible view on morality (Sakura).

Then Sakura dies, and Kiyotaka is better equipped to be a comfort to Hina.

[whump-tr0pes]

I need to gush about Honor Bound for a bit, I apologize for how long this might get, but I figured it can’t be too wrong to show gratitude for something you hold dear! I found Honor Bound through the “Bleeding through the Bandages” chapter in book 4. I got into whump around that time, mainly as a coping mechanism for my own pain, and I saw that chapter pop up on my dashboard and I didn’t really consider it was part of a bigger story and I needed a distraction so I was like, might as well. And then it ended up being the best depiction of what I was feeling that I’ve ever read; not just the pain, but the frustration, and the exhaustion, and the mind-numbing boredom shown in other chapters too. I read the previous chapters of book 4 and then decided I wanted Context and also More Sam and then I read the first three books in two days. And then I reread them all in one day because I needed to reprocess the journey that was. And then I reread all of them again with book 4 when it finished, and then religiously followed book 5 through the worst time I’ve ever had, and reread the previous books multiple times as 5 was updating as well. Needless to say it quickly became my comfort series, and on multiple occasions waiting for a new chapters was one of those little joys that kept me going. I am so, so thankful I found it when I did. The Honor Bound family is like no other found family, at least to me. All of them are such complex individuals, but their interpersonal relationships are just so deep and meaningful and each is so incredibly unique, I could honestly write essays upon essays analyzing each one. And the way you connect everything and weave tropes into the overarching plot is just Insane, it’s truly like you’re… retelling a story that actually happened, you know? Like these are real people and real stories. Because I can’t com prehend how you come up with some of this stuff. And there are so, so many “cinematic” moments that are just. So raw and hard-hitting and just stay with you. Big and small moments alike. The Ryan reveal, Joseph Stormbeck’s death (best death scene ever by the way?? I’ve told everyone I know about it when I read it I was absolutely in Awe. Never recovering from that), every moment between Sam and Isaac (I also have a sibling who I’m not technically related to by blood but would like, probably die for, so I just really appreciated everything about them and we need more stories like theirs) (and also every time Sam called Isaac out. Good for them), Sam talking Gavin through his caning holy shit that was a religious moment, Gray’s slowburn adoption of Gavin and when Gavin decided he wanted to be a Uriah (and how his initial thought to getting asked what he wants to be called was “Moore”. And then he was like “Well fuck.” Love that dumbass), just every single thing Finn ever did for the family, Finn and Ellis and Gavin’s monologue about giving Finn a concussion (!! chills!!) and their reunion after Coleen, Vera and Tori and the Work Song scene??, Vera and Tori lowkey adopting Edrissa and Edrissa’s character development and her rants about pretty things and her and Sam and Zachariah’s adorable Young Love that made me so giddy right along with them and Sam and Zachariah’s meet-ugly (I mean it was kinda sweet), Gray being the parental figure we all needed, and Nata and Zelda and Nata helping Sam (and now Gavin!!) and Vera being so proud of her puppy. Also, Isaac and Gavin’s relationship…Insane. The most dramatic enemies to lovers and I love them for it. Invented love. It’s so crazy to read the beginning and see how far everyone’s come and think about everything that has happened from that one Whumptober prompt. It’s a lot but it also makes so, so much sense. I can’t imagine a version where Isaac and Gavin aren’t together in some way (and since I started out of order, when I realized it was a enemies to lovers I was really excited to see how all of that happened. Especially after reading the first book, because it (1/2)

(2/2) was like, how the hell are they gonna get from point A to point B. No way those are the same characters, how is this ever going to get justified? And then Gavin ended up having the best character development Ever, and I love that, I love that he had to work for it and that we as the readers have to work to love him too, because it pays off). And now the ending of book 5! Oh God. On that note, you’re so good at writing villains; making them human and also absolutely detestable and killing them off in the most satisfactory way tailored to them. There was never a point after a major arc where I thought “oh, I wish this had happened instead of x, I wish this had gone this way instead”. Also, to go back on the topic of pain (physical and mental both)! The way everyone copes with it differently, it’s the same thing but it’s unique to the person dealing with it and that’s so clear in your characters, and I also love, love how you made a point of showing how pain changes people because that’s something that I find so often gets ignored, whether voluntarily or not, even in whump. But, yeah, pain definitely changes people. And that’s not always bad, and it’s not always drastic, but it happens and it’s not a shameful thing. Everyone breaks. And HB made me believe that I was allowed to break, and that it’s still possible to live a life you think is worth it. And I won’t even get into how much it’d taught me about friendship and family and how it made me reflect on my own relationships with my loved ones (especially Isaac’s perspective, oh God). It’s just such a rewarding journey. That’s the best word to describe it, I think. And this latest chapter: “The sun shone brightly on the hood of the car, so bright Isaac almost had to close his eyes. The wind moved through the trees that swayed on either side of the lane. Isaac rolled his window down, and he could hear the birds calling to each other, and the sound of the wind rustling the long grasses that smelled so green. With each heartbeat, Gavin relaxed in his arms, his head falling against Isaac’s shoulder, his breaths becoming deep and slow again. A tear rolled down Isaac’s cheek, and he hid his smile against Gavin’s hair.” That image. It’s so vivid and visceral. It gives me the exact same feeling as spring after a long winter (which is…super fitting, actually). It’s that moment of pure contentedness when you realize it’d all been worth it. I don’t know, it just really, really struck me, and I’m so glad the book ended on that note. Despite knowing more hurt awaits, even that feels okay, because happiness will always find a way to seep through. And God, do they deserve that! It’s gonna be heartbreaking when their story ends, but I also know it’s gonna feel right. Like a peaceful retirement. Just, thank you for sharing this world with us, Athena. I hope you’re aware how meaningful this story is to so many of us. And being able to follow it in real-time and hear your inputs and chat about the characters and scream in the comments and reblogs is such a privilege (and being able to read it for free at all? Five books (six counting Vera)! For free! Though I will be getting books 1 and 2 soon hopefully actually). I cannot wait for book 6 and I Will be crying about book 5 until then (and long afterwards, most likely). And I wish you all the best in everything you take on next.<3

Wow, I... wow. I had to set down my phone and just sit in silence after I read this. I’m just... so humbled and amazed that you were able to connect so much with the story and the characters. I’m so glad that you saw something of yourself, and that you were able to find comfort in it. I find comfort in them, too, just knowing that the characters are there when I need to write them. 

It’s important to me for things to turn out ‘right.’ That’s part of why I write whump: the bad guys can be defeated, the good guys emerge safe, and love prevails. Writing Isaac and Gavin’s love story was absolutely the biggest surprise for me, it really did feel like I was the last to know. But I treasure them both so much and I love writing them. The family is so fun to explore, with each relationship being so different from the other. I’ve poured so much of myself into this story and into every single one of the characters. 

Book 6 is going to be such a challenge. It’s the last book in the series, and the one that’ll (hopefully) tie everything together. I’m giving myself a little break, but I’m also a little scared to start it because once I start it, then each chapter will be closer to the end, and then it’ll be over. I have a few more things in store for the family but at the end, I hope they’re safe, happy, and together. These characters mean more to me than I can say and I’m so happy I’ll have you with me along the way.