#id maybe give you more leeway

[kcrossvine-art]

hi friends! This recipe/review was delayed at first from- well it was a different recipe originally, technically bat tempura should be the next item but id like my first tasting experience of bat to be made by someone else who knows what bat should taste like. The recipe after bat tempura is living armor and id intended to use geoduck to mimic the scale. Living armor is interesting with dunmeshi as they used the suit of armor in 3 different ways; grilling, steaming, and souping.

Affording geoduck, a PNW delicacy, is a stretch for one dish, let alone 3. With my write-ups id like to offer a chance that readers will actually be able to make what we talk about. So I opted to use regular clams instead. I feel myself above the fire so we're still sticking with one dish, the dish that doesnt require a grill or a helmet-esque plating arrangement.

Today in our delicious dungeon, we're going to be making Living Armor Soup!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into Living Armor Soup?” YOU MIGHT ASKThe ingredients used in the show didnt give much to work on, quoting "medicinal herb" and "special sauce".

1 lbs Mussels

Shallots

Garlic

Bay leaf

Curry powder

Chicken stock

Cream

Eggs

Its important to use cream as your dairy, the higher fat content gives you leeway with boiling and acidity to avoid curdling. Any cream should do. Still bring it to temp gently but rest assured in the moo moos protection. 

AND, “what does Living Armor Soup taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

A smoother, buttery-er cream of chicken soup

The mussel meat itself feels like a simplified version of chicken hearts- structurally and in taste

Its not bad. You could hard sell it to a picky eater 

Green onions would bring crispier top-notes much needed

And maybe building a roux base for the soup would fill out the low end?

I dont know what drinks would pair well with this. My heart wants to say red wine but im not a grape fan and cant get more specific than that

I think the hassle of procuring seafood is why when i ask my friends their opinions, the responses are middling to negative. You cant build a palate for it if you dont eat it enough. If i'd had fish stock i wouldve used that rather than chicken, while it doesnt turn the soup disgusting or make itself known much at all, awareness of its presence draws unfavorable comparisons to food I'd rather be eating. And eating for cheaper too (...besides the chicken hearts).

. Some mussels out of a bunch will inevitably be DOA, you wont be eating exactly a pound of them. This and waterweight are the nature of seafood. . Lay easy on the salt until the end before serving . If you have enough mussel stock left after straining, you might not need additional stock

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From deciding to cook to sitting and eating, the process took about an hour and a half. Not bad but not great, considering this dinner left me feeling full for all of about an hour after.

And the mussels were mostly usable/alive too! I discarded maybe 3 of the whole pound! Sure seafood can be light eating- youd think the dairy and vegetables would hulk it up more. The science of what makes food filling isnt entirely understood, as is most nutrition and gastro science, so i dont know what to blame. Stunning that 1lbs of mussels was not enough to keep a 110lbs person full for an hour.

If i were to make this again, i would serve it with fresh dinner rolls (or another carb). Breads and seafood are joined at the hip in my mind. You want more delicate tastes from your fish? I got just the thing. An entire family of food with varying flavors and textures that just so happen to all work pretty well with the third thing people eat often with seafood; butter.

I give this recipe a solid 4/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) It needs workshopping beyond being recognizable to the show.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 lbs mussels, cleaned and de-bearded

Butter

3 shallots, finely diced

3 garlic cloves, crushed

2 bay leaf

Curry powder to taste

120g chicken stock

100g heavy cream

2 eggs

Method:

Wash your mussels. Remove any beards and barnacles. Discard any mussels with open shells.

Finely dice your shallots and garlic.

In a saucepan, brown your shallots and garlic in some butter over medium-low heat. Once softened add your stock, bay leaves, and curry powder to the saucepan. Increase the heat to medium.

Add your cleaned mussles to the saucepan, the liquid should cover them but if not add more stock. Bring to a boil, and then cover and reduce to a simmer.

Keep simmering until most/all of the mussel shells open. Discard any that still havent after about 6 minutes of simmering. Set aside the remaining mussels.

Pass the liquid in your saucepan through a strainer and return the liquid into the saucepan.

In a seperate bowl, combine the eggs and cream together. Carefully stir the egg/cream mixture into the saucepan until incorporated.

Remove the meat from the mussels, either discard or save some shells for garnishing.

Place the mussel meat on the bottom of serving bowls and pour the hot broth overtop, add your garnish (if any) and enjoy!

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Might I have hcs of Bosch, Ed and Luke(or you can do one of them, if that's what you're comfortable with!) having a short s/o? My 4'11 ft ass thinks that hugging them would be like having them as heavy blankets <3

combining these two asks together! man, low 5ft, am i short? is 5'3 considered short? no one in the comments answer that. i will not be responding ( ; ω ; )

Bosch - 5'7 ft

Compared to Bosch, your height difference is relatively reasonable.

He's actually a lot more conscious about your height than you were and has an overwhelming urge to protect you because of it. 

The first time he noticed your height, was when you two were hauling large equipment around the gym. And you stubbornly huffed, saying you could help despite Coach’s warnings.

So now here you were, crumbling under the weight of the heavy machinery. 

“Lift it higher, it’s slacking on your side.” He said, adjusting his grip in case it spontaneously fell. 

“This is literally the highest my arms can reach.” 

Safe to say, he doesn’t let you get near the equipment room after it came crashing down on your feet. 

Whenever you talk to him, he glances at the top of your head before shooting back down to your eyes.

And one time mid-conversation he reached down to pat it. 

You were just so...tiny.

But he snapped out of his thoughts and pulled his hand back embarrassingly after he realized what he had done. Please don't ask him about it because he didn’t know why he did that either.

Bosch thinks the biggest problem he’s encountered regarding your height, had to be moving through large crowds. Mostly because he lost you a couple of times due to how easily you blended in with everyone else.

He even makes sure to hold your hand when walking in front of you, so you don't get pushed apart.

He does give you more leeway than other people due to your height.

Like when you mess up something of his or accidentally wear his gym clothes.

Bosch isn't too tolerant of most people but he won't be as harsh on you.

And if someone brought it up to him, he just shrugs and says "So?" 

But regardless of it all, Bosch is still the small spoon in bed. 

He likes the feeling of being cradled in your arms, as he pulls you closer, with his hands linked around your torso. He finds comfort in you all the same, but now there's a hint of protectiveness that comes with it.

Ed - 6 ft

Ed honestly thought you were a kid when you first approached him and he told you to run back to your parents because he wasn't in the mood to babysit you.

So yeah, he knows firsthand how people see you.

That whole thing, about losing you in a crowd doesn't happen because you two would never be caught in one in the first place.

Partly because he hates being in them and no crowds of people ever formed at night.

Although he doesn't constantly make jokes at your expense, he does tease you about it every once in a while. Like when you stand on your tiptoes in an attempt to kiss him.

And instead of giving in to your whims, he'll sit back and watch you struggle.

"Need something?"

Ed knows what you're trying to do, he's just being a dick about it. He wants to see how long you’ll drag this out before he finally relents.

He hates to be the one to say it, but you need to work on your intimidation. No one’s going to take you seriously because of your height. 

But that’s completely different than when he sees people babying you because he’ll shut that shit down immediately.

Calls you 'cute' nicknames like Runt, Maus, and Half-Pint.

Ok, maybe they’re not that cute, but he doesn't give many people nicknames. So…yay?

Your height, in a sense, does make you appear younger. 

And he finds it funny when Bar owners ID the group because he knows they’re trying to single you out. 

Most of his clothes are big on you when you wear them, and his blankets/comforters practically bury you under their weight. You almost gave him a heart attack when he flopped down on his bed, only to hear a muffled squeak from under the covers. 

He looms over you like a threat when he sees people wandering too close. Yeah, you can pack a punch, but it still gnaws at him how easily someone could snatch you up. So you need to be in his line of sight whenever you're hanging out with him.

He may be a bit paranoid but that's because he cares, believe it or not.

Luke - 6'1 ft

If you didn't know you were short before, Luke would've 100% told you that you were.

The first time he considered your height to be an issue was when he saw you struggling to close your fist. He lent you some of his old wraps, so you don’t mess up your hands and land yourself in the ER. 

But when you couldn't throw a proper punch, he undid them, thinking you wrapped it all wrong.

Turns out his hands were much bigger than yours. Much bigger. To the point it practically engulfed yours. So his wraps were close to useless since the extra fabric accumulated around your knuckles. 

He ended up buying you a new set to fit your hands better and taught you various ways to secure it so it doesn't slip off. 

It's just the small things like that he doesn't usually think twice about, that he now has to consider.

He would also have to adjust the equipment in the gym so it’s leveled with your height.

Wouldn't want his top student falling behind, now would he?

Loves the way his clothes engulf your form when he drapes them on you. And laughs at how you're practically drowning in it.

Don't be fooled. Even though he's your coach, he's your boyfriend first. So he's not above making comments about your height. "Woah, Didn't see you down there." , "You should drink more milk, I heard it's good for your bones."

Hey, don't get so defensive now. He was just messing with you.

He'll wrap his arms around your waist and hoist you up. Your cute surprised reactions are enough for him to pepper your face in kisses.

Luke is the kind of guy who, if you ask for help to reach something on a shelf, will take it and put it on a higher one. If not, he would hold it over your head and ask for a kiss before he handed it over to you.

All in all, your height is one of the many reasons he adores you and he wouldn't want to change a thing about it.

Jamie - 5'9 ft

Being short around this guy should be written off as a form of corporal punishment, especially for the hell he's going to put you through as long as you're with him.

He's not even the tallest one of the bunch, but he definitely acts like it.

Jamie has an unlimited supply of short names ranging from Ankle-Biter to Short-Stuff. All of which were intended to piss you off.

Occasionally, this guy would scoop you up, saying how cute and tiny you were.

He uses your shoulder as an armrest when leaning on you and laughs if you make a fuss about it.

During the Lunar New Year, the festivities in Hong Hu Lu partied well into the night. Meaning, most of the seats available for the public were being used by the partygoers.

Wanting to find a place to enjoy your food, you asked Jamie if you could use the chair he was sitting on. 

And with a shit-eating grin, he tells you no, but you could sit on his lap for the time being.

Watch out because he'll randomly pinch your cheeks mid-conversation. 

Jamie purposely takes pictures of you from the top to show you how you look from his POV.

Because of your short stature, he gives you piggyback rides back to your apartment whenever you fall asleep beside him.

It’s all fun and games when it’s just you and him because you know he’s not actively trying to hurt your feelings. 

But he doesn’t take too kindly to those who think they can comment on your height.

Hypocrite, he knows, but that’s because he’s your boyfriend so he gets a pass. Not so much other people.

Overall a teasing boyfriend, but in his opinion, your height is definitely one of the best qualities about you.

[foxboyqweer]

Awe. You think I'm a mere hunting dog? Don't worry; I'll pity you. You're so desperate for those teeth to dig in, to be hurt and finally used like the toy you are. Maybe id puppet you to my will, making you do all these things to yourself so you can't blame me. After all, you did this to yourself.

I am not a dog, nor an animal. I am a thing but I am hungry. And my hunger is unimaginable.

🎭

Pity me all you'd like, talk is cheap~

Until you've proven that you can even so much as get your breath to touch my fur, I'll see you as a sweet little puppy who can't help but yap at things much bigger than it.

Though I suppose you are a little right. Considering this is just tumblr, it's hard to do more than talk. Maybe I should be the one pitying you and giving you some leeway~

[kibbits]

It’s health scare anon here again (I really should get better identification others then my health issues) with gentle reminder to all to drink water, take your meds, and two burning questions about the BAL!Boys:

1. If it ever became an option (I do mean an option, not that Fazbear would give them one), would they get separate bodies? Would the answer change once they develop their individuality? 

2. Is there a BAL!Eclipse? And are they a separate entity or truly both Moon and Sun?

GOD ANON ARE YOU PSYCHIC?! 'CAUSE I S2G THAT "3AM EPIPHANY I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH" WAS ABOUT THAT EXACT TRAIN OF THOUGHT (also yes ghfffh i care you but id love another thing to call you ehehe)

Ok so first, very short answers (hopefully) and then the spiral into lore under the readmore!

At first they miiiight? Useful to have 2 of them on stage, but very complicated for lore reasons that are gonna be under the readmore. Its also kind of their gimmick at this point they they're both one/transform on stage. Then in the middle when they're finding themselves aaaaabsolutely not! Panic attack at the mere thought of it honestly their situation is way too complicated at this point. At the end.. I don't think so, nope! MAYBE if like. The option to hop back and forth is there? The option could be fun, but they're comfortable where they are and they'd rather stay together. (I'm not opposed to making art with both for funsies though!) .

There is and isn't : ) It's not a separate entity, for sure. THIS especially is the thought that sparked this whole lore I'm about to drop fkjldgjkl

ANYWAY FRESH LORE! GET YOUR 3AM BREAK A LEG! EXISTENTIAL LORE!

Thanks @eyndr-stories and @lavenoon for helping me ramble it out and get decent sleep kljdgk

So I started thinking about Eclipses in the fandom in general, and how the Sun-Moon relationship is so different from AU to AU.

In Break a Leg!, they don't really have an Eclipse. Or rather-- They ARE the Eclipse, themselves.

----------

They're not one person, exactly, but they do share a literal brain/processor as well as memory banks. They're one person and two people (and it's very blurry in the beginning).

They're also just. In a constant state of compromise. 'Cause if one of them starts to break the rules they set between them, then the other one's gonna fight them for space and control. They have a lot more leeway/overlap to take over the shared body (the light levels makes the line between them blurrier, but it's still a joint effort) so really all that keeps them in some semblance of balance is, well, the balance itself!

They don't keep secrets from each other-- why would they? Again, they share memory banks! They... can disagree, but not in a fighting sense. They have different opinions, but they know and acknowledge the other's.

I don't know enough about multiplicity and I'm a singlet, but alters is the closest I can think of as to what they are to each other? This is just for comparison's sake, though-- they weren't thought up with this in mind, but I just felt like the comparison was worth pointing out. Especially with the having to compromise, and having an internal set of rules/behaviors they adhere to for the sake of harmony/balance between them.

Or I guess like a Gem Fusion, but with their own voices still?? They'd be Garnet fjklfdl

----------

So, especially in the beginning, they're one big walking compromise. They are the overlap and the points in common between each other. And the thing they have the most in common? Is their purpose. Their roles. Their scripts.

The individual differences are there, but they're not super acknowledged or important to them (on the inside, mind you). They don't really know who 'Sun' or 'Moon' are, yet, aside from the overlap, so they do everything together-- kind of like they're planning a story together.

They can both be active at any time-- even at the same time, which they do often. The buttons on their chest are speakers so that they can sing duets/harmonies during shows, but they can also both talk at any time, no matter who's fronting. They experience everything together.

Actually, I think 'Sun' and 'Moon' probably swapped a bunch of times before the AU when one was more suited to being an antagonist or protagonist for a story (Previously-Sun does the laugh better, or Previously-Moon does the movement. Maybe both at the same time and Moon puppets the body while Sun does the laugh when it's that character!)

To the point where even they don't know if they're switched or not between the original Sun and Moon anymore. Moon just tends to do villain/antagonist roles better, and Sun prefers the heroes/protags!

----------

They're like... A Heel and a Face. (idk why i went with wrestling terms?? Basically it's the same concept: two actors, one of which you're supposed to cheer on as a hero and one as a villain)

They're antagonists in a script sense, but they're always on the same page. Literally.

Narratively, they're opposites and opponents. But actually, they're coworkers! They have the same goal: a good story!

There's no virus Moon. Sun is a Hero, but he won't interfere when Moon gets ya if that's what's gotta happen for the story, because he's not a foil or adversary to Moon (or vise versa), their roles are. They themselves are, to quote Garnet, 'a conversation'.

The 'villain' part isn't that Moon is evil, it's that they both struggle with detaching themselves from their identity as their roles.

----------

The AU is all literally a journey of self-discovery (of the both of them together, of themselves individually) but it's also developing personalities and sentience as an animatronic developing self-awareness? gfjkldjk "FNAF:SB but the AI becomes self-aware."

----------

SO! In the beginning, Sun and Moon are two people in one-- like, well, an acting crew. Who they are outside of work is irrelevant to them because they're animatronics and they work 24/7, they don't have time to explore who they both are.

But THEN! Y/N comes along. Unwittingly, they play by their (internal) rules, and they set up their own rules in turn-- They compromise with the compromise that Sun and Moon show the outside world, how fun!

And then Y/N gets assigned to them, and they're curious! They start to ask questions about Sun, about Moon. They connect more strongly with one or another with different traits or activities. And it gets the boys thinking. At the same time, the boys are supposed to be learning from Y/N, observing them and expanding that compromise between themselves to, well, that big social compromise of ethical rules and common courtesy flkfgjkldf

So they learn from Y/N, and from all the media they get to see and absorb, and they don't exactly grow apart, but they grow into their own? Like, they're learning to be people rather than machines, but they're also learning to be their OWN people.

And that's a bit scary! It feels less stable! They're very attached to each other literally and figuratively-- they're each other's constants, and they're both seeing themselves and the other change! They also get to ping-pong concepts and ideas off of each other, too, thankfully-- but you see why they wouldn't want to be separated at this point. And they also get a lot less confidant at this point because things aren't how they THOUGHT it all worked.

Eventually, though, they find their footing. They gain confidence in who they are individually, what they like, the differences and points in common between them, and they're secure in that!

So at that point, instead of being... (literally thinking of the equivalent of Daycare Attendant rn) the Actor...? Instead of being The Actor, they are Sun-and-Moon. Individual, but a package deal. Kind of like siamese twins fgkldg

[bowserpunk-vevo]

i think it's shitty that im not allowed to make any money on the side, or else im deemed fit for work and get my disabillity benefits taken away. like bro... i can maybe do a single work activity once a week, if it's not a pmdd week, or im not commiting psychological suicide. which is enough to get me a few extra bucks, sure, but i cant live off of that. a few extra bucks, which i could use to buy a shirt or maybe a fancyish meal, which are btw things the gov dont want me to have appearently...

the lady at the employment agency (which i still have to go to), told me today, when i called about the new policy on existing as a disabled lad, and i quote "oh yeah, the new inclusivity system, it must be more favorable now" as if you didnt just erase half of my rights and decrease my income by 50%. like in what world did ANYONE think this would be "inclusive" and "favorable" ????????? im not mad at her, she's just doing her job and probably doesnt know what the inclusivity system implies.... but also she works with disabled people so idk how much leeway i can give her..... im more mad at the fuckers we chose to lead our shithole of a country. i dont even wanna get into the way medical professionals treat any disability, cuz lemme tell you, its even worse.

anyways, anarchist overthrowing when ?!?!? that's actually a genuine question. im quite a picky eater, but id try a rich man, idk might be pretty lean meat.

[scribespirare]

So I'm considering starting a Miguel O'Hara x Reader on AO3 and was just wondering if you may have some ideas and tips, considering you masterfully capture Miguel's character in your flowerbite/flowerfang oneshots and whatnot. I've read them all, don't worry. I wouldn't say I'm new to the idea of writing fanfiction, but it's more or less finally putting myself out there as my primary audience has been my friends and, you know, could use some minor pointers, if you will. You don't have to answer. I'm just wondering because you're the main Spider-Man Across The Spiderverse Tumblr account I follow, so... idk.

Hey! I don't mind answering at all. X reader fics are very much not my thing but they have their place in fandom as much as any ship material. I'm gonna put this under a readmore cause it might get a little long!

First I'm gonna talk about some general stuff about adapting just about any character for fic! You might not need this anon since you sound like you already do some writing, but I figured I'd include it anyways

The best advice I can give is to spend time learning a character's voice and mannerisms. Even if you're not writing from their perspective, getting dialogue and movement down accurately can allow you loooots of leeway for being out of character in other areas, either on purpose or unintentionally. This can look like speech patterns, intonation, word choices, and accent, as well as when a character speaks up (are they a chatterbox? Are they the silent type? Do they have a tendency to butt in?). Physical mannerisms can look like nervous tics or habits (hair pulling, biting a lip, shifting weight), ways a character might move when they're speaking, or things like how they walk, run, sit, or fight.

OKAY so onto Miguel. The thing about Miguel is that...I actually don't know him as a character all that well. I'm just pretty good at doing all the above stuff and extrapolating what I can from atsv and fandom posts to fill in the rest. What I've put together so far is that he's a hero at heart, but one who's been pushed past the point of having hope in the world or future. He has resigned himself to doing the dirty work that no one else wants to because it's the only way he can imagine a future at all. This manifests in him being terse, angry, and difficult to be around or work with. When writing him I try to picture what could be the absolute worst case scenario of his current situation, and have him react as if that scenario is inevitable. That means disregarding his own emotions over every little thing and bitterly accepting losses or defeat in situations that aren't literally world ending, such as being broken up with or an having an argument (this makes him highly susceptible to manipulation btw if u like angst).

I don't always write him as miserable as his movie version tho, b/c I'm a softie and like fluff lmao. So for softer stuff I just kinda follow a tsundere archetype. He's gruff and rude but he will always always always support anyone he cares for, even if he'd never admit to it. With a lover I picture him as a little overbearing and possessive but squishy once you get to the core of him. The kind of guy who knocks out someone who slapped his partner on the ass and also cooks regularly for them and remembers important dates. But at the same time gripes at/about said partner, maybe shoves them around a little, and threatens them semi-regularly if they're tough or outgoing. For a softer love interest id imagine him as being overly careful with them instead, worried about hurting them with his size or strength or general shit attitude constantly.

As for the speech and physical aspects I was talking about, it's key to remember that he's quite literally part spider. Like has spider dna, not just magic spider powers like the others. He's faster, stronger, and has sharper instincts and reflexes. He moves and behaves like it. Like a predator in an overstimulating environment.

Speech wise, I find I like to have him slip into Spanish for particularly emotional or impactful statements, as well as for those little common expressions people use without thinking about them (hello, goodbye, how are you, curse words, stuff you say on auto pilot). He also mumbles a little and has a very casual speech pattern like any day to day American but not so casual as to use slang often or slip into AAVE the way Miles does. Very rude too, cutting people off or talking over them.

Okay I have prattled on for fucking ages now fjejdjsnsd I hope some of this helps???

[ikemenomegas]

jesus christ i just saw your latest jjk post and i am devastated <33 i feel like the alpha bursting into manic laughter rather than bursting into tears is a much more powerful imagery imo. Combined with your nightmare explanation, the combination of the alpha feeling bitter about the whole thing and then in the latest thing you posted, mentioned cliffs and why sorcerers dying young gives off such a raw feeling of hopelessness, despair and bitterness. The scene where the alpha starts laughing manically was giving when gojo confronted toji after toji thought he died. And that desperate moment where the alpha wants gojo to tell him if there was any hope left at all. I like that moment because its like the alpha wishing desperately for some assurance that things would be okay in the end even when its clearly looking that it wont. I wouldn't be surprised if the alpha starts slowly descending into madness like geto bc when the alpha got his bondmark removed, i got the vibe of the resentment starting to boil over. resentment towards whom? i dont think its all necessarily directed at gojo but rather at the situation. and the moment gojo steps out of that box, id imagine that his mate wasnt the same person he remembered, especially recalling the last lines in your nightmare post:

But what he doesn’t see, behind the mask Satoru wears and Shoko’s distance and Suguru’s death and your silence is that you all became monsters. Maybe Gojo Satoru chose to keep you close because for a while you were the only one left.

If the kids don’t come back, you think it might just be enough.

Gojo Satoru isn’t the only nightmare in the world after all.

The alpha's response to everything was always silence and the thought of them finally going apeshit and releasing all their pent up anger and feelings is something ill def think about everyday.

Thank you so much!! I cannot believe you put so much thought into this and that you actually went back and put in the quote! I really appreciate you saying that this stuff sticks with you. It sticks with me unless I get it on paper so now we all suffer together haha.

I'm really glad that what I was trying to put off came through. You're absolutely right that this alpha has spent a lot of time telling themselves that somehow "things are okay". They are starting to teeter over into that place that Geto ended up - where all of your sacrifices, all your pain, once meant something and now it doesn't mean anything. Sorcerer's aren't supposed to have "ideals" or lofty principles which they fight for.

If you've seen the "sorcerer rules" that gege wrote, it mostly boils down to: fight curses, don't tell normal humans that you're doing it, and listen to the jujutsu elders. We've seen before how the ones who do find a less selfish goal end up dying in ways that are terrible, often some way avoidable, and also directly related to their goal (the jujutsu code does not ask for lethal self sacrifice or suicide, but based on cultural context, would not be considered dishonorable. ie nanami could have turned around and gone for healing/help but he didn't and saved the students by sacrificing himself).

This oc has a lot more empathy than Satoru or Suguru - they can see why people make bad decisions, understand and even forgive them for it. They have the maturity to deal with people regardless if a bad decision is going to threaten the lives of the people they love or are obligated to protect. But apart from being more emotionally tuned in, they are very much like Suguru - including the part where they keep their silence until it just becomes too much, it doesn't mean anything anymore.

There are a lot of aspects of their relationship with Gojo that are just not tenable. They give him a lot of leeway because their relationship is built on contract, and because they do understand him somewhat. There are things they can't talk about, can't deal with, even though they have deep affection for one another, because of their job. And you're right, that's not Gojo's fault, but it also kind of is. The alpha doesn't want to pressure or rely on him like the rest of the world, but if you can't rely or lean on the other person in the relationship, then even if there's mutual understanding and even love, what does that mean when one of the people is left alone? The alpha may feel like they weren't relying on Gojo, but the truth is even his presence is stabilizing - in a mated pair, that bond is there even when you can't feel the other half and now it's gone. The alpha would love some honest reassurance or at least someone to tell them which way the world is going to tilt, because you're right they know they can survive without Gojo, but without the kids (and loving your kids is a very different relationship than loving your spouse) they don't know which way the world is tilting. I also never though gege would kill Tsumiki, but that's another raw wound there because she was never supposed to be involved in any of this. The panels imply that Gojo and Megumi canonically kept this from her and if she were herself she'd be mad about it (which I sort of break because alpha has a less obvious technique and has done things for Tsumiki before that technically show their powers).

To quote you: "Sorcerers dying young gives off such a raw feeling of hopelessness, despair and bitterness" precisely. I don't think anyone can look at a situation where children and teenagers and young adults experience more trauma and grief than most people encounter in their entire lifetimes and are not bitter that the people they love who experience this don't get to experience an equal amount of joy or love or appreciation or happiness before they perish.

This OC has a lot of tolerance. Their technique (like how most techniques relate to theme and personality) is partially centered around that. How much can you take before you break? For this oc, the answer is a lot more than most. I haven't written this part yet but they were injured in the Toji fight as well. They just weren't broken by it they way Gojo and Getou were. Riko's death hurt, sure, but they had failed before and knew what the sorcerer system did to show you that failure was possible way more intimately than the other two did. In this way, the OC and Shoko mirror one another.

This is the arm breaking moment, this is the week they start to crack, and the way their technique works is either they break or something else has to, because all that pain and pummeling has to go somewhere.

The fun part about this OC is they're Gojo's age-ish, so I get to do something shonen anime doesn't often get to, and show that adults still have growth and power-ups! If negative feelings are related to cursed energy etc and unlocking your own mental blocks in order to use it, well... depending on how things go in the manga there's some potential directions for oc to get some payback.

[dxringred]

i love ronance smut writers purely because they all collectively seem to forget that neither of these girls has ever slept with another girl, robin is (i believe) a whole ass virgin, and this is the 80s so wlw po/rn in particular isn't widely accessible and there's no googling "how to eat out a girl". y'all need way more, "robin had no idea what she was doing, she could only hope that she was doing it at least semi-well".

[gohyuck]

the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?” 

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you. 

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat. 

Not to mention, the knife at his neck. 

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways. 

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying. 

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself. 

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears. 

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.” 

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard. 

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him. 

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked. 

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it. 

Right. The explosion. 

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve. 

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else. 

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back. 

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken. 

You pull your knife away from him. 

Nothing happens. 

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials. 

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut. 

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s. 

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up. 

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm. 

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind. 

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do. 

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession. 

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak - 

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when - 

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge. 

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?” 

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either. 

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…” 

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist. 

“I’m (Name).”

[myuni-moon]

Hello!! I love your cult au!!! I’m not sure if you received asks similar to this but how would the members of the cult react of the reader became monotone and stiff? Wanting to be by themselves majority of the time and closing off their feelings? You mentioned that the reader would have trouble gaining genuine friends and there are scenarios where the cult members drive them off (and maybe kill them if they deemed an action unforgivable). If the reader found out about this cycle id like to think they would close off everyone as a defense mechanism (and punishment really) since while they are a “god” they still experience human emotions. Ignore if this was a repetitive ask, love your content!! Mwuah mwuah

some outliers do get to interact with you which you get to befriend with the danger of having them be driven away from your cult. this involves dvalin, yae, and maybe future characters. you're best off befriending yae since she's one of the few outside the cult that they trust you spend time with you. on most days, you'll find yourself having tea with her.

if you get tired of their antics, just voice how uncomfortable you are and they might allow some leeway for more interactions with outsiders, but they'll take any punishment you give them. as long as you're safe and sound, they don't care what becomes of them.

[matchamabs]

I know you didn’t ask for it but- BOTW MONSTERS: RANKED BY HOW HOT THEY ARE,,,,

i do fuck all in the days lemme tell ya

ill admit i havent done EVERY enemy but like. i do enjoy making these posts so who knows, i might actually rank everything sooner or later 🤷‍♀️

,,,,, and if u want a specific ranking of botw/aoc stuff lmk 👀

ahh the ol reliable. the classic bokoblin. he is just a little lad! unfortunately they’re genuinely kind of ugly??? and the idk the singular horn in the middle aint a good look. i see cute comics abt these guys being domestic and thats adorable but also giving them so much leeway bc they’re really Not that cute. not sure what the loincloth is hiding and im not sure i wanna know anyway. 3/10 really kind of. not good. 

slightly bigger loincloth only means slightly bigger things to hide :( i rlly hate these guys noses and whatever the fuck toenails they have why do they have toenails?????? s’bad. the thing is tho they have the proportions of a potentially attractive gerudo which is probably what takes the edge off the general vibes of... u know... being an abomination. its also only JUST occured to me as im writing that these guys r just evolved bokoblins so. glow up i guess. 6/10 what that tongue do

ok bypassing whatever the fuck rule 34 has done to these guys, i actually dig them. i find the huge fat ones way cuter than the lil bug eyed ones. in their case theres rlly no, like... hotness about them. its just cute. i think they’re cute. any monster that is cute and also doubles up as a bed gets my vote 7/10 get urself a fella as flexible as these guys 

u know what, im gonna say it, these guys r actually kinda hot. proportions arent super bad, the face aint bad and generally they have good vibes. aside from, u know, when they’re tryna shank u. id say one of the most bearable monsters to have to look at. 8/10 im not a scalie

??????????? idk what to say. u could tie these little shits to like swingball poles and beat them with rackets thatd b good. aside from that these guys have like no redeeming qualities. they’re a pain in the ass and not in a good way. 3/10 cute but like. is it worth it?

i mean,,,,,,,, someones probably into it. i dont like these guys for a lot of reason and surprisingly the thing that gets me is the fucking hair why does it have that hair its like he-man just went straight over the top with an electric razor its not a good look!!! stop trying to make it work! it wont! and again with the loincloth??? im not into it. the only thing i like abt these guys is the lil waistcoats. they have some amount of decency (but the implications it makes are Not Good). uh. 2/10. barely.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

,,,,,9/10. but if you see a lynel up close like that chances are you died about half a minute ago

again. ??? i dont rlly like. i mean. im digging the top heavy proportions? its got the same body type as kass so like. 4/10. bit plain around the features but what can u do. i dont understand how but the igneo taluses are like. sexier 

UGHGHHH I FUCKING HATE THESE THINGS okay okay okay like these motherfuckers lure u in by being quite cute and dancin around and then u get a look at their faces and its like fucking JESUS and its even WORSE when you see under their cloak and they have no necks????? and like????? they do that gay little fucking dance that pisses me off???? they’re wearing hoods that give the ILLUSION that they have necks and im im fumin ok i HATE it i hate it i have been betrayed and i will NEVER FORGET ABOUT IT UGHGHGHG I HATE THESE CUNTS -10000000000000000000000000000000000/10 die

hhhhh i just dont like em. theyre too annoying to be cute now. and whats gonna happen if i squeeze one? is like. water gonna come out? r they just gonna deflate? 4/10 tentacles are not hyrules forte it seems ://

trust kohga to send the twinks out on the front line. seriously. they’re not bad tho? kinda small and underwhelming :((( tho i give extra points for the good crazy laugh we love a good manic cackle 6/10 they dont really count as monsters but ah well where else am i gonna put em

now THATS what im talkin about babeyyyyy we love the muscles,,,,, the posture,,, the stride,,, we love it when u fuck up stealth and a torrential downpour of these motherfuckers come down to beat ur ass,,,,, 9/10 its raining men 😎

u know. u dont rlly like. get a good view of these guys when ur balls deep in a battle with them, but the more i get like closer looks at them the more i go ???? like idk. everything about them looks backwards and wrong. but as far as backwards and wrong goes its not a bad look and the boss theme is a banger so 4/10 maybe dont jump on my ass every time i step one foot onto the desert :/

i just. i dont dig it. idk why. aside from the fact they’re a monumental pain in my ass, and now everytime i hear a beep even slightly resembling a guardian i shit my pants, but. idk??? as far as robots go its not like. terrible. they’re like the milfs of robots. the milves, if u will. a rilf. except i wouldnt. so its more like riwlf. but even that leaves too much up to interpretation so im just gonna call em a cunt and go. 4/10 leg game strong

here we are,,, the big boys,,,, waterblight isnt too bad i will admit, but the spear hand is both annoying and mildly inconvenient. its got a rlly big chest but rlly thin arms?? also not sure how i feel abt the strap on beard but oh well its not like ganons got taste. 5/10 kind of average for a blight i think

a hefty motherfucker. a chunk of a lad. big large. the fact this is like one of the easiest blights makes it more forgiveable to me but like whatever its got going on with the 80s hair needs 2 be sorted out. i like its moves but it doesnt hang upside down like waterblight :((( 5/10 calm down kate bush

ok who doesnt like gun arms. and a gun back. this things like fuckin megatron. the whole face plate thing doesnt look bad either. honestly its kind of a look? but its dickheadery in aoc makes me wanna set shit on fire so :// 6/10 hot but will not leave u alone 😔

ok this one is by FAR the sexiest of all the blights. i just cant explain it. i like guys with bad posture. i had an easy time beating it but apparently its given other people a lot of grief and that makes it 10x more sexy to me lmaooo. also it can clone itself which is like. thats a win. 8/10 ganon spilt all the sexy juice into this one

ok i didnt realise how many arms this motherfucker has and the whole hairline behind the ears thing is not a great look. especially w the beard. in fact the longer i look at it the less sexy it becomes tbh. 3/10 they tried to make arachnophobia sexy and it didnt work

10/10 i will be taking questions in my inbox but i wont be taking constructive criticism and you cant make me 

[wrexie]

Not that anon, since I’m well aware Invoke Prejudice had that collector number, but is there anything to hint at it not just being a really unfortunate coincidence? A skipped card, sets out of order? Because it seemed to just be where it ended up based on release dates and WUBRG.

I mean, it's tempting, isn't it? By all means, card ID 1487 is In The Eye of Chaos, and card ID 1489 is Juxtapose. Both are blue cards, also from Legends, and Invoke Prejudice fits alphabetically between them. No white s'premacy here, just a woopsie-daisy, right? ... Look, unpopular opinion, but I'm mostly uninterested in explaining this away with maybes and could have beens. The hint that it wasn't just a really unfortunate coincidence is that the card existed in that spot at all. Even if it was unintentional, the teehees, winks, and nudges as it got passed around those rancid circles as a cool little injoke are real enough consequences of it being there that it doesn't really matter either way. More importantly, when we try and explain away coincidences like these as being coincidences, or poorly thought out jokes, or what have you, we are doing the job of perpetuating white s'premacy for it. These kinds of hate groups thrive on if not RELY on plausible deniability to spread their propaganda, and the minute you give it any leeway, you'll start finding yourself among like-minded people... and a bed of snakes. Do! Not! Do! Their! Job! For! Them!! This isn't to reprimand you!! I also fall into this trap sometimes!! But burn that into your head, the dignity of some nameless card designer isn't worth it!! Also, I gotta be real with you. I grew up in WotC's backyard, and I was there as recently as 2018. Once you get out of the immediate Seattle metropolitan area, people get real brazen about being white s'premacists FAST. I've seen a lot of iron crosses (mild dogwhistle) and a lot of imperial eagles on volkswagons (extremely dogwhistle). Seattle hosts one of the largest white s'premacist conventions in the country for a reason. It is not that difficult to imagine a rando card designer in 1993 seeing they were approaching 1500 cards designed and thinking this would be a fucking hilarious coincidence.

[twoforts]

A very gentle reminder that the tweets in that FNF post happened 2-3 years ago and the creator has apologized and refrained from stating such things since. It's incredibly disingenuous for people to attack other people for shitty jokes that they made in the past because they didn't have the foresight of what the jokes actually meant.

The fact that the person who found these tweets scrolled all the way down through 2-3 years of feed to find those posts I believe speaks more toward their character than anything else. It makes me think that they were actively looking for something to dig up on ninja_muffin to hold over their head.

Listen. I'm not saying that I support those jokes at all whatsoever. I'm simply saying that peoples' opinions and beliefs change over time, and if they have shown themselves willing and capable of changing, then they should be given some leeway.

If you don't want to support the game even after their apology, then that's fine. You're perfectly in your rights to do so. But the reality is that if you take a microscope onto any piece of media, you're going to find something that's problematic. I simply feel like it's unfair to jump on the bandwagon and villainize fans of a fandom because they like a product in spite of a creator's record of saying bad things 3 years ago.

ok. *handing you a clown wig and clown nose

i dont understand how making a game about killing black people or acting like a child predator is a joke but maybe we just have different definitions of humor ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

what nonblack people and especially white people are willing to forgive for the sake of "ooooh silly rhythm game 🥺" is very telling.

like. idk. its pretty fucking clear that he only deleted them cause someone dug them up to remind people of what an asshole he is, and he didnt like the backlash, i dont know how obvious it has to be for people to get it?? but alright.

and like. yes of course be critical of the media you consume, im not asking people to stop interacting with or liking fnf. im saying that i do not want people who choose to continue engaging in that content to interact with me because it makes me as a black person deeply uncomfortable. i find it utterly disgusting and unforgivable, and id rather not interact with people who feel otherwise.

and in any case, i do not give a shit about his feelings and i think he should have been chased off the internet sooner 💘 racists do not deserve a platform. apologies are not entitled to forgiveness, and i have no sympathy for anyone willing to say things like that. if you give an inch they will take a mile.

sorry my black ass doesnt want to associate with racist apologists like you but actually no im not 💘 block me, asshole 💘 you genuinely disgust me

[essayofthoughts]

I wanted to ask about your thoughts on tony stark? not sure if u refer to urself as an anti but id love to hear about ur thoughts on my fav boy. I recently reblogged ur post about how tony gets leeway and wanda gets hate and i sort of "reviewed" it but it was more like commentary. to me, it didnt seem like you hated tony but I just wanted to learn more about ur stance on him, if ur up for it :)

For reference, the meta mentioned can be found Here. I’m glad you found it interesting, it’s a personal favourite of the metas I’ve done. I’m afraid that I honestly cannot keep track of your commentary because of the lack of line breaks. It may be that I’m tired but the lack of paragraph separation and capitalisation mean it kind of blurs together for me.  I’m sorry.

As for Tony...

I don’t care. I’m not an anti (rather like standom I stay away from antidom as well) but I don’t find him interesting or engaging and I think the fandom has overhyped him and excused him for things he really shouldn’t be excused for, all while condemning other characters (Team Cap in general, Wanda and Steve in particular) for equal or far lesser things. Plus the way the fandom loves to villainise any character that isn’t Tony. The amount of nonsensical villainisation and just... pure bashing from Tony Stans I’ve seen in this fandom means that while I’ve tried to be neutral about Stark I did at one point come very close to hating him - a fictional damn character - before AIW came out and I decided I was pretty much done with Marvel and the MCU fandom. 

I’d like to make clear here and now that the reason I came close to hating him was less about the character as he is in the films and more about how completely obnoxious and at times utterly awful (there’s a reason I call them virulent) I found his fans to be.

Here’s my thoughts about Tony: he had the potential to be interesting but he’s never had a character arc so much as a roundabout; he resets every time. He also doesn’t really show lasting, meaningful remorse for things. He expresses guilt but then tries to find ways to fob it off on others (getting the Avengers to sign the Accords when he’s retired because he personally was blamed for something, not the Avengers as a whole), or to fob it off entirely (“This was never my life” he says to Wanda and Pietro who have suffered hugely due to what he uncaringly allowed to happen). When he does accept blame he often ends up making a bigger problem in his attempt to “fix” it, which inevitably leads to his character roundabout cycle.

He talks shit to children. He dismisses and demeans Peter’s efforts with his own initial suit. It takes not only a bomb going off and hitting him but also Yinsen’s own story for him to go “Oh no maybe selling weapons is bad” when he’s forty damn years old and maybe you can excuse some of that because he grew up in a weaponmaking family, but that he then decided that selling them was the evil and that it was fine if the weapons were in his hands -

He doesn’t see the illogic that if his judgement was so flawed in the past how on earth can he trust it’ll be good enough now to wield deadly weapons against civilians as a private citizen.

But oh well, he’s a cis white American guy he can do whatever the hell he likes, I guess. Fandom certainly seemed to think so.

The thing is, he could have been interesting. He could have been, if not good, at least a character playing with some fun questions. The idea of good-guy Tony Stark the fandom so loves has a lot of potential. I enjoy reading fic where Tony is characterised as the films seemed to intend him to be seen as (Infinite Coffee & Protection Detail by owlet does that very well) but the problem is, that isn’t the Tony we get in the films.

The Tony we get in the films is an unremitting arsehole and while he makes gestures of growth he never really changes. At the end of every film he basically resets - I’ve meta’d on Tony’s character roundabout before.

And I just don’t find that engaging. The obsessive hatred some of his fans have for any character they perceive as wronging Tony puts me off further. The outright hate some of them throw at characters I do like and I do find engaging such as Wanda makes me wonder what it is in people that like Tony that cause them to be … like that. To be hateful over fictional characters and bullies to fans of the same series as them.

I have to wonder if the way that Tony quips and insults his way through conversations with uncaring callousness makes them think that’s okay. If they relate to that, and to his lack of apologies, because they don’t want to give apologies or have to grow or change or reconsider themselves. 

A character being awful or an arsehole or a quippy clever bastard can be interesting. There are some great characters out there out there, both antagonists and protagonists. There are some straight up fantastically awful characters out there that I find engaging (Hannibal Lecter, Anna Ripley). There are complete dickwad characters out there that I find engaging (Blackadder. Hell, even Gilderoy Lockhart). There are quippy clever bastard characters out there that I find engaging (Percy de Rolo, Moist von Lipwig).

But Tony Stark isn’t one of them. Not to me. Tony Stark exists and that’s fine, but he doesn’t interest me and his fans have made me completely disinclined to watch any films he’s in, read any comics he’s in, or really engage in any areas of fandom where his stans are likely to be because it’s just. Boring and exhausting to me.

I love Wanda. I find other characters interesting. I don’t give a single solitary crap for Tony. 

Sorry dear. Probably not the answer you were hoping for!

[lyssismagical]

moments of gold and flashes of light

Parkner Week Day 3: “I am very small and I have no money.” / college au / no-powers au

(This is like a Rhodey/Tony!MIT Parkner AU)

(TW: Implied Child Abuse)

��Working at a café on the outskirts of a college campus meant good business, decent tips, and weird hours. A good job for Harley who needs to work weird hours to keep up with his classes, and he makes enough to afford essentials and to keep his head above water in the debt.

It also means he sees a lot of very tired students at those strange hours.

He gets an elbow in the ribs from his coworker, Cassie, who points across the café at an occupied table.

“An order?” Harley asks, forehead creasing. They don’t normally take orders from tables.

“No, we have a policy about sitting in here without ordering. I need you to ask him to either buy something or leave before our boss notices,” Cassie says. She glances down at her watch, frowning at the time. “There’s only a few hours until we’re done, anyways.”

Harley hates the policy. It makes sense why they have it, they’re going to lose a lot of business if the café is always full but nobody’s buying anything, but it doesn’t make it any easier to kick tired teenagers out in the middle of the night.

He sighs and lets Cassie take over the registers as he makes his way to the boy at the table, straightening his deep purple apron as he goes.

“Excuse me?” he says, wincing when his voice cracks.

The boy at the table’s head jerks up, eyes wide behind a thick pair of glasses. He looks young, younger than most people Harley sees coming into the café, but he’s hunched over a stack of textbooks and papers, what looks like a year three astrophysics textbook on top. There’s no way he’s old enough to be in his third year of university.

“Yeah?” the boy asks. He tips his head to the side in question, the light hitting his face and showing off the deep, dark bags under his eyes.

“We have a policy here, you have to buy something to stay.”

The boy winces, hands patting the pockets of his jeans. He pulls out an old wallet, faded Stark Industries logo on the back barely visible, and pops it open.

He rifles through the things in his wallet, dropping a few on the table including a library card, a Booster Juice loyalty card, and a Stark Industries ID. He finds a dollar bill, but otherwise comes up emptyhanded.

“Shit, sorry, I don’t have any money,” the boy says, eyes wide and glassy. He grabs his backpack from between his feet and starts going through the pockets, but they seem just as empty. “I’m so sorry, I guess I used the rest of my cash on rent, and I don’t- I’ll just pack up and head home, no worries-”

“You like coffee?” Harley blurts before he can stop himself. It’s not like he really has much leeway with his budget, but a couple dollars for an obviously stressed, very cute boy seems like a good investment. “I’ll cover it for you. Give me just a moment.”

As soon as he gets a confirming nod, he heads back to where Cassie’s working, and makes a quick coffee with extra caramel, and digs out his wallet to drop a few dollars in the register.

“You’re buying coffee for him?” she says, amused and shaking her head.

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at where the boy is still watching him with his wide, doe eyes. “He had a third year astrophysics textbook. I felt bad.”

Cassie laughs, rolling her eyes at him. “The store’s pretty quiet anyways. You should make yourself one too, and take a fifteen.”

Harley’s not about to pass up that opportunity, so he moves quickly to make himself a matching coffee, and then he heads back over to the boy.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks, sliding one of the coffees over to the boy. “I’m in my second year at MIT, so maybe I could lend you a hand? Or at least be a nice distraction?”

The boy smiles, nodding and gesturing to the chair opposite him. “I’m Peter Parker. Third year at MIT.”

“You seem… young.”

Peter laughs, fingers curling around his coffee with a pleased hum. “Yeah, I’m eighteen. Graduated high school at fourteen, started here at fifteen.”

Harley’s jaw drops open in surprise. He’s nineteen, and in the year below Peter. It’s a bit of a shock. “You’re graduating university at nineteen? Isn’t that a bit scary?”

“I’ve got a job lined up at Stark Industries in New York. I’ve been an unpaid intern every summer for four years, so it’s not as scary as you’d think.” He looks down at his homework, textbooks and binders and loose papers, and frowns. “Stressful, for sure. But scary, not so much.”

As much as he wants to comment on a lot of that, especially about how he’s apparently been interning for SI since he was thirteen, he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he doesn’t have a lot of break left.

He sips at his drink, listening intently as Peter starts rambling about how annoying one of his profs had been the other day, the reason he’s up all night studying at the café. Peter’s pretty, especially when he gets passionate about something, eyes lighting up behind his thick frames, blush high on his cheeks, hands gesturing vaguely. Harley hasn’t made many friends since he left Tennessee, only Cassie and Kate from an off-campus extra-curricular. Peter seems like the kind of person Harley would really enjoy being friends with.

“Harley!” Cassie calls out, much too soon for his liking. “Your fifteen’s up.”

Peter frowns noticeably, finishing off his coffee. “I’ll probably stick around for a bit, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course. And come back whenever, yeah?”

“I’m sure I’ll be back in no time, in need of quiet and caffeine.”

* Turns out, Peter’s not lying. He starts showing up every Thursday night and every few Wednesdays like clockwork, always with his old backpack filled with books and binders, and always with enough for a coffee to make sure he can stay.

Whenever Harley takes his fifteen, he spends it at Peter’s table, sitting across from him and chatting about anything and everything. They trade numbers after three weeks, texting every so often whenever they’ve got the chance. It’s nice to have finally made a friend outside of Gwen and Kate. (Especially a friend as kind and pretty and genius as Peter Parker.)

“Everything okay?” Harley can’t help but ask when Peter shows up, nearly two months after meeting.

Peter’s the same as he always is, backpack slung over one shoulder making his posture lopsided, eyes wide behind his pair of thick glasses, hands shoved into the pocket of his oversized MIT sweater, buying a coffee with extra caramel. Except his eyes are red-rimmed and his voice is thick and scratchy like he’d been crying.

Peter shrugs, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Not really. When do you take your fifteen?”

“He’s taking it right now,” Cassie buts in, elbowing Harley in the ribs. She’s already got Peter’s coffee ready, sitting on the counter, and she’s pouring a second for him. “Take your thirty, I’ll cover for you.”

Harley won’t argue with that, wanting to comfort his new friend. He links their arms together and heads for one of the booths in the far corner instead of their usual table, worry squeezing his chest. It’s only been two months but he cares about Peter a lot. More than he thought possible.

“It’s stupid,” Peter says, but he clutches his drink close to his chest, eyes watery and hands trembling. “My parents want me home for Winter Break.”

“So?”

Harley would kill to be able to afford a flight home to Tennessee for Winter Break. He has to save up all year just to afford making it home for the summer, winter and spring breaks have to be spent on campus or with Gwen who has an apartment in the city. He misses his mom and sister like crazy when he’s away for so long.

Peter scoffs, glassy eyes rolling. “They suck. I’m sure you’ve heard of Richard and Mary Parker before. Yeah, they’re not about to get Parent of the Year awards.”

“Why not?” Harley asks. He certainly knows the two of them, they’re famous scientists, alumni from MIT as well. It’s hard not to know them. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“They don’t care, they never did. Most of my childhood was spent with nannies or babysitters while they were out for business or other things they wouldn’t tell me about. The only time they ever cared was when they were telling me off for blemishing their reputation, or to tell me I needed to work harder if I was ever going to be allowed to get their company.”

Harley frowns, trying to empathize with his pain. He’s never been in a situation like that. In Rose Hill, you could get away with doing pretty much anything, nobody had reputations at stake, consequences were few and far between. Harley once landed himself in jail for a stupid night with people who weren’t really friends. Nobody cared, Harley even became pretty good friends with one of the officers who arrested him. His mom didn’t even have to pay to get him out.

“That really sucks, I’m sorry,” Harley says.

Peter shrugs again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I got a B on a test in astrophysics a month ago.”

“I remember.”

“They’re going to kill me for that. A B is essentially an F in my house. To them, I failed.”

Harley’s frown deepens and he reaches across the table to grab Peter’s hand. “You studied so hard for that test, you were sleep-deprived and upset because of that argument with your roommate. That wasn’t your fault. And either way, a B’s still a good grade.”

“Not to my parents, it’s not.”

“Why does their opinion matter? You’re an adult, they don’t have to control you anymore.”

Peter lets out a humorless laugh, eyebrows furrowing as he tries not to cry. “I don’t have a choice. I have to go home for the holidays and I have to take over their company and I have to do what they tell me to do. They control my money, they pay for my tuition, they’re all I’ve got. I don’t have anything else.”

“I’m sorry,” Harley says again, he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say, doesn’t know how to make this any easier for him. “Well, if you need anything, feel free to call. I’ll be here all Winter, so I’ll be available to talk if you need to.”

“Thank you.” Peter’s voice breaks and he doesn’t catch the tear in time for Harley not to see it. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. It probably looks like it, but I’m not just using you for coffee.”

Harley smiles, squeezing Peter’s hand. “And I promise I’m not using you for answers to future tests. You may be a genius, but I’m not a cheater.”

“Good because I have a proposition. I only leave on Saturday, and I need an extra set of hands to pack up my dorm room? My roommates already gone, so it’ll just be us and we could watch some movies afterwards? If not, don’t worry about it-”

Harley grins, finishing off his coffee. “I’d love to. Tomorrow afternoon? I have the day off work, but I’ve got a class until two, so I’ll come over after that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

* “I’m going to miss you,” Harley says, watching Peter make a little pile of the bags they’d packed the night before from his bed. Peter’s got a mid-afternoon flight, so he needs to be out by noon. “That’s three Thursday nights without you at the café.”

Peter smiles softly, turning from where he’d set down his backpack at the door. “I’m going to miss you too. Three weeks and I’ll be back to bothering you all the time.”

Despite knowing it’s a joke, Harley rolls his eyes. “You’re never a bother.”

“I’ll call you? I live out in California, so I’ll try to remember the time zone differences, but don’t hate me if I accidentally call you in the middle of the night.”

Harley turns his head into the pillow, smiling dopily at Peter. “I told you, call me whenever. I want to hear all the gossip about your stupid parents.”

“Well there will be plenty of gossip, so be careful what you wish for.”

There’s a pause as the reality of everything sets in. Three weeks without each other after only two months together seems unfair. Harley’s going to miss Peter a lot. He’s been ignoring the crush that’s been festering over the past couple weeks especially. He doesn’t want to hurt their very new, budding friendship, especially not when Peter’s under so much stress as is, but last night, watching movies on Peter’s bed together on his laptop, it really solidified the crush.

“I should get going,” Peter says miserably. He slings his backpack over his shoulder again, glasses askew on his nose, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, hands shaking.

“You want me to drop you off instead of taking a cab? I wouldn’t mind driving. We probably even have time to stop for a quick coffee.”

Peter smiles brightly, big enough to show off his dimples and light up his eyes. Harley gets off the bed, taking off his red MIT sweater, leaving him in an old t-shirt from the diner his mom works at, and hands the sweater over to Peter.

He wants to say so you’ll remember me or a reminder you’re not alone but he can’t say it. Instead he says, “You look a bit cold.”

“Thanks,” Peter murmurs, flushing softly. Harley reaches out and straightens his glasses before slinging the duffel bag on the floor over his shoulder.

“Let’s get going then.”

Peter picks the music, old Disney movie soundtracks, and Harley drives, paying for coffees on the way to the Boston airport. They don’t say much, humming along to the music to keep from saying too much, but linking their hands together which says just as much.

When they get to the airport, Peter insists on Harley staying in the car.

“Three weeks,” Peter promises, blinking back tears.

Harley offers a smile, squeezing Peter’s hand. “Call me, it’ll feel like no time at all.”

The younger boy opens his car door and looks like he’s about to slip out of the car, but he turns back to Harley, eyes wide and glassy. He leans across the center of the car and kisses Harley hard.

“I’m sorry-”

Harley reaches over, cups Peter’s face and pulls him back in to kiss him again. “I really like you, like a crazy amount, I didn’t want to say anything because I love having you as a friend, but I do really like you.”

“I really like you too. I didn’t tell you but before you talked to me that one day, I was always going into your café just to see you but I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“You’re going to miss your flight,” Harley says, brushing his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone and frowning disappointedly.

Peter huffs out a breath, pushing open his door. “I’ll call you? We’ll talk about this?”

“Of course. Call me whenever,” Harley says, stealing one last kiss. “Go before you miss your flight.”

The younger boy grins so bright, finally slipping out of the car, backpack over one shoulder, leans back to blow a kiss, and then he’s gone.

Harley has to pause for a second, smiling up at the ceiling of his car, before he feels ready to leave the airport, and Peter, behind.

Three weeks.

* It takes a week and a half for Peter to call, and when he does, he’s crying.

“This sucks,” Peter starts, voice trembling and thick with emotion. “Being home sucks and missing you sucks and everything sucks.”

“Hi to you too, and merry belated Christmas.”

“Sorry, yeah, merry Christmas, happy holidays, hi, how are you, and all that. I wish I were in Boston so much.”

Harley lets out a short laugh, sprawling out on his bed, phone pressed against his ear. “I wish you were here too, if that helps. What happened?”

“My parents were totally pissed about my B like I knew they’d be. And when I tried to tell them about you because I was excited, they told me I’d find a nice girl to settle down with soon enough.” Peter chokes out a sob, voice tipping towards angry. “I know I’m bi, so maybe, but it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair. Some people are like that. I remember coming out as gay in a small town in Tennessee, it wasn’t received very well.”

Peter sighs sympathetically. “I just- I don’t even want their company, you know? I want to work at Stark Industries like how I’d been interning, but I don’t have a choice. I’m the heir, the papers were signed, it’s mine as soon as I graduate so they can retire.”

“You’re a genius, and legally an adult, find a way to un-sign them. Or when you get jurisdiction, terminate the company. There’s still options, there’s still ways you can get where you want to be.”

“I know, I just- I don’t know. I wanna go home. I want to see you.”

Harley smiles softly to himself, shaking his head. “I know, I miss you too. But you’re halfway done, you can do it, and I’ll be there at the airport for you when you get back.”

“I know we said we’d talk about it but I really don’t think I can handle-”

“No, no, of course.” Harley doesn’t mind. He’s kind of liking this in-between stage they’re living in. Not dating, no labels, but definitely something more than friends. “In case you needed a confidence boost, you’re a genius. You’re the smartest person I know and I know a lot of people. According to Gwen, you’re the nicest person too, and I agree. You’re very sweet and kind. Plus, have you seen yourself? You’ve got a lot going for you.”

Peter laughs quietly, tears finally fading. “You’re too nice to me. Maybe being around you is going to make my ego too big.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Harley says, lightening up. “You’re too humble for that. Oh, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but apparently, Gwen did notice you first, and she purposefully sent me over to your table that first day.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She thought I was getting too lonely, after spending over a year in Boston and only making two friends, and not seeing anybody, so she was hoping something would happen between us, which I guess it did, so I owe her one.”

Peter laughs again, then goes quiet for a moment. “I need to get going soon. Dad’s taking me to meetings all afternoon. I hate going, people only see me as a stupid kid or as competition.”

“Prove them wrong, stand up for yourself, or at least get me on the phone so I can stand up for you.”

Far away from the door there’s a shouted, “Get your ass out of bed! We leave in thirty and if you’re tie’s on wrong and I have to reteach you, I swear to god, it’ll be the last thing you do!”

“Was that your dad? Threatening you?” There’s already a protective edge to his voice like Harley will fly all the way to California just to stand between Peter and his dad.

“They’re normally empty threats,” Peter offers like it’s no big deal. “He prefers yelling more than anything. Mom says he’d probably do worse if it weren’t for the cameras on us all the time.”

Harley’s mouth falls open, anger flooding through his chest like a wildfire. “You should stay with me this Spring Break and Summer. There’s plenty of extra space in Gwen’s apartment and in my childhood home. I don’t want you back there.”

“You’d want me around for that long?”

He nearly chokes in surprise. “Of course I would. I want you always, whenever. I don’t want you home again if I can help it. It’s obvious it’s not good for you.”

Harley doesn’t know how their relationship will fare, how they’ll be in two months, in six, he doesn’t know if he could convince Peter to stay away knowing the anger it would cause, he doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to keep Peter safe. But he knows he’d do anything to try.

“I’ve gotta go before my dad’s head explodes. I’ll call you as soon as I can and we’ll talk more about these plans, ‘kay? I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Only another week and a half left.”

* Harley has to wait at the airport for three hours because of a flight delay and the longer he waits, the more he itches to see Peter. They still haven’t talked, so Harley isn’t even sure if greeting him with a kiss is allowed, but he doesn’t know how much he cares. He’s been thinking about it for three weeks, lord knows Gwen’s losing her mind with his constant rambles about Peter, and he’s pretty positive Peter will be just as desperate.

He sends another text to Peter, letting him know the area he’s waiting in, and waiting to see if it switches to delivered which would mean he’s landed. It does and Harley can barely contain an excited squeal.

If I run, I can be there in 3

Harley sends back a quick, please, which goes unanswered.

He keeps half his attention on his watch, slowly ticking down, and half on the people walking around him, waiting for the mop of brown curls to make their appearance.

At two minutes, thirty seconds, he sees Peter.

“Peter!” he calls out, ignoring some of the dirty looks people shoot him, and lifting a hand into the air.

Almost immediately, the boy starts running faster down the last stretch of hallway, dropping his duffel a few feet away, before launching into Harley’s awaiting arms.

Harley has to take a few steps to rebalance them, arms winding around Peter’s waist and kissing him hard. Peter’s legs are around his waist, hanging onto him like a lifeline, hands in his hair. Eventually, Peter’s smiling too wide to continue kissing, pulling back to let out a giddy laugh.

“I missed you so bad. I know it was only three weeks and I know we’ve only known each other for a few months, but I really like you, and I didn’t think I would miss you as much as I did, but every day without you felt like a marathon. I don’t want to skip the conversation, but I just want to know that this is real,” Peter rambles.

Stealing another kiss, Harley tightens his grip on the younger boy. “Yes, god yes, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day for the past three months, and I want this to be real too. I want to be your boyfriend, I don’t care how soon or crazy it is.”

“My boyfriend,” Peter echoes, lighting up in a smile. He kisses Harley again and then hides his face in the crook of Harley’s shoulder, nodding. “Yes please. I would love that.”

They hold each other for a while longer. Long enough for the majority of the baggage pick-up to clear out, long enough for Harley’s knees to start cramping and his cheeks to hurt with how wide he’s smiling.

“I’m not letting you go back there,” Harley says because it feels necessary. “I’ll find a way for you to stay until you graduate.”

Peter smiles pulling back enough to kiss his forehead. “Good, thank you, I didn’t want to go back.”

“Time to go home, boyfriend?” Saying it makes Harley giddy with pure joy.

His mama’s going to freak when she hears about Peter, she’s only ever wanted what’s best for Harley, and Peter’s that. He’s the best for Harley. It doesn’t get better than him. And he’s going to do everything in his power to be the best for Peter too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[sayhitoforever]

Burn Season - Malcolm Bright x Reader - PT (7/?)

A little holiday gift for all you lovely people.  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6-  Thanks for all the love and support for this series. You guys are wonderful, your feedback makes my heart feel so full. I am playing around with the idea of making this it’s own fic, with an OC protagonist instead of a reader insert. If I go through with that, you guys will be the first to know and I’ll post any links here, most likely for AO3. Thank you, as always, for reading. This will be the last update for 2019! GIF credit to diver5ion because Malcolm is serving LOOKS 👌 .

~

Even with the meticulously neat organization of the evidence, it had taken Malcolm well into the evening to get through the boxes. The pictures were spread across his island and the floor as he’d tried to set up the scene the way it had been when it was first photographed. He poured over each report and lab and all the testimony that had been gathered before starting in on Y/N’s notes, usually left on sticky notes stuck to the reports. Some of them were incomprehensible, clearly pulling facts and forming theories around evidence he’d yet to read through.

It was strange, he thought. Y/N had said it wasn’t personal, that she hadn’t cared about her father, but all the hard work in front of him said otherwise. It could be that he was misinterpreting it, that the dedication to all the evidence spread around him was just part of her job. It was stranger even that her father wasn’t among any of the victims contained in the boxes, not that he could tell at least. Why, he wondered, would she tell him what she had but leave out any information that corroborated her story?

Six crime scenes, six charred buildings, corpses into the double digits, the timeline spanning over eight years. It had grounds to qualify as a serial killer by the modus alone. Always an abandoned factory or warehouse, some condemned and dilapidated building. Planned, intentional, where no one but the intended victims could be hurt. It was an act of empathy, an act of restraint, and that ruled out any theory involving a sociopath.

Malcolm found that all of the victims in the boxes had some kind of mafia affiliation. It was a dawning sort of dread that fell over him as he realized that the manner in which they’d been tied up, every last one of them, reflected crimes they’d been alleged of committing. The two handcuffed to old piping were infamous sex traffickers, known for keeping women chained up in basements to be abused. Another with remnants of his shattered kneecaps found in the ash, both ankles broken, known for crippling his enemies before executing them with a bullet between the eyes.

We will make you sorry.

Retribution then, like paying it forward in the cruelest way possible. Forcing them to suffer that which they’d done to others before they died. It was the fire though; the fire didn't seem to fit. It was the odd piece of the puzzle. Why burn them? What was that a reflection of?

Malcolm was reaching for his phone to text Y/N when it chimed with a message from Gil. ID on the victims from the other night that they were able to pull from their dental records. More mafia thugs, he noted as he scrolled through the reports Gil had sent, before stopping at the list of their alleged crimes. And there at the bottom of all three was the answer to his developing theory. Alleged murder, charges that never struck, involving bodies out in the wilderness, tied to posts with rope and shot at like an execution by firing squad.

The next chime was a phone call and Malcolm brought the phone to his ear.

“Gil,” he said by greeting.

“You got anything for me, Bright?”

“I…” Malcolm hesitated, looking at the spread of evidence all over his loft. “I don’t know. There’s a lot here, Gil. Years of evidence.”

“Any of it you can bring in? We could try to help, offer a fresh pair of eyes?” Gil offered and Malcolm could hear the sound of a coffee pot being returned to its stand. He smiled tiredly; so they were all depending on caffeine to get through the day now.

“There’s too much here to bring.” Malcolm stared at photos of the fourth crime scene, recalling testimony of a nearby vagrant. Something about overhearing someone a short while before the old factory had gone up in flames:

We will make you sorry.

Malcolm sighed, knowing that a fresh pair of eyes might actually be of some help. “But, let me grab what is most important and I’ll head over. Is Y/N there? I had a couple questions for her.”

“I saw her about a half hour ago, so I would imagine she’s around here somewhere,” Gil replied.

“I’ll be there soon,” Malcolm promised and pocketed his phone again as Gil confirmed.

What precisely to bring with him out of the mountain of evidence before him was another beast entirely. Should he rebox it and bring it all with him? Should he even keep reflecting on old evidence when he had a new case with fresh evidence that might even have more reliable results to focus on? Photos at the very least would help, and he made quick work of returning them all to their properly labeled envelopes and slipping them under his arm after donning his coat.

The chill in the evening air was like a sigh of relief as it washed over him. He’d been cooped up for so long, so focused, that he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been feeling a little claustrophobic. When he entered the precinct for the second time that day, Gil was on a heated, closed-door phone call with someone in his office, Dani had left to chase down the owner of the warehouse, and JT was on his way back with food for them all. With a sigh, envelopes full of old crime scene photos still tucked under his arm, he made his way to Edrisa’s lab where he was greeted with the sound of her pealing laugh as he opened the door.

“Mr. Bright!” Edrisa greeted him, face lighting up as he entered her lab.

Y/N was sprawled in Edrisa’s chair, booted feet kicked up onto her desk. The look she gave him across the room was a little haggard, but sharp nonetheless. He’d never asked her what business had called her away so quickly earlier, but it was clear now that sleep hadn’t been involved. It was the most comfortable he’d seen her around another person, and he wondered what specifically it was about Edrisa that maybe put her at ease.

“You two aren’t drinking again, are you?” he asked, eyeing Edrisa closely.

“Oh, no, no, it’s too early for that,” Edrisa laughed, looking back at Y/N who nodded with emphasis. “We were swapping stories of the worst dead bodies we’ve seen.”

Malcolm shot Y/N a critical look. The grin he received in return was nothing short of sardonic. “You have a laundry list of dead body stories?”

“More than I’ll ever let on,” Y/N said with a casual shrug, grin nearly splitting her face in half as she heard Edrisa’s groan of defeat.

“I knew you were holding out on me,” Edrisa lamented, hanging her head. “I even told you about the bog body.” Malcolm couldn’t help but chuckle at the hang-dog look on her face.

“C’mon, E. I gotta save the good ones. Can’t spill all my good stories at the same time.” Her eyes glittered as she looked over Edrisa’s sagging frame with another laugh, before she pinned Malcolm in place again.

“Oh, where are my manners? Have you two met already?” Edrisa exclaimed, glancing between the two.

Malcolm blanched for a moment, having forgotten that Y/N had left the crime scene while Edrisa was caught in traffic the other night. And again after the Baby Stout incident, she’d yet to discover that they were already well-acquainted.

“We are familiar,” Malcolm replied, slowly and awkwardly.

Edrisa blinked up at him, the word ‘familiar’ seeming to strike a chord with her. “Has she told you any of her good stories?”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Bright and I haven’t had the opportunity to share our best case stories,” Y/N piped in, moving her hands to settle them atop her stomach as she lounged even further down into the chair. “But this case is squaring up to be a pretty good one.”

“That’s true!” Edrisa said enthusiastically. “I might even submit this case to the review board if we close it. Carbonization of tissue is such a fascinating subject, very open to debate about how it…”

When both Y/N and Malcolm stared owlishly at her as she trailed off, clearly lost in her own thought, she gathered herself just a little. “I could use more coffee. Do either of you—”

“Yes, please,” Y/N and Malcolm said in stereo. Edrisa’s eyes flitted between the two of them like she was watching a ping-pong match before she pointed at Y/N and laughed like they’d shared a joke Malcolm hadn’t quite caught. She continued to chuckle as she exited the lab.

Y/N remained where she was, feet still propped up, hands folded on top of her stomach, eyes studying him where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting around the room.

“Spit it out,” she said suddenly. “Unless the question is meant for Edrisa.”

He winced, visibly, beginning to hate just how transparent Y/N made him feel. He couldn’t be that obvious, right? He was a trained professional after all. “It’s a sensitive question,” Malcolm said instead, holding back more questions. Always questions. Questions he was sure might never get answered. Not when the person he needed to ask evaded them like a pro, not when the questions entered a territory too personal, too private, too dark.

“Ok, I’ll bite,” she said simply.

Malcolm hesitated, his own racing train of thought coming to a screeching halt. “It’s regarding your father,” he said, giving her the leeway to refuse his request.

She stared at him impassively, cocking her head to the side slightly. “I’m still listening.”

He swallowed reflexively, trying to push out one coherent question at a time. “Was there anything that stood out in his autopsy report, anything weird, anything violently particular?”

“Clever.” Was the only thing Y/N said for a moment, eyes glazing over a little in contemplation, her silence leaving Malcolm prickling with anticipation. “Can’t believe I never thought about this, but yeah. His mouth had been stapled shut. Surgical steel.”

Malcolm’s pulse thundered in his ears as her gaze focused on him once more. She'd said it so easily, effortlessly, like the act of recalling that her father’s body had been mutilated while he was still alive, that he’d been silenced, before being burned alive meant nothing to her. Maybe it really wasn’t personal for her. Maybe it was just one of those cases you got fixated on because it had gone unsolved for so long. Maybe Malcolm was just projecting something onto her. His own need to understand everything that effected him in some way. The way she was looking at him, calm, exhausted, with no real sadness in her gaze, spoke volumes.

He stared back, too flabbergasted to speak for a moment before swallowing dryly. “So, I have a theory…”