#like if you say 'we have to look at the marketing materials to make new social media posts' and then. not tell me anything else

[sol-flo]

i'm going to destroy this damn phone

- the boss avoider

[wttcsms]

we play our fantasies out in real life ways ; shouto todoroki.

pairing shouto todoroki x f!reader  word count 2.7k  synopsis knocking up his sugar baby seems (and feels) like a dream come true for the future ceo and youngest son of japan’s richest conglomerate family. content contains sugar daddy!shouto, yandere themes, car sex, creampie, breeding kink, quirkless au, ceo!shouto, tiny daddy kink author’s notes this is a repost of an old fic but pls tell me we are still horny 4 shouto. also ignore the Tesla promo, i was feeling silly when i wrote this </3

He can have anything he wants, you know.

And of course you know this. Of course you do. It’s hard to ignore this fact whenever he’s the exact reason your closet is overflowing with more dresses than you know what to do with; why your dresser can barely stay shut due to the amount of lacy lingerie you’ve had to shove in them; why you’re a third year college student driving to campus with a brand new Mercedes that technically isn’t even supposed to be out on the market ‘til next month. 

He can have anything he wants, and because you’re his, by extension, you have the power to make all your material wishes come true, too. All you have to do is ask him.

All you have to do is look up at him and give him those puppy dog eyes of yours and say, “please, daddy, can I cum?” and he’ll let you. You know he will, because stoic Shouto Todoroki, the future CEO and prized son of the Todoroki clan that happens to be one of the most famous conglomerate families in all of Japan, just can’t seem to say no to you. He signs off multi-billion yen deals as easily as one blinks and running multiple companies is just something he’s been born to do. It’s no easy feat to give commands to such a powerful man. 

And yet, one look and a tiny whimper is all it takes to turn him into putty in your hands. 

It’s always an out of body experience when you’re with Shouto. Being with him is like constantly being the main character of a movie. He rents out entire restaurants so the two of you can dine away from prying eyes. He sends you good morning and good night texts every single day. (One time you joked about him forcing his assistant to do it because there’s no way a busy man like him would ever have time to do something so insignificant; he didn’t like that you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the concept of you being someone very important to him.) Shouto is incredibly good to you, incredibly good for you.

He’s incredibly good with a lot of things. Taking care of you, for one. Taking care of all his businesses, for another. And right now, he’s taking real good care of your cunt when he’s got three of his fingers knuckles deep in you. 

The windows to his sleek, outrageously priced car are tinted so dark, even you struggle to see through the windshield. You always tell him it’s dangerous, but he reminds you that there are always reasons for the things he does. You wonder if getting tinted windows so he could fuck his college student sugar baby with some semblance of privacy is the reason. 

And then all thinking on your end comes to a stop when he nips at the skin of your neck, biting down softly and getting you to let out a tiny whimper. It doesn’t hurt. You don’t think Shouto is even capable of hurting you; not because you’re some unbreakable being, but because you don’t think the calloused hands that have caressed every centimeter of your body is capable of harming you. 

The two of you are currently parked in the lot right outside the building where his main office is located. In about ten minutes, the parking lot will be flooded with employees who have just clocked out and are getting ready to speed home. In about ten minutes, anyone could accidentally (or purposely) become a little voyeur to the activities going down in the future CEO’s luxury car. 

Your back is pressed against his chest. More often than not, you find yourself naked while he’s practically still dressed, and it’s the same thing that’s happening right now. The buttons on his shirt are digging into your back, but you can’t find it in you to complain. Instead, you focus on gripping the wrist of the hand that’s in between your thighs. The sleeves of his button down shirt are rolled up, and if you take your tiny fingers just a bit higher, you can feel the veins running down his arm. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” The baritone of his voice is smooth, calm, collected — in control. Because you can make any request in the world, and Shouto will fulfill it for you, but that does not mean that you are the one who makes the final decisions. At the end of the day, everything you have, everything that is given to you, is because of him, because of the decisions he makes for you.

His eagerness to gift you the world thinly veils the true depth of your submission to him. A subconscious part of you is well aware of the power imbalance in this relationship, but if all has been well these past two years, then surely it’ll only be smooth sailing from here?

You lean back, leaning into his warmth, breathing deeply to inhale the scent of his spicy cologne that costs more than your textbooks (that he bought for you). 

“D-daddy.” You moan out, trying to coax him deeper in your tight little cunt, as if his fingers aren’t already as deep as they can go, spreading out your hole to prep you for what he knows you truly crave. 

“You’ve got to speak up, love. I can’t give you anything if you don’t tell me what to give you.” His breath is warm against your ear, and it’s so hot in the car. So, so hot. You wonder if it’s just you feeling the heat, though. Shouto seems as collected as ever, not the least bit uncomfortable at all. 

“Mmm — w-want you.” You wriggle a bit in his lap, but his free hand grips your side and squeezes you with a firm, nonverbal command to stop moving. You do, immediately. Because that’s what you always do: follow his command. 

“I know you do.” He coos, finally moving his fingers. It’s agonizingly slow, too slow. The car is silent save for your little pants and the obscene wet sounds that come as a result of his fingers thrusting in your wet cunt. 

“Faster, daddy.” You whine out, looking up at him. The sun is setting, and despite the tint of the windows, the orange glow from the sun still shines against his smooth skin, casting his face into something that’s half sunset/half shadow. It’s a good look; a sharp contrast that matches his hair. Seeing your blatant admiration of him only spurs him to give in and go faster. He had planned on drawing this out for as long as he possibly could. He had originally wanted to coax you into as many orgasms ‘til you were nothing but a fucked out little mess, too worn out to pay attention or even care when he finishes your little session with you plugged up with his cum. 

The lives of children born into the Todoroki family are more cursed than it is blessed, and Shouto had, a very long time ago, made a vow that he would never continue the bloodline. He would have no children, which would be easy because he planned on never having a lover.

And then he met you, started providing for you, realized how much he enjoyed providing, and realized even more that the only way to strengthen this transactional relationship is by forcing your hand. He likes to think that you would stay with him willingly, but there are some chances that he’s just not willing to take; there are some extremes that he’s all too entirely happy to go far to, though. 

Your sweet moans mix in well with the lewd sounds of your pussy getting thoroughly fingerfucked. His fingers are so much longer than yours, can reach spots inside of you that you can’t quite reach yourself. He’s efficient with anything and everything he does, and you’re not surprised when he doesn’t slow his pace. The consistent strokes of his fingers, your lowered inhibitions when around Shouto, and the look on his face (equal parts concentration and adoration) all help in making you cum all over his hand. 

“Good girl.” Shouto whispers, removing his fingers and holding his hand up. The sunlight beaming through makes his digits glisten even more, and you’re enraptured as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips to suck your essence off of them. Piercing heterochromatic eyes never leave yours as he sucks on them, and you have to turn away from embarrassment. How can he keep such a straight face when literally licking your cum off his fingers? 

“Don’t turn away from me.” His hand — still wet — grips your chin and forces you to look at him again. “I don’t like it when you shy away from me.” 

You nod meekly, and Shouto sighs. 

“You shouldn’t be shy around me. I don’t like making you feel uncomfortable, you know that, don’t you?” 

You nod again, a subtle, barely there move. He’s not impressed. 

“Answer me properly.” There’s a hard edge to his tone, and you sit up a little straighter. Shouto would never lay a hand on you with the intent to physically harm you, but he’s not above roughing you up during sex. You’ve heard him get this way before, and the imprint of his fingertips and the purple hickeys littering your poor body took three days to fade properly. 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You say with a pout, trying to conjure up any sort of leniency he can spare. Judging by his facial expression and the wavering look in his eyes, he’s already softening up. You just have to make it up to him now to have his complete forgiveness.

Maneuvering in the limited space the driver’s seat gives is no easy task, but you manage to shift positions to where you’re straddling his lap, finally facing him properly. He’s leaned back, watching you with a hungry glint in his eyes that makes you feel like the most wanted girl in all of Japan. A surge of heat flows through your body, from the tips of your ears to your cheeks and all the way down to between your thighs. If you were in a different position, you could clench them together, try to rub your thighs in an attempt to ease the need for friction. 

Your fingers make quick work of his belt and his zipper, pulling down on both the waistband of his slacks and his briefs to finally free his cock. He’s already hard, and you admire the way your hand can’t even wrap fully around him. The tip is flushed red, pearly beads of precum already present. 

This is the part where you look up at him, almost as if you’re unsure about what to do. You don’t know what it does to him, to see you sitting on his lap with his cock looking outrageously large in your tiny hands. He can see your pretty pussy practically dripping all over his slacks. Now’s not the time for you to be playing the role of an innocent, unsure little girl, but then it hits him: you’re asking him for permission. He almost lets out a bark of laughter. 

“You’ve already taken it upon yourself to tear into my pants and make a grab for my cock. Surely you don’t expect me to beg to fuck your little hole now, do you?” He has a cold smile on his face as he brings you closer to him. “I thought this was my apology. Don’t tell me you’re going to make me do all the work?”

“O-of course not!” You look startled at the suggestion, eyes going big and round. He looks at you expectantly, as if telling you to do something. 

It always burns when you first take him. It doesn’t matter how many times he makes you cums, doesn’t matter how long he spends stretching you out on his fingers. By now, your pussy should have memorized the feel of his dick, should have been moulded to fit him and only him. And while there’s a tiny flash of pain and discomfort for you (which Shouto hates), it’s hard not to be in love with the feel of just how tight you are. 

The stinging pain is brief, though, and is easily replaced by one of satisfaction from being stuffed by the prettiest, fattest cock you’ve ever taken in your life. 

You moan, rocking your hips back and forth. Maybe this was originally supposed to be an apology to him, but it feels more like you’re using him as your own personal toy, and Shouto really couldn’t care less. After all, if it brings you pleasure, it brings him pleasure. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, baby? What would happen if I never met you, hmm? Are you willing to spread those pretty legs of yours for any man?” He says the last sentence with a tone sharper than usual. You shake your head as you continue to rut against him, chasing after your own high because you might not be a simpleminded slut for anyone, but you are nothing more than a cockslut when it comes to Shouto. 

“Ah — fuck, fuck, fuck!” You moan out, falling against his chest, burying your face into the space between his shoulder and neck. ��D-daddy, fuck!”

He holds you close to him as you cum, not even minding the mess you’ve made of his work pants. “Daddy’s got you.” He coos, his hand finding the back of your neck and squeezing you there, gently. “You must be tired now…”

You’re still too fucked out to really comprehend what’s exactly going on ‘til it’s happening, but even with your slow reaction times, you still manage to let out a slutty moan as you feel Shouto thrusting up into you. It must be uncomfortable, you think. This position doesn’t make it exactly easy for him to chase after his own pleasure, but then you remember that Shouto Todoroki doesn’t back down or break down when it comes to challenges.

He perseveres. 

You’re like a rag doll, like a personal little fucktoy, made for him to use (and maybe even break) as he pleases. Every thrust is sharp and intense, and his teeth are clenched as he continues to use you, enjoying the warmth of your tight walls and admiring the ring of white that coats and clings to his dick every time he pulls out. 

It doesn’t take him much longer to finally finish; he grabs you by your hips, raising you slightly before abruptly pushing you down on his cock, making sure that he’s nestled as deeply in you as he can be when he finally cums. He’s breathing a bit harder as he comes down, and then he’s grabbing you by your hair, making you stare at him. 

His cheeks are flushed, there’s some slight sweat building up on his forehead, his shirt is wrinkled. He’s never looked better. You’ve never felt better. 

Or, more accurately, never felt fuller. 

“Shouto, did you c…” You can’t even finish the sentence. Did you cum inside? Not like you have to; you know the answer. Some of it is dripping out of you. 

All he does is give you that small smile, the one that he rarely lets anyone see, and starts up the car. 

If he doesn’t want to talk now, there’s no way you can get him to answer properly. You try to remove yourself from his lap and make your ungraceful, disgusting journey to the passenger seat, but Shouto places a firm hand on your waist, forcing you back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Shouto, you can’t possibly drive while I’m sitting here on your lap.”

“I bought a Tesla for a reason.” 

Right. Because everything Shouto does has a reason for it.

You think about this on the drive back to his penthouse, a little bit of fear building up in your lower belly. Shouto does everything for a reason, and what’s the reason for any man cumming inside?

[ansburg]

not to soapbox but like. diasporic asians growing up the in the west were constantly told we were uncool, ugly, unfit for leading roles, and just so generally other that many of us still struggle with that self-hatred and deal with the material discrimination that comes with looking "different" from the default. so many diasporic asians have stories about how our creative accomplishments or potential were discounted because we were told we didn’t have enough “personality” – a judgment call that can’t be divorced from how racial triangulation has worked to alienate asian people from dominant cultures in the diaspora.

you know how asian people have been treated by western fantasy? we’re either

ugly and monstrous

exotified beyond recognition

or we don’t exist.

(thanks david. it’s not like thedas is the only continent the player can explore or anything. or that boats exist. where does solas get his tea btw? where do the silks in orlais originate from? why are there always asian aesthetics present without asian faces?)

when a game like bg3 comes along and the studio makes a decision to make an asian companion, it’s huge for us. that’s our crumb of representation. karlach is very obviously not “eurocentric” in her features – if anything, westernized beauty standards would have her face redone to comply with market demands.

she has monolids. she has a flat nose bridge. her cheeks are full and round, buccal fat very much in attendance. whatever she may have arguably been in previous patches, that is not what she is now. and pretending like her face – a face that, newsflash, asian people can relate to – is just a toy you can pop features out of because they don’t have enough “personality” to you, or because they’re too “soft," or because you don’t think a face like hers is “warrior-like” (whatever the fuck that means), is insensitive at best and willfully ignorant at worst. her asianness isn’t a setting to opt out of any more than wyll’s blackness is.

lastly, i’m exhausted that it even needs to be said, but being a person of color does not absolve somebody of intercommunity harm. minority status isn’t an excuse to get out of self-reflecting. it’s okay to step back and say, “wow, i didn’t think about how i’d affect members of this community,” without digging your heels in like one mistake on the internet is an extinction-level event.

studies:

[decolonize-the-left]

When are we going to talk about how gen z and alpha growing up with lifelong access to tech didn't make them good with technology, it made them bad with people.

A lot of people, when Leave the World Behind was released, related to the youngest character. The daughter who's only priority and desire was to watch the Friends finale as the adults around her were crippled with anxiety about politics, current events, and the very real possibility a war was happening.

One of her most hard-hitting lines was about wanting nothing but the smallest of comforts in a world that guaranteed you none. So if she was gonna die, she was gonna die watching Friends.

She had little to no empathy for her parents or the rest world, which is key to her character's behavior throughout the movie.

"yes, okay the internet is out and there's a blackout and flamingos are in the pool in the USA, and you're terrified, but can you just please fix the TV for me?"

And yeah, I do think it was the damn phones. Because what she's doing isn't all that different from what a LOT of Americans and Gen Z are doing right now while genocides happen.

It's not that different from what a lot of us do. See something awful on our phone and at some point put the phone down like we didn't. Instead we make dinner, do laundry, go to work.

It's our routine.

But gen z and alpha were born into that climate, unlike the rest of us. They didn't grow up seeing the internet be built. They didn't grow up with friends who created forums or sites or were constantly finding new ones. All that already existed. The internet doesn't have secret corners to hide in anymore. Just shadowy ones you really shouldn't wander into.

The work that needed to be done was already done or being done by someone else. Markets and sites were already saturated. If I want to Google something right now, I know for a fact that someone already posted sources and a webpage for it, too.

So much was simply Provided to them. They're so used to the idea of Unknown Others solving problems for them.

Why would they make the effort to solve anything themselves when experience has shown they just have to Google it. Or that it probably already exists. And what difference would They make anyway?

Afterall they themselves are just another Unknown Other in someone else's life, aren't they? Someone nobody thinks about again after their avatar scrolls by.

Is it really that far of a stretch to say that doing this everyday or even just seeing it happen everyday has had material and tangible effects on us as a society?

That it's resulted in a generation of kids who not only undervalue themselves but the impact they are capable of having on their society. Who have resigned to simply Existing within the world instead of trying to thrive in it?

Can we talk about how millennials saying "the next generation will handle it" was nothing but entitlement? We wanted to stop fighting and tried to pass the torch onto a generation that hadn't even graduated high school yet.

And we made things worse by doing that. If we can refuse to fight for them, why would they fight for anyone else? And when parents hand their kids an iPad and send them off to occupy themselves why would they look for human connections?

We taught them not to.

The internet was and is the only consistent thing Gen Z and alpha has had that did not expect anything of them.

And now most of us would be content to doomscroll in the apocalypse in the name of our "mental health"

We've all seen the memes and jokes about it, don't backpedal now. Like I said, a lot of people saw Rose in that movie and made #me & #same posts.

Few would get up and try to cause the change to change anything. Which, in that movie and IRL is how change is made. Real people getting up and working together. Someone doing the work nobody else wants to because someone has to.

But what happens when you grew up thinking someone else was always gonna do it for you anyway?

And that if they didn't, that you were the least qualified because the internet is Full of people more capable than you, right?

The world is full of people more capable than you. Your phone told you that, didn't it? So there's no point in you doing anything.

Is there?

X

People need people, in case you forgot. People need you, in case you forgot.

You're not an Unknown Other in my phone. You are person, in case you forgot.

My tribe has this saying that I know is shared with other natives "be a good ancestor"

A reminder that not only are we the product of the people who came before us, but the people after us will be products of us and our choices, too. That time is linear and goes forward and that how we spend that time matters. Not just for us, but for every single person who will come after us.

A reminder that even though we may be one person in a very long line, we are never ever without the power to change our future. That we have a responsibility to our community and family to use the time we are given for good. A reminder that the life I have isnt just for me. It's for a we.

That I am not just some Unknown Other. I'm a community member, I'm a person, and as such I owe it to my community to be better and demand better for them.

I think a lot of people need that lesson.

You're not an Unknown Other that nobody thinks about. Youre a community member and I actually think about you all the time.

I think about everyone who has resigned to doomerism all the time and I wish y'all would wake up. You're like the depressed cousin on the couch who naps too much and this is me trying to snap you out of it again.

Wake up.

You're loved and valued and people need you. Get up. Be a good ancestor.

[ganondoodle]

still thinking about how even just the decision to basically act like the shiekah tech never existed is just ... so baffling to me

bc again you could have done all the sonau tech does with shiekah instead, and they were perfect to be explored more in a sequel, why wouldnt you grasp that potential, the literal building blocks for more??

if you are that tired of shiekah tech .. dont make it a fuckign sequel to the game prominently featuring it???? totk doesnt take place generations after botw in which things could have changed drastically, its just a few years afterwards??

you want to reuse the map and get rid of shiekah tech? ok fine take LINK into the past then and the focus is for you to find a way to return; do some neat twist where its revealed that link was the one who sealed gan bc he couldnt defeat him without zelda or something if you dare (they wouldnt)

want less work than that and still reuse the map and get rid of shiekah tech AND reuse characters? ok then make it some alternate universe thingy like majoras mask in which everythign is the same but also isnt, its weird and creepy how characters you thoguht you knew suddendly dont act like themselves, shiekah tech doesnt exist, malice is now miasma, etc, it would give reason to why you feel so much like something about this world is familiar yet also very wrong

as far as im aware every "sequel" we have had so far were either generations apart from the first one, some alternate universe or a different location altogether- in all of which its plausible that things are different, things seem weirdly familiar but also wrong, or that another continent just works different from hyrule

but totk does none of that, its supposedly just a few years after the first game, same world same character, but its BUILT like some strange jumbled mess of stuff from botw and new stuff out of nowhere that just .. doesnt fit, but feeling a strange sense of otherness, a déja vu of something you know but it acts off, like an imposter, thats NOT intentional and it shows, its a mess of botw stuff, from stuff that people missed from the old games and entirely new stuff; i dont doubt it CAN work but the way it turned out is like a mix of 3 different puzzles forced together and being told 'see it fits!' even tho you can clearly see the pieces dont look right in these places

again it feels like a sequel that desperately wants you to forget the first game happened, that anythign from it mattered at all

and that isnt really ... the sense of a sequel? why insist on it being one when it only creates problems? is it marketing?? just like it was marketing to call age of calamity a telling of what happened before botw but then it wasnt that at all and that is still the sole reason why i dislike it? bc i was lied to? totk is like 10000 times worse than that, its a main title and doesnt even have the excuse of yeah its basically an excuse to play all your fav characters in fun ways and the game beign well aware that being its main appeal; what is totk appeal? a toybox with botw aestethic and none of the flavor?

(on a sidenote; the sonau tech doesnt even .. matter? in botw at least calamity ganon was made of shiekah tech parts and him overtaking other tech is a big point, the sonau tech doesnt serve anything but .. idk minerus useless mech? gan doesnt even aknowledge it, he doesnt care, all it is is toys for the player, not link, but the player. the monsters mining the tech materials? what for? gan doesnt give a damn and they dont work for the yiga either??)

i said it before but it gives me the feeling that the way botw invited you to theorize, to look beneath the surface, the way it intrigued you and laid the groundwork for so many interesting things without denying anything.. was accidental? or perhaps put in the game without the directors noticing? i cant stop thinking about them saying sth like "after botw zelda wondered if the kingdom of hyrule needed to keep existing the way it had been before the calamity, but then totk happens" bc it just feels like they realized too late that botw naturally led into questioning the status quo and they scrambled to fit it back into a flat and boring road we have seen so many times before (or even worse really) with totk

zeldas character naturally leads into her questioning and reexamine their history and set of rules? we gotta teach her a lesson of why she is importante god given monarchy girl that has to keep it bc what if evil brown man shows up again for no reason

maybe im grasping at straws here but looking at it this way the sonau .. make more "sense"; the shiekah were a group that was under the rule of the royal family, and misstreated before (oh no look soemthing interesting) so they dont lend themselves well to be used for teaching zelda that lesson- the sonau however are tailored really to be just that; they are a supposedly godly race from the literal sky that founded this version of hyrule, that had tech even more advanced and better than the shiekah, she gets put in the past to meet the perfect god king of goodness personally, also his very fridgy wifey that zelda later replaces in a way, shes put there and treated like family and then gets to see just how evil that evil big man from the desert is, sonia is falcon-punched to death solely so zelda can feel obligated to take over her role, have her new, better 'family' hurt by gan; similarly so raurus sacrifice, look what a noble and good king he is, he payed the ultimate price to lock that evil man away, now zelda you cannot let their sacrifice go to waste, rebuild that divinely good kingdom like it was!!

and even though they go so much out of their way to put the cart back onto the rails of black and white-good and evil in an even flatter way than the old games, it still doesnt feel right, at least to me, it still feels like zelda shouldnt have gone along with all of that, it feels like even her character from botw was walked back entirely, except for the intro, it made her feel like a stranger to me-

because this is a sequel, i know this zelda, she wouldnt act like that after all that shes been through, this feels ... off

and it all just insulting to anyone who cared about botw more than surface level, or the zelda lore in general, i dont even care much about the timeline, but theres alot of lore and themes beyond it that felt ignored, especially so given that .. its a damn sequel, non AU, not generations apart, directly part 2-

but its not.

it even feels very "corporate", put zelda in a dress again, people liked that, put crazy abilities in the game to flashbang people with how insane it is even if its not the best for the gameplay or the story, put a new asthetic into it out of nowhere bc its 'new' and act like its been there the whole time, put gan in there bc people miss him and find him sexy even if his role is just as flat as that of an evil cloud monster-

*sigh*

you know, i saw a post that said aoc was like a bad fanfic (affectionate) and totk was like a bad fanfic (derogatory) and tbh thats like one of the best comparisons/summaries i have seen ..

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

I don't think "everyone in the global north is personally complicit for buying a cell phone" is a useful way to understand the slavery and genocide involved in mining for phone parts. I'm not saying "oh you have to have sympathy for people in the imperial core" I'm saying that trying to argue that everybody is at fault based on the country they live in really let's the billionaires who set up the mines, decided to use slavery to produce the phones in order to cut costs, didn't look for another natural resource less deadly to mine to use to make the batteries, aggressively marketed the devices, used their little gig economy upstarts to make it so you literally can't get a job or navigate a city among other things without one, planned the obsolescence, punished people who try to repair their own instead of buying a new one, made it impossible to recycle the materials, and so on off the hook for what they've done. Like sure we all have cell phones, I'm typing this on one, but why do we all have them. And why are we expected to replace them every year. It's not because all Americans are greedy, it's because capitalism feeds off of suffering and there's very specific people at the top forcing that to continue.

[deirdra-hearts-nadia]

I've been thinking about the fandom for The Arcana, and I have come to the conclusion that it's weird as hell. In my 20+ years participating in online fandom spaces, I've never seen a fandom quite like this one. I've seen drama, sure, but the core of most fandoms is a large community of people who love the same media and come together to celebrate it.

The Arcana fandom is not like that. From the very beginning we're more fractured, more factional, more fragile than most. You just have to look around at all the posts lamenting the death of the fandom every 2 weeks to see that something is really wrong here.

And I think a lot of it has to do with the nature of the canon. I am not saying this to criticize The Arcana, the devs, Dorian, or my fellow fans. I have just noticed that, as a piece of media, this game occupies a very unique space that is reflected in the way its fans interact with canon and with each other.

Welcome to the TED talk ain't none of y'all asked for.

Part of what makes this fandom unique is the evolution of fandom as a whole in the face of new types of media. As gaming becomes more mainstream and games themselves become more complex, the way we engage has necessarily changed in response.

Books/ movies/ shows are slightly more static in terms of canon than video games; canon is what it is and how you interact with what is there is largely to do with who you are. Everyone has the same base material to engage with, and that results in a certain amount of constancy. You can't interact with The Princess Bride in a way that changes the movie, only in ways that change your own perception. There isn't a whole lot of room for OCs without rewriting canon, so fans tend to consume OC-based fiction and art with the assumption that it's likely to be self-insert wish fulfillment fantasy time. That isn't always true, but there is a reason the term Mary Sue was coined.

Otome games and other choice-based video games make a very different fan environment, because the way you interact with canon is completely different. You have to build a character in order to interact with the story, and your choices directly impact your experience of canon.

But most western choice-based games are in the context of a larger RPG universe, e.g. Fallout or Dragon Age. There is a lot more to the story than the romance plot and so there's a lot more world to experience, contextualize, and build upon. There's certainly plenty of unhinged ShepxGarrus erotica, but there's also an abundance of fanworks that engage with the plot, the worldbuilding, and the canon characters with relatively little of the player's character needing to be on the page at all.

By contrast, most otome games that make it to English-speaking fandom spaces are Japanese. The romance is the point, but we also start from a place of wariness of our fellow fans. Because there's a huge difference between "harmless weeb" and "orientalist fetishizing creepo," and you know going in that both ends of the spectrum are possible, there is an amount of caution. We curate our space, looking for the creators who align with our expectations and values before we ever begin to interact.

The Arcana falls in a very unique and odd space because it is an otome, but made by Americans, with an attempt at a diverse fantasy cast. It's intended to be for American/ English-speaking audiences and is marketed as such. But making a romance game in America is challenging. Our way of approaching online media, especially smartphone-accessible media, is super fucked up, right? We are constantly trapped between the dichotomies of moral duty (Must Protect The Children) versus appealing to the customer base (Boom Anime Babes with Tig Ol Bitties). Because this is a mobile game, the developers can't make money if the game is removed from the app store, so they want it to be rated teen at the most. But the enticing bit, the thing that captures a potential fan's attention, is the flirtation and sexy implications. So from the jump they're in a weird space purely because they chose to make a mobile game instead of an indie video game released on Steam or similar.

So now you have an inherently split audience: mature adults who know they're getting into a potentially explicit romance game, and young adults/teens who have grown up in a more insulated internet culture where normal words are replaced with Orwellian doublespeak, like "unalive" and "spicy time".

THEN you add in the fact that the developers tried to build a diverse fantasy world, which is a fantastic idea both from an inclusionary standpoint and a broader audience standpoint. But because they didn't employ any actual sensitivity readers (did they think they didn't need them because fantasy can't have racism? Did they justify it as not being in the budget? Would love to know what's going on there) they fell right into a lot of the classic traps. We've been over these time and again, so I won't get into them here. Suffice to say, there has been Discourse. The presence of those issues means that more experienced fans will see those things and call them out, and that criticism causes even more of a split: the zealous apologists versus the critics. And critics can fall into two further categories: those who love the canon and want to see it do better, and the bitches who just love having something to bitch about.

Unfortunately, this combination means that there are inherently factions to this fandom, with staunchly opposed approaches to the media. So even before you enter a fandom space, it's already wildly fractured simply because of the nature of base canon.

THEN add to that the fact that this game is a dating sim. And to engage with a dating sim, you have to build a character and make choices based on that character. Some people will approach this work as storytelling, and some will approach it as an escapist expression of self. Neither of these ways of engaging with canon is wrong. Enjoying a dating sim as Me But Better is fun and completely valid! Engaging with a dating sim as a storyteller collaborating with the developers is fun and completely valid! But the two approaches are opposed in purpose, and that can make it difficult for the two types of fans to engage with one another's work.

Storytellers will well and truly invest in building a character. They may even build out communities, countries, cultures, and languages to make their world all the richer. They are investing hours of blood, sweat, and tears into Their Craft, pouring themselves into an opus of quality fanwork. Unfortunately, this can sometimes lead to big feelings. Fan artists and writers may feel underappreciated if all they get out of their hard work is 2 likes and a gif of a wolf making AWOOGA eyes. They may feel that critique of their work is unwarranted, or that there's no point creating if no one will engage.

The romantics will engage with canon and fanwork from the perspective that "this is my fantasy romance time". Their OC isn't so much Original Character as Optimized Characteristics--that is, their perfect self. They are here for wish fulfillment fun times in the relative privacy and anonymity of the internet, and good for them! But that may mean that criticism of canon or their fan work feels excessively personal--it is very hard to detach the ego from the OC when that OC is a projection of your best self. They may view any critique as a personal attack as opposed to a good-faith attempt at engagement or conversation. This can lead to defensiveness, or to leaving the fandom outright if it feels too hostile.

Unfortunately all of these factions cause rifts in the community. This sometimes turns into fandom vigilantism, where people begin to see any fan who doesn't wholeheartedly agree with them as an enemy. I've seen friends experience bullying and cruelty over their OCs and their art. I've seen predators use the isolated nature of the fandom to further isolate and prey upon already vulnerable individuals. I've seen some really shitty stuff.

But I have also seen beautiful community flourish. I've made friends who feel more like family than my actual relatives. I've seen people work through struggles and overcome deliberate attempts to tear us apart, finding forgiveness and friendship along the way. I've seen myself and others grow because of the community and inspiration we found here. And I saw all of that because I found my people. And I hope, Arcana fandom, that the rest of you can find your people too.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Honebon Debut: Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins

The year is 1992, and Nintendo is making a hit sequel to the video game Super Mario Land for the Nintendo Game Boy. The previous two games in the Super Mario series, Super Mario Land and Super Mario World were both massive hits, and if you know anything about video games, it's obvious why: both had Skeletal Fish Enemies!

If Super Mario Land 2 was to have a chance of succeeding at all, they'd have to include a Skeletal Fish Enemy. But they couldn't just bring back Honen or Fish Bone, no. It was the '90s! We needed a hip, new skeletal fish for Cool Teens!

And so, Honebon was born! Isn't the miracle of childbirth amazing? Unfortunately, Honebon was born a skeleton, which is always a bad sign, because as it turns out, Honebon was dead on arrival...

Now don't get me wrong, Honebon has a few distinct traits to separate it from its Skeletal Siblings. Its attack pattern is unique, since it moves in a zigzag shape instead of a straight line, and according to Perfect Ban Mario Character Daijiten, while Fish Bone is the type to hold a grudge, Honebon has an amiable disposition! So if you're ever looking to befriend a skeletal fish, let that be your guide!

I also think Honebon's name is really funny. It's a portmanteau of hone, the Japanese word for "bone," and the English word "bone". And despite the fact its name doubles down on this being a skeleton, all the official material seems to describe it as a Cheep Cheep's gh-gh-gh-ghost!

But even with all of that, it's clear that Honebon's story as a Mario enemy ended as soon as it began. Honebon was competing for a niche that had already been filled multiple times over. It's a real Spike Eel situation over here! Clearly, Mario games didn't need any more skeletal fish enemies...

Name: Jean de Fillet Debut: Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island

But just because they didn't need another, that doesn't mean they didn't want another! I mean, come on! None of the previous skeletal fish had names that were dated pop culture references, so clearly there was an untapped market there!

You think there wouldn't be much ground to cover with another skeletal fish enemy... and you would be right! There is not all that much unique about Jean de Fillet. Much like Fish Bone and Honebon, it is described as a skeletal Cheep Cheep, despite none of the three really having Cheep Cheep anatomy at all, and much like Honen, its attack pattern involves jumping up to attack Yoshi. They can swim through lava I guess, but I'm not really convinced the other skeletal fish can't do that.

You see what happened? They ran the well dry, and all the fish that were living in the well for some reason died. Nintendo was just left with a bunch of fish skeletons, and all they could do at that point was put them in Yoshi's Island! Sad! Many such cases.

But due to Yoshi's Island going on to become a whole series of its own, Jean de Fillet would have a little more staying power than Honen or Honebon. Which is to say it appeared in Yoshi's New Island, where it even gets a boss variant named Furious Fred de Fillet!

Now it's kind of debatable whether or not Yoshi's Island is mainline, but if you include it, that's four mainline entries in a row that each introduced a completely new skeletal fish enemy! Super Mario Land and Super Mario World both did it, and so would their sequels.

Did this madness ever end?!

Name: Bonefin Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

Not before they could sneak in just one more skeletal fish enemy! It had been over a decade since Jean de Fillet, and in that time it had become the future! That meant their next skeletal fish had to be made of metal. Everything is chrome in the future! (Reference to "Bob")

And since they had a whole new dimension to play with, we were no longer starved of unique attack patterns! Bonefins lock onto Mario, and charge in that direction until they either hit him or hit a wall and explode. (Reference to "Bob")

Bonefins solely appear in the Bonefin Galaxy. They serve as mooks to Kingfin, a giant Bonefin that appears to be actually made of bone! This boss fight is kinda all that exists in Bonefin Galaxy, but at least they got a whole galaxy to themselves, right?

This would mark the end of an era however, as when Super Mario Galaxy 2 rolled around, there was no new skeletal fish enemy to be seen. In fact, Bonefin would only cameo as a skeleton, which is obviously and very intentionally meant to represent the fact that regular new skeletal fish enemies are a thing of the past, a product of a bygone age...

Since then, the series has standardized Fish Bone as their skeletal fish of choice, as they made their grand return in New Super Mario Bros. Wii and have been a series staple ever since. In the process, however, they gained Bonefin's homing attack, letting them do a little more than be Cheep Cheeps for ghost houses and castles!

Is the lack of new skeletal fish enemies another disappointing example of Mario Homogenization? Or did they make the right call, picking a skeletal fish and sticking to it? I dunno. I am completely neutral towards this development.

[dresshistorynerd]

Hello hello! I have gotten myself into an American Civil War era ball in November and I was wondering if you had any input on formal dress from the era! I've never done reenactment before but I would love some input on what I should wear!

That sounds very cool! I hope you'll have great time there when it eventually comes! :D

I'll go through all the garments and accessories that would have been used at the time, but obviously limitations of reality might get in the way of some parts. I'll give my opinion on what I think is more and less necessary to embody the era, but I've never done reenactment either so I can't really say for sure what is the expected level of historical accuracy, maybe someone with some experience of reenactment can chime in. But you'll be the best judge on what you can realistically get/make. Think of this as background info.

So the years we are looking at are 1861-65. I'll start from underlayers towards outer layers.

Shift and drawers

By 1860s drawers were used by most women with their shifts. The shift had wide neckline, small sleeves and often a bit of lace trimming. The sleeves could be wide like in the examples, but less often they might be small poofs. It was roughly knee length and still quite often made from white linen, but white cotton too.

Linen shift from mid 1800s US, and a linen shift from 1861-65.

The drawers were very simple in design. They most often split crotch seam, meaning the crotch seam wasn't sewn closed and the waistband was the only thing holding the pieces together. This made it easier to use the bathroom. They reached around mid-calf, sometimes just over the knees, but ankle length was too long. 1860s drawers were very full and usually had simple lace and/or frills at the hem. They were also made from either linen or cotton at the time.

The first example is from 1863 Peterson's Magazine, where pattern for joined drawers are marketed as new, but it's still very much patterned in a way where the drawers don't need to be taken down when using bathroom. It would be still pretty rare. Then drawers from 1860s US.

I would say basically any shift with short sleeves and wide enough neckline works here or really in place of that even almost any similarly shaped under dress, but it's very crucial to have something under the corset. If a shift isn't easily available, the replacing dress should be thin so it's not super hot, loose so it doesn't need closures that might cause chafes under the corset and preferably linen or at least cotton, so it's not sweaty and feels comfortable. Linen is really the superior undergarment material as it's anti-bacterial, very breathable and easy to wash, cotton was only contending with it for very Victorian reasons. The drawers are not necessary, not everyone used them at the time. If you don't feel comfortable not wearing any underpants (which was the other option at the time), I do recommend them since using a bathroom with the crinoline and underpants you have to take down is pretty hard.

Corset

1860s corset was fairly short compared to earlier and later corsets, and usually wouldn't reach very far on the hips. It wasn't necessary as the waistline was just above the natural waistline and the skirt was very wide so the shape of the hips would be completely covered. The corset used in formal settings like balls was usually heavily boned but for the same reasons as why the corset itself was relatively short, the bones didn't necessarily reach beyond the waistline. For these reasons even the heavily boned corsets left very large range of movement for the torso. As it was typical for the whole Victorian era, the corset was closed at the front with a busk and had lacing in the back.

The boning was usually just whalebone, metal often only used in the busk. The fabric was reinforced with most often with cotton twill or canvas. Especially in case of these fancier corsets used with evening gowns, the corset often had a silk fashion fabric, which could be white like other undergarments or colorful.

Silk corset from 1864 Britain/France, and cotton wedding corset from 1865-67 US.

Corset really is very necessary to pull of the ball gown of this era. Not just because it's very crucial in getting the silhouette, but also because it makes it easier to wear the large skirt as the corset distributes it's weight across the torso and supports the torso too. I do think any Victorian corset works here well enough as they are roughly similarly shaped. Because the crinoline is very light, the skirt is lighter than it looks, so even other less structured supportive garments that give even somewhat similar shape could work if Victorian corsets are not an option, like Regency stays or Edwardian corsets or even some modern corset. From what I've heard about reenactment events, I would prioritize having corset (or similar) that fits you and you know you can wear for a long period of time over historical accuracy and the right silhouette. (Corset often needs to be broken in like leather shoes, because the whalebones will shape into the body.)

Crinoline

Crinoline is a crucial part of the underlayers to achieve the silhouette of this era. The silhouette went through some changes even in the first half of 1860s. It started as quite similar to late 1850s silhouette of very large and round, though already in 1861, the volume was more focused in the back. In the following years the skirt would become less round, but wider and the volume would increasingly lean to the back. The skirt would reach it's widest point with massively long back, almost like a very wide bustle, in 1865.

Crinoline from 1860-62 Spain, and another from 1865. You can see the progression quite well between these two.

Here's also all of these foundational layers shown all at once, though I think the crinoline is from between 1866-68, since it's so narrow around the hips (the silhouette collapsed very quickly from the critical mass of 1865 to a much more narrow A-lined silhouette).

As said, this is really necessary to pull of the skirt of early half of 1860s. You really can't get the shape right without it. Especially for the earlier silhouette of the decade 1850s crinoline works perfectly fine and even the later 1860s crinoline like above. Even modern or 1950s hoop skirts can be serviceable here, but if the skirt is cut like in the mid 1860s, it definitely does need the elliptical crinoline that are very specific for those couple of years, as you'll see in the examples of the next section.

Petticoat

Petticoat's purpose in this era was mainly to smooth out the crinoline. It was therefore voluminous and usually made out of fairly stiff fabric, usually a bit heavier linen or cotton. There was often horizontal pleats around the hem, which would reinforce the shape. Couple of layers could be used too to properly cover the crinoline. It was pretty plain, usually white, but not necessarily, maybe with a bit of lace at the hem. Especially in early 1860s the petticoat was usually gathered with cartrigde pleats, which give a very round and voluminous shape. Around the mid 1860s, the pleating would be mostly focused in back to enhance the long shape.

Cotton petticoat from 1855-65 US, and linen petticoat from 1860-65 US. The first is very likely late 1855 or very early 1860s as it's so very round. The second is definitely closer to 1865, it shows very well how much more volume was at the back, as the hem there is much longer.

This is not strictly necessary, but it's very obvious when a crinoline doesn't have a petticoat on top of it, especially if the skirt is made out of some thinner fabric. It can be very simple, it just needs to be big enough. Basically any similar sized skirt or petticoat works fine in it's place.

Corset cover

Corset cover or camisole, as the name suggests, had similar purpose as petticoat, to smooth out the hard line of the corset. It was a small shirt, with similar neckline and sleeves as shift at the time. It was like other undergarments almost always white, often made out of cotton, but linen too.

Cotton corset cover from 1860 US, and another from 1864-68 US.

It's not super necessary imo, but it does give a smoother finish. It could be pretty easily replaced by a corset cover from different era, that's close enough in design (so it won't be showing under the bodice), if something like that is more easily available.. Any shirt really that's similarly loose-ish, so that it doesn't create too much bulk, but also doesn't get pinned tense by the bodice, would work I think.

Ball gown

Now we finally get to the meat of it. Ball gowns of the early half of 1860s had very tiny sleeves, that hung just over the shoulder. They were usually tiny poofs or could be tiny frills too. As mentioned earlier, the bodice was short and ended abruptly at the waistline, which was slightly above the natural waist, to emphasize the mass of the skirt. A typical waistline exaggerated pointed end.

The skirt was not as elaborately layered like a cake as in late 1850s, but typically it had a bit of layering at the hem, where the layers were displayed by different types of gathering. An organza layer on top was very popular. A bit of trimming at the hems of the layers of the skirt was common, but the amount of trimmings was pretty restrained (especially when compared to the next couple of decades).

The colors of evening wear were usually light. I've noticed white, light pink, light blue, mint and lavender crop up most often. It was though very trendy to have a dark or a bright jewel accent color combined with the soft dominant color. The new synthetic dyes were able to create cheep bright colors unlike before and people were very into them. The most popular colors, that were also used a lot as accent colors in evening wear were bright purple, magenta, electric blue and emerald green. The evening gowns tended to be solid color and mostly one color too, except for the accents. Typical decorative motifs were fabric flowers, bows, lace trimming and fringes. For evening wear the fabric was most often silk as taffeta or satin and possibly organza in addition.

Here's some select fashion plates with ball gowns I really like. The firs is from 1863 and the other two are from 1865.

The first two include my personal favorite trend from this period, which is corselette/Swiss waist/Medici waist. It was a small decorative usually underbust waistwear, sometimes with shoulder straps, sometimes without. It was part of the Gothic Revival fashion and was alluding to Renaissance bodices and stays. They really have nothing to do with Medieval or Renaissance fashion, but Victorians associated the use of waistwear and stays as outer wear with vague idea of The Gothic for quite complicated reasons (I talk about that in this post at length). They were lightly boned, but just to keep up the shape, they were not in any way supportive, just decorative. The blue dress in the first example above has a Medici waist (the trend was loosely inspired by Catherine de Medici's portraits), which has the distinctive upward pointed neckline combined with shoulder straps, and the white dress in the second example has either Swiss waist or corselette. The terms were used quite interchangeably, even the Medici waist's definition is pretty loose (I usually just default to corselette). Below there's couple of more example of these. First is silk corselette from 1863-67 US and second is silk corselette from 1864-68 US. The third is a dress with another silk coselette supposedly from 1855 US. I think the bodice is too short for 1855 and the skirt very distinctly mid 1860s, with the volume in the back, so I won't believe MET on this. Interestingly the dress is made out of piña fabric, which is traditional fabric made out of pineapple plant fiber and was a luxury fabric among Western upper crust in 18th and 19th centuries for colonialist reasons.

Okay, I'm done with the corselette propaganda. I have a pinterest board of primary images with a section for 1860-65 for additional inspiration, but I haven't organized it yet, so there might be some misplaced images.

Accessories

These are not that necessary, but a bit of extra detail to sell the look.

Hair was kept in elaborate low buns, which could be decorated with fabric flowers and ribbons for the evening. Necklaces were pretty short and usually fairly simple. This was the time, when the iconic black silk ribbon collar became a thing. In 1860s it usually had some small (or bigger as in this royal example) pendant on it.

Gloves were strictly necessary. For evening they were always white kid (a type of thin leather) gloves, which just covered the wrists. Silk gloves were thought of as tacky. The gloves were very simple in style but bracelets were often used with them.

Above knee stockings were always used. Usually they would be white, but they did come in all kinds of colors and small patters on the ankle were common. They would be knitted silk for the evening. Here's some silk stockings in very fun colors and patterns from 1860s England. They were secured with with a wide silk ribbon tied below or above knee. I use stockings and ribbon to secure it for everyday purposes, and it works really well. The thing is to have wide enough ribbon you can circle around the leg couple of times, so it won't put too much pressure on one spot. For me below knee works the best. Really any thin knee high stockings works for this, and white is the safest bet.

There's some options with the shoes. Both boots and slippers were acceptable for evening wear and slippers could have a heel or not. The evening shoes were less practical and fancier that your day shoes. They usually had silk as the fashion fabric, which wasn't that much of an issue, since they were used indoors.

Silk evening boots from 1860s France, silk slippers with a heel from 1855-65, and silk slippers from 1862 Austria.

Honestly, shoes won't be really seen under the skirt, so I don't think it's very necessary to get new shoes (there are shoe sellers like American Duchess who do historical reproduction so it's possible). Basically any ballerina slippers with a somewhat flat or at least round end are pretty close. Also any shoes roughly between 1830-1880 are basically accurate (minus some details) as the shoe fashion changed pretty slowly.

I hope this was helpful for at least providing some background info!

[g5mlp]

On Behance, two presentations of scrapped marketing materials possibly for 2022 were found. These were made by Andrés Restrepo, a creative copywriter based in Colombia. Here are some of the details.

Links: 1, 2

Slides 1-4. My Little Pony x Amazon Alexa. It seems like you would have been able to have Zipp on your Amazon Alexa acting as a guide to Equestria. Kids could travel with Zipp and even help her get through challenges by doing physical actions and saying certain phrases.

Slides 5-8. "Make Your Own Cutie Mark" would have been an Instagram challenge where users could create their own cutie marks and share them under the hashtag #cutiemark. Throughout five days, a cutie mark based on an element would be shared daily by the official mylittlepony Instagram account. After the five days were done, cutie mark designs shared under the hashtag would then be shared in Instagram stories. The elements and their days were: Monday - Hope Tuesday - Creativity Wednesday - Bravery  Thursday - Confidence Friday - Kindness. 

Slides 9-10. Over on Pinterest, now that you have your own cutie mark, you would have been able to show off what you think your room would look like in Equestria by using Pinterest boards. Pre-existing boards of the different locations in Equestria would be available to look at for inspiration.

Now that users have cutie marks and have done the other challenges shown, TikTok was possibly going to be used to create new trends for users to participate in.

Below is the second presentation that was posted.

Slides 2-3. These are about a concept where online users can participate in sports related challenges on TikTok and Instagram. Those who completed their challenges would be able to join a screening of new (possibly My Little Pony: Make Your Mark) episodes as long as they also presented their medal in a Liverpool store in Mexico to buy a toy. Each pony of the mane 5 would have a challenge.  Pipp - Soccer tricks Zipp - Jump rope for a set amount of time Sunny - Get baskets in a pony costume on a basketball court Hitch - Create a dance routine to "The Dance of the Pony" Izzy - Create a medal using your own cutie mark

Slides 4-6. There could have been another challenge for TikTok called the "Pony Walk Challenge". Influencers would be chosen to spread the challenge and encourage users to participate by creating TikToks. Participants would have to dress up in one of the five fashion styles given: rock, pop, modern, classic, and mix. 

The influencers would then choose the best dressed for each style. The five winners would have gotten a chance to go to Liverpool Fashion Fest Mexico.

Slides 7-9. It seems like we could have gotten another podcast similar to the "My Little Pony: The Podcast" called "Doubts in Equestria by Sunny." This one would have been hosted by Sunny. 

Each episode would have focused on day-to-day situations children and parents may deal with, offering solutions and lessons to reflect on. Based on the images, it seems like the podcast could have gone on in 2022 alongside the "My Little Pony: The Podcast" podcast.

[3-2-whump]

Whumpee Intro: The Auction Floor

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Thanks @dresden-syndrome for helping me bounce ideas off you! We talked about how pet stores display the fish in glass tanks, especially how some of the good stores display their betta fish in individual glass tanks. And I was like, "why not for pet whumpees?" Inspiration comes from the unlikeliest of places.

TW/CW: institutionalized slavery, pet whump, nonconsensual nudity (nonsexual), minor whump (at time of story), noncon body mod (briefly mentioned), light gore (briefly mentioned). I also have little to no idea how auctions like this would work, so I'm skipping over some details. Enjoy, regardless.

The boy backed up as far as his glass prison would allow, but the hungry eyes of the bidders outside never left him. He hoped and prayed nobody would buy him, but his hope diminished with every scrutinizing stare and comment muffled through the glass. He slumped into the corner of his cell and curled into a ball, ignoring the handlers’ threats they drilled into each prospective asset before the auction began. He shut his eyes and buried his head into his folded-up knees. If he was just boring enough to look at, maybe the people outside would move on and buy somebody else.

The floor was cold. The glass walls of his cell were cold. He was bare, completely naked in the empty glass container. The back of his left ear was itchy, but he made no move to scratch at it. If he interfered with the tattoo as it was healing, they promised to pull out his fingernails. It had already happened to one girl; he had seen it. He dug his nails into his shins until the unbearable itching subsided enough to ignore it once again.

The murmurs outside died down, accompanied by the sound of retreating footsteps. The boy dared to peek out from his hiding place. He locked eyes with a man standing right in front of his cell, staring at him with a glass of whiskey in hand. He was a big man, broad shouldered and solidly built underneath that crisply pressed suit. He was easily two heads taller than his father, and up until that point, the boy thought his father was pretty tall. The man had short, dirty-blonde hair and sharp, steel-gray eyes. His mouth was downturned into a frown, the only indication of what he may truly feel behind the blank expression he bore.

Two more men –presumably his friends- materialized alongside him, jovially poking at him and gesturing inside the boy’s cell. It was next to impossible to make out the words they were saying from within the cell, but the boy got a sinking feeling in his stomach. The whole time, the man’s eyes never left his.

---

The auction part of the night had ended, their area of the black market had been closed off, and he (among many others) was retrieved from the glass box. The handler who fetched him threw him a pair of pants and a shirt. “Put those on, and follow me.”

So, I did get sold, the boy realized. He dressed quickly and followed the handler silently, dread weighing down each footstep. He mentally ran through the faces he dared to look at while he wondered who among the crowd had bought him. His mind circled back to the tall man with the scowl. Please, God, please, not him, he begged.

He stopped in his tracks when they came to the exit. The very same tall man turned around to meet him. The handler quietly disappeared from his side. Those steel eyes looked far colder and sharper up close. The boy averted his eyes, staring at his bare feet while keeping his hands folded in front of him.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The boy looked up briefly. Faint freckles danced across the man’s pale cheeks, and an old scar grazing across his left temple disappeared into his hairline. Those sharp steely eyes continued to flay him. He was so scared he nearly forgot his new owner had asked him a question. My name? He dropped his gaze back to his feet. “Khaled,” he all but whispered. “But you may call me whatever you want, sir,” he added, remembering the ‘correct’ answer.

The man above him murmured his name a couple times to himself as the boy stood ready to accept a new name, if his new master so wished it. “Luckily for you, I like your name,” he said decisively.

Before Khaled could breathe a sigh of relief, the man placed a broad hand on his shoulder. The boy tensed; his palm covered his whole shoulder blade. “Come with me, Khaled.” Not like he had a choice, when his master’s hand pushed him out the door into a future of unknowns and uncertainties.

[saltpepperbeard]

OBLIGATORY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS™ TOWARDS THE NEW OFMD S2 PICTURES

hi y’all. hi besties. every time i think i’m solid and stable on my feet, new footage absolutely pULLS THE RUG OUT FROM UNDER ME ANDNW. EVERY TIME I THINK I’VE SUSSED OUT THEORIES, NEW FOOTAGE IS LIKE LOL NOPE.

So let’s Ramble let’s Discuss because djwndnsnd MANY THOUGHTS HEAD SCRAMBLED-

So this one is the ✨easiest✨ (IN THEORY), and also so very delightful. BECAUSE LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT THESE SMILEY SWEETHEARTS. LOOK AT THEIR OUTFITS AND TEA AND FOUND FAMILY VIBES!!!

I would assume this is on a different ship, or maybe on the “floating market” that was teases in one of the articles. I’m of course leaning towards the Red Flag Fleet based on previous material, but I can’t really figure why or WHERE in the season.

Employing help to catch up with the Revenge? Attempting to stay hidden because Stede ran from the Naval Academy and is subsequently a VERY wanted man? A bit of both?

Either way, CUTIES. (Also that SKY 😩😩😩)

And this one,,, THIS ONE,,,,, 👀? 👀👀🧐🧐???

The first knee-jerk reaction I had to it is an immediate post-reunion shot. He looks very confused—very SHOOK, if you will lol. And he’s still wearing the same shirt he’s been traveling around in for some time. It’s also relatively dingy, which tells me a bit of time has passed.

And that flooring behind him,,, Is that the DECK OF THE REVENGE???

SOOOOOO reunion taking a bad turn? Him tripping back over himself because Ed reacts ENTIRELY differently than he expects? Him just RECOILING in shock???

But then also, I’m like 👁👁, because I feel like it COULD be a misdirect. It COULD be something entirely different. Because I feel like they love doing that with previews lol. Something ENTIRELY innocuous and unrelated to what it APPEARS to look like.

Because, I will say,,, the gloves,,,,,, who is She.

AND THEN THIS ONE,,, 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

does edward teach know i want him carnally

He’s just so so beautiful, but of course we all knew that. WE ALL FIGURED AS MUCH.

I will say though, something that caught my attention in this shot are the marks/cuts on his face. Particularly, the mark/cut on his lip, because it matches up with-

THIS shot. And this in particular is really scrambling my brain l m a o because,,,

My running theory for this was that it was Ed going through some sort of “battling his past phantoms” type journey, and was working towards healing on his own. LITERALLY on his own, because I also thought this came after him falling off the ship/getting thrown from the ship.

And I ALSO thought that him meeting up with the bunch again would come with happiness/healing as a result.

SO SEEING HIM STILL LOOK SAD AND STOIC WITH A BLUNT??? HONEY????? HONEY DARLING??????? I THOUGHT WE WERE GOOD LMAO WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE STILL SAD 😭😭😭

Unless it’s just something more serious, and he IS indeed feeling better. I mean, he doesn’t have his makeup or anything, so he COULD just be in a more grim situation of some sort.

But I digress. #EdDeservesToSmile2kForever

ANNNNNNND THEN THIS LMAO. THIS. THE MOST CONFUSING OF THE BUNCH RIGHT HERE,,,

The position they’re in,,,,,,, 📸🤨

But what REALLY snagged me was Ed’s facial expression qkdjwjdjw like babe WHAT ARE YOU DOING. WHAT ARRRRR YOU DOING WJDNWN

My brain just immediately shouted “FERAL BEHAVIOR” because that looks like me whenever I’m like 🤪. JUST BUG-EYED AND CHEWING ON FLOOR TILES IDK.

…BUT THAT’S ME GOING BONKERS OVER FOOTAGE SO LIKE QJDJWNS,,, IN WHAT CIRCUMSTANCE WOULD ED LOOK LIKE: THAT.

like is frenchie carrying marmalade and ed saw it and pounced and is like ⚫️👄⚫️

because honestly that’s Valid.

But it’s also VERY interesting, because Ed’s makeup is off, and his HAIR is in that one lovely updo. So again, AGAIN, it makes it very difficult to tell what the motivations are/what the characters are feeling, because it’s like,,, ED BABE ARE YOU GOOD??? DO YOU FEEL BETTER??? OR WHAT AKDJWJDS

Regardless, REGARDLESS, I don’t know how they manage when I’m already through the ceiling, but I’m somehow vibrating at an even GREATER level than before. I cannot, and I mean, CANNOT wait to know the context behind all of these.

And cannot BELIEVE we’ll know in ✨less than a month✨

[littlethingwithfeathers]

I'm grumpy about Silent Hill again...

TW for discussions of suicide, self harm, abuse (both parent to child and amongst peers) and general spookiness. Y'know... the usual Silent Hill rigmarole of trauma and despair. Also be warned that I'm going to spoil a lot of the Silent Hill series, in particular Silent Hill 2 and the Short Message game that just came out. ***

So... one of my most popular posts out there is this one. It's about Pyramid head and the loss of subtlety in media. And I couldn't help but feel like we hadn't moved an inch from when I posted that back in... *checks date on post* hrrk. my bones... 2017. I'm going to die soon. Anyway. Today I watched Second Wind do a run of the short, free-to-play Silent Hill: Short Message. I admittedly had a good bit of trepidation going in just because of the marketing. Which, for all of you marketing majors out there, that is called "Not a good sign." Marketing should make you want to play a game... especially if you're a fan of the series already. But this... it was a bit of a wet blanket, largely due to the fact that it spoiled a lot of the focus of the game. It basically said "this is a game about how bullying and being chronically online is real bad. We're gonna be spooky about it now." And... straining to push aside how incredibly reductive that is... why give it away? Why say it out loud? Why did you tell us what you are doing? Can you imagine Silent Hill 2 if we'd known it was about James killing his wife from the jump? We didn't. We hadn't the first clue. We knew nothing other than that he was looking for her and she was maybe dead? But we didn't know how... possibly lung cancer or TB given that she had the most pointed coughing sequence since the movie Tombstone. And hey... the last game had someone looking for a loved one too. Maybe that's the deal with Silent Hill. Who knows? No one did at that point. It was still a big old mystery for the most part. And then the E3 trailer... like there's the weird pretty lady in jail? But what's she talking about? Who the fuck is Mary? Is that... his wife? Well then who the hell is Ms. Miniskirt? No wait... is that his wife in the VHS tape? What the hell is going on? Oh look gameplay! And... a little girl? And a weird guy with a gun... This soundtrack slaps. I'm gonna go see if it's up on Napster yet. (this was 2001... again... my bones etc) I remember combing over low-res copies of that video for HOURS when it came out. Why are the nurses different? It's not snowing? Who are all these people... And why do they all sound like they put ketamine in their coffee. It was like a great big puzzle to work out and we had a ball theorizing and researching so when it came out we were HYPE. And that was largely because in short... we knew SOME things at release. Fog. Nurses. Big stick. Weird people. Banger soundtrack. Dead (but probably not) wife. And we presumed or supposed more... cult activity? New beasties? Radio maybe? But we effectively knew nothing about the plot. And the best part was, while they had a solid hook (Find dead lady who we love so huggy buggy much) and instant intrigue (Angela in the cemetery being weirder than a film by David Lynch), and a very familiar setting (we may have improved draw distance on the PS2, but we don't have to use it!), we still didn't really know what was going on. The plot was essentially unfolding out of a black box. Silent Hill 2 was quite content to be a slower burn than trying to boil the Lake Superior with a signal flare. You don't even see the main "villain" Pyramid Head until a few hours in and, as I pointed out in that other post, there's no flashy cut scene to introduce him and go WOOOOOO SCARYYYYY. He's just chillin' behind some prison bars (which that totes is normal in an apartment complex) and staring at you like I stare at the inside of my fridge when I really would like some cheese to materialize.

And then... like we're not even really sure what the hell is going on for the longest time. We meet our wife's hot twin with the key to a strip club and she keeps getting killed over and over... and things keep getting increasingly rapey and lewd in a way that's just uncomfortable more than anything... But even at the end. Even with the big reveal of "You killed your wife." they still don't ever explicitly state "And you killed her because you couldn't have sex with her anymore." It wasn't until you finished the game, and talked to someone else about it, or let your brain cook on it for a bit that you went... heyyyy... he's a horndog! (In fact... if I'm going to chide SH2 for anything it's that right at the very VERY end they tried to frame James's actions as understandable because the woman who was dying and frightened and in pain was mean to him. Yes, being a caretaker is hard. But Christ... pick a topic for discussion.) But contrast all that with Short Message. The marketing and such all said out loud "THIS IS ABOUT BULLYING" so even going in... I was already like "yep. The bully is probably us, but we had reasons because we have to be complicated and you aren't allowed to make the player feel bad" And lo was I correct. There was no... intrigue. I was never curious about the character or the people around her because I knew this story. They already told me what story they were telling so I could practically sing along, especially as a millennial that had to grow up watching little videos and skits in school about the evils of bullying. And when you are going to tell a trope-ish story, and you tell the audience what the trope is, it becomes "say the line" writ large. This isn't me advocating for super twisty unexpected plot arcs (looking at you, Supernatural). Far from it. You absolutely should tell a story in such a way that the audience understands how you got from point A to point Z, even if there are some surprises along the way (See Sixth Sense for that masterclass). Rather, what I'm missing from this (and frankly a lot of the Silent Hill games and honestly... media in general these days) is a sense of restraint. A sense of trust in their audience to "get it." They can't just plonk us in the fog with a radio and a stick and say "You're here to find your best friend/dog/cousin/wife/business partner. Good luck. Here's a weirdo to prattle cryptically at you in order to unsettle you immediately. Bye!" No! They have to tell us what kind of story they're telling and what themes are important. They can't just... give us a Silent Hill Game and trust that we know what to do with it. It's... insulting frankly. Especially as a longtime fan of the franchise who remembers when they did trust us and they did have faith in their work. I will say this in compliment to Short Message. The environment design was pretty cool. Especially the sticky-note hallways... they looked like leaves... and sometimes teeth... and like tightly packed bones in an ossuary. It didn't... say anything really. But it looked cool. And you can't go wrong with Akira Yamaoka's soundtrack. But... while I'm on the subject of design. Y'all. An animate sakura tree in an oversized hoodie is not scary. But bless you for at least having the restraint to not make her Pyramid Head.

[lili0writes]

Hey!! Thank you for all of the David x reader content 😭💕💕 it makes me beyond happy to read since he's literally boyfriend material and a good boy in general.

If you're still taking requests could we get how our first kiss would go with him? Or stealing his jacket and his reaction to how cute you look in it?

Hope your day/night is going well!! 💛⚡ Remember to eat and hydrate!!

David Martinez dating scenarios

Note: Hey!! When I first saw your request I was so flattered honestly, thanks so much for being this kind! I have been waiting for e request like this for a while so I'm really excited, and if you'd like me to make a more detailed version of this of this let me know! I would be really happy to write for you again!!

Part 1 Part 2

TW: mention of drinking

Your first kiss together was a bit unsure, you were just nervous after confessing your feelings and him being totally taken by surprise.

You babbled on and on about how he shouldn't feel pressured into saying he feels the same, how much you liked him, and how sorry you were about dropping a bomb like that on him.

He was flabbergasted, he didn't even imagine that you, out of all the people would be the one to say that you love him.

After listening to you saying all that nonsense, he just leaned in and kissed you. He took you by surprise, but you did not complain. You just relaxed into the kiss, letting him take the lead.

After you became official, you later on decided to move in with him. Most of the time he spent away on jobs, so seeing each other got complicated without him living with you.

The time he could spend with you was usually where he went partying after jobs, or times where he took time off to be with you, which was pretty rare.

When you spent time together, he usually took you out to random places where there was a nice view to just talk, or go grab a drink or too. He would even just stay home with you either doing whatever you, or just stay in bed with you all day.

When he wasn't at home, you usually worked and had the news playing in the background. You were never interested in politics, or what the corps are advertising, but you listened just incase something happened that may involve the crew.

When you had free time and David wasn't at home, you did many things. You checked in with your friends, looked up new cyberwear on the market, played the guitar, etc.

But your favorite thing was to search through your shared closet. You'd sometimes find pictures of you from a long time ago or of people you knew. But you mostly just tried on clothes you either liked or didn't wear anymore.

After some time you started going through David's side of the closet, sometimes even trying on his jackets.

You were never really caught doing this because his signature clothes were always on him when he was away, leaving you with the clothes he wore at home.

Oh but soon enough your golden opportunity came.

One day David was in a rush to leave, because there was an emergency with the crew. And he was so caught up with hurrying out the door, that he didn't notice that he picked up the wrong jacket on the way out.

So then when you noticed this, a brilliant idea popped up in your your head. If he isn't here, then he won't know you tried it on. And if he doesn't know, then it won't hurt him, right?

You tried the jacket on. It was WAY too big for you. He was three times your size so you weren't surprised by that. But you still found yourself to be pretty cute in it.

Well little did you know, he eventually noticed that he was wearing the wrong jacket.

When he did you went back to your house and saw that the jacket wasn't where he left it originally. He searched around for a while and when he didn't find it he went up into your shared bedroom

And he walked right in on you checking yourself out in the mirror, with his jacket on you. He stood in the doorway for a moment staring at you. He didn't really know what to do. But ultimately he decided to approach you.

When you realized he was there, you were quick to take off the jacket. You gave it to him with a cheeky grin. He didn't know what to say. So he just smiled at you. Then he left.

After that, he gave you his jacket pretty often. Whenever you were out partying and wore something revealing, he would put his jacket on your shoulder just incase you got cold. And because he found you hot wearing something like that, and wearing his jacket over it.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 10/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

It’s Saturday. A day to sleep in, to take the morning slow, to spend time with family. They talked about the Farmer’s Market. They talked about ice cream at that new place downtown. They talked about taking the kids to a movie.

Dana lies in bed, awake, watching sunbeams move across the wall as 9am becomes 10am becomes 11am. She tells Cal she doesn’t feel well, that her stomach is bothering her, and he accepts it with concern and compassion. Pepto Bismol, Imodium, Tylenol, ginger ale, Saltines, and water materialize on her nightstand. She doesn’t even remember him coming into the room.

“Are you sick, Mommy?” Abby asks, and Dana nods glumly.

Abby brings her her very best bear, Mr. Boots. Peter brings her a spider in a cup, then smashes it when it tries to escape. She listens as the din fades into silence and the garage door opens and closes. She feels relieved to be alone in her torment.

They want her to forget. But forget what? And who are ‘they’? The man? Did he somehow compel her to forget him? Was it Cal? Is this all an elaborate way to move on from her affair? Why go back eight years? Eight years. Surely she hadn’t been carrying on that long.

Her mother. Does she know? Is she somehow involved? Was she willing to lie to her daughter for the sake of erasing this shameful mistake?

She summons the will to get out of bed. She showers, salted tears co-mingling with too-hot water and running down the drain. Washed away, like her memories. Like her indiscretions. Like her autonomy.

She finds a walkman in Cal’s desk and puts the disc in. She lies on the floor in the guest room and listens to it over and over and over.

You thrill me. I know you, you, you, thrill me. Darling you thrill me. Honest you do.

She thinks so hard it makes her head ache. She pulls out as many details as she can remember from her dreams. The green countertops. His mossy eyes. The way he said her name. Scully. That he loved her. That she loved him back. There are new tears, and the music is drowned out by her sobs of grief. It was taken from her. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have it in the first place, but it should have been her choice. She should have been allowed to choose.

At first I thought it was infatuation, but oooo it’s lasted so long…

His mouth is hot, his breath and his lips and his tongue. It seeps through her panties, warming the skin beneath, igniting nerve endings. She tries to keep her hips still as he brushes his lips over cotton and lace, dropping wet kisses on her hip bones and the apex of her heat. She hears him inhale deeply, letting it out with a little hum. She has never in her life felt so attended to, so wanted and worshiped. He pins the fabric of her panties between his teeth, tugging it to the side and running his tongue along the seam of her leg. She swells and gushes, anticipation as piqued as a drawn bow, tensed and ready to fire. His fingers hitch under the elastic at her hips, pulling down and down and down…

She startles and sits up abruptly, finding Cal in the doorway with his knuckles mid-knock.

“What are you doing, mija?” he asks, bewildered.

“Um,” she tries, pausing to swallow and collect her thoughts. “I was just trying to get comfortable.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah. Sorry. How are the kids?”

She rises slowly from the floor as blood rushes to her head.

“They’re good. We saw The Road To El Dorado and went to the park with the big slide,” he says, eyeing her curiously. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little bit,” she says, offering him a small smile.

He follows her downstairs and she does her best to rally for the children. They tell her all about the movie, and a dead squirrel they saw near the park.

“It looked like this!” Pete says, then lays on the floor and sticks his arms and legs up in the air, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

They have dinner. They get the children ready for bed. She steals glances at Cal, wondering and wondering. What is he keeping from her? What will he do if he realizes she’s suspicious? Does he actually know anything that she doesn’t?

He catches her in the hallway as she leaves Abby’s room, his hands on her hips stilling her.

“Can we watch some TV?” he asks, his expression pained.

“I think—I think I might just go to bed,” she says, avoiding his eye. “I still don’t feel very well.”

“Okay,” he aquiesces, releasing her and taking a step back. “Hopefully you feel better tomorrow.”

She nods, and he moves toward the stairs.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room,” she says, and he freezes with his hand on the banister. “I just don’t want to keep you up with my tossing and turning,” she adds.

“Okay,” he says defeatedly, not bothering to look at her.

She watches him disappear around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, unsure whether his hangdog posture should elicit feelings of guilt or victory. He must know—how could he not? His love feels genuine, but loving someone does not preclude you from hurting them. In fact, those who love you are the ones who often hurt you worst of all.

She locks the guest room door. She listens to the song until the batteries in the Walkman go dead. She cries—for herself, for him, for whatever it is she lost. She cries because she doesn’t even know. Her tears pull her under, wringing her out to the point of exhaustion. She sleeps.

-

She drapes her body over his, their bare skin hot and electric as she wriggles up until his shaft is nestled in the valley of her thighs. She rocks her hips gently forward and back as he cranes his neck up to kiss her, humming and sighing. She’s so wet, and they’re so ready, he finds his way inside her without the use of their hands. She pauses to acclimate to the sweet, stinging stretch of him, taking minutes to kiss between each added inch until she sits fully impaled in his lap.

He sits up, cradling her face in his hands and kissing her firmly, urgently, as her hips begin to flex.

“Fuck, Scully. I love you,” he groans, and she feels herself rise up to meet him.

“Mulder,” she whimpers against his mouth.

“Mulder.”

-

Peter is pounding on the door.

“Mommy! I gotta show you something!”

Mulder. Mulder. Mulder. Mulder.

She clings to it, scribbling it onto her waking memory so it isn’t lost to the ephemeral anamnesis of sleep.

She pops the lock and the door flies open, and Peter holds out his hand to reveal a screw and a small metal disc. Her head is swimming, and she steadies herself with one hand resting on the door jam.

“I finded this in the garage!” he says proudly, and she gives the objects a cursory examination.

“That’s cool, Pete. Thanks for showing me.”

He tears off down the hallway, gone as quickly as he arrived, and she glances at the bedside clock: it’s after 10:00 am.

Mulder. Mulder. Mulder. Mulder.

Downstairs, she digs through the junk drawer for a pen and pulls out a pad of legal paper. She writes it down every way she can imagine that the sound she heard come from her own lips might be spelled.

Molder

Moulder

Melder

Mulder

Mulldur

Cal is watching her from the sofa, Abby tucked up under his arm. He doesn’t say anything, just follows her with his eyes as she tears the page off the notebook and returns the pen to the drawer, then pours herself a cup of tepid coffee. She makes her way back upstairs, sitting down at the computer in the rec room and pulling up Yahoo.

Molder Cremation and Funeral Planning Services.

Moulder- to slowly decay or disintegrate.

Melder, Thomas. 3311 Lincoln Drive, Tampa, FL.

Mulder, Declan, and Westwood, Attorneys at Law.

Mulldur: no results found.

The phone rings and she ignores it.

Her fingernails rattle against the keys as she thinks. Mulder. It sounds like a surname. If he called her Scully, she must have also called him by his last name. But why? In what circumstance would someone call their lover by their last name?

“Whatcha workin’ on?”

She jumps, crumpling the paper and stuffing it into the pocket of her robe. She turns in her seat and finds Cal at the top of the stairs, eyeing her pensively.

“Just something for work,” she lies. “I remembered that I—forgot something. For work.”

Cal nods, but it’s clear that he’s unconvinced.

“Can we talk? Just for a minute?” he asks, crossing the room and leaning against the wall beside the desk.

“Uh, sure,” she answers nervously. “But the kids—”

“I sent them over to the neighbors’,” he answers, and her heart begins to race. “What’s going on with you, Dana?”

“I’m still just feeling a bit unwell. I think I’m fighting something off,” she says, touching her forehead for effect.

Cal’s chin puckers momentarily. His head jerks toward his shoulder. He swallows, then looks at the floor.

“Please don’t lie,” he says softly. “You know how I feel about lying.”

No, I don’t. She thinks. Someone made sure that I don’t know that anymore.

“I’m not lying, Cal. There’s a bug going around at work—”

“That was Michelle who called,” he interrupts, his eyes still on the floor.

“On a Sunday?” Dana asks, surprised.

“She said you were supposed to see her last week and you didn’t show up,” Cal continues, then lifts his head to look at her. “She said you’ve been having disturbing dreams. Why didn’t you tell me, mija?”

He looks so genuinely wounded, she decides not to outwardly express her anger that Michelle shared her private information with him. Then again, she probably signed something saying that she could. She signed a lot of documents in those first few days, scrawling Dana Rose as though it were a foreign language.

“It’s nothing, Cal. There was nothing to tell,” she insists, though not angrily.

Cal stares at her stonily, disbelieving. She needs him on her side, needs to keep some part of her life held together enough that she can continue searching for the bits that broke off.

“I’m at a hospital,” she says, appearing to relent. “Not St. Agnes, somewhere else. And there’s a man with a gun, and he just keeps screaming. That’s it. That’s the dream, over and over. Sometimes the gun fires.”

Cal visibly relaxes, taking two steps forward and dropping to his knees at her feet. He moves her robe aside and pushes her T-shirt up to reveal her belly, then runs his thumb over the scar there.

“You’re remembering,” he says, and now it is she who sighs with relief. “It makes sense that this would be the memory that breaks through. It was traumatizing.”

He looks up at her, and she forces herself to touch the sides of his face, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. She wants to trust him, wants to feel that little bit of security and contentment that was so quickly snatched away, but her gut is telling her that he’s not safe. No one is.

“Will you please go see Michelle tomorrow?” he asks pleadingly. “I’m worried about you.”

She nods, and he wraps his arms around her waist, resting his head on her chest.

“I love you,” he whispers hoarsely.

She strokes his hair, hearing the man, Mulder, in her mind. Fuck, Scully. I love you.

“I love you too,” she says rotely.

She plays the part. Loving wife. Attentive mother. It’s all she can think to do.

She dreams of him again. She wakes with the taste of his kiss on her lips. She wonders where he is now.

Mulder.

-

“Calvin sounded distressed when I spoke to him yesterday.”

Michelle is ornery. Jilted. Slighted by a patient who did not comply.

“May I see my release of medical information forms, please?” Dana asks, returning her snark. “I don’t recall giving you permission to disclose what we discuss here to my husband, and if I did, I’d like to retract that.”

Michelle’s mouth thins into a small line.

“Are you taking your medication, Dana?” she asks derisively.

“Yes,” Dana answers flatly.

“And are you still having dreams?”

“No.”

Michelle huffs and tosses her notepad onto an empty chair.

“You do realize you won’t gain anything from these sessions if you’re not honest with me?” she asks incredulously.

“I am being honest,” Dana replies, giving her nothing. “I’d like to see my release of medical information, please.”

Michelle stares at her, and Dana stares right back. It’s a battle of wills that she has no intention of losing. Whoever Michelle is, whatever she’s been asked to do or prevent, she won’t find a compliant patient in Dana.

“I could legally have you committed, Dana. Give me a reason to believe that you’re a danger to yourself or your children, and no judge will deny the request,” Michelle says in a gravely serious tone.

“Is that a threat?” Dana asks, feigning fearlessness as her heart leaps into her throat.

“We’re not getting anywhere today,” Michelle says as she stands and walks around to the other side of her desk. “Come back on Wednesday. Perhaps you’ll be ready to have an actual conversation then.”

Dana exits her office wordlessly, marching out of the building and back to her car with rage grasping her throat. She thinks back to all she shared with Michelle under the assumption that she was an advocate, feeling tricked and foolish.

She’s lost, so damn lost, with no north star or guiding light, nothing to tie herself to that she can be sure is real. She could leave Cal, but then what? Where would she go? Who can she trust?

No one. Not even her own mother.

Adrenaline fades and is replaced by exhaustion, her eyelids sagging as she makes her way towards the freeway entrance. At the last minute, she pulls into a coffee shop instead and parks, afraid that she may not make it back to Ellicott City alive, as tired as she is.

She orders a latte and leans against the wall as she waits. She lets her eyes slide closed as she tries to identify her next move. She could ask her mother, come right out and tell her she knows that something is going on, but if Maggie was willing to take part in this entire charade in the first place, odds are good that she’ll go to great lengths to keep it up. She could hire a private investigator. Perhaps they could locate the man, Mulder. She has little to no information to go on, other than a vague physical description and a last name. She doesn’t even know what region of the country he’s in, or if he’s in the US at all. He could be anywhere in the entire world.

“Just a large black coffee, please. No room.”

Her eyes snap open, and he’s there. He. Him. The man—Mulder. Standing not ten feet away, at the front of the coffee line. She knows his voice, the square of his shoulders, the bridge of his nose. He turns to walk to the coffee bar, right toward her, and she is struck by his hooded green eyes, his full bottom lip.

Fuck, Scully. I love you.

She waits with her heart pounding in her ears for him to see her. For that same realization to cross his face. It’s you, he might say. He can fill in all the missing pieces, make her feel like a whole person again.

But he doesn’t.

He gives her no more than a passing glance, then stands a few feet away and waits for his coffee.

“Latte for Dana,” the barista calls out, snapping her back to reality.

She approaches him, feeling a magnetic pull toward his body. His tailored suit, his chestnut hair: he is a living memory. A beacon. She feels the weight of his arms, the press of his kiss. She stands right beside him and he finally turns to look at her, his eyes scanning her face.

“Mulder?” she rasps out, and his eyebrows furrow. “Mulder, it’s me.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Beach Vacation Intro

The Bad Batch lands on the tropical resort planet of Spira.  A contact of theirs is helping you all out by letting you lay low in a private beach house on one of the islands.  You and a certain Bad Batcher have been secretly dating for a little while, and you hope to make the most of the romantic setting.

Choose your own ending!

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: None

   You gazed out at the golden sandy beach that stretched on for miles beneath the Marauder as Tech maneuvered it to land among the green palms that lay farther inland.  On the other side of the sandy shore, there was an endless expanse of blue shimmering like topaz in the sun.

   “So,” you spoke up, stealing a glance at the Sergeant who was in the next seat over taking in the scenery just as you were.  “Are you sure we can trust this contact of yours?”

   Hunter folded his arms.  “He’s all we’ve got right now.”

   “That sounds promising.”

   “He hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him.”

   You shrugged, grasping at your safety restraints as Tech’s landing became a little too rough for your liking.  “This just seems too good to be true.  It looks like a vacation spot.”

   “It technically is,” Tech replied, flipping a series of switches to shut down the Marauder.  “Spira is a well-known trip destination.  Some of the islands are far more populated and filled with luxury hotels.  The island we’ve landed on is sparsely populated due to this side being privately-owned.”

   “I read that there’s a town with a market!” Omega spoke up from her seat.

   Tech adjusted his goggles.  “That would be on the other side.  It’s a bit of a hike, but according to reviews on the holonet, it’s worth visiting.”

   “We’re supposed to be laying low,” Echo reminded, walking up to the cockpit.  He rested his scomp arm on the head of your chair.  “This place is practically run by the Empire now.  I don’t like it.”

   “Now there’s something new,” Crosshair muttered.

   “We get our own bungalow and our own beach!” Wrecker pointed out with a grin.  “I say we at least try to have some fun!”

   You removed the safety belts and stretched your arms up over your head.  Hunter stood from his chair and turned to brief the squad.

   “Remaining undetected during our stay here is top priority,” he said.  He caught Omega’s hopeful gaze.  “But I don’t see why we can’t have a little downtime too.”

   “Yes!” she whispered under her breath.

   “We’ll set up some ground rules at the bungalow.  Alright, squad.  Let’s move out.”

   You moseyed to the back of the ship to grab your pack, taking a quick peek inside to make sure you didn’t forget anything important.  Extra clothes, a few basic toiletries, and a holopad.  It was all there.

   You filed down the ramp and smiled instantly at the lovely rush of salty air that filled your lungs.  A warm breeze ruffled your clothes and kicked up particles of sand against your skin.  To your right, palm trees and other greenery were swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the shore.  Omega was already kneeling in the sand, letting a handful of it slip through her fingers curiously.

   “It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet.  Her eyes wandered the scenery.  “Where’s the bungalow?”

     “It’s just up ahead,” Tech replied.  His face was practically buried in a holopad.  “Farther down the beach.”

   Wrecker lifted Omega onto his shoulders with a cheery laugh.  “Let’s go, kid!”

   You fell in step between Tech and Echo while Wrecker and Omega went ahead of the group.  Their excited chatter filled the beach, and the rest of the squad couldn’t help but be amused at the youngest member’s enthusiasm.  Even Echo cracked a smile out of the corner of your eye.

   The beach house came into view.  The exterior looked as if it were constructed from materials gathered near the beach itself.  The walls were made of faded wood boards with darker frames to outline the windows, and the whole place was complete with a thatch roof.  It was much larger than you had expected with an additional two shacks, identical in appearance but smaller in size, that connected to the main structure by a porch that wrapped around.

   “Are you sure this is the right place?” you asked, mouth falling open.

   Tech nodded.  “This would be it.”

   “It’s amazing!”  Omega exclaimed, and Wrecker set her back down on the sand so she could run over and investigate.  The first thing you did was climb the stairs to get a peek at the view from the porch.  It was midday, so the sun reflected brightly off the sand and the water, and it was absolutely gorgeous.

   Hunter knelt down and picked up one of the conch shells that lined the front walkway.  “Just where he said they’d be,” he said, lifting a pair of key cards.  “_______, take the other one?”  You held out your hands to catch it.

   “Don’t mind if I do.”

   You went to the front door with Omega at your heels.  She was nearly bursting with excitement as she waited for you to unlock it.  The key card registered, and the door slid open with a rickety woosh.  As charming as the outside of the bungalow was, the inside took your breath away.  The main room was bright and airy.  You had the ample number of windows to thank for letting the lovely sunlight in.  The kitchen was immediately to your left with aged wooden cabinets and gray stone counter tops.  On the right, there was a spacious living room with wicker furniture to add to its beachy charm.  The couch had turquoise cushions and sat opposite two matching chairs, separated by a low caf table.

   Omega started exploring right away, tossing her bag aside at the front door and hurrying into the living room first.  You shook your head in affectionate amusement as she sat in each of the chairs as if to test them out before stretching out on the couch momentarily.  Then, she went on to look out the nearest window.

   “This one has a nice view of the beach!”

   “Yeah?” you joined her at the window and rested your hands on the sill.  “That water looks so refreshing.  We should definitely swim later.”

   “Well, the conditions are certainly ideal,” Tech informed you.  “At this time of year, the water isn’t too cold.”

   “Aw yeah!”  Wrecker plopped down on the couch, brows shooting up at the snap and creak of the wicker under him.   Fortunately, the thing held it together.  Hunter was walking through and doing his initial survey of the surroundings.  He opened one of the doors straight back to peek in.

   “Bathroom’s here,” he called.  Next, he glanced in the other room.  “This is the master bedroom.  There are three bedrooms total and two beds to each one.”

   “Someone’s going to have to take the couch,” Tech said.

   “I will,” Echo volunteered.

   “_______ and I will share a room,” Omega added, and you nodded in agreement.

   “Sounds good.”

   Wrecker grinned at Crosshair, who had gone into the living room to scope it out for himself.  “What do you say, Crosshair?  Want to share?”

   The slender sniper rolled his eyes, his face scrunched up in a dramatic display of disdain, though you knew it to be an act.  The two brothers were known to stick together more often than not.  “Fine.”

   “Then me and Tech will take the last room,” Hunter decided.  “Glad we got that settled.”  You and Omega got dibs on the master bedroom, so you both headed back to check it out and drop your belongings there.  It was roomy and with simple decor reminiscent of the sea.  Omega claimed one of the twin beds, so you set your things down on the remaining one.

   “What do you think we’ll do first?”

   “We should probably get something to eat,” you said.  “Then maybe we can see if the guys want to take a look around.”

   “And go swimming?”

   You laughed.  “Yes, and go swimming.”

   Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Omega hopped off her bed and headed out the bedroom door, most likely to see what the group had planned.  You took a few moments to compose yourself in front of the charming vanity mirror.  While the squad’s stay on Spira wasn’t technically a vacation, you couldn’t help but get excited over the opportunity to spend some quality time with a certain Bad Batcher at a romantic place like this…  

   The two of you had been keeping things on the down-low, which is very hard to do on a crowded ship like the Marauder.

   You had ditched the armor before landing and changed into an extra set of clothes Suu had gifted you with.  Being that the Lawquanes were leaving on a transport on such short notice, they couldn’t bring everything with them.  She gave you several short- and long-sleeved tunics that were adjustable to the wearer’s size, just as Cut had passed on some of his things to the others.  It was very fortunate since you and the squad had to stop at a variety of planets and ports every now and then to fuel and stock up.

   You smiled at your reflection in the mirror.  You felt beautiful and ready for the day.

- - - - - - -

   “Got you!” Omega exclaimed, pointing.  You splashed her right back, laughter from both of you ringing out in the salty air.

   “Alright, break it up!” Wrecker hollered as he ran waist-deep in the water until he was close enough to make a huge splash that hit you right in the face.  He roared with laughter as you and Omega teamed up to go after him.  Hunter waded into the water, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand while observing the shenanigans.

   Echo was sitting comfortably in a chair under the protective shade of a beach umbrella.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wouldn’t be moving from that spot for the next few days by how he leaned back with his arms folded behind his head.  

   Crosshair was perched on another beach chair with a pair of dark shades over his eyes as he surveyed the scene.  His expression was short of a scowl, which meant he must have been enjoying himself. 

   Tech was still in the process of applying sunscreen.  It was amusing to see just how invested in the task he was, though it didn’t exactly surprise you considering the lecture he gave the entire group about the importance of protecting oneself from the harsh rays of the sun.  Eventually, once he was satisfied with the coverage, he shuffled down to join Hunter as he ventured deeper into the water.

   “My data was correct. The water is rather nice.”

   “Yeah, not bad,” Hunter agreed.

   You were having a blast.  Everyone was having such a good time.  Not to mention you kept catching the gaze of a certain Batcher.  Several times.  It was subtle, and anyone who wasn’t paying attention wouldn’t think much of it…but for you, it was making your heart race.  You couldn’t wait to spend some time with him…

- - - - - - - 

   Bright afternoon sunshine softened into orange light that washed over the water.  Everyone had their good times, but the day wasn’t quite over yet.  You emerged from the bathroom with new clothes to see the squad having a discussion in the living room.  Wrecker leaned against the wall casually with arms folded.

   “I saw these little lanterns glowing in the jungle on our way back in the house,” he said.  “I kinda want to explore and see where they lead.”

   “That’s cool, Wrecker!”  Omega nodded.  “What about you, Crosshair?  Want to go see the lanterns?”

   Crosshair removed a toothpick from between his lips to respond.  “No, thank you.  I’m going to take a walk on the beach.”

   A curious decision on his part, considering how disdained he looked earlier while on the beach with everyone else. 

   “There’s an old telescope in the shed,” Echo said from one of the chairs.  “I thought I’d dig it out and take a look at the stars.”

   “That sounds fun,” Omega nodded.  “What about you, Hunter?”

   Hunter glanced up.  “The village sounded interesting.  Tech said there’s a path that leads to that side of the island.”

   “That, I did.”  Tech confirmed, raising his pointer finger for emphasis.  “I also read that there is a series of caves nearby.  It seems like something worth looking into, so that’s where I’ll be headed.”

   “________?” Hunter asked, and you froze on the spot.  “What are your plans?”

   “Oh, um…”  You paused, catching a certain someone’s attempt at a casual glance in your direction.   He made a point to let you know where he’d be.

   All you had to do was follow.

   “I think I’ll…”

   “...go to the village with you, Hunter.”

   “...check out the caves with Tech.”

   “...explore with Wrecker.”

   “...stargaze with Echo.”

   “...go back to the beach with Crosshair” (COMING SOON).