#honestly i kind of expect it but i'm just looking to learn some new facts

[silas-soule]

why are there so many white supremists in the american history tag. get the fuck out of here.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

College au! Rich, popular senior who is actually emotionless but uses a faux mask to hide the fact and does favors left and right, not because he's kind and considerate but because he doesn't see anyone else worth engaging with and the only way the get rid of them is through giving them what they want, like pesky leeches. Reader however saw right through his mask into his eyes and that surprised him. Someone other than his father knows?! Should he get rid of her? But.. oh? she wants something from him? A favour? How interesting..

-🌼

Yandere! Male! College student x Blockmate! Fem! Reader

Got a bit of mental exercise on this one, since what could the favor be? Hmm... Got a bit too nsfw though, so be warned. (BTW, is this spicy enough? I'm practicing lol)

Also, I decided to do some tweaks on our other yanderes, so expect relatives amongst yanderes now!

Yandere! College Student name: Alpheus

It was the third of January now, a lot of students have come back to the University in order to resume their classes. Some got blessed and has their classes to be continued by next monday, but not for this specific college.

"Ugh..." A person bemoaned to their friend. "What the hell is wrong with our Dean? Setting our return so early-- Does she have no sympathy?"

"You said it." Another person piped up. "We may be architecture students, but we're not machines!"

"Our course is hard enough without holidays bro. I just wish she let us enjoy the new years..."

"Don't you think so, Alpheus?"

Alpheus, a man who's soft and gentle. Prince-like, and someone you could rely on. He had many... Friends... As what other people see themselves when asking what their relationship with him is.

Too bad it's one sided though.

Alpheus hummed, his blank eyes that none of these guys noticed looked up to the sky.

"Well, doesn't it make sense? We finished our first semester 1st day of December. I think it's just fair for us to go back by the 3rd of January." Alpheus' almost ghost like quality of voice came out of his soft pink lips.

The friends, who were just complaining earlier, shut up from the logic he gave.

"Uh... I guess you're right."

"Well, it is a one month vacation..."

"Yeah, we got the better end of the stick."

"Other Unis only gave two weeks as vacation."

Alpheus gave a small smile to them as they murmured their suddenly new opinion due to his quips.

"This is exhausting..."

Nobody saw through his mask, the way he held so much indignant boredom he had in his eyes when they go up to him and talk. Nobody felt the way he seems so distant and plastic-y.

Maybe he got this acting skills from his brother, Ignatius.

Both of them are the opposite ends of the bar. Ignatius as the boisterous, annoying, attention seeking actor, and Alpheus, the hide-behind-a-facade, self-important, holier-than-though, plastic friend.

Well, that's what their parents describe them anyways. Too much of the old mindset gets you to be a pair of judgmental fuckers who think that mental conditions are not real, so they didn't get diagnosed if it's something to do with their psychology.

Alpheus grew up mostly being overshadowed by his brother, but is honestly shining more when it comes to academics. Making the attention between them fairly equal.

Like how their parents describe them, Ignatius is talented, while Alpheus is a genius.

That didn't make them less terrified on Alpheus though.

When he was a child especially, he looks so dead inside and unreadable that it freaked them out. Even contemplating on calling the exorcist.

Alas, they didn't at the risk of their family reputation to fall off.

Only Ignatius got him.

When Alpheus got older, he met more people who got freaked out by how apathetic and emotionless he is.

But, with the help of his brother, he learned how to put up a mask. Albeit just the barest of minimum, people got fooled somehow.

That, and Alpheus just goes with the flow most of the time.

Just to make them shut up, he always ends up doing favors and helps the people who ask for him to do something for them.

"People... Such a bother..."

At least they're tools for him to blend in seamlessly...

"By the way, Alpheus, is your mansion available on Sunday?"

Here they go again...

It's a never ending cycle for him.

"Why? Do you want to do a party there?" He asks gently, another soft smile on his face that made that person flustered.

"U-uh yes! I mean, the last pool party we did there was crazy."

It was crazy cuz all of you thrashed my damn mansion.

It's somehow of a blessing that his family is rich. He got to move out to a new place, his brother did too, and funded all of their lavish tastes. Even if it was a way to make them shut up and not interact with their parents, it gave them freedom to do the things they want.

"Why not? We need something to headstart us for the second semester anyways." And with a princely smile, he agreed to his friend's favor that made his friend group hoot and holler.

And as Alpheus keeps a steady smile yet an annoyed glare, he wishes for something to happen in that party to shut them up.

Music blazing, party raving, drinks boozing.

It's the party of the month for the students in the University Alpheus attended.

People cannonballing in the pool, couples and strangers making out (maybe more), stragglers drinking their way to being blackout...

And the owner of the mansion?

Alpheus sits down cross legged on the couch, being surrounded by his friends. The music is pounding against his ears and worsening his headache. But he also can't sleep in his room because he knows that no matter how thick his walls are, the music will still seep into his bedroom.

He takes a sip of the bourbon on his hand, his deep eyes scanning the crowd and the mess they made.

He almost groaned. This is gonna take a while to clean.

Sure, he'll hire people to clean, but his parents' will question where the money will go to, and they will nag to him about being upright and being a rebel and throwing parties and being a disgrace and being so content being a genius that he thinks he can just throw his parents' reputation to the mud--

Just thinking about it is making him exhausted.

He watched as the woman that latched onto his side trailed her finger on his exposed chest from unbuttoning his dress shirt. She was saying something flirtatious but honestly, he doesn't care.

The headache is becoming unbearable.

"Excuse me, people. I just need to get more." Alpheus gently laid off the woman before shaking the glass on his hand, the ice clinking around.

They all nodded with a smile before Alpheus went inside.

There are some people here. Singing karaoke, some playing beer pong... And others making out and grinding.

He got to the comfort room on the corner of the first floor and sighed, splashing water on his face as he let the water trickle down his throat.

He dropped his facade, staring at himself with the dead expression that people found chilling.

Sometimes, he just needs a breather.

And that breather is his home. But now, a party is going on and he needed a bit of break sometimes.

Hey, he's emotionless, not a robot that doesn't get exhausted.

Alpheus splashed water on his face once more before he heard the door to the toilet open.

A woman.

He remembers you. A classmate, one of the few people who doesn't talk to him and ask favors, so he automatically has a positive outlook on you. As positive a person can feel for being emotionless.

He nods, you didn't.

"Y/N, right?" He asks, quickly slipping on the facade. He smiled at you, donning the princely mask once more.

You weren't buying it though.

"Alpheus. What's up with you and putting up a front?"

His forearm bulged, the grip on the counter sink tightened as the veins pulsed across his arm.

Ah, he forgot. You have this inquisitive, curious, yet hostile look on your face whenever he catches you staring at him.

"What do you mean by that?" He smiled once more.

"You know what I mean."

He cleared his throat, dropping the act and turning towards you, not facing the mirror anymore.

"Look here, Y/N. It just so happens that I get tired sometimes." He shrugs. "Social battery and that."

"Bullshit." You spat out. "You don't even feel anything. You think I won't know? It's so obvious."

A dull feeling of irritation welled up inside of him. Uncommon, but not that new.

"Really now? So what?" Alpheus scoffs and crosses his arms. "What will you do? Expose me?"

His eyes sharpened a bit.

Should I get rid of her?

"No. I need a favor also." You smiled. He sighed.

"Shoot."

"Be my pretend boyfriend."

Alpheus blinked, tilting his head in wonder.

"Huh. That's new. And what do you need me for? Why do I need to do that?" He softly chuckles, thinking of reasons why. "Are you attracted to me and are finding a reason to get close to me? Possibly make me fall for you?"

He got close to you, bending a bit to stare at your eyes.

Were your eyes always this shiny? Such a juxtaposition of his dull, dead ones.

"Maybe you have this sick fantasy in your head that you can fix me." He chuckled again.

"No. That's weird." You scoffed and swatted him away. "Ex boyfriend problem. A stalker, won't stop following me around."

He hummed in contentment. He did remember seeing a man hovering around your angered/scared face.

"That I can believe. But why me, cheri?" He asked, intrigued by your favor. "There's a lot of people, and it's kinda suspicious if we suddenly became an item."

You took a deep breath, shaking your hands.

"Don't get mad, but I sprinkled some hints that I was interested in you. Making fake convos of us..." You flushed red and fished your phone out of your pocket and showing him the convos.

The pfp is the same, so does the name, but the way he types isn't the same. Clearly fake.

"I know, creepy, but..." You gripped your hand in awkwardness. "But the other guys aren't really the best options. He got them on a hold like he's friends with them. And you're the only one available that's not close to him. I also don't know other people outside our block."

Your grip tightened. "So help me, please?"

A man in a leather jacket seethed, not being able to find you.

"Where are you, Y/N!" He grumbled under his breath.

He lost you an hour ago, and he's already on his end's wits.

Especially you're in this mansion. Alpheus' mansion.

Sure, he didn't believe that you and Alpheus were a thing. It was impossible! There's evidences, but he doesn't want to believe it.

He gritted his teeth and opened another door but to only two people fucking.

"God, get a room!" He growled out before being hit by a pillow, being yelled at that 'this is a room!'

Slamming the door closed, he got to the corner where there is a door beside an end table with an expensive flower vase on top.

He gripped the knob and swung it open, and his eyes widened.

"Alpheus..."

"Cheri, just like that..."

You and Alpheus, making out. With you sitting on the counter as your crotches grinding against each other in a friction filled frenzy. With Alpheus' large hands and fingers gripping your soft skin on your waist, leaving red marks trailing across. Your legs, wrapped around Alpheus' waist, had the dress riddled up to your chest area, exposing your tasteful underwear.

Alpheus' lips trailed across your neck, opening slightly to lick the base before biting down. It made you throw your head back with a whimper so salacious that it made Alpheus buck into you once more.

The man felt cold and hot at the same time.

It was real?

You can't even hear that your ex has swung the door open. Drunk on the "pretend" makeout' pleasure that it gave you. You just knew he's in the house, but doesn't know when he'll find you.

So, Alpheus just made you sit on the counter and started kissing you gently just in case.

Who knew it would become a full, blown out session that left you breathless and Alpheus suddenly obsessed with this new feeling?

Alpheus' dead eyes was flashing with hunger and desire in them as he glared at your ex boyfriend.

And without breaking any eye contact, he gripped your waist more, with his hips grinding harder and his teeth sinking more to your skin, marking you his.

Saliva dripped from his lips to your skin, making it glisten under the dim light.

And with a smirk, Alpheus successfully drove out your ex.

Now, he could just stop.

But what's the fun in that?

For the first time, he's feeling such pleasure from you, and your body.

You felt divine in his hold, making it impossible to separate himself from your body as he gripped your thigh and carrying you up, pushing your back against the wall to continue making out, and maybe even more.

He can blame it on the alcohol, but he knows damn well it's not.

He felt... Happy for the first time. The overwhelming euphoria from this new encounter and discovering new feelings were making him drunk. And he's drinking it whole.

It's almost selfish on how he doesn't want to let go of you.

And, before he knew it, the seed has planted inside of him.

By the next days, he finds himself unable to separate from you as you continued to introduce new emotions inside of him.

He will wish to shackle you to him, and maybe do the same as his brother and kidnap his significant other.

He will feel overtly jealous for the first time, seeing you interact with his other male classmates. Especially that architecture is a male dominant field.

He will get angry, rage, and become crazy from the sudden influx of emotions running inside of him.

But that's in the future.

And as he watches you writhe from his hold as his fingers descended down under your panties, he knew that he would do anything to keep this feeling from fading.

[whumpshaped]

a rather specific prompt for you :)

whumpee is/ was trained and used a a guard dog. during their time with their master they sustained an injury that causes them to not be able to fulfill their job properly anymore. still wounded, they get thrown out, chained in some allay. whumpee expects to die alone and cold, when caretaker comes along and accidentally stumbles across the abandoned whumpee. they (caretaker) think whumpee is just a regular pet and don’t realize they have a still dangerous guard dog at their feet and decide to rescue them and help them recover. whumpee has never experienced anything like this kindness, especially after becoming so useless, so (after having lost their old master) they immediately bond to caretaker as their new master, and would do anything to protect and please them

tw pet whump, amputation, abandonment, past trauma, broken bones, medical setting, caretaker new master, murder, gore, dehumanisation

"Oh, dear..." Caretaker crouched down by the shivering figure, putting the back of their hand against their forehead. They looked... half-dead, honestly, so the feverish warmth eminating from them was almost a relief. "Who did this to you...?"

The poor thing whined, and they reminded Caretaker of a wounded dog; but maybe that was just from how they were chained up. This was all so horrible.

"Okay, don't be scared. I'm gonna get you out of the alley and to a vet, alright? We'll get you all fixed up."

Another whine, and Caretaker suddenly realised there were other issues apart from the visible sickness. The pet's ankle... it was twisted in a way they'd never seen before. It was swollen, a mix of deep red and purple, bent in a way no healthy foot was supposed to.

"Oh... Oh, this is way worse than I thought, isn't it?" They immediately regretted the comment when the thing looked up at them with those wide, fearful eyes, probably expecting them to just give up now and leave them. "That's okay!" they added hastily. "It's okay. Nothing that can't be fixed! I... I hope... I'll call someone for help."

-

So they'd been wrong. Some things were in fact beyond saving, and Whumpee's foot turned out to be one of them. Amputation, prosthetics... Whumpee was handling it badly.

"I know," Caretaker soothed. "I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But it'll be better later on, I promise, the doctors know what they're doing."

Whumpee let out a soft whimper, a scared one, and Caretaker thought their heart was going to shatter even further. The pet hadn't uttered a single word yet, — maybe they couldn't? — but their face was expressive enough to make Caretaker tear up.

"I'll be here," they said gently. "Every step of the way, yeah? I'll be here for you. I'll help. We'll figure it out."

How? Caretaker didn't know. They weren't planning on adopting a pet, but... they couldn't just leave Whumpee alone after all this. They had an obligation, a responsibility.

If anything, Whumpee's awe-filled eyes just made them more determined.

-

"One foot in front of the other. Slowly. There you go."

Physical therapy was a lot, but Whumpee seemed dead set on achieving every goal weeks earlier than planned. The staff had said it would take four to eight weeks for Whumpee to be able to walk again... and many more before they fully got used to their artificial foot. They were out and about within two weeks, much to the dismay of said staff.

"They'll hurt themself," they'd said. "They should be resting."

"They're very eager to come home, I guess," Caretaker had replied awkwardly, but Whumpee had nodded along, completely serious.

So now they were walking along the corridors, Caretaker supporting Whumpee's weight less and less as they learned the ways and limits of their new life.

-

"I know it's not super fancy..." Caretaker opened the door and stood aside, motioning Whumpee inside. "But I guess it's... homey."

The pet surveyed their surroundings curiously, then turned back towards Caretaker with a bright smile. If they'd had a tail, Caretaker wagered they would've been wagging it.

It made them smile, too. "You like it?"

Whumpee nodded enthusiastically, walking over to the new pet bed Caretaker had bought just a week prior. They carefully set their belongings down next to it, — a shirt, a pair of pants, a pair of socks, and a collar — then made themself comfortable. Testing it out.

"I think we'll get along nicely," Caretaker commented absently. "I mean, I like you a lot. And you seem to like me. I don't see how this could go wrong."

-

Caretaker couldn't believe their eyes.

This couldn't be real.

Was that blood? Was that blood on Whumpee's clothes, and hands, and... face?

When the pet spotted them they immediately fell to their knees, whimpering in terror. They tried to wipe their hands on their victim's shirt, to no avail.

"Whumpee, what– what's– what's going on...?"

Whumpee was crying now, getting more and more desperate about ridding themself of the blood, as though that was the only evidence as to what they'd done. As though they could erase it all, if only they managed to erase the stains.

Caretaker walked closer, eyes wide with shock and horror. So much blood. So much gore.

Their sweet pet had done this?

"Why...?"

Whumpee scrambled to pick up some sort of equipment, struggling to hold it between bloody fingers. A lockpick, Caretaker noted distantly. They put it down on the floor in front of their feet, then quickly grabbed something else: a knife, this time. They put it next to the lockpick. Then they crawled back, flattening themself against the floor like a dog who knew it'd done something bad, whining as they waited for the verdict.

The stranger had been a burglar. Was it... self-defence? No, this had been a brutal murder.

"You're– you're a guard dog," Caretaker said softly, because they didn't think their voice could handle anything more. They got but a whimper in response. "This... Oh, dear. This is not... This is not good."

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

[stellocchia]

Thinking of Secret Life SMP hybrid headcanons right now...

Grian would be a parrotlet. They're the smallest group of parrots and I feel like with how pathetic he's been this season he deserves to be just a little guy. He's still a pesky bird who, as season 6 proved, can definitely cause some mischief despite his reduced size, but he's a little guy anyway.

Jimmy is not a canary. Because, yes, he may have the canary curse, but that's just a fancy name for the curse, not necessarily his hybrid type. No, my man is a dog. He's a goddamn chihuahua. He's all bark and annoying but you take a single threatening step toward him and he shivers in fear.

On the topic of dogs, Martyn is a pomeranian. I'm specifically making him a small dog too because, despite wanting to act cool at the end of session 6, he is still very much the one who was first on yellow and red. My man is not big dog-coded.

Now, unpopular opinion, but Scar is a raccoon hybrid. He's a mischievous chaotic menace of a man. A little criminal ready to scam, commit arson, kill, and steal. He's a raccoon. He hasn't burrowed under anyone's house yet (that I remember at least) but that wouldn't be out of character either. Honestly, I'm appalled by the fact that this isn't a far more popular headcanon for him.

And, before I move on from dogs, Etho is also dog-coded. Specifically an Akbash (big white golden retriever-looking fuckers used for the protection of livestock). I just feel like the protectiveness and overall vibe fit him very well.

Finally, moving on from dogs. Cleo is obviously a zombie hybrid. There are no two ways around it. Though this does allow for my little headcanon that, having to learn on their own skin how to sew they became really good and really quick and they're the ones making all the new outfits for everyone else.

Gem meanwhile is specifically a sculk hybrid. Though I like to think that that came about when she opened the portal. She was a deer hybrid before (mostly because I like the subversion of expectations with a "prey" hybrid so to speak being arguably the most bloodthirsty person on the server) and then it spread like an infection. I figure by now her infected half straight-up looks something like Belos monster for from TOH:

Scott is something like a Reakirt’s Blue Butterfly. Both because the colors match him, and because he is kinda The Social Butterfly. My man is always out and about mingling with others. He's so friendly that he literally didn't struggle to pull off the "love you" challenge when everyone admitted that no one else would have been able to. It would be a waste not to make him some kind of butterfly at least.

Now, for Impulse I have something less reasoned, I just think the idea of him being an imp called Impulse is way too funny to resist. And he is way more of a mischievous one than I usually see people talk about. I've seen the phasmophobia stream where he killed everyone with the cursed items several times in a row just because he wanted to try them out. I know what he's capable of.

Meawhile his bestie Skizz is so capibara coded it's unreal. Like, don't get me wrong, he's plenty chaotic. But also you will never find anyone more lawful good in the Life Series than him. I've been thinking this since Love Island was founded. My man is the king of chilling with everyone. (Aside from Jimmy, rip Jimmy).

At the risk of being boring, I also like seeing Tango as a salamander hybrid. Exclusively because of the mythological connection between salamanders and fire. Also, the idea that every time he's flying (though it's funnier if it's also when he's simply jumping) he's nothing but a ball of fire with a lizard tail is very funny to me.

BigB is a hard one because I've only watched a couple of episodes from his POV so I'm not quite as familiar with the lore surrounding him as I am with the others. So I'm not sure. I want to say enderman because of his cryptid vibes this season, but he's not one of the characters with the biggest connection to the end. Those are mostly BDubs, Gem, and Lizzie, so I don't know. I'm open to suggestions.

Talking about BDubs, why are there no ender dragon hybrid headcanons for him around? I think it would be incredibly ironic if the dragon slayer was a dragon himself. Also, his house is under the Earth just like the End portals. Trust me, it makes so much sense. He's small but so full of righteous anger.

Pearl is no hybrid, she's literally just a witch. I've seen the WITCH animatic and that fundamentally changed my view of her forever. Before I would have said a moth hybrid of some kind because I do like moth Pearl, but I love that specific interpretation so much it's unreal. She is a witch with an army of hellhounds at her back and call.

Mumbo is a vampire because I've seen some art of vampire Mumbo at some point in time and it hasn't left my head since. Also, he's one of the players with the highest bloodlust every time he turns red. We're 2 for 2 on that with his appearances in the Life series. And it's usually also what leads to his demise. So I feel like that would be fitting for a vampire.

Meanwhile, my dearly beloved blorbo Joel is a honey-badger. This is a headcanon that is incredibly dear to me and I've never seen around but it's literally SO FITTING. The absolute crackhead energy, the lack of self-preservation, and the surprising sturdiness as time and time again he gets himself in impossible situations and still manages to survive until pretty much the end are all that exact honey-badger vibe. Like, just thinking of him summoning a hoard of zombies to fight off several infected and surviving for quite a while in those conditions just, really proves my point. Enough said.

Lizzie meanwhile is a very sad sopping wet cat. Just absolutely miserable. One of those cats who look like they're constantly grumpy. The frown has deepened ever since no one came to her party and she's still frowning in the void of death.

[qedart]

Time Warp AU - #14 Well this update just didn't want to come together. But finally it's done (all 8K+ of it 😬) and I'm actually rather happy with how it turned out. So I hope you all enjoy this offering of Pete emotional H/C with a side of parental Icemav.

Honestly, Pete had never really got the big deal about birthdays. Sure, when he was little they seemed important. They’re supposed to, when you’re young. But he wasn’t a child anymore. 

He’d learned a long time ago that simply managing to make it through the year wasn’t exactly cause for celebration. A few rounds of people forgetting, ignoring, or scoffing at him for waiting for some kind of acknowledgment of the date had made it all very clear to him - nobody gives a damn about stuff like that, and you look pathetic if anybody catches on that you might. 

So he didn’t. Doesn’t. 

For the longest time now, the only real significance that that day held for him was as a marker of his being one year closer to independence. Living with Mav and Ice, even that didn’t provide the same spiteful satisfaction that it once had. 

These days, he didn’t count down the months until he was free of the people he found himself in the midst of. Quite the opposite really. Ice, Maverick, Tom, the Daggers, the uncles… they were good people. Good, kind, safe people - and they actually seemed to like Pete being around. 

Nothing lasts forever though, of course. He knew that. He was well aware that he was one big screw up away from blemishing whatever image they all had of him, one proper misstep from sending the whole house of cards he’d built around himself from falling to the ground in one way or another. And he was well overdue for one of those mistakes. Unfortunately, it was an inevitability. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Pete Mitchell messes up nice things. 

He tried not to let it bother him too much. 

It was better to just live in the moment, and at this particular moment he had far bigger concerns than inevitabilities or the fact that he was turning 17 in a week. The chief among them - Maverick was turning 60. 

Unlike Pete’s birthday, that was something significant. That was important. That was worthy of celebration. 

Up until this whole time-warp fiasco went down, Pete would have put money on him (any version of him) not making it past 30. 60 was double that! It demanded celebration, even if Mav himself had developed a habit of referring to the subject of his age merely as ‘the situation’.

So when Ice suggested a little lunchtime get-together by the Hard Deck the coming Saturday ‘for the birthday we’ve got coming up’, he agreed that it was a fantastic idea. 

“Penny’s got a barbecue there that we could use I’m pretty sure,” Tom chipped in over his cereal. 

“Nice. I’ll be there if there’s food,” Pete grinned as he made a bowl for himself. 

Tom rolled his eyes. 

“You were going to be there anyway, numb-skull.”

“Boys, please,” Ice sighed, before Pete could return fire. “I’ve not had my coffee yet, let’s just hold off on the bickering for a little while longer.”

Pete sniffed when Tom promptly shot him an exceedingly smug smirk. 

“I’d get drinking if I were you.”

“Pete.”

“Fine,” Pete huffed, before turning back to Ice. “The beach sounds great though. Want us to bring anything?”

“Just yourselves,” Ice replied, shaking his head. “Mav and I will sort out the logistics.”

And that was that. Party at the beach to celebrate Mav’s 60th, be there at 12. Sorted. 

The rest of the week went by like normal, for the most part. He was asked if he was excited about the party a bit more often than he expected he would be, but he figured it was just people making conversation. He and Tom spent most of Thursday trying to find the old man a fitting birthday present. 

“You’ve seen the hanger! How are we supposed to top that?!”

“I think we should probably start by setting our sights a little lower.”

In the end they decided to both go in on a new camera, figuring it was the most affordable of Mav’s hobbies to tap into. 

When the day itself eventually did roll around, Pete was up and out of bed by dawn. Not due to excitement, and not due to any additional birthday gestures like he’d been contemplating (a fry up was always a good start to the day, after all), no - due to Tom. 

“We’re going for a ride and you’re going to enjoy it,” he announced the second Pete woke (with a start, thanks to the other boy dropping his riding jacket and boots on top of him). “Up and at ‘em.” 

“But what about Mav’s-?”

“We’ll see him at the party, I’ve left a note,” Tom announced, grabbing the end of Pete’s quilt and dragging it out of the room with him. “Mush.”

“I hate you!”

“Hate me on the move. There is breakfast with our name on it somewhere.” 

“Ugh!” 

The ride, annoyingly, was fantastic. The roads were mostly clear, and riding with Tom was always a blast. Tom even bought him breakfast and a couple of pastries for after (“It’s your birthday, idiot. Of course I’m shouting”). It was… well, nice. Pete didn’t care about birthdays, he really didn’t, but even still… it was just nice. Sitting at the look out, munching on the food his best friend had bought for him, he found himself feeling genuinely content with life and how it was turning out. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to even imagine that. It was a moment he resolved to savour. 

“You feel any different?” Tom asked, smirking as he dusted the icing sugar from his Pączki off his fingers. 

Pete scoffed at the question, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, nodding seriously. “I feel like I’ve levelled up, you know? Way more mature now. I feel like I’ve really grown as a person.”

“And yet not an inch vertically? Life’s not fair, is it-?”

“Fuck you!”

Tom snickered, ducking out of the way of the hand Pete swung at the back of his head, before holding his own up in surrender. 

“Seriously though, happy birthday,” he said, shooting Pete a warm smile that made his stomach do that fluttering thing he’d noticed it doing more and more often lately. 

Smiling himself and ducking his head, Pete shrugged. 

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Well as somebody with a vested interest in your being born, I reckon it is,” Tom retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Pete scoffed, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he folded his arms over his knees. 

“A vested interest, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Nawww, you do like me,” Pete snickered. 

“You’re letting it get to your head.” 

“Is that why you brought me out here, to confess your undying love?” 

“In. your. dreams,” Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Bringing you out here was my present to both you and Mav.” 

“How is me going to go for a ride and being bought breakfast a present for Maverick? 

“You going for a ride and being bought breakfast means both you and I are here, not at home. Which means Mav and Ice have the whole place to themselves, all morning. And there’s no chance of either of us overhearing anything and being scarred for life.” 

Pete blinked at that, before pulling a face at the thought of Mav’s birthday ride and announcing, utterly serious, “You’re the best friend a guy could ever ask for.”

“I know,” Tom drawled, before shrugging as he tucked the rubbish from his breakfast into his backpack. “And maybe I wanted to get in first with the birthday wishes.” 

“Always a competition with you, isn’t it?” Pete scoffed, ignoring the other boy’s derisive snort as he jumped back to his feet. “Race you back to the Hard Deck!” 

“Absolutely not!” Tom snapped, hurrying to his feet all the same as Pete bounded over to the bikes. “That flies entirely in the face of the contract!” 

“I laugh in the face of the contract!”

“Yes! That’s why it took so long to draft! Pete!” 

They didn’t end up racing back, much to Tom’s relief. As a result, by the time they pulled up, pretty much everybody had arrived at the beach. Bradely, Hangman, and Phoenix were still by the Bronco though, pulling the last of their stuff out the back.

“Ah, the birthday boy has arrived,” Hangman cried as they wandered over.

“Ha ha,” Pete scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning to Rooster. “Hey, can we dump our helmets and stuff in your car?”

“Sure, the back seat should be free,” he replied as he hefted the cooler from the trunk. “But really, happy birthday, Pete.”

“Ah, thanks?” Pete replied, a confused smile tugging at his lips as he stepped out of the way for Tom to stow his stuff away as well. That’s two times today. Weird. 

“What’s with the face?” Phoenix asked, laughing. “17 is a big deal.”

Pete laughed. 

“Yeah right,” he replied, stooping to grab one of the bags from their pile. “16’s supposed to be a big deal, and 18 definitely is. 17’s just there.”

“Agree to disagree. But, that raises a good question,” replied Jake, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “What sort of Sweet 16 fiasco are we competing with today?” 

Pete arched a brow at the question, but figured it made sense. Out of all the milestone birthdays, 16 was the only relevant one he and Mav had an overlap on. Though he wasn’t sure how much “I spent most of it in the ER with a broken arm’ would help with gauging the temperature for how this one was going.

Instead he just shrugged. 

“Nothing really special. I’m sure this’ll be way better.”

“That’s what we’re aiming for,” Jake replied with a grin, ruffling Pete’s hair (and then, far more amusingly, Tom’s), before leading the way over to the sand. 

Pete blinked as they drew closer. A lot of people had turned up. All of the daggers were here, pitching up chairs and umbrellas or tossing a football (actually, two footballs) around while almost all the uncles and even Viper milled about among them. Mav, Ice, Slider, and Penny were getting the barbecue started, chatting with Warlock and Cyclone (which was weird, but probably Ice’s doing). He even spotted Amelia and Theo slip out of the Hard Deck, deep in conversation with Hondo (about something nerdy and interesting no doubt) to join the group. 

“Damn, Mav sure invited a lot of people for someone who pulls faces whenever anybody utters the number 60 around him,” he laughed as he hefted the bag further up his shoulder. “Or are you all gatecrashing just to torment him?”

Jake snorted at that, rolling his eyes. 

“Nah. Though he is being a baby about it, so if we did it would be his own fault,” he replied. 

“He actually ordered us not to mention ‘the situation’ the other day,” Bradley scoffed, shaking his head.

“In fairness, Roo - you and Bagman were having a lot of fun at his expense,” said Phoenix as they all dropped their bags on the sand and set about making camp. She grinned at Pete and Tom. “There have been lots of fossil jokes. These two even smuggled a walker on base and swapped it with his lectern before debrief. He had to walk it to the side of the classroom.”

“Cruel,” Tom snickered from beside him. “Funny, but cruel.”

“You know it,” Jake cackled, dropping his bags down on the sand before stretching his arms over his head. “But nah, he’s opted out of a group celebration. Don’t know why. But I’m afraid that means you’re flying solo today, baby bro.”

Pete blinked again. 

“...I’m what?”

“You’ve got the spotlight pretty much to yourself today,” Bradley replied, shrugging like it was the simplest thing. “Apparently he’s got some day-trip planned with Ice tomorrow, so he’s sorted. That just leaves you with all of the attention. Reckon you can handle that?”

…Shit. 

Shit, shit shit - he had not prepared for this. He’d not expected this. What the hell even was this?! He’s turning 17. Who gives a shit?! Why the hell would all of these people come out here, some of them a hell of a long way, just for him?! They wouldn’t. Had they not been told it was just for him? Did Mav wriggle out of this at the last second and now he had 20+ people who’d pretty much written off half their weekend for no reason on his hands? 

“Pete, you alright?” Tom asked, shaking his shoulder, a worried expression on his face. 

Pete grimaced, before glancing around at the others and finding them all looking at him with concern. 

He pulled on a wide grin and laughed. 

“Me? Yeah, of course!” he replied cheerily, mind racing all the while. He needed a minute to himself. To come up with a plan. To fix this. 

Quickly turning back to the others, slapping his forehead as he did, he said, “You know what? I think I left my phone on my bike. Just gonna go grab that, can’t lose another one. Are you guys good here for a sec?”

“I mean, yeah,” Tom said slowly, frowning. 

“Great!” Pete cheered (perhaps a bit too overzealously, but whatever) before spinning around and, with a quick “Back in a moment!” taking off back up the beach. 

Right, step one, calm the hell down. He had to get a hold of himself and he had to do it now. 

Alright, it was a surprise. Alright, there were probably going to be some irritated people down there. So what? He could deal with irritated people. He could deal with people that actively wanted to kick his ass, irritated is nothing. Why the hell was he freaking out so much? Less than a year of being treated nicely and he’d gone completely soft, seriously?

He shook his head roughly. 

He was fine. This was fine. He’d make it work somehow. He just needed to stop acting like a baby and come up with a plan of action. 

He could direct attention back to Maverick. The old man can try and wriggle out of it all he likes but two can play this game. He’ll stick around for an hour, direct as much attention to Mav as possible, whip Jake and Bradely up into enough of a frenzy to keep the momentum going and then make a classy exit. Nobody will even remember he was here and they’ll forget all about this misunderstanding. That’s good. That’ll work. 

…Unless Mav launches a counter-attack. Which he would. 

Shit!

“Pete?” 

Pete whirled around and found Mav and Ice approaching, both looking concerned and not all that surprised to see him up here. Goddamnit, Tom, the snitch!!

“What’s going on, kiddo?” Mav asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I mean, that’s a pretty good question man,” Pete replied, running a hand through his hair anxiously as he glanced down at the beach once more before turning his attention (and frustration) back to the older man. “I get that you’ve got some sort of three quarter life crisis going on about turning 60, but seriously, throwing me under the bus so you can avoid that is a dick move.” 

Mav, the bastard, looked more confused than chastened at the rebuke, exchanging a bemused glance with Ice. 

“You’re going to have to spell this one out for us, buddy.”

Pete groaned, folding his hands on top of his head. 

“First, explain it to me, guys,” he replied. “What was the plan? Trick everyone here by saying it’s a party for Mav and then hope people aren’t too put out when it turns out it was for the other Mitchell? Jeez guys, I mean, what the hell? Why the hell?! Nobody gives a damn it’s my birthday. I don’t give a damn it’s my birthday. Now it looks like I do, and now I get to look like the stupid little moron who needed people tricked here to pad things out!”

“Pete,” Ice said slowly, holding his hands out like he was trying to calm down some wounded animal. Like Pete was being irrational about this. “You do know this party is for you, right?”

“Yes,” Pete replied with every ounce of patience he possessed. “I’m aware of that. That’s exactly my point”

“No. He means it was always intended to be just for you,” Mav weighed in. 

Pete sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried his very best to channel Ice and remain as diplomatic as he possibly could (it did not help, mind you, that Ice was joining in on this nonsense. But he tried nevertheless). 

“Look,” he said with forced calm, “I see what you’re trying to do, and it’s a nice thought. I appreciate that you guys care and want to make a fuss, I do. But you can’t just expect to trick people into writing off half their weekend for one thing, and then bait and switch with a discount offer at the last second. Wood and Wolf flew in from Texas for this, guys. Please. I’ll see if I can get the Daggers to lay off the fossil jokes, but- …what’s this?”

“Read it,” Ice replied, holding his phone out to Pete until he took it and did as he was told. 

Jake has named the group chat: Big Effing Deal Jake: First of all, how. dare. you? Nat: Seconded! Both for leaving us out and forcing me to agree with Bagman. Jake: Look what you’ve brought us too!!!  Nat: I feel physically sick.  Jake: Ditto. Bradley: Wow, you guys really are in sync today.  Nat: You take that back!!! Ice: Could somebody please explain what we’re being accused of here.  Jake: Betrayal!!!  Coyote: Dude - you’ve been hitting the expresso machine again, haven’t you? Mav: Guys. BOB: Rooster mentioned you are having a get together for Pete’s birthday on Saturday and we’re all handling the rejection differently. Fanboy: How could you, Mav? Mav: Well first, there’s no rejection for anybody to handle. We floated the idea of a beach party this morning and he seemed alright with it. So if you guys are free and want to come along, you’re more than welcome to.  Jake: Was that so hard?!!!! Mav: If you’d waited a few more hours I’d have invited you in person at work tomorrow. Jake: But Roo gets his invite right away??? :(  Ice: Rooster was over during the day, so yes, he heard first. Rooster: Remember how you were supposed to help me fix their gate today?  Jake: Nope. Poorly communicated on your part.  Jake: Moving swiftly on - we need times. And gift ideas. Nat: What a crappy brother. I got my present for him weeks ago.  Payback: Burn.  Payback: Also, same. Jake: You’re a pair of goody-goodies, I’m not surprised in the slightest.  Jake: Besides it doesn’t matter how early you got it. It’s how good it is. Nat: Got you beat there too Bagman.  Jake: Bullshit. Pete and I have a connection.  Payback: Is that what we’re calling you being a terrible influence now? Coyote: Just before these three properly kick off - is this a joint birthday bash? Or Pete-specific? Mav: Pete specific.  Mav: I’ve already got plans for mine.  Ice: And by that he means I have already made plans for him.  Ice: They’re on Sunday though, so we’ll be there regardless.  Mav: And people think I’m the competitive one. My point is, I’m covered, so don’t go worrying about that. Coyote: Roger that!  Fanboy: This is going to be great!! I can bake a cake if you like!!! Lil bro likes chocolate, right? Payback: Guys - take him up on the offer!  Phoenix: This! ^^^^^ Ice: That would be lovely, Fanboy, thank you. And yes, chocolate would be well received I expect.  Fanboy: Yeeeeeesssss!!  Mav: Right, we’re just going to leave you guys to this.  Rooster: Oh, actually, just before you go… Bradley’s added Sly-Guy, Chip_P, E!News, Full_M00ning…  Mav: Oh you little shit stirrer.  Sli-Guy: First of all, how dare you?! 

Pete blinked, utterly mystified, as he scrolled through the group chat (which seemed to go on for quite a bit) before eventually turning back to Ice and Mav. 

“I… I don’t understand,” he uttered. 

“Join the club, kiddo,” Mav replied, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You helped plan this,” Ice pointed out, a baffled expression on his ordinarily nonplussed face. “I specifically asked you if you would like a party at the Hard Deck?” 

“I thought you were asking for my input for Mav’s party,” Pete muttered, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he realised just how stupid he apparently was. 

“The daggers have been talking to you about it all week?” Mav pointed out, equally confused. “Bob asked you what snacks you’d like him to bring.” 

“I thought they were coming to me because they couldn’t get anything out of you!” Pete snapped back hotly. 

Ice held up a hand, cutting that line of conversation off before it could get too heated. Taking a deep, exceedingly put upon breath, he sighed “Once again, it appears that this family’s outstanding communication skills have come back to bite us all in the ass.”

He turned back to Pete.  

“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t meant to be a surprise party,” he said.

Pete scoffed softly, in spite of himself, but soon enough the begrudging amusement gave way to confusion once more. 

“I still don’t understand,” he said. “Why would all of them come out if they knew it was just for me?” 

“How’s it any different from them coming out for me?” Maverick asked with a frown.

Pete shrugged. 

“They’re your family,” he replied simply. “They’re supposed to show up for you.” 

“They’re your family too,” Maverick argued, his frown deepening. 

“You do know that, don’t you?” Ice said slowly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Yeah. Course,” Pete muttered, cutting a quick glance to the group in question. Nobody seemed to have noticed they were gone yet, thank goodness. Somehow Pete felt like he’d find himself even more outnumbered if they did. He had to bury this quick though, if he wanted to avoid that fate. 

Unfortunately, when he turned back to the oldtimers, Ice had his signature ‘so you’re just going to lie to my face now?’ expression in place. Never a good sign. Also almost never directed at Pete he realised with a dull pain. 

“You know, you pull that face every time this topic of conversation comes up.”

“What face?” 

“The ‘well if it makes them happy’ face,” Ice replied, folding his arms over his chest. “Be honest with us, Pete. What’s going on here?”

Pete shrunk back a little at that, feeling very much under a spotlight all of a sudden and not entirely sure why. 

“N-nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“Well clearly something is. And just to be clear, do you honestly believe that we’d have all been fine throwing a party for Maverick and doing absolutely nothing for you?” the older man asked, arching a brow pointedly. 

“I… I mean… I… I’d get it,” Pete stuttered, heart pounding in his chest. What the hell was going on? What did he even do? He took a step back, giving into the instinct to at least be out of arm's length, only to knock into the back of Ice’s Jeep when he tried. Crap. He was trapped. And he was in trouble. And he didn’t know why. 

His alarm must have shown on his face too, because soon enough Ice was taking a step back himself, hands held up disarmingly. 

“Pete, I’m not angry with you,” he said, calmly and far gentler than before. “I’m sorry.”

Pete swallowed thickly, but nodded all the same as he tried to rein himself in, to calm down for goodness sake. He was being so damn stupid!!

“I just don’t understand,” Ice continued. “You know everybody here loves you, don’t you? We haven’t dropped the ball that much I hope.” 

Embarrassment and shame twisted sickeningly in the pit of Pete’s belly. Because he did know that. He knew how hard everybody had tried to make him and Tom feel welcome. And not just as novelty extensions of Mav and Ice either, but as their own, separate people. They’d all tried so hard to bring them into the family and make them feel like they belonged in it, Pete knew it. He saw it each day. For the most time, he felt it too, but there was just this part of him that wouldn’t allow him to accept it fully. Wouldn’t allow him to trust it. To trust them. 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered weakly, staring down at the tips of his boots. “I… I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s not anything you guys have done, or haven’t done. I know how much you’ve all tried to be welcoming. And you have, truly. I love it here… so much. But… but every time I try to… it’s just in the back of my mind I’m always… I…” 

He flinched sharply when something touched his arm, but it was just Ice reaching out to him. All of a sudden, that contact, that offer of reassurance was all he wanted. Sighing heavily he stepped forward and leaned against the old man’s chest, dragging in a deep, calming breath as Ice’s arms wrapped around him, squeezed him in a tight. 

“I love it here,” he uttered. “And everybody here… and I know they- you all care - about me and Tom. But I just know…” 

He sighed deeply. 

“It’s just… self-preservation, I guess. I know it’s going to really hurt, so much, when I mess up.  I didn’t care, when it was just some other home I was stuck in longer than usual, but now… now it’s probably too late already. When I mess up and have to go-”

“Hey, who said anything about you going anywhere,” Ice said with a frown, holding him closer. “We told you, you have a place in this family for life. Nothing will change that.”

Pete sighed sadly, shaking his head where it was pressed to Ice’s sternum. They didn’t get it. They felt that way now, but it wouldn’t last. 

“No matter how hard you try, you’re going to end up alone.” 

Both Pete and Ice froze at that, before turning to face Maverick, who looked all the world like he’d just commented on the weather rather than putting one of Pete’s deepest, most painful fears to words. And he wasn’t done. 

“We’re going realise just how messed up you really are. How much damage has been done. How much of it can’t be undone. And, most importantly, how much of it you probably deserved. And sooner or later we’ll change our mind about you. It’s all well and good to say we’ll always want you in the family if we haven’t seen the full picture yet, because let’s face it, you’re on the good behaviour streak of a lifetime right now. But sooner or later, you’re going to mess up, because that’s what you do. And then we’ll see the real you. The screw up. The waste of space. The guy everybody else can see clearly. Eventually the rose-coloured glasses will come off and  we’ll really see you for what you are. We’ll get tired of trying to bring somebody into a family who doesn’t deserve to be in it and clearly is meant to be on their own. It’ll be better for everyone to just stop trying. We probably won’t kick you out, to be fair - but when you head off to college or the academy… the calls and emails will peter out. Tom will probably find his own people too, when he’s got other options. He’ll stop spending time with you too. It’ll probably be pretty amicable really. But everybody will just go on with their life and there will be no room for you in them. That will be that. Better to just accept it now, try not to get too attached to how things are, so when it happens, at least you won’t look like you were blindsided by it all. It’s a bit less pathetic if you at least saw it coming.” 

Pete’s stomach sunk so fast through the blacktop it felt like he was pulling negative G’s. Mav knew. Mav saw how this was going to play out just as clearly as he did. The first card in his little house was beginning to wobble. 

To his horror he felt his face beginning to heat up and his eyes beginning to sting. He dragged in a deep, shuddering breath, squeezing them shut tight. He wasn’t a baby. This wasn’t a surprise. He wasn’t going to start crying in the middle of the car park where everybody could see him like some child. 

He jumped as an arm wrapped around his shoulders and looked up to find Ice, holding him close again, and leading them to the space between his jeep and Bradley’s Bronco - more or less out of sight from the rest of the group.

“Sit down and take a few deep breaths for me, kiddo,” he murmured, manoeuvring Pete until he was sitting down on the gravel, back pressed against the rubber of the Bronco’s tyre. Biting his lip, he folded his arms tight over his chest, knees drawing up as Ice kneeled down beside him and wrapped an arm back around his shoulders, rubbing up and down his arm soothingly all the while.. “In and out. Just like that. What the hell, Mav?” 

“Just trying to work out what we’re dealing with here,” Maverick replied, sounding tired and sad now. “Pete, can you look at me?”

Pete really didn’t want to. This was all humiliating and painful enough without risking bursting into tears the second he made eye contact with the old man as well. But, at the same time, this was the reality of the situation, and closing his eyes and hiding from it wasn’t going to change anything either, except to make him look even more childish. So whether he wanted to or not, he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Clenching his jaw tight and breathing in deeply through his nose, he (as resolutely as he could manage) lifted his head and met Mav’s eye. He wasn’t expecting to be met with a sympathetic expression. How could Mav see him so clearly, and still look at him like that. 

“Does that about sum it up?” the old man asked, cocking his head to the side. “What’s going on in that head of yours.”

Scrubbing roughly at his face, Pete nodded his head. 

“M-more or less.” 

Mav hummed thoughtfully, pausing a moment, before smiling and sitting down properly across from them. 

“You know,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “The first time I met Carole, she scared that absolute crap out of me.” 

Pete blinked, confused at the strange turn their conversation had taken, but interested all the same. Mav wasn’t shy with talking about Goose or Carole, but he’d never heard that. 

A fond smile tugged at the edges of the old man’s mouth as he looked up wistfully at the sky. 

“People underestimated her. She was so loud and joyous all the time, most people figured she was probably a bit dim. But they had no idea. Sure she was smart enough, but her real strength was with people. She had this way of looking at a person, just looking at them, and seeing past all the bullshit.”

He shook his head. 

“The first shore leave after Goose and I became a team, Goose insisted that I come home with him. He hadn’t realised until we were literally docking that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so the second he put the pieces together it was, ‘Come on, you have to, Mav! It’ll be great. You can meet Carole. You guys will get on like a house on fire, I know it’. And I, for the life of me, couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to convince him otherwise. I think I was a bit blindsided that he was offering to spend more time together at all.” 

He scoffed. 

“Either way, the pressure was dialled up to 11,” he drawled. “Not only would I have to stay on my best behaviour for even longer, to keep Goose on side - and I’d been on a 6 month streak at that point and felt the end looming. But I also had to become best friends with his wife, immediately. Otherwise he’d wonder how he got that one so wrong. Then he’d look closer, and he’d see everything he’d somehow missed about me before. See exactly where I was lacking. Me getting to keep the one person in the navy, hell, the one person in the world that gave a damn about me - depended on this month going well.”

Rubbing at his scratchy eyes, Pete leaned a little more into Ice’s side, before asking. “You managed to pull that off?”

“Hell no, I lasted less than a week,” Mav scoffed, shaking his head. “And it only lasted that long because Goose and Carole had the patience of saints.”

Pete frowned. That didn’t make sense. He might not know this story but he knew a hell of a lot of the others that came later. He knew Mav stayed friends with Goose, and Carole as well, for years after when this would have happened. How could it not have worked? How did he screw up that badly and still manage to keep them around? 

He shot Ice a confused glance, receiving a ‘just roll with it’ shrug in response. 

“Carole was living in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere Texas at the time. Her aunt needed help moving or something. Unfortunately that meant I had had about six hours of travelling to work myself up and come up with a game plan for how I was going to make it all work. Going in with a charm offensive wouldn’t have done it, Goose would feel like making moves on his wife, Carole would feel like I was a creep, and I’d be stuck with both of them feeling like that for a month. I couldn’t risk being myself, for reasons already discussed. So I decided on the red carpet treatment. From the second I got out of Goose’s truck to the second we got back in it to head back to the airport, Carole Bradshaw would be shown a level of respect and deference that no admiral had or has ever received from me. The queen of England could have come around and found it excessive. But it was the best I had.

“I addressed her as ma’am, I stood when she walked into the room or got up from the table, I tried to help out around the house as much as I possibly could. A big part of the plan was also trying to give her and Goose as much space and time to themselves as possible. I wasn’t supposed to be there, and the absolute last thing I wanted is for them to miss out on time together because Goose felt obliged to bring me along with him. On paper, I thought it worked. Be respectful and stay out of the way. Unfortunately, in practice it went more along the lines of me actively avoiding everybody like it was my job and, whenever I couldn’t, making the situation so awkward it was uncomfortable for everybody. And it was uncomfortable. My god. Goose and Carole, they tried so hard to get me to relax, come out of my shell, do the exact opposite of what I was trying to do essentially. It was not going well,” Mav laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head at the memory. 

“Goose knew I was acting off, which was putting me even more on edge. And I knew I was quickly moving past that ‘meeting new people is awkward sometimes’ grace period straight into ‘this little twerp I’ve known for a few months has got a problem with the love of my life’ territory. So not ideal. And Carol… Carol knew from the beginning that I was putting up a front, which made settling around her pretty much impossible.”

Pete grimaced sympathetically at the thought of it all. 

“At least you stuck it out,” he muttered. “I would have just left at that point.”

“Oh, I did,” Mav replied without missing a beat. “About five days in everything finally bubbled over. Goose tried to coax me into telling him what was wrong for about the millionth time and… well, after days of constantly being on red alert, barely sleeping from the stress, just second guessing every single move or sound I made while knowing, in spite of trying my best, it was all going to hell - I sort of lost it on him. Told him he could take whatever friendship he thought we had and shove it where the sun don’t shine because I sure as hell didn’t need it or him. That I'd been on my own for over half my life and I didn’t need anybody, thank you very much, least of all some hapless, sheltered country-boy who clearly didn’t know what was good for him if it smacked him in the face. Then I grabbed my bag and went straight to the train station.”

Pete blinked owlishly at that, confused to say the least. 

“But I thought Goose was your best friend,” he said. 

“He was,” Mav replied. 

“Even after that?!” 

“I know, I was surprised too.” 

Pete frowned, puzzling it over as Mav laughed softly and shook his head.. 

“This being the tiny town it was, the train didn’t run very often, and I’d missed the one for that day - which was just the cherry on the top really. I figured I’d just spend the night on the platform. Didn’t want to risk missing the next one, and I was feeling pretty sorry for myself at the time so it seemed fitting. Which was exactly where Carole found me three hours later.”

Ice scoffed softly beside Pete, shaking his head with a fond smile of his own. 

“Mother Goose sent in the big guns then,” he drawled. 

“I honestly have no idea if Goose even knew,” Mav replied, smiling reminiscently himself. “I think she just figured she’d given us both enough time to sulk and decided enough was enough.” 

He chuckled, tilting his head back as he recalled the encounter. 

“She came over and sat down on the ground beside me,” he said, looking around them, the corner of his lips twitching a fraction higher. “Sorta like we are right now.”

Pete smiled weakly at that. 

“She sat with me for the longest time, didn’t say a word, just waited me out, until she could tell I was ready to actually listen to her. Then she took my hand and said, “You know what, honey? If you were half as rotten as you’re afraid you are, you wouldn’t care nearly as much as you do”.”

Pete ducked his head as, all at once, tears started welling up once again. God he wanted that to be true. With every fibre of his being he did. He bit his lip as he felt Ice pull him a little tighter against his side, and heard Mav scoot closer himself, reaching out and rubbing his arm himself. 

“Do you think she was right about that,” he uttered, voice crackling with the strain of keeping himself together. 

Mav smiled, squeezing Pete’s arm gently as he inclined his head. 

“Honestly, I always had my doubts,” he confessed. “But these days… I think she probably was.” 

Before he could stop them, a couple of the tears Pete had been battling against broke free and rolled down his cheeks. 

“Oh, buddy,” Mav sighed, reaching up to rub the moisture away. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes I forget how much all of that stuff hurt.” 

Pete leaned into the contact, the corner of his mouth twitching a little as he did so.

“Actually pretty good to hear that from my perspective,” he murmured, drawing soft scoffs from the oldtimers. 

Shaking his head fondly, Mav patted Pete’s arm one last time before folding them over his crossed legs. 

“I’m telling you this for two reasons,” he said, ducking his head to meet Pete’s eye once again. “First, and I really am sorry for this but, unfortunately, this is just one of those cards that you and I got dealt. This is something that you were always going to have to work through. Being on your own for so long, and getting told so many times and in so many ways that nobody wants you, and nobody will ever want you - it leaves a mark. That doesn’t mean you’re broken. It's just a hurdle that we get that some people don’t. Everyone’s got their own set. For us - it’s being very, very aware of just how much other people can hurt you, while at the same time knowing how much the alternative hurts too.”

Pete sighed softly, but nodded all the same. That point wasn’t exactly news to him, but it still sucked hearing it all the same. 

“And second,” Mav said, reaching out and brushing Pete’s hair back from his face with a small, reassuring smile. “Even though it doesn’t always feel like it, and that feeling will flare up from time to time unfortunately, some people really do stay.”

Pete lifted his head to look at the old man properly, something like hope fluttering weakly in the pit of his belly. 

“They stick by you as long as they possibly can, through more crap than you could possibly imagine. I know it’s hard to really let yourself believe that right now. I know it feels like the second you do it’ll all fall apart around you, like a house of cards. But that will fade with time and with evidence. You’re just going to have to trust me until then. You’re not meant to be alone. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong or bad about you. The people who are worth a damn, they stay - you just have to let them in in the first place.”

The older man leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Just be careful, because once you do, it’s all bets off. I had one moment of weakness around Slider 36 years ago and now I’m stuck with him.” 

Pete laughed wetly at that, smiling back as Mav practically beamed at him. 

“I hope you’re right,” he uttered, rubbing again at his face. 

“I am,” Mav replied, nodding firmly. “And look, I’m not going to lie to you and promise forever. Nobody knows what’s around the corner. Hell, a tsunami could take us all out right now.” 

Pete scoffed softly, rolling his eyes as Maverick ruffled his hair teasingly. 

“But the stuff you’re worried about, the mistakes you’re worried about making, I’m sorry but they’re just not gonna cut it.” 

Ice nodded at that. 

“Unfortunately, to shake us at this point you’d have to do things that you’re simply not capable of. And they certainly wouldn’t be accidental.” 

Pete frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them. 

“...Could you give me a clue?” he asked. “You know, to be safe.”

Ice scoffed softly, before cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.

“Alright. We’re talking about doing things that would deliberately traumatise others. Not accidents, like a car crash or getting in a really bad fight, though we’d all rather you avoided that too. Stuff that’s just evil. Things specifically done to make somebody else feel afraid or humiliated or less than” Ice replied calmly, brow rising pointedly. “Do you feel that avoiding that sort of behaviour would be a struggle for you?”

“Fuck, no,” Pete replied, nose wrinkling at the thought of doing anything along those lines.

Ice  nodded. 

“There you go. There’s the bar,” he replied simply. “Anything above that? Worst case scenario, you’re the pain in the ass of the week. And that’s a title we’ve all held at one point or another.”

“Even you?”

“Unjustly,” he sniffed. 

“Ask Uncle Sli about it some time,” Mav replied without missing a beat, before turning back to Pete before Ice could retort. “Honestly kiddo, do you really think Bradely was an angel growing up?” 

“Well… yeah?”

“Think again,” Ice drawled. 

Mav hummed, nodding seriously. 

“Off the top of my head, there was that time he threw a party with his baseball team while we were out of town and trashed the house.”

“The bike he borrowed without asking, rode unlicensed, and totalled - on a dare.” 

“The kitchen he nearly burned down because ‘guys - you can’t pause online games, how many times do I have to tell you?’ and ‘I want bacon’ turned out to be a bad mix.”

“The spy-phase that ended with him trying to sneak onto a military base, ours that is, and then refusing to answer any questions or co-operate after getting caught.” 

“I maintain that that was mostly Hollywood’s fault for taking him to watch True Lies.” 

Pete blinked, stunned by the antics of, by far, one of the more mature ‘big brothers’ he had. 

Ice scoffed, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. 

“And we still love the kid. Did back then when it happened and through much less amusing run-ins too,” he said, before squeezing Pete a little tighter to his side. “So try not to worry so much. You’re a kid, you’re supposed to do stupid things. Mav does stupid things every other day and we still keep him around. And that’s these days. He was an absolute menace when I first met him. And six years older than you are now. You’re a dream in comparison.”

Mav huffed. 

“You are a delight,” he said, patting Pete on the shoulder, before shooting his husband a pointed look. “But I think some people are forgetting which one of us introduced himself by immediately talking shit.”

“We were competing and the fact that you still bring it up almost 40 years later just further emphasises what a sound psychological victory that introduction was for me.”

“I mean I wanted to kick your ass all the more afterwards, so I’m not sure how much of a victory it was.”

“Well you never did, so a big one I would say.”

“Bullshit I never did-!”

“Go-ddddddd,” Pete groaned, though he couldn’t help but grin at the bickering, which, in the span of 10 months, had somehow become the comforting soundtrack of home for him (which probably said a lot about Ice and Maverick, but who cares). “Wher’es Tom when you need him?”

“Our point,” Ice said pointedly, shooting Mav a look that said quite clearly ‘we’re supposed to be a united front, genius (also, you know I’m right), “Is that you’re going to make mistakes. Everybody does. You’re going to do stupid things, things that we don’t approve of. And, because we’re here to help you become the best person you can be, we’ll call you out on it. At one point or another, we’ll disagree, we’ll argue, feelings will probably get hurt, egos will get bruised. And then, we’re going to be here anyway. Because you’re a member of this family and that’s not going to change.” 

“And we’ll remind you of that however many times you need,” Mav replied, smiling warmly at him, before slapping his own knees and leaning back. “Now, how would you like to proceed from here? Are you alright breaking the Birthday Drought today or would you like to go home and we can just have a nice family dinner tonight. Which would you rather?”

Pete bit his lip, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I guess I… I wouldn’t mind staying,” he replied, his heart and stomach fluttering again at the thought of all these people, his family, turning up just for him. But this time, he found his emotions leaning more on the side of nervous excitement rather than all-consuming dread. “I mean, It’s been a minute.” 

“You’re sure?” Ice asked seriously, rubbing Pete’s back reassuringly. “Don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to.” 

Pete ducked his head, a small smile spreading across his face as, for the first time since this whole miscommunication came to light, and before that really, something seemed to settle inside of him. Some knot of tension that had been there for so long that he’d just learned to live with it, seemed to ease just the littlest bit. He did not doubt, for a second, that if he decided to leave now, Ice and Mav (and Tom) would cover for him, would back him up and stand in his corner. Whether they needed to or not, and Pete suspected things would probably topple in the direction of ‘not’ because the others would understand.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath (like Ice had been teaching him) he lifted his head a smiled a little wide. 

“I want to,” he said. “Seriously, if I ever say no to chocolate cake I want you to assume that somebody’s stolen my face and is impersonating me.” 

“Mark that down for both of us,” Mav replied, nodding empathetically. 

“Noted,” Ice scoffed, smiling as the three of them got back to their feet. “In that case, we should probably get back. Tom said he’d try to keep them all in one place to give us a moment alone but the fact that he seems to have managed it is making me nervous.” 

Pete snickered as Mav shot him an amused grin, before they both followed Ice back to the beach. It turned out the old man may have been right to worry. 

“In my defence,” Tom drawled as he jogged over to meet them. “I didn’t expect them all to lose their minds.” 

Pete felt like that was a pretty accurate description for the mayhem they’d just walked into. Almost all the daggers and a few of the flyboys were shouting, waving their arms about, jabbing fingers in faces or, in Fanboy’s case, cackling rather manically. And those that weren’t seemed content to either enjoy the show or stoke the fires all the more. It was pandemonium. 

“What did you do?” Ice sighed as they drew closer. 

Tom shrugged. 

“I casually mentioned that Pete and I watched Die Hard for the first time, and asked what other Christmas movies we should watch. And, well...” 

“IT’S SET ON CHRISTMAS EVE, BAGMAN!!! HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS DO YOU NEED IT?!” 

“THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT! IT’S AN ACTION MOVIE-”

“ON CHRISTMAS EVE!” 

“OH MY GOD! SO WHAT?! SO WHAT?!!” 

“Well, it did distract them,” Ice replied, arching a brow as he took it all in. “They’re going to go full Lord of the Flies any moment now, but it worked.” 

Tom grinned, before slinging an arm around Pete’s shoulders and drawling, “Wanna make it worse?”

“You’ve been a terrible influence on him,” Ice sighed, shooting Mav a despairing glance as Pete laughed softly and shrugged. 

“Sure.”

Tom winked before calling over the noise, “Alright, maybe Die Hard can go one way or the other-”

“NO IT CAN’T,” Jake and Nat hollered in unison, before immediately shooting each other disgusted glares. 

“But surely we can all agree that Nightmare before Christmas-” 

And they were off again, with renewed vigour and with previous alliances suddenly shattered. 

Pete laughed as he took it all in. Tom’s arm around his shoulders; Mav and Ice squeezing his arm and ruffling his hair respectively as they walked by to try and reign in the chaos; Rooster and Hangman each elbowing their way through the crowd, hollering for him to back them up. 

The fears were still there, bubbling away beneath the surface. Pete felt that they probably always would. Allowing himself to stay this attached, to actually believe that maybe this time, just this once, things truly would turn out different… it was risky. Frankly it was downright dangerous. 

“Right, enough of this!!” Rooster hollered over the noise. “Let’s settle this properly.” 

“Agreed,” Jake replied, nodding firmly. “Dogfight football. I bags the babies.” 

“What?!” 

“You can’t take both of them!”

“Can. Did. Pete, Tom, come on.” 

Sometimes, the risks were worth taking. And, well, he’d always liked to think he was a little dangerous.

[alexiswritingstuff]

Not just a man.

Pairing: Hiromi Higuruma x gn! reader

Warnings: none?

Summary: during one of the initial meetings in the culling game, Y/n decides to spark up a conversation with the mysterious man in the black suit.

Other mentions: like one thing about Itadori.

A/n: okay, I'm honestly not too confident about this one but if I leave it any longer it is just going to rot in my drafts, so here is my first fic with Higuruma! This is spoiler free, and even though it is based on the culling games, there might be points in this fic that don't accurately depict the situation in the manga. I have read it multiple times but my brain is something else, man. Also, be aware that there could be mischaracterisation, or general moments that would seem OOC for Higuruma. As much as I love him, this is my first fic with him so it will probably take time to nail down his characters, especially because the only thing that I can base it off is content from the manga. Either way, and despite the possible downsides, I hope you enjoy reading!

Finding a definition to encapsulate the past few days since the event had started was... difficult to say the least. While that may be because there wasn't a singular word to describe it, the options were unlimited.

Before anything had the chance to process, it was right onto the next thing. Another problem. Another fight, both physically and verbally.

It was the sort of cycle that may have already been usual in your kind of world, as there was no point in resting when curses were about, yet somehow it almost felt faster. Instead of potentially running into some form of beast, it was now an expectation instead.

Initially, you would think that was the most unnerving part, wouldn’t you?

Though, as you sat in a vast room with more people you had known in your life, it seemed that thought was more wrong than you could have known.

At some point during the game, a bunch of sorcerers were rounded up. You, somehow, just ended up being wound into it at some point. I mean, you may barely grasp the meaning of the culling game, but there were enough clues to fill it in.

There were only a few reasons why people like yourselves would gather in this way.

Something big was going down.

The room itself had become quieter over time. Most of the people within had left one after the other. Either having personal things to attend to, further discussions, or just trying to grab a breath of fresh air before even more stress.

You, however, had made yourself comfortable in one of the randomly placed seats. Or at least tried to.

In all honesty, your body was almost rigid. A lack of a want to move as the urge to fidget continuously antagonised each limb. It made it more tricky to maintain that hard exterior everyone else seemed to be able to keep up with ease. 

The whole sorcery thing wasn't exactly new to you. Your ability wasn't something you discovered young, like many others. It had given you enough time to learn about it. Grow it. Though being surrounded by other people who also had some form of ability was new.

Yeah, considering the fact that you had previously only met about a handful, it was most definitely new.

But you had to admit that it was very interesting to see the different kinds of sorcerers there were.

No matter how apparent, there was an active difference in mindsets, attitudes, personalities, and the general looks of these people. Most of what they could do even contrasted with it.

They had their own stories, their own abilities, and their own worlds. It was like the more you looked around, there was an increased possibility in becoming intrigued by something different.

And eventually, it landed on one thing in particular.

One person.

To your left was this man. He was sitting in his respective chair almost as if he were one with it, his hand simply resting against a table that separated the two of you, while his eyes gazed forward without a specific focus.

There wasn't exactly anything obscure about him. There was nothing on the surface that made him stick out from the rest; in fact, he was probably the most generic-looking person here.

He was just a man in a mere black suit and matching tie, though there was something that made it increasingly difficult for your eyes to stray.

And apparently keeping your mouth shut too.

“It's Higuruma, isn't it?”

It seemed to take a few seconds for the sound to register in his ears. Or, more so, the fact that it was directed at him if the words weren't enough. So a moment passed, he blinked, and eventually his head began to turn in your direction.

It was a lazy movement, one that soon revealed his other hand to be resting against his chin while the hook of a finger pressed into the space beneath his bottom lip. If he had glasses on, his eyes would be peering right over them, startled yet tired enough that they could barely be seen.

The man before you hummed, a deep sound that grumbled within his throat until his lips had finally decided to part. “I don't believe we've met before.”

His voice was pretty much what you were expecting it to be: lacking interest, flat, and a tad accusatory.

It was paired with this furrowed eyebrow, which created a light look of confusion, either simply because of the sudden conversation or the fact that it was with someone he hadn't paid much attention to beforehand.

To others, it may have made them uneasy. Filled them with a regret just for opening their mouth in the first place. But not for you. In fact, it had you finally settling into your seat.

“No, actually, I overheard that, uh, Itadori kid talking about your previous... interaction,” you explained, trying to use a new tone in hopes of loosening him up and making it clear that you were just wanting to talk. However, there was barely even a reaction.

A muscle in his face had slightly twitched in response to the phrasing, but otherwise he was still. He just stared back at you with those blank eyes.

He looked to be thinking, which helped relieve some of the tension, though in reality, it didn’t seem like he was one for conversing. At least not right now, anyway, and it should’ve made you turn away. It should’ve shut your mouth and made you go find somewhere else to bother. I mean, you had learned quite a few names by now. 

But the more you looked back at the so-called Higuruma, the more questions began to pile high up inside your brain. And it was only a matter of time before one would decide it was right to spill through your lips.

“Okay, look, I'm sorry, but I really need to.” You huffed out a breath, letting your feet fully plant against the ground as your torso twisted towards the man for proper delivery. “Can I ask you a question?”

There was a speck of hesitance that appeared within his gaze once it focused back on you, but nevertheless, “Go ahead." He relented, his tone enough of a warning that this was either going to continue or finish this conversation all together.

“Did you really take a bath with your clothes on?”

When the question settled for a moment, Higuruma leaned back a little, allowing a full view of you into his vision before he challenged, “Is it that unbelievable?”

“Well... I can't say that I've thought of doing it myself.”

“Exactly,” he stated without missing a beat, and it stilled your body. Your lips stayed apart for a moment, attempting to find the right words while he continued to stare into your soul. “So you just woke up one day and decided to bathe fully clothed?”

You blinked at him. He blinked right back. “Pretty much.”

Within the next few seconds, you found yourself sort of mirroring the way he sat. Like all the care you had on keeping up some form of appearance just went right out of the window.

And though a string of words failed to encompass your reaction to his experiment, it seemed that whatever expression was on your face was enough to entice a further explanation.

“Not to disappoint,” Higuruma had begun through a slight strain, somehow sinking even further into the chair until the back of his head was planted against the top rail. “But truthfully, I was only trying to do something I normally wouldn't.”

“That's all.”

Never in your life have you been more curious about a singular man. He hadn't done anything crazy; I mean, at some point, you must have had that same thought. So what the hell was it? Why was there an urge to keep this conversation going?

“And… how did that feel?” 

At this point, Higuruma's eyes had fallen closed, getting tired of staring up at the same boring ceiling, and basked in the growing silence from the fewer sorcerers. “Damp... though I must say it was better than I thought it would be.”

The only response you could think of was this barely audible hum. It was the easiest conclusion, seeing as it would acknowledge the comment while buying you time to figure out what exactly to say next. But it was rather challenging.

This whole scenario was just strange to you—something you probably couldn't even dream up if you tried. Yet here you were in the real world, having the most entertaining conversation with a man who you most likely wouldn't get the chance to if it weren't for the fact that both of you were sorcerers.

“You know, I didn't think I was going to get along with a lawyer.” you spoke up after a moment of silence, and Higuruma sucked air into his nose. His head lolled to the side, a movement fulfilled with somehow less energy than before. “That obvious?” he questioned, which in turn had you raising your eyebrows.

“What—that you're a lawyer?” you attempted to clarify, properly meeting his heavy gaze just in time to see his short nod. “You're the only one in here dressed in a full fancy suit; it was either that or you were a member of the men in black.”

It wasn’t entirely visible, but you swore the next time you blinked that the corner of his mouth that you could see sort of quirked upward. It wasn't a full smile; it had barely even created that little crevice, though it got accentuated by a huff that slightly shook his body. 

And then it faded: “Are you going to ask about my abilities too, then?”

“No, no, I got the jist,” you waved off initially, noting the way the question drained all the expressiveness from his face. “Honestly, I was more interested in the bath thing anyway, but now that you mention it, it must've taken you a while to master a thing like that.”

Higuruma hummed again, his gaze becoming unfocused once again as he started to search through his recollections. “I believe... It's been about twelve days.”

If it weren't for the statement itself, the nonchalant delivery would have also caused your eyes to widen in the way that they did. “What?” Your body turned as much as it could until your knee knocked into the crooked coffee table. The man before you remained unfazed.

“Twelve days—forget being a sorcerer; you're a damn magician, Higuruma!” you insisted, trying so hard to keep your voice at a minimum level while he lazily began to push himself to sit up straight. “Is it really that impressive?”

Your eyebrows were completely furrowed this time, your gaze narrowing on the man in disbelief. “There are some people who get their abilities at birth, and they can still not have them under control no matter what age they reach.”

“But that would also depend on the effort they put into doing so in the first place, if any,” Higuruma countered without missing a beat, though the conviction layering his voice faltered when he continued, “I… just got that chance of getting something that wasn't much different from my usual job.”

“Still, you managed to understand it—in what, a little more than a week? And it’s already at the point that you can just fully use it?” you reminded him almost at the same speed that he had, “I mean, even for a lawyer, that's got to be at least notable.”

The rest of his face may have been void of any emotions, but those eyebrows weren’t fooling anyone. His mind was moving. What wasn’t apparent, however, was in which direction it was doing so.

Higuruma may have been new to the world of sorcery, but this wasn’t something he thought was part of it.

Your genuineness, your curiosity, that look on your face—that was anything but the disgust he had seen in his own eyes. For once, he was face-to-face with something he couldn't solve right off the bat.

“How long did it take you?” He finally spoke up after a moment, and it seemed that both of you were equally unsure if the change of subject was due to it being uncomfortable or if he was now the one to be genuinely curious.

Now it was your turn to lean back a little. “Truthfully,” you started, averting your gaze for pretty much the first time since this entire interaction had begun. “I don't think mine is story-worthy, to be honest.”

Higurumas brow twitched upward. “How come?”

“Well,” You took in a breath, “not everyone has eventful lives. It’s as simple as that, really. In a world with a multitude of different abilities, there is bound to be a plethora of expectations and disappointments.” you stated with a light shrug, “Besides, I'm kinda tired of the whole 'introducing people's abilities before themselves'.”

“Isn’t that a little contradictory?” he inquired, and the defensiveness beat your urge to laugh. “What? No-- You were the one who willingly confirmed what you could do. I was only asking about–”

“The bath thing,” Higuruma affirmed before you could. “Yeah, yeah, I remember.” The look he gave you was one that had a grin fighting to take over your lips. It may have been filled with some annoyance, further concluded by a slight shake of his head. But it wasn’t the bad kind.

“Listen,” you began, trying to regain that seriousness so that you could get back to your point, even if it faltered. “All I’m saying is that we have every other day to discuss our abilities, man, but right now we have the chance to just... sit and talk about anything but that.”

That feeling of defensiveness was back, no matter its battle with amusement. And this time it was on a level that had you crossing your arms over your chest, as if it would do anything. “Then what do you have in mind?” Higuruma questioned, simply watching you complete your movement.

Your lips parted immediately for some reason. It was like your mind had pre-prepared some form of comeback as it got ready to let the words roll off your tongue… but they barely even formed into a sound. It was more like a slight croak, in all honesty. You paused. 

“... I didn't think that far."

For the first time in the minutes that you had known this man, the corners of his mouth had finally, and visibly, curled. 

He looked at you, his smile begging to grow further and further, to the point that he started biting it down. 

It was sort of unusual to see. Most of the time you looked at him, he had this blankness that latched to his face in a way that made it almost look embedded into the skin. There wasn’t really any difference in expression; it was more the movement of muscles. 

Yet now, whatever he was showing had almost reached his eyes, and it sat very nicely.

“What?” you half breathed out, a sort of nervous laugh breaking through your lips despite most of your face being screwed up in confusion. Higuruma waved a hand lazily and said, “Nothing. It's nothing; you're just…”

“It's all just been a little interesting,” he finally confessed, and though you were sure of its meaning, the phrasing put a crack in your amusement. “In a good way or a bad way?” you quizzed with a lighter tone, settling back into the chair, which never actually relieved the tension from your spine.

Higuruma shook his head once more before his gaze shifted to find your own. That previous spike of enjoyment seemed to use up the last bit of energy he had for the day as his face slowly reverted back to its usual state.

“It's good now, I think…” he started, dragging out the ending word, and it wasn’t until he lowered his chin that you realised he was gesturing in your direction. He was asking for your name. You hadn’t told him your name?

“Oh… Oh, just call me, L/n.” you informed quickly, trying to hide the confusion that had made itself known once more while the man before you simply nodded. “L/n,” he repeated quietly before continuing in a fuller voice. “Well, I hope your first impression of me wasn’t as bad as it sounds in my head,”

The slight grimace dusting over his face had you huffing out a laugh in seconds. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that any time soon, Higuruma,” you insisted, letting that smile take its rightful place on your lips to further prove it. 

And though it took a moment of looking at each other, he finally had a reason to do it too.

“Not at all.”

[lyrring]

Do you have any tips for a young artist?

okay GOOD QUESTION so I'm gonna just start typing about some things I wish I had known as a young artist and keep adding to the draft of this answer as I think of things. LOL.

Advice I'm definitely qualified to give young artists:

1) If you are primarily an artist that draws humans or humanoid characters, I need you to internalize this very important fact: There is NO race, shape, type of body, etc. that you are 'unable' to draw. Y'all it is 2023 and Twitter is a cesspool of idiots running around INSISTING that they simply "can't draw black people", "can't color dark skin", or that "black people don't fit into my style."

But you, young artist anon, YOU know better now! Go tell all your friends! Spread the good news! There is no fundamental inability to include diversity in the subjects of your art--there is only unwillingness to learn.

Because that's the thing--a lot of people who say these kinds of silly things will also say that the don't want to 'get it wrong' (I typed and deleted a whole other tangent here. lol). The important thing about approaching diversity in your art is that you are earnestly trying, respectful, and open to being corrected. Hard to go wrong that way! There are tutorials abound--research is your friend!

2) Related: encourage yourself to explore and celebrate variety as you cultivate your unique style. and DON'T SKIMP ON THE FUNDAMENTALS! DO NOT!

I'm going to talk a little bit about what it was like for me when I started "really" drawing at like. 9 or 10. (cont'd.)

I got really into drawing because some friends of mine liked to draw anime in their free time in class. I centered my early drawing life around emulating a style that was strictly anime. Drawing realism or semi-realism seemed so ugly to me! I had no interest in it.

In addition, I came away with a message that harmed my self-esteem greatly, even if I didn't know it at the time: black people don't look good in an anime style. You just can't do it!

So I never tried to. I had a narrow focus, and I was reluctant to explore outside of it. If I'm being honest with myself, I hamstrung myself pretty hard by not being open to exploring a variety of styles. I also thought that the fundamentals of art (principles of lighting, color, shape, and the human figure, etc.) were a waste of time for me to study up on. I knew what I wanted my art to look like--pretty anime pictures! Lol.

All of the above is why I don't think I actually started to get "good" at art until September of 2019, roughly a trillion years after I started to draw. I know that because of those art summary memes, lol. Here, for reference:

tumblr compressed the image to shit, so you'll have to take my word for it, but yeah! lol.

Anyways, the point is this:

You will go through many stylistic phases in your life as an artist. This is normal, and honestly, I'd celebrate it! Be open to any number of unlikely stylistic influences. They may take your artistic sensibilities in a direction you'd never expect. All in service of developing your unique artistic voice.

If you want to be good at what you do, you will need to create a strong base of knowledge for yourself. This is what intentional study of the fundamentals does. Get that shit in your brain while you're young!!! You will be planting the seedling of your artistic prowess in much nicer soil, and future you will thank you for it.

3) Developing artistic skill is NOT A RACE! You will hear this advice a lot, but I'd like to talk about a specific nuance that I think is important.

There are a number of reasons why it would make sense for you to think that it is, in fact, a race. For instance, there are roughly a kajillion other artists in your age range. A lot of them are on social media, cultivating a following. A lot of them will be "better" than you.

Do not get attached to the idea of being a brilliant young artist. You will not be young forever. If your idea of skill is entwined with your identity as a young person, what happens as you get older? I'll tell you: You start to see more and more people who are way more talented than you, and at least five years younger, and it can really really hurt you because you have not been set up for success with the right mindset. Your pride and joy was not being a creator--it was being a young creator.

Being an artist, especially in the age of social media (jesus, i sound so old) is an emotional investment as well as a practical, skill-based one. If you do not take care of yourself emotionally, if you do not approach creating art and posting it online with the right mindset, you will destroy yourself. Worst case, you end up bitter and hating art altogether.

If you are able to remain reasonably detached from social media response in general--great! That bodes well for you. But that's a skill, like anything else, so it's much more likely that the way your art is received on social media will affect you.

If you are very young, say, in your teens, and your art is exemplary, you will probably receive a lot of comments about this! They might be astonished that you, at so young an age, are so advanced in your skill. It is GREAT to be proud of yourself for accomplishing so much at a young age, don't get me wrong. Feels nice! But just like you will be advised not to let mean comments go to your head, you need to be thoughtful about how you receive comments that praise you for your age specifically. You need to be firm in the understanding that your age is not what makes your art exceptional. Your art is exceptional because YOU made it and because YOU honed your skills!

Beyond that, stuff that you probably already know: comparison to your artistic peers can be very encouraging and motivating; conversely, it can also be stressful and lead to unfortunate emotional spirals. You know yourself best--engage with or steer clear of comparison according to your comfort. You're not on your friend's artistic journey. You're on your own one. This is a very cursory thought on the topic of comparison, but I don't think I could offer you anything you don't already know about it, y'know?

4) This one... I'm gonna try to get across a very specific point. My point is this: Know what success looks like to you, and be honest with yourself.

The definition of 'success' may evolve for you as you develop, but I don't think it's ever too early to have a frank conversation with yourself about what it means for you, specifically, to be a successful artist.

Do you want to develop the skill to draw or create a specific idea in particular? Do you want a kajillion followers on instagram? Do you want to build a portfolio that will get you into a specific creative industry? Do you want to cultivate a steady stream of commissioners? Do you just want to relax and get ideas out of your head? And any other infinite goals.

Obviously I'm saying this without placing a value judgement on anyone's definition of artistic success. This is a highly personal sort of thing.

The reason I encourage this is because it can provide additional direction to a young artist, for whom the world is an oyster. Different enduring goals will require slightly different approaches to art as a field. This goal may inform what you draw, what medium you use, your higher education & career plans, where you choose to post your art (if at all), how much effort you must invest in building a brand for yourself, the role of social media in your life as an artist, the kinds of artists you devote energy to being peers with, etc. Hope that makes sense!

Anyways, I hope this advice is helpful. I'm always happy to answer other questions related to this sort of thing. Go forth, young artiste--I believe in you!

[gallusrostromegalus]

I love everything you are doing with Orihime, if it's not too much troble, I wanted to hear more of what she does when she get kidnapped. Also did Rukia try anything when she got sentenced to death for bulshit crimes? It's been forever since I read the manga, so I don't remember what rukia was feeling exactly during this time, if she accepted the whole thing bc she has spent way too much time in the soul society that she just didn't see it how much bulshit it was or something else, or if it was just your standard damsel in distress thing

Rukia behaves in the calm, rational but firm way you'd expect out of a seated officer, especially a lieutenant that earned her position through hard work and demonstration after demonstration that she could be trusted with such a position.

...Byakuya, on the other hand, was appointed to his position by birthright as the latest scion of a long but narrow line of people who retained their power by violence as social standing. So when Byakuya experiences the psychotic crisis of "the people you respect the most want the person you love the most dead", the coinflip of his emotions lands on tails in AEIWAM.

*****

"...To Death?" She asked, staring at Renji.

"Yeah." He winced, shifting uncomfortably.

"...For a Misdemeanor Infraction that, per code 3.15.27846 sub-section 42-4, carries a MAXIMUM penalty of a month's suspension without pay while a performance review is conducted, and, pending the review, possible termination of my job, not my whole person?" She continued.

"...Um. Yeah, yeah that's the official rules per the Shingami Legal Manual." Said Renji. "It's real fuc- it's very peculiar and I'm honestly not sure what to make of it. Also, when did you learn to quote the manual like-"

"I'm a Goddamn Lieutenant, I know the law, and this stinks on ice." She glared. "I know I'm not allowed to question the orders or ask who issued them, but did you double-check that this is, in fact, what they meant to send, and didn't give you the memo for someone else or send out the wrong butterfly?"

"Um." Renji winced, pointedly studying the wall to his left. "Kuchiki-Taicho went to do that as soon as he saw the order."

Rukia blanched. "Renji. When did he leave?"

"He left for the central 46's liaison office directly from the 6th division's office when we got the order about an hour ago. I wanted to go with him, but he insisted that he could handle it and that you should get the news from me rather than a stranger."

"Abarai Renji." She spoke, voice low and dangerous. "Do you remember what happened the first day I came home from the 13th division boot camp with that shiner?'

"Yeah, Kuchiki-taicho broke into Ukitake-taicho's house with Senbonsakura at 2AM because he thought someone had hit yo-" Renji laughed then stopped. "-Oh."

"You let my brother, the absolute last person you can expect to behave in a rational and restrained manner to any perceived threats to my person, go off to visit someone who just issued an order for my extermination? UNSUPERVISED?" She growled.

Renji stood, paralyzed in wide-eyed horror. "I. uh. I gotta go prevent some treason." he sputtered, before bolting from the room.

***** "I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked uuuuuup-" Gin hissed under his breath as he ran through the maze of buildings that made up the central government's compound. "Sure Gin! Keep feeding him spiritual power Gin! It'll fix everything Gin! No way he's going to cause a massive inter-dimensional destabilization event Gin!"

He turned the corner to the central 46's liaison office, just to the side of the sealed gate, and sprinted for the small office at the base of the tower all Hell butterflies issued from, where the Gate's security guard and the Liaison worked.

"Hey guys sorry to burst in here but it's kind of an Emergen... cy." Gin shouted and then sputtered as something warm splashed underfoot. He looked down to find that the previously-beige carpet of the Liaison's office was now a deep and unpleasantly wet crimson. Behind him, there was a faint creak as the unsealed and unguarded gate swayed lightly in the breeze.

"Oh." Gin realized, wilting. "I'm in deep shit."

[anawrites3]

I'm thinking about blind Dick today, about how he'd lost his sight during one of the missions and there was nothing anyone could do to help him. He was so mad about this at first, fucking furious. Not only he's not able to protect the city anymore, he needs help doing the most simple everyday things now.

Alfred helped him put his clothes on right; Tim helped him out with eating because he fucking needed help with that too; Jason read to him because listening to TV just made him want to throw the damn thing out of the window; Damian was a warm presence, always at his side that held his hand and lead him through the Manor so he won't walk into things, and Bruce... Bruce was there somewhere.

Dick was trained for it, he screamed to himself, to be able to fight without his senses but this... this was so much different. He couldn't listen for his opponent's breath, he couldn't focus on the sound of their steps - none of that was useful, he was still putting his shirts backwards, he was missing the food on his plate, he was fucking useless and no amount of Bruce's training from before could change that.

More than once, Dick's siblings had to endure his outbursts, his screaming, crying and throwing things. It was a hard time for all of them. Dick just felt so helpless all the time, useless and that made him furious. So many things he won't be able to do anymore, he won't perform on a trapeze ever again...

It took a few months, of living in the Manor with his family helping him every day, of having a new life without being Nightwing, when Dick just accepted his fate. Because, let's be honest, there was nothing he could do. Being angry and yelling wouldn't help any of them and only made things worse so he slowly started to accept the fact that he was blind now.

He learned to live without his eyes.

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

Slade opened the window and slipped inside the apartment without making a sound. The place changed a bit from the last time he was there but not enough to make it a problem for him, even with the bedroom enveloped entirely in darkness.

Dick was sitting on the couch in living room, in front of the turned off TV and didn't even look in Slade's direction when he walked past the door. He was looking down instead, at the knitting needles he was holding, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was kind of cute, honestly. Did Grayson hope to fight him with one of those things, in a way of greeting?

"Long time no see, little bird." Slade purred out, taking a few steps closer. "Did you miss me?"

Dick's head shot up abruptly, just like Slade knew he would, but instead of looking at him, those blue eyes just flicked in his general direction.

Slade frowned. It wasn't that dark in there.

"Slade... You're back." Dick breathed out. He wasn't as quite excited about it as Slade expected him to be.

"I am. Aren't you happy to see me, little bird?"

Something about his words made Dick's hands clench on the needles just slightly. Dick barely moved his hands but it was still enough for Slade to notice.

"Now is not a good time." Dick said instead of answering his question.

"Oh? We haven't seen each other for almost a year and that is how you greet me?" Slade shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Where are your manners, boy?"

They weren't exactly dating but Slade expected Dick to be a little bit more optimistic about his return. They didn't put any label on what they were doing and Slade was comfortable with that - they simply fucked and annoyed each other on every possible occasion, with a lot of flirting and too-friendly touches that Dick loved to initiate. It was weird to see Dick just sit there instead of jumping him right there right now.

Slade knew that this contract would last a few months, knew that it could get even longer were there any complications - and he told Dick exactly so when he was leaving. "Good" he said then, straddling Slade's naked body with a grin, "we'll finally get some peace in the city". He didn't seem the slightest bit upset about it, maybe except the whining about the fact that he'll miss the sex.

Slade didn't usually take on contracts that long but it was well-paid and on the other side of the globe, and he almost considered it a vacation. They didn't contact each other during that time but it was hardly the first time something like that happened. It was the first time, however, when Dick wasn't happy to see him after he came back from the job.

"Maybe things changed during this year." Dick forced out and Slade's grin slipped completely off his lips.

"Yeah? And what changed exactly?"

"Maybe you're not welcome here anymore."

Slade barked a surprised laugh at that, "Kid, when was I ever welcome? Isn't that what made it so exciting, what made you run back to me again and again? You fucking a mercenary right under your daddy's nose?"

Dick swallowed with an effort and Slade focused on the way his Adam's apple bobbed.

"That's not it." Dick insisted. He looked almost desperate to convince Slade of that and Slade took a few steps closer to him, his boots soundless on the cheap floor.

"Then what is it, Dick?" he murmured softly. "Tell me. If you're worried about Bats being around, he's not, I checked."

"That's -" Dick started before shaking his head. "No. I don't care about Bruce. You should go."

"Maybe I should. But I don't think I will."

Dick still wasn't looking directly at him. In fact, now that Slade walked over to the couch, Dick's eyes were pointed more at his chest than at his face, as if he didn't even notice that Slade got closer.

"Something is wrong. Something happened when I was gone and you're trying to get rid of me instead of telling me what it was."

"Everything is- I mean, nothing is wrong." Dick stuttered, putting the half-made sweater away. "But it doesn't matter anyway. I want you out of my home, Slade."

Slade crossed the rest of the distance in two steps and reached out to gently cup Dick's cheek in his hand. But Dick didn't push his hand away or nuzzle the palm like he would usually do. No, Dick flinched violently, as if he didn't even see the touch coming.

"What the fuck is happening?" Slade growled. "Tell me, Grayson, before I get really mad."

"No. No, get out." Dick's voice trembled. "Get out, get out, get-"

Slade clenched his fingers on Dick's chin and forced his head higher. The kid was trying to fight him, digging his nails into Slade's wrist, kicking at him and doing his best to pull away but Slade was stronger and didn't let him move.

That's when Slade saw it. Saw the way Dick's eyes weren't focusing on anything in particular, the way their blue color was dull and empty.

"No... Dick-" he breathed out, feeling as if someone stole all the air from his lungs.

"Shut up!" Dick yelled and punched at Slade's chest. "Shut up, get out of here!"

"You're blind." Slade said, as if saying it outloud would make him understand it. As if that would make it easier to accept the truth, that Dick Grayson was blind now, that he got injured while Slade was away on a job. "You're-"

"I know that, you fucking son of a bitch!" Dick roared. "Believe me, you don't need to fucking tell me!"

"What happened?" Slade demanded but Dick just pushed at his chest again.

"I'm not telling you shit-!"

"You are fucking blind, Grayson, and you didn't even think about calling me!" He screamed. No, they weren't dating but they were close enough that it's the least Slade would expect from him in this kind of situation. He ignored the weird feeling inside his chest. "What, did you think I wouldn't ever find out?!"

Dick started to scream and curse in Romani and Slade let him, forcing himself to calm down a bit. There was no use in screaming - usually their argument would turn into a physical fight but Dick couldn't see. Slade couldn't even take him to the rooftop without the fear of Dick falling out of the edge during one of his flashy moves.

It took some time but finally Dick calmed down enough to stop yelling. His breath was fast and heavy, as if he ran for hours and at least he stopped trying to push Slade away. His arms fell down suddenly, as if all his strength abandoned him at once.

Slade waited a few more seconds before asking again, "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter." Dick spat out, shaking his head. "Nothing you can change now."

"Doesn't matter." Slade echoed. "Tell me. Tell me what happened, who did this to you. Who do I need to kill?"

Dick laughed but it turned into a sob pretty quickly. Slade wrapped his arms around Dick and pressed him close to his chest, just letting his little bird cry for a moment.

"Fuck you." He said at last, voice hoarse. "I was doing so well about it too."

"I'm sorry." Slade murmured. The words held a lot of weight and they let the silence envelop them for a few more minutes.

"I don't even know what are you doing here." Dick whispered. "I'm just another fuck for you, why do you care?"

"You're a lot more than just that. You're not stupid, little bird, I know you know that."

Slade wasn't able to count how many times they tried to kill each other. Dick had a bunch of scars created by Slade's blade, and if it weren't for his healing factor he would have a lot of marks left by Dick's weapons as well. If nothing else, that alone made their relationship so much deeper than just occasional fucking.

"Not a bird anymore." Dick curled his fingers into the material of Slade's shirt. "I can't fly now. Not with not being able to see."

"You're my little bird nonetheless." Slade argued, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Stupid..."

"Mm. Tell me."

"...I don't want to talk about it." Dick's confession was so quiet Slade barely heard it, even with his enhanced senses. "Not now at least. I- I don't -"

"It's alright." Slade murmured into his hair. "Alright, it's okay, I won't push. But I'll be here if you decide you want to tell me."

He had a lot of questions. What happened? Who dared to touch Dick? Where was Batman at the time and why the fuck did he let that happen? How long has it been since Dick lost his sight? And more, a whole lot more. But Slade was a patient man and he was going to wait as long as it took.

Slade still remembered what it felt like when Adeline shot out his eye - he didn't blame Dick in the slightest for reacting the way he did. Dick had to feel even worse than that, with not being able to see at all. But Slade was here now and he was going to help and make it better, however he can. Even if it'll be just a little bit, Slade wanted to be by Dick's side.

Maybe what they had was so much more than simply fucking and annoying each other on every possible occasion. Maybe they should talk about it soon. Maybe. But not now.

Right now, the most important thing was that-

"I'll be here, little bird." Slade whispered as Dick pressed his face against his neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

/ / / /

Wow that was something for sure! I apologize if the pacing is all over the place, I had a lot of thoughts for this one 🥰

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed please consider [buying me a coffee] 💕 It means a lot!!

[itsclydebitches]

for all that it's very clear RWBY took influence from a lot of anime, the writers sure don't seem to have learned much of anything from it. i'm watching the redub of the classic sailor moon anime right now, and it's insane to me how much better this thirty-year-old anime packed with filler was at things like character arcs and believably redeeming villains and having a main character that is at once childish and yet a great leader who, when the chips are down, could talk some of the worst evils in the universe down from their plans.

if anyone could talk salem out of her plans for world annihilation by just being able to love her, it's usagi tsukino.

Right? Man, I'd pay for a high-budget, animated version of that crossover lol.

That's one of the big arguments of the Why RWBY is Disappointing vid though, using Cowboy Beebop as an example, if I remember correctly. There's no doubt that RWBY has been influenced by a number of classic series, but deliberately mimicking something that worked in another show doesn't guarantee success, particularly if you don't understand why it worked in the first place. I'm constantly emphasizing that stories are whole products made up of a thousand smaller pieces, like a puzzle or a patchwork quilt, and simply slapping one piece down because it looks good in another story isn't enough. You have to carefully build everything around that piece so that it fits into the unified whole. Continuity, world building, characterization, setup... RWBY is very good at throwing out those "cool" moments, but it does none of the work ahead of time (or, just as often, after the fact) to make those moments satisfying outside of the initial adrenaline rush of watching.

Plus, RWBY is over-crowded nowadays. Characters, mysteries, real world issues, and those "cool" ideas have populated like bunnies until, I think, it's easy for a lot of fans to just get swept up in the spectacle of it all. The simpler your story is, the less there is to hide behind, which is why I think a lot of manga like Sailor Moon still rings true 30+ years later. If you do right by your core concepts and prove to the reader (often subconsciously) that your storytelling skills are strong, it will resonate even after new generations have different expectations in their media, or these ideas have become "cliche" in wake of that initial popularity. If we go with a food comparison (always my favorite lol) Sailor Moon makes me think of something like good home cooking. Looking at it now it's simple, it's straightforward, it has some technical flaws, but the comparatively low number of ingredients have all been treated stunningly well and there is an insane amount of love poured into the dish. Meanwhile, later seasons of RWBY feel like a semi-successful restaurant serving a special so long it took the server a week to fully memorize it, rattling off an absurd number of ingredients and fancy techniques used until you're not even sure what the dish is supposed to be anymore. Some diners go, "Wow, what an amazing, clearly high-end dish! And they've included this super rare ingredient which means it must be good." Meanwhile, others are going, "... Honestly, that sounds like Too Much. I'd have preferred a simple, well-done pasta." And all the while the restaurant—which is pretty big and popular now, garnering a lot of critical attention—is trying to pass this complicated, fancy-for-the-sake-of-fancy dish off as the product of a humble, mom-and-pop establishment. No, you used to serve that kind of food: simple, technically flawed in a lot of ways, but with so much love poured into the dish that most diners didn't care. Now people suspect that your chefs are miserable and we definitely know they're overworked, so even if that insane dish would have tasted great to certain pallets, it was doomed before it even left the kitchen.

[static-scribe]

A Night To Remember | Ticci Toby Oneshot

HI! I hope you enjoy this fic! This is my first time writing for Toby and my first fic post here! I'm sorry if this feels out of character in anyway, I'm still working on how I want to portray him!

-

In times like this, you have to think to yourself, “What the fuck did I do to get here?” And the answer to that question is relatively simple; it's not what you did to get here, it's what other people did to get you here. Specifically, it's what your creepy-ass roommate did to get you both here. 

Where is here exactly though? Well to answer that lovely question, here is attempting to bury a body in the middle of the woods at 3:57 am. This was honestly not what you were expecting to be doing on your night off from work but you can’t go back now. Not when you had already killed your roommate. Oh did I forget to mention you had killed your roommate?

It wasn’t your fault at all, it really wasn’t. You couldn’t control the fact that you woke up to your roommate standing at the foot of your bed watching you sleep, knife in hand. Blame it on the tiredness but you just couldn’t control yourself when you saw that, and you admittedly let your anger get the best of you. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until you had already choked the… well you wouldn’t say poor man out. 

Every sign pointed to the fact that you might be crazy, but you weren’t crazy. At the least, you were way too calm about this situation. You seemed to be learning many new things about yourself tonight. Like the fact you were strong enough to choke someone out, or like the other fact you were way less guilty than you probably should've been. Maybe reevaluating yourself after all of this was over would be the best plan.

The sound of a branch snapping freezes you in place. You're like a deer in the headlights. You dart your eyes around trying to find the source of the sound but come up empty. Not knowing whether to run or not, you just stay there frozen. Someone had seen you and you're probably royally fucked. There was no way they wouldn’t tell the police. Your genius plan of hiding the body and reporting him missing in a couple of days was rapidly falling apart in front of you.

Footsteps could be heard to the right of you. Whipping your head in that direction you make eye contact with a guy who was a bit taller. Upon seeing your frightened face he grabbed his stomach and hunched over laughing. You were angered and slightly embarrassed by this and couldn’t help but yell out, “What’s so funny?” You tried to sound confident and calm but you kind of just sounded way more whiny than you wanted.

The man said nothing in response. Instead, he opted to laugh a bit more before gathering his composure. As his laughs died down you felt your face flush with embarrassment. What was this guy's problem? You wanted to give him a piece of your mind, but as soon as you went to speak you were cut off by him beginning to say something. “So this is your first time, huh?” He asked while walking closer to you. The stranger leaned down to get a closer look at your face. He was expecting an answer from you.

You took a large step back from him to create some distance. You wanted to yell at him, but all that came out was an exasperated, “What?” Who the fuck would phrase it like that? Apparently, this asshole does.  

He said nothing in response to your shouting. You watched him carefully as he made his next moves. He approached the body laying on the ground, lightly tapping at it with his foot. His head turned towards the shovel that lay on the ground a short distance off. “Yeah, you’ve def-definitely never done this before.” He started with a twitch of his neck followed by a clicking sound. “You’re lucky I showed up to help you or you’d be fuckin’ screwed.” He laughed, elongating the last word slightly. This guy was really starting to get on your nerves. 

He grabbed the shovel off the ground and put it between his backpack and his back. After making sure it was secure he turned back to look at you, “I’m Toby, by the way.” He stated before he reached down to grab the legs of your now former roommate. This was quite the turn of events. You hadn’t expected him to be enthusiastically helping you but he was, so you probably shouldn’t complain about it. 

You approached the other side of your roommate’s body and grabbed him under the shoulders. Looking forward at Toby, who was staring back at you as if waiting for you to say something. You realized he was probably waiting for you to give him your name so you guys weren’t just nameless strangers. Without another thought you offer him your name to which he nods in approval. 

With little word from each other, you head off in a direction carrying the body while Toby leads. You have little clue as to where you were going, but Toby seemed to know the forest pretty well. 

It was painfully silent for a while. The only sounds being made were the crickets, your footsteps, and the occasional clicks and small words that came from Toby. You figured he probably had a tic disorder and that it would be rude to question it, so you didn’t. 

Eventually, the silence became too much to bear and you had spent who knows how long racking your brain for something to say. You eventually settled on what was probably the most awkward thing for someone to say in a moment like this but that didn’t really matter. “So…” You started, catching Toby’s attention. “You do stuff like this often?” 

Toby laughed a little but this time it was different. He wasn’t particularly laughing at you. Well, he kind of was, but he was more so laughing at what you said. You still felt a bit embarrassed at your last statement. God, why were you so awkward? “To an-” His speech was quickly interrupted by his head slamming to the left side followed by a click. He let out an angry huff before continuing, “To answer your question, I kinda have a knack for these kinds of things.” He chuckled as though he was deeply proud of himself. 

The way he talked so casually about it freaked you out a bit. It wasn’t really normal to have such knowledge on hiding bodies nor was it normal to help someone you don’t know hide a body with such enthusiasm as he had. Like you were one to judge though when you were literally doing a piss-poor job of hiding a body. You were just going to dig a shallow hole, dump the body, and call it a night before he showed up. If anything, you should be thankful he showed up to help you and that he knew what he was doing. 

“That’s pretty cool.” You told him rather awkwardly before the pair of you fell back into silence. You didn’t really know what to say, and he wasn’t talking to you much either. Toby seemed focused on getting to your destination, so you didn’t want to bother him, lest you accidentally piss him off by saying the wrong thing.

Eventually, the dense woods turned into a small-sized clearing. Toby let go of his half of the body and looked to you expectantly, you got the point and let go yourself. “Okay,” He started with a clap, almost seeming excited for what was to come. “Drag the body over there and start digging a hole,” Toby pointed towards the middle of the clearing, “and I will g-gather what we need to get rid of it!” You could tell from his tone that he was likely smiling at whatever he was thinking, but you couldn’t see due to the mask covering his mouth. 

You didn’t argue with him though and did as you were told. You spent the next hour or more just digging while he zipped around grabbing sticks and branches then dropping them off beside you when he had a sizable bunch. You wished you had energy like his. 

At some point, Toby had sat his backpack down beside you and taken his jacket off before tying it around his waist. Maybe all this moving around was making him hot. It was at this moment you decided to look at him and get a good feel for his appearance. He wore a black turtleneck under his jacket, yellow goggles over his eyes, a mask over his mouth, dark-colored jeans, and boots. You couldn’t tell what the features of his face looked like due to all the coverings and the darkness, but you could tell he was rather pale with dark brown hair that looked quite soft. 

Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed that you had completely stopped shoveling to stare at him but he did and was staring right back at you. The both of you made eye contact and you moved your gaze to the ground with a flush on your face. You had to admit from what you had seen he did have a nice body and probably a nice face to match. To say you weren’t at least slightly attracted to him would be a lie but you also knew that nothing would likely come from hiding a body together. The two of you would probably go your separate ways and you’d never see him again. Besides, you did not know anything about this man other than the fact his name was Toby, and he had a lot of experience disposing of bodies. 

When you looked back he had gone back to gathering stuff to, what you assumed, burn the body with. What other reason would he be gathering sticks for? Fetch? Of course, you guys were burning the body.

Toby jogged back with another pile of sticks and dropped them on the ground. He leaned over the hole you had dug that was around the same length as your roommate and nodded in approval. “Looks good,” He said giving you a thumbs up. 

Toby threw the body into the hole with a bit of your help. “So, you start covering the body with sticks and shit, while I get to do the fun part.” He announced, turning his body towards you, waiting for your next move. You weren’t particularly happy that you had to do most of the work, but then again it was your kill and not his. His helping you out was more than worth some labor. 

Making haste, you piled the sticks on top of your poor, poor roommate’s dead body. You probably didn’t go as fast as Toby had hoped you would because he would soon start helping you out. With the help, you guys were able to get the task done relatively quickly. 

After you were done with the sticks you looked over at Toby, expecting him to give you new instructions or to just say anything. He was squatting on the ground digging through his overly full backpack, pulling random things out, and throwing them to the side. “I know it's fucking in here.” He hisses through his teeth, his anger barely contained. His tics seem to increase in frequency and severity the longer he searches which just makes him more irritated.

Toby seems to be getting more angry the longer he searches. “Um..” You’re looking around frantically when he whips his head around to look at you, obviously frustrated that you interrupted his almost hard-to-watch search in his backpack. “Are you okay?” You ask, your eyes settling on his piercing gaze through his goggles. You both just look at each other for a moment before his head violently jerks towards his shoulder. 

“I-I’m fine.” He snaps, looking away from you and returning his attention to his half-full backpack. He lets out a frustrated groan into his hands. You watch his next moves carefully as he grabs the bag by the bottom and just dumps its contents on the ground. That's one way to solve his problem.

Toby seems to become more content when he finds what he was looking for, which happened to be a can of lighter fuel. It was rather large and hard to miss, but you weren’t going to comment on that wanting to avoid another bad reaction. His rapid breathing slows as he calms down which makes you feel less worried about him. 

You approach him from the side and crouch down to help him put his stuff back into his bag. He nods his head at you but doesn’t say anything while you help him. To his right is a small pile of things that include lighter fuel and a couple boxes of matches. 

As you were picking stuff up you caught sight of a camera. Maybe that could help ease into conversation with Toby who hadn’t said much of anything all night. You wanted to know more about him and what was on his mind but you understood his obvious distrust of you. “You take pictures?” You asked, looking over at him with a small smile on your face, almost encouraging him to talk. 

Toby seemed to perk up some at your question and quickly looked over at you. He brought a hand to the back of his neck as he looked around awkwardly, his previous confidences seemingly buried at the mention of himself. “Yeah, sometimes… I mostly just take pictures of things I find interesting.” His tone was almost as awkward as his body language.

“That’s cool!” You smile at him, extending your hand to offer the camera. “What kind of things do you find interesting to photograph?” You ask. Toby takes the camera before standing, slinging the now full backpack over his shoulder, and offering you a hand up. 

Taking his hand, Toby pulled you up onto your feet. “Anyways, I take pictures of stuff like nature, food…” He pauses while looking around, “And y’know…my victims.” He laughs at his words, clearly amused by the fact.

Toby only seemed to become more amused at your facial expression. You hadn’t even realized you were pulling a face until he started laughing more. “Really?” He asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s with the shocked face? It’s not like you haven’t killed someone before,” He said, gesturing toward the hole. Even you had to admit that he did have a point. 

You didn’t know what to say back to him. You couldn’t argue in your defense because there was nothing to defend there, nor could you think of anything clever. So you fell back into an awkward silence of your creation. Good job on finding a conversation topic. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” Toby said in a rather nonchalant manner “Who is this guy? Like why’d you kill him?” He asked, curiosity laced through his voice. 

“He was my roommate, and he was always kind of a creep.” You said looking at Toby who just nodded, waiting for more information. “But I always thought he was harmless until he was standing over my bed with a knife.” You finished, hoping your answer satisfied him enough to move on.

Clearly, it didn’t because he began to ask you more questions, “Yeah, and then what happened?” You really didn’t want to go into this, but since he was helping dispose of him then you guessed you owed him some explanation.

“So I strangled him?” You said but it came out more like a question. As though you weren’t quite sure of your answer. It was still hard to wrap your head around the fact you had taken someone’s life.

Toby’s only response was to pull the mask covering his mouth down and spit onto the pile, “Fuckin’ pervert.” He mumbled, quickly returning his covering into place before you could see the other side of his face. From what you saw he was rather attractive, prompting you to wonder why he covered his face to begin with.

 You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the gesture which caught Toby’s attention. “Yeah, I can be pretty funny sometimes,” He said with a slight laugh in his voice, as though he wasn’t taking what he said fully seriously. This just made you laugh more. 

It was nice to laugh. It was the first time tonight you hadn’t felt completely stressed out about potentially getting caught. Having Toby helping you was quite the stress relief, and you felt as though a heavy weight was taken off your shoulders by his presence alone. You should probably thank him after all this was over. You wished there was some way to make it up to him for his help, but you guessed a thanks was really all you could do. It’s not like they made cards that said ‘Thanks for helping me bury a body!’ 

You were so lost in thought that you admittedly got startled when he placed a hand on your shoulder. In his other hand was the can of lighter fluid that was placed in front of you. “You wanna do the honors? I mean he is your kill, not mine so...” He shook the can a little after he spoke, wanting you to take it. 

You reluctantly took it out of his hands and began to splash the flammable liquid onto the pile, slowly circling it to make sure you had as much of the body covered as possible. You had begun to feel slight excitement for what was about to happen. It wasn’t every day you made a bonfire out of some creep. 

Taking your attention off your task, you look over at Toby who can barely stand still. He was picking at his fingers while bouncing slightly, unable to contain his excitement. Based on his behavior and the contents of his backpack, it would be safe to assume that he had a bit of a passion for fire. It was kind of cute, in a rather fucked up way.

Standing across from him on the other side of the body, you shook the final contents of the can out onto the body. Toby was still picking at his fingers when you cleared your throat. He then looked up at you. “Cans empty.” You said giving it a shake for emphasis. 

“Fuck yeah!” He practically yelled, grabbing a box of matches off the ground and waving you over. 

Taking your place beside him, he grabbed around 4 matches out of the box and prepared to strike them. “You ever smelt a burning body before?” He asked in a joking manner, looking down at you. 

 “Um... I can’t say that I have.” You stated, not really seeing the point of his question. Of course, you hadn’t smelt a burning body before. What normal person has? 

He clicked his tongue at that, “Well, it ain’t pleasant, so just be prepared and try not to breathe through your nose.” He patted you on the head twice after saying that which made you stiffen up. That was a bit weird but okay.

In one quick movement, he struck the matches quickly and out burst a small flame. You watched carefully as Toby extended his arm and dropped the matches onto the pile.

With a loud ‘fwoosh’ a raging flame bloomed into life. You could feel the heat tickle at your cheeks even at the safe distance the pair of you stood from. For a burning body, it was almost beautiful.

You noticed shuffling out of the corner of your eye, looking to see what was going on. You saw Toby pulling his goggles down to hang loosely around his neck. Probably to get a view of the fire that wasn’t tinted as yellow as his lenses were. 

Not being able to help but stare, you took note of his eyes. They were chestnut brown and the way the fire bounced off of them was mesmerizing. It was almost as though the fire provided life to his eyes and so did his excitement. He was rocking slightly back and forth as a way to, what you assumed, get his excess excitement out. 

It wasn’t long before Toby noticed you staring at him and just like earlier began staring back at you. His eyes lit up in amusement and he raised his eyebrows slightly before speaking, a smirk ever-present in his voice. You may have just inflated his ego. “See something you like, sweetheart?” He said in a serious voice but burst out laughing a minute later, completely unable to handle the bullshit that just spewed from his mouth.

“You should have seen the look on your face,” He wheezed out between laughs. You, on the other hand, were profusely blushing from both being flustered and embarrassed. It couldn’t have been that funny, but he seemed to find a lot of things you did amusing enough to laugh at. 

Toby was quick to gather himself and catch his breath before slinging an arm around your shoulder with a sigh. You stiffened at the contact but said nothing. His behavior around you was getting way more casual than you expected seeing as you spent a large chunk of the night in awkward silences filled with mostly nonverbal cues. 

You guess you didn’t mind the contact too much because you did nothing to break it. You were content with this in some odd way. Nothing about this was normal nor would it create a content feeling in any sane person. There was probably something deeply wrong with your psyche yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that much. You’d deal with that another day, but as of right now, you were having what was probably the weirdest, most thrilling experience of your life.

Toby cleared his throat and removed his arm from your shoulder, freeing you from the not-so-unwanted but also not really wanted contact. Your gaze met his and for a moment your heart fluttered. 

“So, you enjoying the show?” He asked sounding almost nervous for your answer. You just nodded in response averting your eyes from his. You missed when he had his goggles on, and you couldn’t see his stupid eyes too well. 

Toby took a knee, whipping his backpack off his shoulder before rifling through his bag and pulling out his camera. He zipped up the backpack and took a seat on the ground sitting criss-cross.

Toby looked up at you and patted the ground beside him as an invitation for you to sit down beside him. Making you wonder what he was up to, but without much question you sat down beside him. His body language read as nervous while he seemed to be mustering the courage to say something important. Quite different from his previously confident demeanor. 

“Co-could I take a picture of us?” He asked, looking at you with almost pleading eyes as false confidence wavered throughout his voice. The thought made you kind of nervous, what if someone got ahold of his camera and turned it over to the police? You both would get in deep trouble which is something you didn’t want at all. 

 “I promise no one will see it!” Toby blurted out rather quickly as though he knew what you were thinking. He was picking at his fingers once more while his head jerked again. He was probably as nervous as you were from asking you such a question. “I just don’t want to forget tonight,” He sounded almost sad as he spoke which made your heart clench a little.

What did you have to lose? Other than your freedom by creating more evidence of your crime but then again there was still a chance you wouldn’t get away. There was a lot that needed to happen before you were truly free of your crimes so again, what did you really have to lose by taking one picture? The answer was nothing. 

So with a soft sigh, you gave him your answer, “Fine, but only the one.” You said trying to be stern but a slight smile pulled at the corners of your lips. He seemed happy at your approval and started fidgeting with his camera, setting up to take the picture.

This whole situation was starting to feel quite funny to you. Here you were sitting on the ground with a serial killer, burning your roommate's dead body as the sun came up, and you were about to take a selfie with said serial killer so he can remember tonight. You let out a small chuckle at the thought which catches Toby’s attention briefly, but he looks away as quickly as he looked.

You’re ripped out of your thoughts by Toby wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer so you’d fit inside the camera screen. He puts his fingers that were resting atop your shoulder into a peace sign and you flash a smile at the camera. With a click and a flash the picture is taken, and Toby is looking down at his camera happily. 

“How’d it turn out?” You asked looking over at his camera but he hides it away from you. You shoot Toby a confused look but he just shrugs before stowing it away in his backpack. 

“Don’t stress, you looked cute” He laughs a little trying to sound confident but you could see the tips of his ears and cheeks were tinged in a soft pink. It took you a moment to register what he had just said to you. Did he just call you cute? You couldn’t help but blush a little at his words.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you next time.” Next time? You sure as hell didn’t plan for there to be a next time of you hiding a body, but seeing him again did sound nice. 

Toby pushes himself up off the ground and adjusts his backpack properly onto his back. Once again he extends a hand towards you and you accept his offer for help. “What do you mean by ‘next time’? Are you expecting to hide another body?” You question him but he shrugs again.

“Y’know, next time we hang out.” He says as if it was a fact extending his hand out to you. In between his fingers was a small slip of paper with a number scrawled on it in messy but readable handwriting. It suited him. 

“You didn’t think I’d just let you go off by yourself right?” His question was less of a question and more of a statement. He was just saying stuff he thought should be obvious to you. “Also, it doesn’t have to be hiding a body. We can do whatever you want.” 

Your eyes darted across his face waiting for him to start laughing again like he was joking once more, but he didn’t laugh or show any sign of not being serious. “We like bonded and shit. You don’t just burn a body with someone and then never meet again.” He chuckled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You were stunned silent but he didn’t seem to care as he grabbed you by the wrist and started leading you in a direction, “Where are we going?” You asked, dragging slightly behind him. 

Toby stopped moving and turned around to face you, letting go of your wrist, “I’m taking you home. The woods aren’t safe for people who don’t know their way around here.” He started, observing your face for a moment before continuing. “Plus it gives us more time to hang out.” He admitted.

There it was, the real reason. He was quite the character that you had grown to enjoy being around over the last couple of hours. Maybe hanging out with him again wouldn’t be so bad. Toby took your silence as a response of understanding and began walking in the same direction he was leading you. 

The way home was filled with plenty of laughter and pleasant conversation between you and Toby. You never would have thought burning a body with someone would lead to such a strange yet genuine connection. The rational part of you screamed that becoming close to him would probably bring new, yet thrilling, situations that could put you in danger. You didn’t want to listen to the rational parts right now. You were more concerned with what your heart had to say. It ached for excitement, an excitement that only someone like Toby could bring. 

With a smile on your face, you grabbed his hand, hoping he wouldn’t mind too much. He looked over at you and just shook his head before interlocking your fingers together. 

<3

[quitealotofsodapop]

[Smokey is a protective guy at the best of times, and now that his mate is vunerable He's like a guard dog ready to snap at anyone who comes close to his little troop.]

Oof, imagine if a certain rhino tries something on Liang? Think Lao Tzu’s gonna need to find a whole new pet by the end of that chapter.

[Xiao Qi doesn't know what to expect - Bama isn't a tree, where fruit coming out?]

Ooof! I don’t think anybody is ready for that talk yet…so, they ask Peach and Plum for help. In turn those two ask their Tang and Pigsy for help…

Smokey, disbelief: Really?!

Peach: Look, Tang has the power points and Pigsy can keep him from going too in depth. Trust me, best way of keeping it PG.

[Zhu Bajie: "...I'm terrifed of that Liu'er Mihou. Any being that can get Older Brother to behave himself has power rivalling the Buddha himself."]

Honestly? Not the worst policy to have. Those LEMs do be terrifying and feral when given the chance – and they tend to woo absolute simps. XD

It’s like the ‘We support Women's Rights and Women's Wrongs!’ Except it’s Macaques.

referencing the Reborn! couple's twins + or why a pregnant monkey on a Journey is very difficult.

[Oof, imagine if a certain rhino tries something on Liang? Think Lao Tzu’s gonna need to find a whole new pet by the end of that chapter.]

A certain Rhino quickly learns that no matter the universe, SWK will turn him into minced beef for touching his mate. The Reborn! Rhino King gets sent to Lao Tzu as a handbag for touching Smokey's pregnant mate and/or their uber-powerful kids.

[Ooof! I don’t think anybody is ready for that talk yet…]

Smokey and Liang try to get a dialog going to explain to the kids where the twins are gonna come out, but they panic and try to pass the buck to another Pilgrim.

Xuanzang/Reborn!Tripitaka, also panicking: "Um. As I have taken a vow of chasitiy, I am not privy to such knowledge. Brother Bajie?" Zhu Bajie: "Hey! Just cus I like the act, doesn't mean I understand the schematics of it! Wujing reads those kind of books!" Sha Wujing: *nervously laughing and shaking his head No* Ao Lie, in horse-form: "When two beings come together and form a physical union..."

The horse has the best version of the Talk ready. Though he accidentally refers to the babies as coming out as eggs.

I love the idea of LMK! Tang being the kind of parent to have a powerpoint presentation ready for the occassion. He just wants to give the kids the straight facts.

[It’s like the ‘We support Women's Rights and Women's Wrongs!’ Except it’s Macaques.]

Oh gosh, I def can see a few of the Macaques wearing a t-shirt like that. The LMK!Macaques defintely.

Some SWKs oppose the title of "simp", but one look from their respective LEMs just proves the title further.

[1941-crowley-slut]

Rant incoming

I cannot STAND how my mom talks to me about church when she wants me to go.

For context, we obviously stopped going during covid so we were away for 2-3 years and though she watched the live broadcast every Sunday, I didn't. In fact I always deliberately left the room at that time to stay away from it. At some point I told her I don't believe anymore (honestly I remember having doubts and questions (Crowley coded lmao) since I was a kid but 11-12 is where it really just set in that I don't have that kind of faith). She didn't take ir horribly bad but told me at the time she'd like it if I still joined her at church sometimes. Which, fine. Okay.

Fast forward to when she is actually going back to church and just throws on me the news that I am going too. Doesn't ask, just tells me I'm going. And I'm pissed as fuck the whole day after that, to the point that when she asks me to find my clothes for church I actually just keep looking at my closet and want to tear everything apart. I really avoid conflicts with my mother but this one had me. I was PISSED. So when she finally asked what was going on I told her "I don't want to go". And it wasn't so much that I wasn't willing to do it for her, it's that I felt she had no regard for my beliefs and just wanted her way. A

And funnily enough, she did. Because the reponse to that was: "I know, but I'd already told you I want you to come with me sometimes. Is it so terrible, you can't even make this one little sacrifice for your mother?"

Not me being guilt tripped, but anyway. I don't remember the end of that conversation but I remember other times. Once again for context, I was in 12th grade the year that passed and it was incredibly difficult study-wise. I had 6-7 hours of school every day, then anywhere from 2-5 hours of extra studies (sometimes almost immediately) and then I also had to do homework for both school and extra studies (seperate) and a lot of it was learning things by heart, plus we had tests and exams all the time like ALL the time, some weeks I'd have 5 tests in 3 days and I was going insane. Plus on extra studies we wrote exams on Saturdays. So it was all very very hectic and mom knew that and she was very awesome for the most part, but when it came to church she just didn't. Listen. To me.

She would go "You'll come this Sunday because the next weeks will be harder for you" but the matter of the fact was, she didn't know what weeks were harder for me. She thought for xyz reasons that later it'd be worse, but in reality the times she wanted me to go i was drowning in work and getting anxiety attacks and mental breakdowns cause everything was so much. Too much. And I'd say something like "Well this week's pretty bad" and expect her to get the hint but she'd go "it's just one hour in the morning, how important is it really, you probably wouldnt even be studying then"

(Not to mention it's not really 1 hour cause I need like an hour just to wake up and get ready, then 20 minute drive, the service was either 1 or 1 and a half hours, then it was however long chatting up with all the church people, another 20 minute drive home and then I was tired and we would have lunch and I just wanted to relax and sleep etc etc. So it wasnt at all just an hour. And maybe even if I hadn't gone to church that day, it'd still be afternoon and I wouldn't have gotten started on any work. But at least I would have spent some time for myself and then would force myself to work. But anyway again)

She just does this thing where she doesn't even ask or give me the illusion of a choice. Cause the truth is that church is usually not that bad, I can deal with it, it's fine. But I hate it just because she makes me feel forced to go. If she was just like "Hey, could you come with me to church this Sunday? I'd like that" I would be much happier to go. I know she doesn't want to be by herself and that she worries about what the church peoole will think (which pisses me off as well but thats another story), I don't mind keeping her company. But I mind when she suddenly springs it on me on Saturdays that "We're going to church tomorrow" and even if I show my discomfort with it she's like "Well you have to come sometimes."

And she just she has this way that I don't understand that when she says anything related to me going to church (e.g. "Find your clothes for tomorrow to see if anything needs to be ironed"), she says it in this firm tone and so suddenly that you just even subconsciously know you have no say in this. I don't get to react to this or have an opinion, it's just something I have to do. Because she said so. And if I was to try and react, she'd circle right back to guilt-tripping me (which at this point would be really funny because I have been trying lately to help her in every way I can so it's not like "You do everything for me and I'll do this small favor for you by coming with you", I have been offering to help with chores, I've been offering to learn stuff I dont know how to do so I can help her around the house, I have been helping as far as I can. But nonetheless I know this will end badly if I try to argue)

Anyway yeah it's just. I'm tired. At first I thought it was her desperate attempt to get me back into the church, to make me believe again. Now, though I still think she clings onto some hope about that, I also believe she thinks I'm too far gone for that and really just wants me there for company and for the eyes of the world, so none of the people know I'm not a believer anymore and supposedly think of her as a failed mother.

I'd just like to be counted like an equal person in here. Especially what with reaching adulthood and all. Like she actually scolded me when I said "I'd like to go out with my friends" and waited for their approval, because she said I was just making announcements and she wants me to ask next time. Even though I was still essentially waiting for them to say yes or no, I wasn't announcing anything. And she's said this before too, I'd leave for extra studies a little earlier sometimes to go get bubble tea and I'd tell her and then she'd go "I want you to ask beforehand". Why? She wasnt even home, no one was, and I would've left like 30 minutes later anyway cause I had to, what's the big deal? Or is it just about being controlled, hm? Is it that she can't watch me be an independent person? Feels like it.

Anyway my point was I have to literally ask for everything, like with a "Can I" and a question mark and all, because "We might have something else planned" (which as I said, if they had something planned for us to do would they not tell me? And either way, if something came up I'd just tell my friends I couldn't hang out after all cause something came up and it'd be fine. But no, she insisted.) but when it comes to me she just says "You're coming" and that's it and I HATE it. I HATE IT.

If she thinks she's bringing me closer to church this way someone tell her she couldn't be more wrong.

[purplethespian]

Waiting for Permission to Be Sick - Input Requested!

So, I got officially diagnosed with two chronic conditions last week. And the doctor explained to me the details of how these conditions affect my body, and what kinds of symptoms to look out for, and what I can expect life to look like going forward. And I got prescribed meds, and given detailed instructions for when to take them and any side effects I might experience and what to do to help myself feel better if I'm not feeling well, and all of that.

And I just. Haven't done it. I've started taking some of the meds, but not all of them, and like. There's no real reason for me not to? I'm just. Not doing it. Like I've looked up some products on Etsy to have like. Emergency medical info with me so that if I randomly black out or faint again in public, someone could see me and have info know what to do. And I've been looking at pins that say "I have an invisible disability" and aaaaaaaall sorts of stuff. Basically just window shopping for my chronic illness starter kit. But it's been over a week now and I haven't bought anything, and I seem to have convinced myself that I can't start taking my meds until I have all of my Items sorted out and prepared. And like -- there are some actual reasons for this, such as my schedule has been all over the place and my meds need to be taken at multiple times a day at certain intervals, and some with food and some without food, so I need to be able to have that stuff ready to go even when I'm out and about.

But I'm not. Actually doing the work to get everything sorted out and ready? I'm just window shopping. And today, I have been very tired all day because of the rain and because I did too much yesterday, and my head has been hurting because I'm still not over my concussion and I also probably did too much today, even though honestly all I did was go to one class and observe the whole time, and read a couple of emails. And I thought to myself, "well I guess I should take tylenol for my head, and I guess I can give myself permission to do that since my boyfriend is busy and can't tell me to take care of myself --- oh."

I have been waiting for someone to give me permission to identify as chronically ill! Even today I was like "I feel like I've managed to convince myself that I feel worse than I actually do, and I'm actually fine." Even though there would be no real reason for me to be doing that. And like. My head actually hurts! I really did and still do feel tired! And I've seen my test results, and I know that I have a chronic condition. It's been medically confirmed by a bunch of different tests, and multiple medical professionals have been like "yep you've got something wrong with you" (though using more professional and kind words, of course). All of this to say -- I have been waiting for someone to tell me that I am ill and it is chronic and that it is okay to spend money on taking care of myself and things that will make me feel better, even if it is only temporary like the excitement of buying a new pouch that says "This Bag Is Full of Drugs" specifically to keep my medical supplies in, or something to help keep me safe going forward like a medical alert key chain. The only question now is -- what do I do about this? How do I give myself permission to need help or extra accommodations or even just some medication when I never want to admit that I need or want help? I'm so used to being self-sufficient and doing everything by myself that I don't know how to be okay with more problems.

Has anyone else experienced something like this? What do you do? How do you learn to be okay with the fact that your body is not going to go back to the way it was before? I am only 22 and it's hard to accept that my life is not going to look the way I pictured it when I was 18.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trimax Thoughts Vol. 1 Pt. 1

I'm late to this because I couldn't think of what to say other than my little joke posts. This is just more sporadic commentary as a result because I'm saving some of my thoughts for when I have more information later on.

One of my favourite panels so far fr. Please Mr. Nightow what dumb shenanigans did these two get into on the regular. Please tell me. Eriks and Lina are my new favourite comedy duo. (You know. Before bad things happen. As per usual.)

Ok so some thoughts on Vash awkwardly insisting that Lina overreacted - she didn't. Self-defense is valid and Lina was well-within her rights to kick that creep in the face, but Vash is now even more passive than he was in his attempts to mitigate violence and tragedy - he's not just throwing away his own pride and dignity, he's fumbling through expecting others to do the same, which he didn't used to do btw - which, unfortunately, makes sense. He's hidden himself away and is terrified of himself - he wants so badly to avoid being the cause of or seeing any more pain inflicted on people. But here's the thing - extreme passivity can also be harmful. There are some things you should get angry at and should respond defensively to. It reminds me a little of that part in Little Arcadia where Meryl is upset with herself for not responding with the same righteous anger towards Badwick pointing a gun at his parents the way Milly did. Unaffectedness can become uncaringness if one walls oneself off from becoming defensive of that which is important to them (tbh I think Meryl was being too harsh on herself in that scene - but it's important to note that she writes the letter to her parents after, and responds more openly and honestly in future chapters). Meryl also realizes in that arc that she can choose a path for herself that doesn't necessarily have to be in perfect keeping with her parents' - they will live through her regardless - but Vash here doubles down on his original philosophy and takes it to extremes instead. I'm finding it really intriguing that Meryl appears to be learning similar lessons to the ones Vash should be, but much earlier than he does (if he will, which I hope he will). I think that might be because they have similar ideals at their cores.

Also, lol at Wolfwood seeing the footprint she left on the guy's face and just being like "nice, kid".

I hate this. I hate this. Can he quit having his reputation be thrown back in his face for five minutes? How much must it hurt him that despite him only ever wanting to help, the image most everyone has of him is this caricature of a villain who is violent and cruel and belittling and demeaning, or else, the whispers of some calamitous being on a power scale incomprehensible to humanity, like some sort of bogeyman? And then to have him reveal all his scars in such an incredibly humiliating way - and to have that be the moment we, as the readers, have definite proof that this man is, in fact, Vash. This impostor went the extra mile to look exactly like the "humanoid typhoon" but it's those scars that are the genuine reveal of Vash's true character. He's just a guy. Yes, he's capable of being dangerous, yes, he's pretty much a living weapon of mass destruction, but he is also kind and self-sacrificing to a fault and chooses this kindness every day. He is literally just a guy. I need people to be fucking nice to him. Leave him alone.

Wolfwood already being defensive of Vash counter: 1

Grandma Sheryl really said "Get my gun." Whhfsdjhfvh

I'm realizing that when Wolfwood unclasps Punisher here, this is... the first time Vash has actually seen that it is. A giant gun. This is the first time the reader would have seen this. Hjhnsdjhvn???

The hair cutting scene hurts me so bad man. I've seen a couple people break down that scene so I won't do that here but hnnng. I love that Lina so clearly cares about him. That she wanted to keep him safe too. And even though she doesn't feel like she could do enough it meant the world to him. Augh. Aughhhh.

Meryl's birthday is in February!!! This is important information.

Ah yes, Trimax Chapter 3, or, as I like to call it, "Area Insurance Girls Destroy Workplace Asshole's Entire Career by Hitting Him With Proof that He Is a Hitman Committing Murder and Fraud, Then Hitting Him in the Back with a Projectile from a Stun Gun". (Meryl and Milly I love you and I love your teamwork. Girls <3. Again, someone broke down the whole part with Meryl here so I won't get into it.)

Wolfwood already being defensive of Vash counter: 2

Wolfwood already being defensive of Vash counter: 3 (also holy shit dude???)

(For clarity, this counter I'm keeping is because it makes me laugh - I have a sneaking suspicion I know why he's there from Tristamp - which makes the fact that he reacts like this after like. What? A few days of knowing him? - really, really funny to me. Also I'm writing up a little something I noticed about Wolfwood, and this is a bit relevant, so there's that too. But mostly it's just funny.)

Geez, Knives looks demonic in the flashbacks. It's very intriguing how he's mostly faceless. I would imagine it's some complex mix of not recognizing his brother after what he's done, not recognizing him as his brother after what he's done, and not wanting to see his twin's face (which looks like his face) staring back at him as some kind of monster. I also have to wonder if Vash is a little scared of Knives, especially after July and Fifth Moon. Also, the way Knives tries to help Vash up because they're "brothers", hence, the same, but when Vash angrily accuses Knives of not being human, Knives kicks him back down while shouting about that he wouldn't want to be like them ever. Really I think this kind of highlights the dynamic in a nutshell. Vash fears harming others more than he does about his loneliness. Knives fears being all alone, I think, and is willing to commit harmful acts to assure he won't be - Vash often winds up hurt by this. Knives doesn't. It also emphasizes how Knives' offer of sticking together is contingent on Vash being agreeable, which is. Yikes bud.

Hm. Wolfwood starts calling him "Needle-Noggin" here. He was calling him Vash before. Interesting.

Brad stfu challenge. Don't be mean to him I'll be sad :(

What is wrong with him. See, Vash is exaggerating his weirdness for the bit and also to hide intense internal turmoil. Wolfwood is clearly trying to get a better vantage to see what's happening here but, unfortunately, I also think he is just like that.

I find it very interesting that Wolfwood finds it so important to finish that particular conversation with Vash, that he even went to go find him earlier to do so. It seems he was under the impression that Vash's stance is one of passivity, but that's not true at all - Vash's whole thing is that he is actually incredibly, notoriously bad at "doing nothing". Isn't it Wolfwood who was the one who wanted to leave here? But he has a point that sometimes you have to make difficult choices. Hm...

Vash just went full chaos entity for this one, huh?

"Wow, it's great that the bullets didn't pierce through and that the equipment works!" he says as he coughs up blood from the force of being hit. :/

This is a very tricky situation, morally speaking, at the end. Vash actually seems to understand the father's reaction here. But if the man shoots his daughter's murderer then it's not just the murderer who loses his "blank ticket" - so does the father. The way the screams of the murderer look like they're encroaching and pressing in on Vash... agh. And then when he goes for the gun, the father thinks Vash is judging him but I really don't think that's it at all. I don't think Vash faults the father for his anger - he understands the cruel death of a family member and the anger that comes with it. He lets the father beat him up instead and release aggression that way, which is a very... Vash way of dealing with it. It worked this time but... that's only because the father turned out to be unable to kill him after all. Vash didn't seem like he really knew what to do here, or even what the right thing to do was. He reacted on instinct. I feel this was less bravery and self-sacrificial pacifism than it was an incredibly vulnerable moment and an apology, in a way. He can't allow himself to let people die when there's something he can do, or to have them throw their futures away. But he is also sorry in a way, not for the act of intervening, but because he knows the father is hurting badly. Idk.

This is interesting, because I think it's right, but not completely. It's less that they are all his family, and more that he has taken up what he kind of sees as the family mantle (Rem's) of saving all the people she saved during the Fall, which is, unfortunately, everyone. Poor Vash, honestly. It's hardly sustainable, and even if it was, it assures that he will always be wrapped up in torment.

I just know Vash intentionally calls Wolfwood out in a really annoying sing-songy voice every time he does something nice just to embarrass him. Hjhdfnvjh

Anyways, that's all for that; until the next volume -

WHAT THE FUCK?

[sorcerous-caress]

Honestly I think Bad ending Sean would use that time of being kidnapped to sleep because he doesn’t get much of it anymore. Some of the first times he’s caught is probably from him passing out from exhaustion. But to talk about Good Sean and Good Sol I think Sean would actually go out of his way to be friends with Sol after getting comfortable around them and that kinda goes with all the companions. He’d see the companions as a new family even if he was a bit awkward and shy at first. I mean he’s already got two other families this is just the only one where he doesn’t call one of them mom… but that’s dependent on if he’s romanced (that last part is a joke lmao)

Okay so i just wanna say I'm really enjoying this conversation and having fun omfg <3333 I love how much we're writing and bouncing ideas off of each other. We get to explore our OC and learn about the other person's OC too. Thanks for indulging me with this.

And good ending Sol wouldn't reject his attempts at friendship, but I don't think either of them would get enough time to actually be friends.

Because in their bad ending they are making time for each other without realising it, they are spending time together. And like how you said Sean would get rest during his kidnapping trips, Sol probably gets a chance to get out and use their power instead of having servents or other sorcerers bring them the people and the gold.

They are helping each other without realising it.

But in the good ending, both of their attention would be stretched too thin. Sol doesn't want a found family and would reject that notion. No matter how much Sean tries to inculde them, they make it clear they only prefer one on one hangouts.

They're a very high maintenence friend.

If they end up leaving with Lae'zel or Tav it would be harder too, they'd have to make do with letters. Honestly probably Sol would be too ashamed of their past and just ignore the companions attempts at reconnecting unless it's Lae'zel or Minthara.

Funny enough, they are still unwilling to talk to Halsin, some things neve change.

Sean has a lot of found familes by that point, plus his whole project with Jaheira and taking down the rich to give to the poor but doing it right this time instead of harming others.

Sol's morality didn't change, they still don't care for his cause, only admire his dedication to it. Hell even if his cause was to steal from the poor to give to the rich, they'd think it is a little strange but still support him and his ambition from afar.

Basically, anyone who didn't end up their friend in Act 2 won't make it to their good ending with them.

During the epilogue party they might meet Sean and catch up with him, give him a list of the rich people in the past cities they travelled to and say it's a gift to makeup for ignoring his letters.

They'd probably apologise over the fact they can't catch him anymore if he falls from heights, so he better start looking for a plan B. Dying in a splat is too pathetic and they expect better of someone with his potential.

If he offers them to join him, they'd probably decline. They're really looking for a mundane boring life, wasn't it for Lae'zel and the need to show her Faerun, they wouldn't have bothered to travel.

They'll tell him that maybe they'll meet him one day in a tavern and pretend not to know him from across the bar unless he buys them and Lae'zel a drink, of course.

Sol is struggling to be kind and it shows in their awkward attempts. There are too many questions in their head about him and the other companions but they rather not say it and let him live his life, they don't want to repeat the past.

If they don't end up leaving with Lae'zel. Then they'd probably find a grove or a small village to live at. They'd defend its people as a fighter whilst having their isolated small home. Oh, they'd definitely adopt so many pets that the village chef has to make an intervention meeting with them and get them to stop.

Maybe they'll send Sean a couple of these pets instead of releasing them back into the wild. Writing a note that says

"Hey, keep them or give them to Halsin. DO NOT mention my name. xoxo - your #1 hater"

That'd be the second letter they sent to him. The only other one would either be their wedding one or funeral preparation one. They're both the same letter, btw

"This is Sol.

I'm either dying/getting married.

Come over to find out, or don't, more cake for me/my funeral guests.

Formal dress code only.

P.s. Gale may only attend if he is accompanied by Tara, but she isn't required to bring him to attend."

-

I think the only time route where they end up as actual friends in the good end, is if he's Tav. Since he was nice to them in act 1 and their friend by act 2, they'd agree to follow him and fight for his cause but warn him that they won't be as strong or useful.