#new poisons (starter)

[nineheadeddemon-a]

@sirensofthefiveseas starter for Boa Hancock (because you stuck with me no matter where I am)

He had found the islands of the Calm belt were often the best place to hide. Many either forgot that they existed or didn't have the ability to reach them. Thus they created the perfect hiding place since he had no fear of the Sea Kings now thanks to the devil fruit he'd eaten. Its power giving him the strength to easily dominate the surrounding waters. His mere scent causing many to turn away before attempting to engage him.

Sliding up to the next island, having grown board on the last, he shifted as his body breached the water. Appearing to walk out of the mist that gathered upon the shoreline as he slipped out of the water, timing the shift so that his clothing and hair remained dry. Flicking some residual water from the edge of his robes he then clasped his hands behind his back and turned his attention to the island before him. Noting the rising cliffs that stretched on in each direction as vague memories of this place returned to him.

.....wasn't this the place where males weren't allowed.

As the thought passed through his mind his body moved on instinct as he sensed a threat. His shoulder shifting to the side so that the heart-tipped arrow flew past him and vanished into the sea behind him. Cool gaze flicking down to note that his robes had been sliced before slowly rising to find the source of the attack. Dark brow arching ever so slightly at the clear beauty that now stood before him. A fact that was noted as more of an observation than anything else.

[llimerrence]

The imp has a love potion!

Where did he get it? No one knows.

What’s he gonna do with it? Everyone knows.

You get hit with love potion! You get hit with love potion!

Your muse has been hit with the love potion!!!

The imp giggles before running off; the bottle of love potion still well over half full, off to find his next targets.

Gosh, he just loves love.

[yamujiburo]

Ketchum vs. Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

Woo! Finale time! I wanted to make this final battle feel special and give it more substance than I could do with just a comic. So! I got the help of @cyberwulf to write out this ending in fanfic form! Check it out here on AO3 if you prefer! If not, the journey continues below the cut~

prev / END

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / [X]

James Sidestory / Meowth Sidestory

A lot has happened since our Poké Moms began their journey. After a rocky start…

“*SQUAWK*”

…they’ve managed to catch some new Pokémon…

“Run! Run! Run!”

…in their own way.

“What a cute baby! You know, I have a son, too!”

With their month on the road almost up, Delia had just one more thing she wanted to do…

“I want to beat the Cerulean City Gym!”

But little did Delia know, there was a surprise waiting for her in Cerulean City!

“MOM??? JESSIE???”

“Let’s have a double battle! You and Ash versus Jessie and I!”

“You’re on! But I’m not going easy on you just cuz you’re family!”

“…What’s going on?”

Poké Mom Adventures

EP009

Ketchum vs Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

The water of the Cerulean gym battlefield glistened in the sunshine streaming through its crystal glass roof. Both teams gazed at each other with steely determination (and some lingering confusion, in Misty’s case) as above them, the Drone Rotom announced the rules.

“This will be a double battle between Gym Leader Misty and Champion Ash, and the challengers Delia and Jessie.” It projected a holographic image of both teams. “For today’s battle, each trainer may use two Pokémon. The battle is over when all of one team’s Pokémon can no longer battle.”

“All right!” Misty declared. “This is an official League battle for the Cascade badge!”

“And bragging rights!” Jessie added with a smirk.

“We’ll see about that!” Ash retorted. Misty glanced at him, taking in his clenched fists and gritted teeth. She’d seen Ash determined before, but… there was something here that she was missing. However, with the Drone Rotom hovering expectantly overhead, finding out what that something was would have to wait.

“Come out – Corsola!”

The Coral Pokémon landed on the rock in front of her, eagerly crying its name.

“This is a water-themed gym, so I’ll go with a Water-Type,” Ash remarked. “Oshawott, I choose you!”

“That’s the spirit, Ash!” Misty exclaimed. “It’s the job of a Gym Leader to help trainers learn type advantage and weaknesses by specialising in one kind of Pokémon, and around here that’s Water-Types!”

“Water, huh?” Jessie frowned as she considered the three Pokémon she had on hand. “Well, I don’t want my delicate little Ziggy to get her fur wet.” With a flourish, she tossed a Pokéball high in the air. “Go, Venomoth!”

The Poison Moth Pokémon emerged, hovering over the water.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any Grass or Electric-types,” Delia mused. “I guess we’ll just have to do our best with what we have.” Pushing her bangs out of her face, she called, “I choose you!”

Ash and Misty’s jaws dropped as the light from Delia’s Pokéball coalesced into a very large, very stern-looking Kangaskhan.

“I didn’t know your mom had such a strong Pokémon,” Misty whispered.

“Neither did I,” Ash whispered back. Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked down at his starter Pokémon. “Something wrong, Pikachu?”

“Pika…”

Pikachu gazed across the water at Kangaskhan, ears and tail up, alert to… something. But before anyone could figure out what had caught his attention, there was a small cry.

“Kangaskhan!”

The baby squirmed, spooked by the glistening water lapping all around the rock. She buried her face in her mother’s belly and cried again. Cradling her young protectively, Kangaskhan gave Delia an apologetic look.

“Oh, of course!” Delia exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. Kangaskhan, return.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called across the battlefield. “That doesn’t count as one of my Pokémon, does it?”

“Of course not, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty shouted back. “Please choose another Pokémon!”

“If she’s got one,” Ash said with a confident smirk. “I’m betting she’ll send out Mimey.”

“I choose you… Clefairy!”

“Looks like you bet wrong, Ash,” Misty laughed as Ash stared in surprise at the Fairy Pokémon.

Above them, the Drone Rotom moved into position.

“Begin!”

“All right, Oshawott!” Ash called out. “Open up with an Aqua Jet!”

With a determined cry, Oshawott blasted a jet of water across the field, hitting Clefairy square in the belly and knocking the Fairy Pokémon off the rock and into the water.

“Ash Ketchum!” Delia exclaimed reproachfully. “That wasn’t very nice!”

Thrown off-guard, Ash gulped. “S-sorry!” (Oh man - I can’t believe I’m actually battling my mom!)

On the opposite side of the battlefield, a wet and bedraggled Clefairy clambered back up on the rock ridge, scowling at her attacker.

“Shake it off, Clefairy!” Delia urged as her Pokémon did just that, sending a fine shower of water droplets flying from her pink fur. “Use Disarming Voice!”

With a deep breath, Clefairy shot a vortex of pink hearts towards Oshawott, taking the Sea Otter Pokémon by surprise and knocking him into the water.

“Good work, Deerling!” Jessie shouted triumphantly. “Now it’s my turn!” She pointed at Corsola. “Venomoth, use Poison Sting!”

Venomoth hovered uncertainly for a few moments, then looked back at her.

“It doesn’t look like Venomoth knows that move, honey,” Delia remarked.

“Well, Dustox knew that move!” Jessie protested. “Venomoth should know it too, aren’t they both Bug-types?”

Venomoth just blinked at her.

“You really don’t know what moves your Pokémon knows?” Misty asked incredulously.

“Of course I do, just – just let me think!” Jessie spluttered, clenching her fists. “All right, Venomoth – use Gust!”

Venomoth didn’t move.

“Whirlwind!” Jessie tried. “Psybeam! …Tackle?”

Venomoth looked back and forth between Jessie and the battlefield as it fluttered about agitatedly, utterly confused by the barrage of unfamiliar orders.

“This is just sad,” Misty muttered, getting a nod of agreement from Ash. Raising her voice, she called out, “Corsola! Use Spike Cannon!”

Corsola glowed, and a split second later a shower of glowing white spikes slammed into Venomoth, driving it backwards towards the trainer box.

“Oh, no!” Delia groaned in dismay, wringing her hands. “Maybe we should’ve practiced with our new Pokémon before coming here!”

“We’re not giving up!” Jessie snarled, clenching her fists. “Venomoth! Get back out there!”

With a trill, Venomoth shook off the spikes, and floated towards its opponents again.

“Corsola!” Misty called. “Hit it with another Spike Cannon!”

Corsola began to glow.

“Well don’t just hover there!” Jessie barked out. “It’s about to attack again!” Venomoth looked back at her, and Jessie gestured angrily towards the battlefield. “Just do something! Anything!”

Once more, glowing white spikes shot towards Venomoth. This time, however, Venomoth dove towards the attack, sweeping its wings in front of itself at the last minute. Blue blades of light cut through the barrage of spikes, one hitting Corsola and driving it back.

“That’s Air Slash!” Ash exclaimed.

“Air Slash, eh?” Jessie shot her opponents a triumphant smirk. “Venomoth! Use Air Slash on that pitiful pink Pokémon again!”

“Hang in there, Corsola!” Misty called as her Pokémon was driven back for a second time. “Use Recover!”

“Don’t let it recover, Venomoth!” Jessie yelled. “Air Slash again!”

As her Pokémon geared up for another attack, she noticed Delia gazing at her in rapture.

“You’re so ferocious when you battle, Smoochum,” Delia remarked dreamily. She lowered her voice, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s kinda hot.”

Jessie blushed and giggled. “Baaabe, not in front of the twerps.”

Misty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “…Smoochum?”

“Freak out later, Misty!” Ash yelled. Venomoth was bearing down on Corsola, and the Coral Pokémon didn’t have much left. “Oshawott! Use Hydro Pump on Venomoth to protect Corsola!”

Leaping high into the air, Oshawott sent a powerful jet of water directly at Jessie’s Venomoth. With a cry, the Poison Moth hit the floor between Jessie and Delia, bounced once, and fainted.

“Hey, no fair!” Jessie bellowed, stamping her foot. “I was distracted!” She recalled Venomoth with a scowl. “I ought to ground you for making me look bad!”

“This is really weird,” Misty mumbled.

“You have no idea,” Ash sighed wearily.

“All right, you big blue blob,” Jessie growled to her faithful Patient Pokémon, “get out there and let’s win this thing!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet waddled forward, straight into the water. Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose as Wobbuffet awkwardly clambered up onto the protruding rock.

“Wobbles can’t attack unless he’s attacked first,” Delia murmured to herself. “Oshawott is strong, and Corsola can use Recover to gain back health. That means I’ve got to make this next move count!” She looked to Clefairy, wet and winded but not out of the battle. It was risky, but…

“Clefairy! Use Metronome!”

“Metronome?!” Misty exclaimed as Clefairy began to move her fingers hypnotically back and forth. “Now anything can happen!”

“Hold tight, everybody!” Ash called, just as the Fairy Pokémon’s fingers turned white.

Razor-sharp leaves whipped through the air, striking Oshawott and Corsola. The Grass-Type move was too much for the dual Rock/Water Type, and Corsola collapsed into the water, fainted. Oshawott was driven back against the rock ridge, and Ash held his breath, but the Drone Rotom only counted Corsola out.

“Oshawott! You hanging in there, buddy?”

With a grimace, the Sea Otter Pokémon gave him a determined nod. “Osha!”

“Ha!” Jessie cried triumphantly. “Now we’re even!” She clenched her fists, calling tauntingly across the battlefield. “Who’s next, twerpette? Togepi? Psyduck?”

“She sure is cocky for being down to just Wobbuffet,” Ash muttered.

“Not for long,” Misty replied with a smirk. She plucked her second Pokéball from her hip.

“Go – Gyarados!”

Delia’s eyes widened and Jessie took several steps back as the gigantic Pokémon appeared in the water. It glowered down at both trainers, making Delia swallow hard.

(Now’s not the time to lose my nerve! Gyarados is just a Pokémon like any other. All I have to do is-)

“Hey!” Jessie exclaimed angrily. “No fair using such a powerful Pokémon! What, are Staryu and Starmie at the Pokémon Centre or something?!”

Taken aback, Misty gaped at the former Team Rocket member in disbelief. “Since when do you care about playing fair?”

“Since you decided to use that monstrosity on a first-time trainer!” Jessie retorted with a shake of her fist. “That’s cheating!”

Misty paused, almost second-guessing her choice of Pokémon, when she remembered who she was dealing with. Squaring her shoulders, she shot back, “You’re not a first-time trainer!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ash muttered.

“I heard that!” Jessie bawled.

“It’s okay, honey,” Delia murmured, placing her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We can beat them. We just need to use strategy!”

“Gyarados!” Misty called out. Jessie may not have been the best trainer, and her track record with him was hit or miss, but Wobbuffet could reflect almost any attack. It might just have been luck, but Clefairy’s Metronome had taken out Corsola and left Oshawott just barely hanging on. There was only one choice of target.

“Use Hurricane on Clefairy, now!”

Rearing back, Gyarados shot a powerful blast of air directly at the Fairy Pokémon, sending her flying back to the trainer box.

“Oh no!” Delia cried. She knelt by her stricken Pokémon’s side, but it was obvious even without Drone Rotom saying so that Clefairy couldn’t continue. “You did a wonderful job, Clefairy.” Recalling her Pokémon, she rose, pushed her bangs out of her eyes, and called her second Pokémon.

“Mimey, I choose you!”

Ash clenched his fists. No more surprises – he knew what Mimey was capable of. Oshawott was tough, but he’d taken a lot of damage. If the Sea Otter Pokémon only had one move left, then Ash had to make it count.

“Oshawott! Hit Mimey with Aqua Jet!”

“Mimey, dodge it!” Delia cried out.

The Barrier Pokémon leapt high in the air, leaving Ash to watch, powerless, as Aqua Jet splashed harmlessly on the ground between his mother and Jessie. But before he could call out another attack –

“Now, Mimey, Focus Punch on Oshawott!”

There was no time for Oshawott to get out of the way. Mimey dove straight down, fist outstretched, and scored a direct hit. Both Pokémon vanished underwater. All four trainers held their breath. After a few seconds, Mimey burst out of the water, effortlessly leaping onto the rock. A moment later Oshawott floated to the surface, fainted.

“Good work, Oshawott,” Ash murmured as he recalled his Pokémon. He turned to Pikachu. “Looks like my mom’s a tougher trainer than I thought. You ready, Pikachu?”

The yellow mouse nodded, one tiny fist raised. “Pika!”

“You be nice to us now, Pikachu!” Delia cheered brightly.

Jessie was less optimistic.

“Babe, this isn’t looking good,” she murmured urgently. “I’ve been beaten by that Pikachu a zillion times! And that Gyarados looks strong. And mean! I don’t know if…”

She trailed off as the other woman took her hands.

“Now you listen to me, Jessie Ketchum.” Delia gazed into her eyes, a look of fierce determination on her face. “A zillion battles. A zillion losses. Against that very Pikachu. And you never gave up. So you’re not gonna give up now! Okay?”

Jessie stared back at her. Time seemed to stand still. Delia’s fingers were warm on her own as her words of encouragement hung in the air.

“Jessie… Ketchum?”

With the briefest of nods, Delia turned to face their opponents.

“Ash honey, don’t you hold back just because I’m your mom!” she called. “We’re going to give it our all, even if we lose!”

“She’s a lot like you, Ash,” Misty laughed. As Ash tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his blush, she raised her voice and called to the challengers. “You’re doing great, Ms. Ketchum! I’m really impressed by your abilities as a trainer. Now show me you’re worthy of the Cascade badge!”

“Hey!” Jessie yelled indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?! My Venomoth pushed your Corsola to the brink!”

Misty grimaced. This was all still too strange – Jessie was a good guy? Jessie and Ash’s mom were… partners? She struggled for something positive to say about Jessie’s performance so far.

“Uh – yeah!” she managed. “It was, uh, really great how you figured out that one move.”

Jessie put her hands on her hips. “Ugh, could you sound any more insincere?!”

With a growl of impatience, Ash cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the battlefield. “Hey! Are we gonna battle or what?”

“Oh, we’re battling, twerp,” Jessie shot back. “And we’re gonna win!”

Ash grinned. “You ready, Pikachu?” The yellow Pokémon turned to look at his trainer. Ash pointed. “Quick attack!”

“Ha!” Jessie scoffed as Pikachu zigzagged along the rock ridge. “Wobbuffet, use Counter!”

Pikachu leaped forward…

“On Mimey!”

Delia and Jessie gasped as Pikachu pivoted and went straight for the Barrier Pokémon. Taken by surprise, he took the full brunt of the attack, losing his balance and hitting the water.

“A fake out!” Delia exclaimed. She beamed at her son with pride. “That was so smart of you, honey! You had us completely fooled!”

“Baaabe!” Jessie hissed. “I get that you care about him – I do too – but right now he’s the enemy!”

Delia tapped her fist against her head, grinning nervously. “Oh, right!”

“This is hurting my brain,” Misty groaned.

“How do you think I feel?” Ash grumbled.

Delia took a moment to centre herself and assess the situation. Pikachu didn’t have a Type advantage, but his Electric attacks were powerful – not to mention that Mimey was still wet. Of course, using them ran the risk of electrifying the entire battlefield, including Gyarados, but only one Pokémon needed to be left standing in order for that Pokémon’s team to win.

“Mimey!” she commanded. “Use Psychic on Pikachu!”

“Mr Mime!”

Mimey fixed Pikachu with an intense stare, his eyes and hands glowing blue. Blue light enveloped the yellow mouse as he was lifted into the air. Pikachu strained and struggled, but couldn’t break free.

Ash groaned in exasperation.

“Misty, go for Mimey!” he called. “If you weaken him, maybe Pikachu can break free. Plus, he’s a lot stronger than Wobbuffet!”

Misty nodded. “Right!”

“Hey!” Jessie objected. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it!” She shook her fist at them. “I raised you better than that, Ash Ketchum!”

“Wha – ” Ash took a step back, flabbergasted. “You didn’t raise me at all!”

“The heck I didn’t!” Jessie retorted. “Who kept an eye on you while you twerped your way through eight regions, huh?!”

Misty rubbed her temples. The whole situation was giving her a headache.

“Gyarados!”

The Atrocious Pokémon stirred itself and looked her way.

“Use Crunch on Mr. Mime, now!”

“Oh no, not Crunch!” Delia fretted, as Gyarados reared back, a sinister purple aura swirling around its fangs. “That’s a Dark-Type move!”

“Wobbuffet!” Jessie barked. “Get between Mimey and Gyarados and use Counter!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet leaped in front of Mimey, his body outlined in orange light. Crunch hit, hard, and bounced back twice as hard. Both Gyarados and Wobbuffet recoiled from the damage.

“Wobbles!” Delia cried out, as Mimey caught Wobbuffet in his arms.

“Don’t you quit on me now, Wobbuffet!” Jessie shouted.

Wobbuffet saluted weakly as Mimey pushed him back onto his paws. The distraction worked, and Pikachu dropped back to the rock, freed from Psychic.

“Keep the pressure on, Pikachu!” Ash yelled. “Use Iron Tail on Mimey, now!”

“Quick, Mimey!” Delia shouted as Pikachu somersaulted through the air, tail glowing white. “Use Reflect!”

Pikachu hit the invisible barrier and flew backwards, landing in the water.

“Gyarados!” Misty commanded. “Use Crunch again!”

“Mimey, keep using Reflect!” Delia shouted. “Don’t let them in!” She had to think. Poor Wobbles, he didn’t have much left – one more shot from that big Gyarados and that would be it. Not to mention that if Crunch hit Mimey, the battle would be over! She’d completely forgotten Gyarados could learn that move! Oh, maybe she should’ve used Zaggy instead…

Mimey obediently continued to use Reflect as Gyarados and Pikachu attacked from either side. Slowly the invisible barriers began to box them in, till Mimey and Wobbuffet were crowded together on the rock.

“Babe!” Jessie urged. “We have to do something or we’re gonna lose!”

“I know!” Delia groaned. “I just…” She cupped her face in her hands, pulling down on her cheeks. “…I don’t know!”

“Ms Ketchum!”

Delia lifted her head.

“You can’t let us back you into a corner!” Misty called. “Use your environment to find a way out!”

Ash shot her a glare. “Hey, whose side are you on?!”

“It’s my job as a Gym leader to help trainers to learn,” Misty explained with a smile. “Did you forget?”

“You didn’t help me when I battled you for the first time!” Ash replied indignantly, poking his thumb into his chest.

Misty glowered at him.

“That’s because you still owed me a new bike, Ash Ketchum!”

“Aaagh!” Ash placed both hands on his head, tugging his hat down. “Can’t you let that go already? It got repaired, didn’t it?”

While their opponents bickered, Delia had taken Misty’s words to heart.

“Use the environment…” she mused. There was only one place Mimey and Wobbles could go – but first they had to do something about the double attacks coming their way.

“Jessie!” she hissed, beckoning her partner to come closer. “Can you have Wobbles use Counter?”

Jessie looked at Wobbuffet, sweating nervously as he stood behind Mimey. She nodded.

“Okay,” Delia replied. She whispered quickly in the other woman’s ear. Jessie grinned, then straightened up.

“Wobbuffet! Use Counter on both those attacks!”

Without any hesitation, Wobbuffet moved in front of Mimey, body once more enveloped in an orange glow. Crunch and Iron Tail came back double on Gyarados and Pikachu, sending the two flying backwards. Both Pokémon landed hard on the rock, Gyarados almost wrapping around it with the force of the blow.

“On your feet, Pikachu!” Ash called. “It’s not over yet! …Huh?”

He blinked at the empty battlefield. Mimey and Wobbuffet had both disappeared. Ash tensed as he scoured the water for any sign of the enemy Pokémon, but the surface was still settling from the last bout of attacks. The sunlight streaming through the roof didn’t help either – it made the rippling water glitter.

Misty spotted movement a second too late.

“Look out-”

In tandem, Mimey and Wobbuffet burst through the surface, taking up positions either side of Gyarados and Pikachu, trapping their opponents between them.

“Good work, you two!” Delia cheered. She pointed dramatically. “Now, Mimey – use Psychic on both of them!”

Once more, Mimey’s eyes and hands glowed. Both Gyarados and Pikachu rose into the air, enveloped in blue light.

“Great strategy, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty called, earning a dirty look from Ash which she ignored. “There’s no point going for Wobbuffet – he’ll just Counter our attacks again.”

“Right,” Ash agreed. “We’ve gotta take out Mimey!” He raised his voice. “Pikachu!”

Misty did likewise. “Gyarados!”

Delia grinned. “Just as I thought.” She looked at her partner. “Get ready with Mirror Coat!”

Jessie blinked in confusion. “…Huh?”

“Thunderbolt –”

“Hydro Pump –”

“On Mimey!” both young trainers yelled in unison.

“Mimey!” Delia called, just as both Pokémon charged their attacks. “Drop them, use Light Screen and aim at Wobbles!”

“Aim at WHO?!” Jessie exclaimed.

There was no time to explain. Everything turned on a split second. Pikachu and Gyarados began to fall through the air. Several volts of electricity and a powerful torrent of water hit Mimey’s Light Screen and barrelled towards Wobbuffet.

The diabolical beauty of Delia’s devious plan suddenly caught up with Jessie. That pair of pathetic Pokémon were in for a –

“Now, honey!”

Jessie almost fumbled the command.

“M-Mirror Coat!”

Wobbuffet glowed, shrouded in a reflective aura. Everything seemed to slow down. The attacks hit. They bounced back at Mimey. Pikachu and Gyarados fell. Ash’s mouth opened in a silent noooo.

The timing was perfect.

Gyarados and Pikachu fell in front of Mimey, taking the full brunt of Thunderbolt and Hydro Pump, doubled by Mirror Coat. The sheer force of the attacks drove them along the surface of the water, causing huge plumes of water to rise into the air either side of them. The battlefield disappeared in a shroud of surf and spray.

“Pikachu!” Ash cried out.

All four trainers held their breath as the mist began to clear.

Jessie cried out in dismay on seeing Wobbuffet floating belly-up in the water. Ash groaned on spotting Pikachu doing likewise. Draped over the rock, Gyarados lifted its head weakly, then dropped it again.

Delia scanned the water, a smile spreading across her face as Mimey swam to the rock and clambered up, standing tall with a cry of, “Mr. Mime!”

“Wobbuffet, Pikachu, and Gyarados are unable to battle,” the Drone Rotom declared, as Ash sank to his knees. “The winners are the challengers, Delia and Jessie!”

“I… I can’t believe this…” Ash moaned.

“We…” Jessie couldn’t stop staring at the battlefield, Drone Rotom’s words ringing in her ears. “…we won?” She looked to Delia, and the joyful look on her face confirmed it. “We WON!!!”

Delia shrieked as Jessie caught hold of her and lifted her high in the air, doing a twirl before setting her back on her feet and peppering her face with kisses. “Hahahaha!” She turned to their opponents, pulling down on one eyelid while sticking her tongue out. “Suck it, twe – I mean, Ash and Misty! I knew this day would come sooner or later!”

“Jessica, I know you’re happy, but don’t be a bad winner,” Delia chided gently. “Magnanimity in victory goes a long way.”

“But baaaabe!” Jessie whined. “I’ve never had a victory this magnificent before!”

Delia just smiled and gave her a peck on the lips. “I think poor Wobbles wants you,” she remarked, nodding to the battlefield. “We’ll need to get him to a Pokémon Centre with Venomoth and Clefairy.”

Jessie nodded and went to haul Wobbuffet out of the water.

“Come on, you,” she grunted as she dragged the Patient Pokémon back onto dry land. Briefly she removed her cap and wiped the sweat from her brow. Fine, so she couldn’t taunt the twerps any more. Victory still tasted pretty sweet.

In her arms, Wobbuffet stirred and smiled weakly up at her. Jessie couldn’t help but smile back.

“How about that?” she murmured to him. “You’re a winner, Wobbuffet. I bet you can’t wait to tell the others.”

He managed a salute and a quiet “Wobba…” before Jessie recalled him to his Pokéball.

Ash, meanwhile, remained on his knees in the trainer box. “I can’t believe we lost to my mom.”

“You gotta admit, that last strategy was a thing of beauty,” Misty replied with a smile. She’d made her way out to the rock and was cradling Gyarados’s head, absently rubbing its crest. The big Pokémon opened its eyes and let out a quiet rumble. “I guess now we know where you get your battling skills from, champ!”

Stepping out of her sneakers, Delia carefully negotiated the slippery rock and fished Pikachu out of the water. A couple of vigorous rubs from his head to his tail, and the Electric Mouse Pokémon opened his eyes.

“You were great, Pikachu,” Delia murmured. She tickled him under his chin, getting a weak “Chaaa” in response. She made her way back to the side of the battlefield to find Ash, Misty and Jessie waiting. “You were great too, honey.”

Ash managed a smile as she handed Pikachu to him. “Thanks, Mom.” He gasped as he was pulled into a hug.

“That was such a fun battle!” Delia exclaimed. She loosened her hold just enough to look at him. “I can see why you like this so much.”

“Watch out, Ash,” Misty teased. “You might just have a new rival on your hands!”

Ash let out a distressed yelp.

“Oh no, I don’t have time for that,” Delia assured him with a wave of her hand. As Ash sighed with relief, she cupped his cheek and tilted his head up to look at him. “But travelling around this past month and battling with you today… it’s made me feel a little bit closer to you.”

Ash blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Aw, Mom,” he mumbled with a grin.

“Ahem.”

Ash and Delia turned to see Misty holding out a Cascade badge.

“This is yours, Ms. Ketchum,” the Gym Leader declared. “You made the battlefield, your Pokémon and their moves work to your advantage. I’m impressed!”

“Oh, you’re too kind, really,” Delia replied, blushing as she accepted the badge. Its blue surface seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the roof. “I’ll treasure this, always. Thank you.”

“That’s how you win a badge fair and square,” Misty teased, shooting a wink Ash’s way.

The Champion rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

All three turned to see Jessie holding out her hand.

“What about me?” she demanded. “The perfect Pokémon battle partner? Trainer of vicious Venomoth and wild Wobbuffet? Where’s my badge?”

Misty sighed. Jessie had been on the winning team, and she had won a badge fair and square, but the whole situation was still bizarre.

“I’ll give you a badge if you explain what all…” She waved her hand between Jessie and Delia. “…this is about.”

“Delia and I dating,” Jessie scoffed with a shrug. “It’s not that complicated.”

“I got that part,” Misty shot back irritatedly, “I just…” She looked from Jessie, standing with her arms crossed, to Ms. Ketchum, who had one hand on Jessie’s hip, to Ash, who looked like he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “…you know what, never mind.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a second Cascade badge.

“I can’t believe this is happening, but… you earned this!”

Jessie let out a little cry of joy as Misty put the badge into her hand.

“Oh, Deerling, look how pretty it is!” she gushed. “Do you think maybe we could just get the prettiest Gym badges?”

“I don’t see why not,” Delia replied. “With James to run the restaurant, I can take vacations more often!”

“James is –” Misty glared at Ash, who pulled the brim of his cap down and giggled nervously. “We’re going to the Pokémon Centre and then you’re telling me what’s been going on, Ash Ketchum!”

“Let’s all go to the Pokémon Centre,” Delia suggested. “Our Pokémon battled hard today, they deserve a good rest.”

It wasn’t long before Nurse Joy’s tender care had Venomoth, Corsola, Oshawott, Clefairy, Wobbuffet, Gyarados and Pikachu feeling like their old selves again. Delia squeezed Jessie’s hand, murmuring “that’ll be you one day, Smoochum” as they watched Joy work.

“Well, we should get going,” Delia declared once they had their Pokémon back.

“We were going to stay and have dinner, Ms. Ketchum,” Misty said. She eyed Jessie reluctantly, but made the offer anyway. “…You’re welcome to join us.”

“That’s sweet of you, Misty, but we’ve been away long enough,” Delia replied, to both kids’ relief. “It’s time we headed home. Thank you both so much for such an amazing battle.” She hugged Ash tightly. “Don’t stay away too long, honey.”

“You know I won’t, Mom,” Ash replied, blushing. He shot Misty a grin. “I’ll be home right after I kick Misty’s butt in our rematch!”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” Delia murmured. She let go of her son and gave Misty a quick hug and a wink. “Try not to beat him too badly!”

“Hey!” Ash exclaimed indignantly.

Delia stepped back, joining her girlfriend near the door of the Pokémon Centre. She gave her a look and nodded to both kids. With a sigh, Jessie trudged up to Ash and gave him a stiff hug.

“See you at home, kid,” she mumbled. Letting go, she turned to Misty. “Thanks for the battle and the badge, I guess...?”

The two gazed at each other for a few awkward moments, then Jessie took a step closer, slowly lifting her arms.

“Aah!” Misty hurriedly moved back, holding her hands up in front of her. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Jessie dropped her arms with a huge sigh of relief. “Great! Me neither.” She offered her hand instead, and the Gym Leader shook it.

Ash and Misty stepped outside the Pokémon Centre to see them off, their goodbyes ringing in the air as Delia and Jessie got on the road. Jessie slung her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Happy, babe?”

“Yes and no,” Delia sighed. “I’m sad my journey’s over, but I couldn’t be happier about how it went. I made three wonderful new friends, foiled a nasty poacher, and that battle today –” She clenched her fists in front of her. “ – I never felt so alive! I can’t wait to tell Professor Oak and James and Meowth all about it!” She slipped an arm around Jessie’s waist. “I’m so glad you talked me into this.”

Jessie preened. “Oh it was nothing, babe, I –”

She broke off as Delia took hold of her hands.

“Thank you for making my dreams come true,” the other woman whispered. Jessie’s heart caught in her throat as she saw tears shining in Delia’s eyes. “Not just today, but every day we’re together.”

Jessie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. Delia deserved more, so much more, for putting up with her, believing in her, loving her. Not to mention all she’d done for James and Meowth too. Maybe one day –

- but before Jessie could continue the thought, Delia leaned up and pulled her into a tender kiss.

THE END

“Oh, I can’t wait to get home to our nice comfy bed!”

“Ugh, me too. I hate sleeping on the ground.”

“…who said anything about sleeping?”

[milkmemes]

FLIRTY STARTERS

Sentence starters that are flirty. Change pronouns as you see fit.

❛ Can I hold your hand, or is that too forward? ❜ ❛ I think your laugh might be my new favorite sound. ❜ ❛ You look beautiful in the morning light. ❜ ❛ I saved you the last piece, of course I did. ❜ ❛ I didn’t fall for you. I tripped… over your smile. ❜ ❛ Can I braid your hair? I’ve wanted to for ages. ❜ ❛ I was having a bad day until you showed up. ❜ ❛ I love how you say my name—makes it sound like poetry. ❜ ❛ You could be wearing a trash bag and still be the prettiest person in the room. ❜ ❛ I don’t know what we are, but I like it. A lot. ❜ ❛ You always smell like vanilla and danger. ❜ ❛ I want to kiss you, but I don’t want to mess up your lipstick. ❜ ❛ You’ve got stars in your eyes when you look at me. ❜ ❛ I’m not used to someone looking at me like you do. ❜ ❛ Stay. Please. Just a little longer. ❜ ❛ You remembered my favorite song? ❜ ❛ Your hoodie looks better on me. Just saying. ❜ ❛ I could listen to your voice all day. ❜ ❛ Come here. I wanna kiss your forehead. ❜ ❛ Your smile makes my whole day better. ❜ ❛ You’re blushing again. It’s adorable. ❜ ❛ You tuck your hair behind your ear every time I compliment you. ❜ ❛ You’re my favorite notification. ❜ ❛ I made you coffee the way you like it. ❜ ❛ You don’t have to say anything—I like just being with you. ❜ ❛ You always make the world feel a little softer. ❜ ❛ You’re so warm, I might never let go. ❜ ❛ I think I’m falling for you, and honestly, I’m not even scared. ❜ ❛ I didn’t think someone like you would ever look at me that way. ❜ ❛ I’m not flirting—I’m admiring. There’s a difference. ❜ ❛ Your laugh makes me want to do dumb things just to hear it again. ❜ ❛ This would be more romantic if my heart wasn’t trying to punch its way out of my chest. ❜ ❛ You keep making that face and I’m going to have to kiss it. ❜ ❛ You can scoot closer, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to. ❜ ❛ I had a dream about you last night. Want to guess what happened? ❜ ❛ I brought snacks and cuddles—pick your poison. ❜ ❛ You should wear that color more often. It brings out your eyes… and all my feelings. ❜ ❛ I don’t think I’ve ever felt more comfortable than I do around you. ❜ ❛ Can we stay like this? Just for a while? ❜ ❛ I like the way you touch me—gentle, like you actually care. ❜ ❛ You’re always the first person I want to tell when something good happens. ❜ ❛ I didn’t think this would happen, but I’m really glad it did. ❜ ❛ You’re the best part of my day, every day. ❜ ❛ You look good with your hair like that… but you’d look better next to me. ❜ ❛ You always make me feel like I’m enough. ❜ ❛ I want to memorize every little thing about you. ❜ ❛ Your hand fits so perfectly in mine, it’s not even fair. ❜ ❛ You’re trouble. Beautiful, irresistible trouble. ❜ ❛ You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe and excited at the same time. ❜ ❛ I could fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. ❜

[starlit1daydream]

On the subject of Equius Zahhak: hypersexuality and patriarchy.

It's been a hot minute since I promised to write something like this, and I've been meaning to test a new writing style for these big posts anyways - so I'm going to try my hand at explaining my personal interpretation of Equius Zahhak.

Equius is one of my favourite side characters in Homestuck, and though the individual components of his characterisation are intentionally facetious and humourous, all of these components then come together to form a fantastic and deeply layered commentary, however unintentional.

Let's begin with the basics: our introduction to Equius proper.

The narrative makes it clear from the start how you're meant to feel about this guy for starters - he's a creep and a weirdo. Nepeta says as much in their very first interaction on-screen:

This is backed up by the narrator themselves exhibiting a discomfort with him, painting him as a cryptic and eerily observant loner:

Once again, he's making people uncomfortable. Discomfort is going to be a very common theme going forward, particularly once we tap into Equius' personal interests and the justification behind them.

The next sign is when we first see him properly on-screen, and the narrator is immediately mortified by the state of his room and advises us to move on with the story.

So, immediately, any cognizant reader knows what's up. This guy is a joke character. A punchline, a fool, a weird asshole with no redeeming qualities. This is, of course, the intended reaction.

...Which then brings us to the subversions involved with Equius' character. Every single off-putting and strange thing about him is subsequently repainted in a more flattering light by the conclusion of his screen-time.

What begins as an overcontrolling, possessive demeanour towards Nepeta becomes a genuine, albeit perhaps overbearing desire to protect his moirail from harm. The context of him being Vriska's neighbour helps us infer that he's very, very aware of the dangers of FLARPing.

What starts as a bizarre and testosterone-poisoned obsession with strength becomes more of a fleshed-out character flaw. It's an inherent fault that Equius cannot control that brings him more distress than anything else. We'll delve into that later.

This is not, of course, to say that Equius is without genuine fault. You are still meant to find problems with his behaviour, of course you are; the Aradiabot fiasco is an intentional violation of personal agency based around an unhealthy obsession. He allows himself and his moirail to die because of his refusal to disobey the vapid and classist hemospectrum.

Okay, so why is he like this?

I'm glad you've asked. This is where this delves more into conjecture, based around a few different things.

The state of the internet and online culture at the time of Equius' inception; and the ramifications therein.

What we know to be true about the aspect of Void, and how Equius interacts with it.

The added retroactive context of Hussie's handling of queer topics (as a non-binary person themselves!), particularly on the subject of gender identity.

Let's start with point one.

Equius and hypersexuality.

At the time of Homestuck's inception, it was a veritable fact that the internet was overrun with overt sexuality, oft for the sake of shock value as opposed to arousal. Screamers and shock sites like 2girls1cup, goatse, Mr. Hands... (that last one is particularly relevant).

I cite Mr. Hands in particular because therein we get to the use of bestiality as a gross-out punchline. This is what Hussie's invoking with Equius; you're looking at this guy and seeing a gross freak who hangs horse porn on his walls. It's appealing to the fact that:

Homosexuality was considered a funny punchline.

The furry fandom was considered a funny puchline.

Bestiality was considered a funny punchline.

And so, this thirteen year old child hanging gay horse porn on his walls is meant to be played for laughs.

But with the retroactive lens we're looking at this through now? It's not only deeply disturbing for reasons I don't think I need to explain, but it's also a portrait of unhealthy teenage sexuality and the ramifications of exposure to explicit content at a young age.

Because it's a veritable fact that Equius does not understand boundaries and has a deeply flawed relationship with his sexuality. It's the kind of hypersexuality induced by childhood exposure to sexual material, and I would go as far as to call it a kind of CSE.

Need more proof of this? Dave Strider. Bro's weird sex puppets and usage of pornography as a punchline undeniably fucked Dave up, and explains the way he so regularly uses sex, particularly gay sex as a source of humour. Dave is the same problem that Equius rises, played seriously at a point in the story wherein these things are no longer treated so facetiously.

Furthermore, it becomes clear that Equius does not actually understand what he is consuming and emulating. Pornography isn't pornography to him, it's fine art. He's uncomfortable and unhappy with his sexuality because he lacks a label for it and doesn't know what it is he's feeling. This is tied to his Aspect of Void; but more on that in just a second.

This is uncomfortable. It is meant to be uncomfortable.

Equius' toying with casteplay and power dynamics is a clear representation of this frayed relationship - and it also segues into our point about his lack of self-worth.

Equius, the Heir of Void.

The Void Aspect. The Aspect of irrelevance, secrecy, ignorance, simplicity and absence, amongst other things.

The Heir Class. The Class that indicates an overabundance of the player's Aspect that overwhelms them and embodies them.

Equius is he who inherits, becomes and is consumed by emptiness. Because Equius Zahhak does not have a sense of selfhood or self-worth. The inference brought about by his title as the Heir of Void is that Equius is overwhelmed by nothingness.

Combine this with his Dersite status and the consensus on Lunar Sway (Prospit indicating externalisation, Derse indicating internalisation) and you get a very clear image of how Equius' title translates.

An overwhelming, consuming sense of internalised absence and nothingness. This is where Equius' hemospectrum adherence comes in! It's a cover up to compensate for his purposelessness and lack of meaningful identity. He sees himself as being deficient in anything real or of substance, and so adheres to the system placed before him because it is the only thing he feels he understands.

Once again, this is uncomfortable and a real phenomenon amongst teen boys. We see it with Eridan, too; young and confused teenagers with no sense of purpose falling into harmful and bigoted pipelines because they have no sense of direction otherwise.

(In a roundabout sense this explains Tavros' role as well; The Page indicates a deficit in their Aspect throughout the session and so the trolls lacking Breath in the form of directionlessness fits fairly well).

It's almost like watching a young boy fall into the alt-right, or start feed into Andrew Tate-style snake oil bullshit. It's the exact same kind of exploitation on a much larger scale; because it's the whole of Alternian society orchestrated by Doc Scratch.

You know... the Doc Scratch meant to represent online groomers?

So, we've been over about all I can cover about Equius' sexual trauma, lack of boundaries and emptiness/lack of self. So, how does this translate? Particularly thinking on the last point, I'd like to give my two cents about a very interesting headcanon for Equius that's been circulating a lot lately.

Equius, and gender identity.

A transfeminine reading greatly enhances the content of Equius' character, and provides a narratively satisfying character arc and means of development for them.

(From hereon out, I will be referring to Equius by the pronouns she/her).

I've seen Nekropsii sum this up beautifully, and I'll paraphrase this interpretation to the best of my ability; Equius' manifestation of masculinity is akin to a poison to her.

It makes her into a grotesque, testosterone-poisoned freak that physically cannot interact with anything around her without hurting it. It is the metaphorical confusion and fury of dysphoria made literal. It is the emptiness and lack of self that I myself can corrobate as a trans woman myself.

Masculinity is a curse for Equius. Much like quite a few other Homestuck characters (Dave & Jake come to mind), Equius really fucking hates being a guy.

So, this ties into my final point.

How I personally would have developed Equius had she been given the screentime to keep being relevant to the story.

The transfeminine character arc seems obvious. I believe that, if a person would be willing and able to tackle the more obscene and deliberately uncomfortable components of Equius' character, you could make an incredibly raw and interesting portrayal of transition and identity.

What's more; this is corroborated by Equius' closest relationship. Nepeta Leijon, the Rogue of Heart. The girl whose role indicates the ability to share identity and selfhood. Nepeta could very, very easily function as a catalyst for Equius gaining her own identity and being helped through the transition process. It makes an already STRONG and stable moirallegiance all the more interesting and heartwarming to witness.

This is not to say that Equius should not have agency herself, of course; an important part of this development would be the formulation of an independent self without debilitating outside influence. It would be allowing herself not to be consumed needlessly by Void.

Equius, and further relationship dynamics.

Equius' relationship with Gamzee (which I have always read as a one-sided kismesis) is also very important to me. This is not healthy. Equius is using Gamzee as a vessel for her fantasies and lack of boundaries, and through her black feelings she vents out her frustration with her sexuality and intrinsic need to obey and serve someone of a higher caste.

I don't think I need to tell any of you how well that works out once Gamzee goes sober. (I'd rather not dwell on the topic of the Makaras too long; that's something for a wholly separate post - and one that I'm sure would end up being rather scathing towards Hussie).

Finally, Equius' relationship with Aradia. This is also one I feel is unhealthy and once again one-sided. It is the same principle as Gamzee; merely in the red quadrant as opposed to the pitch one. Equius is using somebody as a vessel to vent out her feelings of purposelessness and frustration, and deliberately ignoring the lack of reciprocation.

Both of these connections are similar; and both of them end with Equius getting her shit kicked in.

How one would retool and treat these relationships post-character development is up to them, but I personally think it would be healthier for Equius to step away from both of them. I don't think Aradia would want or need Equius' continued presence in her life, and Gamzee is notoriously terrible at relationships. (We know damn well how a reciprocated blackrom with him turns out, just ask Terezi).

Equius, in conclusion.

That's all I really have to say on this matter; a long-winded and ultimately self-serving wall of text that I'm sure will come off as masturbatory and stupid when I read over it again. That being said, I wanted to lay all of this down in one place.

tl;dr - Equius Zahhak is a complex and interesting character with commentaries on teenage hypersexuality and unhealthy masculinity, and reading her as a trans woman provides an incredibly interesting character arc for her in the long term.

[hivemuthur]

Nothing's New - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut to come somewhere mid-way through

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 7,2K

tag: #nothings new

summary: More meetings, welcomed and unwelcomed + some foreshadowing. Nothing exactly smutty in this chapter, but I'm leaving it on explicit rating, for reasons of angst and generally adult emotions. Also, I should go to writer's jail for starting so many fics with dialogue.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Why the fuck are you only telling me this now?” You fume over the phone. A sloppy text message from Mel has made you stop in the middle of the street. Now. Now, when you are heading to act out your pretend chance meeting with Viktor. Now, when you are ten minutes away from the drop point and haven’t finished replaying all possible conversation starters in your head yet. Now, when your knuckles are white from clutching your coffee cup. Now, when you are bathed in the cold sweat of fear and the hot sweat of the temperature. Why now. Why now.

I feel you should know this. Viktor is seeing someone. Please don’t eat me.

You are going to fucking eat her and clean your teeth with her bones.

“Jayce spilled just recently. He was afraid I would tell you.” Oh, the irony. Mel is whispering on the phone, which indicates that Jayce is around, and her clock is ticking. “Apparently it’s been going on for about six weeks. It’s someone from work.”

“What?! Six weeks? What was that scene at your party then?!” To counter Mel’s whispering, you are screaming. White-hot anger surges through your veins, blinding fury. The audacity. The audacity to make you feel bad for doing something adjacent to moving on when he himself has moved on weeks ago. People scoff as they walk past you, and you glare daggers at them. Fuck off.

“I understand this is… hard, but… I thought you were happy with Paul? Maybe this is the way to fix this?” your friend offers carefully. Very carefully.

“I am happy. I am so fucking happy it makes me sick,” you spit into the speaker against Mel’s sigh. The thought of Paul makes you feel guilty. Your entire relationship has been built on guilt poisoning your reason. But the thought of Viktor. With someone else. That’s different.

“This is all I know. Jayce is leaving, I have to run!” Mel ignores your protests, puts the speaker an inch away from her mouth, and sends you three in-air kisses. You almost throw your phone into the trash bin. You almost slap a person walking past you who gives you a sodden look. You almost kick a beer can under your feet with the force of a rugby player.

This is so, so different. The thought of you and Paul suddenly makes you sad. The way he is a picture of kind insecurity, even though most of him is mouthwatering. There are ugly parts of him, yet invisible to the naked eye. He makes the thought of being touched by someone other than Viktor bearable.

Viktor touched you like he was keeping you. His claiming hands, a constant reminder of his yearning. Which is why, when he stopped, you forgot. You became unkept. A stray in a shelter, getting food, water, and blankets, but no carer. And you could’ve lived without all of those, but not without the belonging. For you, it decayed much sooner than for Viktor.

And then Paul found you. He stumbled upon the pieces of you, left to be picked up and put back together. And Paul touched you like he was asking for permission to be kept. So the two of you strays agreed to keep each other. With time, his touch became familiar; it had overridden the default touch of Viktor. It became comforting, consoling. You never long for it, but you always welcome it. And you no longer need a keeper.

And Paul is a man that everyone envies you for. He’s a man that steals glances and twists the necks of women who congratulate themselves for having a decadent taste in men. In fact, Paul just looks like he fucks well and would make a good dad in the future. He’s hot, but not intimidating, smart, but not a buffoon. Clingy and needy at times. He gets angry in traffic and then patronises you when you freak out about weak Wi-Fi. He has a sadness and kindness to him that makes him a whole human. And sometimes, a whole human is more than you can bear.

You wonder, who is this woman who found pieces of Viktor, and how has she put them back together? If she did. If he let her. If he is in pieces at all.

You feel yourself in fragments, appearing and disappearing, as you approach the shop. And oh God, he is there, and Jayce is running late. Viktor is... picking a bed.

Your shirt clings to you awfully, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the shop window—face red, remnants of foaming anger visible at the corners of your mouth twisted downwards, hair all messy from digging your hand into it, and two fucking sweat stains under your armpits. Great. Just great.

Why is he picking a bed? Is his bed soaked with you, and he wants a fresh one for the new woman? Is he ready for someone else’s scent so soon? You aren’t ready for him being ready.

You snort up three breaths in a row, no exhales. You hold them until one of your feet steps through the door, announced by a bell. Before your mind can throw you something—anything—you’ve prepared, you feel yourself walking up to him, and you hear yourself blurting out, “Why are you buying a bed?”

Viktor, who is standing by a frame much bigger than the one you two used to sleep in, looks up at you slowly, his lips disappearing into a thin line. “Because I need a bed. And hello.”

“What’s wrong with the old bed?” Unbelievably, you’ve lost all of your common sense. All that matters is why Viktor needs a new bed. His eyebrows raise, and he… smiles. With a horrible, smarmy curve of his lips.

“I don’t have a bed anymore,” he answers sweetly, acid dripping off his tongue.

He didn’t have the bed anymore. For months, he had slept on his tiny couch, which had significantly buggered his spine. But he couldn’t bear it—the bed had smelled of you, and whenever he came near it, it was as if you were still there, lying there, waiting for him. At first, he had wanted to burn it. He asked Jayce for help, and Jayce was frightened. He fidgeted around Viktor and asked him wary questions like, “Are you sure this is what you want?” or, “Isn’t it illegal?”

Viktor scoffed at the last one. He was convinced that if he had told the police why he was burning a bed, they would have helped him do it. But since he was in no shape to chop it with an axe while picturing your face or drive it out of town to build a pillar of hate to pay his respects to you in an eternal flame, he settled on a Craigslist deal. Some poor fucker wanted a bed in exchange for a book. It happened to be the first edition of Naked Lunch. The poor fucker had no idea.

You would have loved it. So he burned it instead.

He burned it on the balcony in the middle of the night, hoping it would make him feel better. Hoping you would feel the tickle of the flames around your soul as he purged it from his being. Hoping that this symbolic act of destroying a piece of literary history would also destroy his feeling of this—this thing he dared not name.

And now, he has just collected a shiny new set of keys to his apartment that he is going to give to Julia the next day. Not to live together, too early for that. But to come and go as she pleases. He will do things differently now. He will do them better this time.

And it is easier, because Jules isn’t so co-dependent. She is collected and pretty. She is alright with anything Viktor proposes. She never challenges him and manages to be funny on rare occasions. They have a lot in common, and it feels comfortable. Yes, Jules is an easy ride—one that he needs after his road through hell.

“What happened to the old bed?” you insist. You loved that bed. It was small and cozy and soft, and Viktor would always jokingly complain about it. And then he would really complain about it, because when he wanted to be far away from you, the softness of the mattress would suck you both into the middle by morning, like a black hole.

His vile smirk turns into a full, shit-eating grin. “It’s gone,” he says coldly. “I hated it. It was bad for my back. Why are you here?” He shoots you a look, and you feel a new wave of sweat pushing itself through your skin.

“I saw you in the window,” you blurt out idiotically, as if that would explain anything. You bite the inside of your cheek, your face contorting into a new expression every second. How utterly mortifying.

“And? You thought you could say hello?” He shifts his weight onto the cane, pinning you like a butterfly on one of those museum boards. Splayed flat, stretched and dried out, dust under anyone’s prying fingers. “Or… you thought it was proper to just come in and be disturbingly weird?”

“I— What? I am not being weird! I’m asking you a question, and you lie to my face,” you hiss, your tone defensive. Oh, he has caught you. His eyes glint, clearly pleased with your mind struggling to formulate a proper comeback.

“Disturbingly weird it is, then,” he deadpans, that fucking smirk still on his face.

Weird. He remembers it so well. He didn’t want to, yet the sensation burned itself into his brain. Even more now, as the act of burning history had the opposite effect of what he desired. After the last remnants of Naked Lunch lifted into the hot summer air and disappeared into glimmering dust, he felt himself stepping into the weird club. The way your weirdness was fascinating and hot. The way his was full of fear and remained unaccepted.

You were neurotic but refused to acknowledge it fully, even though you wore it as a verbal badge. The constant fidgeting, moving objects around, slow pacing across the room as you read your books, always with a soundtrack because your mind needed distractions to remain focused. You could sing a song and read a book simultaneously, and Viktor loved it. He lived to observe all those people encapsulated within you, every single one incomplete, as if you were made of a bunch of different personas.

The fidgeting became overwhelming when he asked you to move in with him. It had been fast, and he owned it—the recklessness of the decision. He left you a way out: keep your old place, just in case. The “just in case” came in handy three years later, when you returned to a dark cage shrouded in dust.

But back then, you had no idea what to do with yourself once your stuff travelled with you to Viktor’s. When you were a guest, the pressure was less. You could move things around, and he would put them back where they belonged after you left. Now, you debated heavily before touching anything. Your books splayed on the floor, your records in a box, while you moved from place to place trying to figure out the value of a random bundle of tomes that some poor soul had sold to your boss for a stupidly small sum.

Viktor was sitting at his desk, trying to work, but your groans made him wince, and your skittish movements lingered in the corner of his eye. He turned in his chair and sighed.

“Come here,” he beckoned, his arm opening in a welcoming gesture, inviting you to sit in his lap. You paused, a puzzled look on your face. Then, you dropped your computer onto the bed, walked up to him too fast to save yourself any dignity, and straddled his hips, hiding your face in his neck.

“Why are you being so jumpy?” Viktor asked, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from whatever answer you would have to come up with, signalling that whatever the reason was, it was alright.

“I am always jumpy,” you mumbled into his collar. No way to say this. Happy and sad at the same time. Excited and frightened. Bold and shy. Full of his love and hungry for more.

“Hmm, but this time more than usual,” he mused, placing a hot hand on the nape of your neck. A thought struck him.

“Miláčku, are you nervous about a new space?” His question was met with silence, only your nose pressing deeper into his neck. He chuckled, pleased to stumble upon the answer so quickly.

“Do you not feel like this is your home?” he asked, his tone warm and gentle as he propped your face against his palm and lifted it so you would look at him, the response painted on your face.

“Would you like to change something? Would you like to, say, paint a wall?” His peace offering made you wince at your own immaturity. Yes, you wanted to change something. Yes, you wanted to feel less like an invader. The comfort of being a guest was long forgotten, morphing into the feeling of being a stranger probing Viktor’s space, trying to squeeze yourself into it.

Seeing your eyes fixed on him expectantly, your mouth forming a pout, he continued. “Would you like a bookshelf?” A timid nod. He smiled. There we are.

“And maybe a record shelf?” An unhinged display of affection at this. You rubbed your face against his in thanks, nodding a few more times and purring. He chuckled, rolling your hips on his, warmth pooling low under his belly button.

“Hmm, and would you like to get all those things now?” Or would you rather seal the deal with a nice, afternoon fuck? He licked the lobe of your ear, breathing you in through his nose. Your hips pressed down on him, a sweet weight of your ass splayed on his lap making him warm. He ran his flat palms down your back to ground you further, his touch addictive.

“No. Now I want to do something else,” you said, picking up the ball, nipping at his lower lip. You kissed his beauty marks, and Viktor’s eyes fluttered shut in bliss. So much fun to crack you open.

“Ah, distracted already?” he mumbled before kissing you deeply. His hands travelled to cup your ass cheeks, his palms filled with your flesh, just as things should be.

“You always distract me.” Spoken with embarrassment at the admission. Sweet civility, your decorum still intact at those tiny confessions. He swallowed all of them, kept them to himself, and grew stronger and better each time he was granted one.

“And… I’m sorry for being weird,” you said, pulling away an inch to rest your forehead against his.

“I like weird,” Viktor said with a smile, his tone closer to a love confession than a blunt statement. “I am weird,” he added, tracing the lines of your face with his fingers.

“No, you are not,” you chuckled, disarmed. “You are… peculiar,” you announced, poking his lips gently, affectionately.

“That’s just a fancy weird,” Viktor snorted. Peculiar. What a word. What a beautiful word to be given to him. He would wear it like a crown from that point forward. You had anointed him with your gift, and he would cherish it with pride.

“No,” you defended, your brows furrowed at this clear misunderstanding. “No. Weird has bad connotations.” Your finger rested on the tip of his nose, accentuating your point. “Peculiar is fascinating and curious,” you mused as your finger began tracing upward, all the way to the spot between his eyebrows, and then higher, to the line of his hair, brushing it away so you could cup his face. “Odd, in a good way.”

“Alright, word wizard. Did you just come up with this?” he relented with an embarrassed chuckle.

“No, I thought that on the first sight,” you announced proudly. You had. Peculiar was entirely Viktor’s. Wonderful, fascinating. Never fully uncovered, always something there lurking to surprise you. A wild landscape of his brilliant mind, of his raw body—so flawed, so beautiful, like an unfinished sculpture. Every time you remembered his angles, they would shift into something even more mesmerising. The complete lack of effort within him, the way he dressed like a man from a novel. The way he was always incomplete, always searching.

“Peculiar at first sight. Do you have a word for everyone?” he murmured. Seeing your timid nod, his eyebrows shot up. “Jayce?”

You laughed; this one was easy. “Big. Just big. Big everything—big hands, big teeth, big smile, big personality. There is enough of Jayce to literally hug the world,” you said, your tone warm and friendly, as all of this was true about Jayce.

Viktor chuckled, thought for a second. “Mel?”

“Rich.” The word came slightly too fast, and you grinned. Viktor laughed knowingly. “But it goes to everything about her, as I love her,” you clarified, your expression soft. Mel was rich through sharing it with other people. Her fortune came back to her, the more she gave it away. The fortune of her money, her personality, her beauty, spread across all the people she knew.

“Oh, I know. For yourself?” He cocked his eyebrows, his look probing. He had so many words for you. Beautiful. Unhinged. Skittish. Tender. Focused. Distracted. Vulgar. Weird. Hot. His.

“Uh… chaos,” you chuckled awkwardly. Yes, the chaos of your mind never tamed. Which was why your life landed in books. They had provided you with all the personalities you mended yourself from, making your chaotic being work. And Viktor seemed to like all of them.

Until he stopped, and there you were. The weird gained its disturbing friend, and it was no longer cute or fascinating. Now, it was gnawing at him, because he could see those parts of you that he once loved so dearly through a distorting layer of ice, burning his eyes.

“It is none of your concern how I furnish my apartment,” he says calmly. “I am seeing someone and would like your remaining stuff to be removed. Here.” His words stab at you as he pulls out a keychain from his back pocket.

“Next weekend, I’m out of town. Feel free to come and collect your things. Leave the keys in the post box,” he recites, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “If you don’t, I will dispose of them on my own.”

A rush of blood to your head—cold and vile—leaves icy spikes in your veins as it travels upward through your body. Your face drains of colour, your mouth agape. Thousands of “what”s push themselves to your tongue, and you let one slip through.

“W-what?”

“What is so surprising? The pragmatism, or the fact that I had the civility to tell you I’m moving forward on my own accord?” he asks, his tone so utterly cruel it makes your insides twist. “Take this as the last ounce of respect I have left for you.”

“Are you implying that I do not respect you?” you spit, the fury you felt while talking to Mel surging back with full force. What a wanker. “You blocked me. Everywhere. I had no way to let you know.”

“Just take the keys.”

“I… still have my set,” you offer weakly, instantly regretting it as Viktor’s lips curl into a smirk.

“These are new,” he says with feigned innocence. Of course. But you already know this, so why does it shoot straight through your chest? Why does it leave a steaming hole in it? Why do you want to take the keys and stab his eyes with them? Why do you want to scream at him—and yet you can’t.

You take them wordlessly, staring into the void. They burn your hand. “Okay. Alright,” you sigh, defeated, sliding the keychain into your pocket.

An automated smile glues itself to Viktor’s face. So why does he feel so rotten? Surely, this is a victory. Here you are, crumbled into a sad twat of a person, resigned from any further attempts to talk to him. Here you are, exactly where he wants you—hunched and shrunk under the weight of his boot stomping over your cruel heart. You lost, and he won.

So why does he feel so shitty?

He clears his throat and looks away.

“I will have you know that Jayce is desperate to piece the gang together. You and your new… partner will receive an invitation to dinner on Sunday. Jayce has informed me that we are expected to play nice.” The word “partner” is laced with so much venom, the radius could make all the kittens in the vicinity drop dead.

“W-what?” you ask dumbly again. What the fuck? Jayce has lost his mind.

Before you can ask again, the said madman appears by your side.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks wearily, but his embrace is warm.

“Can… can I talk to you for a second?” Your voice cracks, and you hate it. And the worst part is, there’s nobody to carry you home on the top of your shield.

Jayce glances over to Viktor nervously, but Viktor’s eyes are fixed on the mattress in front of him. Jayce sighs, nods, and pulls you a few steps away, pretending the reality isn’t as fucked up as it is.

“What’s up?” He keeps his tone light.

“Jayce, a dinner?”

“Uh, he told you already? I meant to… Yeh, I had an idea that maybe if we all meet and clear the air, things could move forward, at least a bit?”

When he sees your mouth opening and closing a couple of times, and your eyes not blinking even once, he adds, “Please. This is killing me. I feel exactly the same as I did when my parents were divorcing.”

You sigh, finally. Finally, a breath. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and you can feel Viktor’s secretive glances.

“Can I leave at any point?”

Jayce’s face lights up with relief. “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, thank you for giving this a chance,” he blurts, so happy, wrapping you up in a hug.

You want to wince away at first, afraid that he might feel how restless your heart is or that he might smell how sweaty you are. But in the end, Jayce’s hug does what it had always done—it calms you, making your head give up. It is what it is.

“I’m gonna go,” you say weakly, pulling yourself away. Jayce shoots you a knowing look and nods, placing his hand on your shoulder before you disappear completely.

You don’t spare Viktor so much as a glance, his keys still burning a hole in your pocket.

***

You despair. The number of times Paul calmly tells you that you could still turn back makes you sick. This poor, kind bastard. He has agreed to this ridiculous idea in an instant, before even checking how you felt about it. Seeing that what you felt is utter peril, he does his best to calm you down and present you with around a thousand options for how this could go.

“We can just not go. We can pretend you’re sick. We can pretend I’m sick, and you can go alone. I can go alone and test the waters for you. We can stay for a drink. We can leave if you feel uncomfortable. Just remember this awesome thing called ‘free will,’ okay?” he says, sitting cross-legged, naked, on the bed.

You are pacing, also naked. Panic surges through your vascular system. It carries said panic to every tissue of your body, making it slowly decompose into a puddle of cries and sobs.

“Hey,” he says, getting up and rushing to hug you. “It’s alright. He’s just a guy.”

This very complacent lie makes you shoot him a look. He tries to be respectful of your old life, of your friendships. Unbidden, his love is too sweet on your tongue as you feel yourself becoming complacent as well.

And then you remember Jayce. His face when he was sad, and he was so, so fucking sad it ripped your heart out. And you feel this vast emptiness that is left after Viktor. With the absence of him, the absence of Jayce and Mel is unbearable. So you sigh.

“Alright. Okay. Let me just… try to do something to not look like a rat.”

Paul chuckles, assuring you that you never look like a rat. When you walk down to the restaurant, your feet stomp heavily on the pavement, and your hand squeezes Paul’s palm in an unrelenting grip. At the door, he says it again, “We can turn back.”

You shake your head and step inside, bravely hiding behind the mass of your boyfriend. Jayce spots you instantly. He gets up so fast, his cutlery clattering to the floor.

“I was afraid you were going to bail,” he whispers loudly into your ear when you finally make it across the room.

“I… thought about it,” you admit under his glare. “You have to thank this guru,” you add with a sigh, gesturing to Paul, who just shrugs, as if it were obvious that you would have bailed without him.

They exchange embraces. You smooch Mel’s face obscenely, actually quite happy to see her, before slumping into your chair, the question staring you in the face. Where is Viktor?

Noticing the question mark distorting your forehead, Mel quickly adds, “They’re on the way. Traffic.”

Bullshit. Viktor lives nearby, and there is no traffic on a Sunday evening. A small relief creeps into you—maybe the outer gods heard you, and it is Viktor who was going to bail. Maybe you have been pulling your hair out over nothing, and this will turn into just a nice evening with your two friends and your lovely boyfriend. Maybe—

“Apologies. Traffic,” comes a sharp tone, accompanied by a shrug and the familiar sight of a cane being hung over the chair’s armrest.

Something sinks in your chest. Peril has just taken relief’s head, ripped it off, and taken a huge shit into its neck. But this isn’t the worst. Introductions come next.

A girl comes running in after him. Pretty. Nerdy. Just… pretty. Nothing remarkable. Pliant and nice, with slightly shy body language. Potentially intelligent. Potentially nothing.

And suddenly, you feel odd having Paul at your side. It feels like you are trying to prove something. It eats at you—that Viktor has shown up with someone so unremarkable, while he himself oozes confidence about his champion. Your champion seems to be completely overblown—his massive frame, his charm that could sweep anyone off their feet.

Overachiever. Poser. Liar.

You feel a nasty fucking thing hatching in your chest. It envelopes your heart, fills your veins with ice, and you could swear the whites of your eyes have gone black. Your hand hesitates when she repeats your name with an oblivious voice, pulling her palm out for a handshake. Your own palm hovers as you muster every ounce of willpower not to slap that mediocre face.

“Hi, Julia. Nice to meet you,” you manage, swallowing the beast, which rakes its claws at your insides as it slides down to your stomach. Your throat burns as you down an entire whisky glass.

You realise it would feel less painful were she obscenely beautiful. Her absolutely average physique has meant that there was something within her soul that beckoned Viktor forth, and the thought makes your own soul wail.

You watch them all from your seat, exchanging names and glances. Jayce knows Julia from work. Paul knows both Jayce and Mel. Which leaves… oh.

“Right, sorry. I’m slow in this weather,” you chuckle a bit too loudly. “Paul. Julia. Viktor.” You gesture clumsily, presenting them to each other before scrambling back into your seat, craning your neck to eye the waiter back to your table.

You watch Paul charming Viktor’s new girlfriend with his smile. You watch Viktor’s slender hand disappear into Paul’s firm grip. You watch their eyes meet, cold and challenging.

You feel a sudden urge to slide under the table. To bury your head in your knees. To bite through the wooden floor to the basement. To dig your own grave and fall asleep in it forever.

“Thanks for the invite, Mel,” Julia beams at your friend, and you spot Mel’s unctuous smile gluing itself to her face. This one is one of her best—so oily and sleek that even Jayce notices. He presses a kiss on her cheek so deep that she has to relax her face.

“So… how did you guys all meet?” It falls on the table and it takes you a few seconds to pick it up.

Holy fucking shit in heaven. Of course. He hasn’t told her. He hasn’t told her that this innocent dinner with friends is actually a farce with the high potential of turning into a carnage. She is oblivious to you. She has no idea. Ignorance is bliss.

“Uh… well, me and Viktor know each other from university, but that you know. Mel I met at a business convention, and, well…” Jayce stammers, stumbling over his words as his forehead begins to glisten with sweat.

Poor soul. You feel so sorry for him, you throw him a lifeline.

“And I am Mel’s friend. Best bitches since business school,” you say, giving the best fake smile you have. Not as good as Mel’s, but it does the job. “And Paul and I met at my work. You can connect the dots,” you throw out nonchalantly. And Viktor was fucking me into heaven for three years. For two.

“Oh, so you’re in business too?” Julia really tries, but the tension is just too palpable. You blink, dumbfounded.

“Uh, no.” A forced chuckle, as if business were a vile way to live. “I sell books.”

“Alright, that’s just unfair,” Jayce intercepts, taken aback by your modesty. You are not trying to be modest; you are trying to give as little information about yourself as possible. You almost smack him, but he continues.

“She finds books like you wouldn’t imagine. Medieval texts, first editions, magic books—all the crazy shit people would write down and publish. Precious objects,” Jayce muses as you try to smooth a crease of panic from your forehead.

“And they trick people who have no idea of their value into selling them rare tomes for chunks of copper,” Viktor murmurs, twirling the wine in his glass.

“Knowledge comes at a price. Of all people, you should be the one to understand that,” you shoot back, your nails slicing through the skin of your palms. You feel Paul’s hand on yours. He doesn’t look at you; he just entwines your fingers together on your knee. The saviour.

“Anyway, it’s actually all incredibly bureaucratic and boring,” you offer weakly, finishing your second drink. “And what about you?”

And then Julia talks. How she is an assistant at the lab where Viktor and Jayce work. How she was always fascinated by their projects. How she thought Viktor distant and mysterious at the beginning, only to discover he was a sweet man. How she just couldn’t say no when he asked her out. Each sentence is a stab into your chest, each of your hard gulps making Viktor smile triumphantly. Until—

The first thing you see is his smirk dropping from his face. The second is Paul’s face as he pulls you in to whisper into your ear, disguising the act as a gesture of affection.

“Smile. And nod. Do you want me to punch him?” he murmurs, the question inaudible to anyone but you.

You smile lovingly, place your hand on his cheek, and shake your head. In fact, you smile so much that your face hurts, and you find yourself needing to physically relax your cheeks with your fingers.

The conversation carries on, all faces a tad sour save for Julia’s. She does most of the talking and asking questions. She focuses on Mel and Jayce, leaving you and Paul to exchange inside jokes. And he does such an exceptional job distracting you that some of your smiles are actually genuine.

You are on your third drink, and your body relaxes despite itself. The food arrives, finally bringing some silence, occasionally broken by hums of appreciation and Jayce’s voice, since he talks with his mouth full. For a moment, you forget Viktor is there—until Julia leaves for the bathroom and leans over to give Viktor a kiss.

His neck cranes to meet her mouth. His hand travels to her throat; the other squeezes her waist. Very briefly, his eyes meet yours. Before you can combust from the look, her hair falls, shielding them both, and all you can make out is the sound of lips smacking apart when she finally pulls away. You wonder what would happen if you stabbed your hand with a fork.

Viktor clears his throat and returns his attention to his plate. You watch him separating meat from the bone, chewing, and swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. And he feels your eyes on him, the smug curve of his lips betraying him.

Paul picks up the glove. He clumsily rolls a chunk of pasta onto his fork and asks innocently if you want to try his food. Absently, you nod, taking a sip of water first to flush your mouth. The bite is too big, and he smears sauce on your cheek and nose. You don’t worry about decorum; you chew as you always chew—jaw working heavily as you gulp down. You can swear Viktor’s eyes are burning a hole in your throat. Paul chuckles at how gross you are and leans in to kiss the sauce off your cheek, nose, and the corner of your mouth. He lingers and comments on how it tastes even better now. It’s all very sickening, and you feel dirty doing it. You can see Viktor eyeing his fork.

Julia returns and plops down next to Viktor with a happy sigh, as if she’s just had the most satisfying number two of her life. You cackle at the thought, but it dies in your throat when Viktor chirps, “I missed you,” to her and presses his lips to her temple.

You feel yourself simmering beneath the skin. It’s all too much.

“Excuse me for a second.” You offer another sweet smile, stand up, place a hand on Paul’s shoulder, and make your way toward the entrance. A gush of sticky air isn’t exactly a relief, but at least it’s not acidic.

“Sorry, can I bum one?” you ask a woman smoking outside. She gives you an understanding look and pulls the cigarette pack toward you.

“Sure, honey. Did you spot your ex in the crowd?”

“Uh, you have no idea. Thanks,” you exhale, letting her light your cigarette. You don’t smoke, but now it seems suitable.

You are expecting Paul to come out after you, ordering a regroup.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Viktor deadpans, giving you a scolding look.

“I don’t,” is all you manage to say without choking on the smoke. “Please, leave me alone,” you plead, seeing him move closer. You could rake that face with your nails. You could slap him and walk away. You could throw his keys back at him and tell him to eat shit. But no. Jayce needs you to play nice.

“Are you not having a nice time?” he asks innocently, just aiming to hurt. “I thought you wanted things back to normal.”

You sigh, looking at the cigarette lying oddly between your fingers. “I…” Your voice falters. And then, despite your efforts to hold the words back, they refuse to stay. They slice your throat open from the inside, bleeding straight into his ears. “I miss you.”

A slap. A slap straight through his heart, hooking his lungs out of his chest. Your beast gets him, instead of sweet Julia. It coils in, purring and eating him from the inside. It’s all he wanted to hear. He won, again. And he feels like shit about it, again.

Viktor’s cane wobbles under his weight, a sharp, uncomfortable cough forcing its way out of him. His face twists. He stands there, still as stone, except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest. His lips part, his tongue flicks to wet them, but no words come. He looks like he is suffocating under the weight of what you’ve just said.

“Fuck off.” The words come out jagged, like broken glass, his voice harsh and cracking. “You have no right.”

You deserve it. You have no right, indeed. Your chest tightens, your lungs pulling for air that isn’t there. He has gone for the kill, but his voice… His voice doesn’t match his words. It’s soft and trembling.

“I know.” Your voice cracks too, balancing on the edge of fury and despair. You step toward him, the cigarette still burning between your fingers, ash crumbling onto the pavement. “But I do.” It feels like scraping off a scab too fresh to be poked at.

Viktor’s eyes widen, just for a moment. It’s quick—too quick—but you catch it. A flash of something buried deep, a flicker of something that makes your knees want to buckle, to throw yourself at his feet. His jaw clenches hard, his lips twitching as if biting back every single thing he wants to say.

“This was supposed to be over,” he hisses finally, but his gaze betrays him, darting down to your mouth, lingering on the curve of your jaw.

“It… is, I just—” You step even closer, the words clawing their way out of you, half a plea, half a challenge. “This is different.” There is no logical explanation for how this is different, except for the absolute certainty, the gnawing truth in your heart of hearts. You are utterly convinced that Julia existed only to spite you, whereas Paul existed to save you, and in principle, the connection between him and Viktor was non-existent. You wonder, for a second, if you should tell him. And then you picture how he would react, and you decide not to.

His hand grips the handle of his cane tighter, his knuckles turning white. “Do not—” His voice wavers. “Do not do this to me.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound hollow and cruel even to your own ears. “What am I doing to you?” You gesture wildly, the cigarette burning low, its ember a heartbeat away from searing your skin. “I try to do right by you. All you do is block me and slap me around.”

“You left!” he snaps, his voice rising, sharp enough to cut through your already battered flesh. “You are the one who left, and now you stand here, saying—saying things you should have said before.” He looks completely crestfallen.

The silence that follows is deafening. Your shoulders slump as you stare at him, and for a moment, you don’t recognise the man in front of you. The Viktor you know wasn’t this—this wreckage, this storm barely holding itself together.

“I left because you made me,” you whisper, the tears you’ve been holding back threatening to spill. “Because you pushed and pushed until I broke. And now I don’t even know if there’s enough of me left to stay mad at you.”

His head dips, his shoulders collapsing in defeat. His free hand runs through his hair, tugging at the roots like he wants to rip something out—anything, just to make the ache stop.

“You think it was easy for me?” he asks quietly, almost a whisper. “To let you go? To—” His voice cracks again, and he stops himself.

That is a first. You knew how hard it was—you had to crawl through your own shitty tunnel. You knew it was hard for him, but you’ve never heard him admit it before.

You both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick like tar. The cigarette finally burns out, the last ember dropping to the ground as you let it slip from your fingers.

“Then why didn’t you fight for me?” you ask, and your voice breaks. “Why didn’t you—”

“I did.” His words come fast, cutting you off, raw and painful. “I did, but you didn’t see it. You wouldn’t.” Viktor fights his hands to not reach out for you and wipe your tears away with his thumbs. He fights his body to not pull you flush against him, to kiss you deeply and whisper a secret into your mouth. He takes a step back, and it costs him everything. Then you both stare at the thing in front of you.

The truth. Ugly and jagged, sitting between you like a gaping wound neither of you knows how to heal. You had both fucked up, royally. And then you went ahead and jumped into something new, hoping that a tiny bit of duct tape would seal a hole in a massive, overflowing tank of feelings.

“Go back inside.” His voice is soft now, a whisper lost in the sticky night air. “I’ll be right there.”

“Everything alright here?” Paul’s voice reaches you before you see him, and you wince. Viktor takes notice. Paul’s arms are crossed on his chest, lips pressed into a thin line.

You nod and drag yourself in obediently. A quick stop in the bathroom to fix your sorry face. A slump into the chair next to Paul, as he places a loving arm around your shoulders. Viktor comes back to the table with an unreadable smile on his face, his eyes wet, but only you can see it. A civil, nice evening, ending with exclamations of how you all should do this again. How it was fun.

“All good?” Paul asks you when you walk home. When you walk to his apartment, the one you silently refuse to move into.

“Yes, just… why did you come out after me?” you counter, puzzled. You pin him with your gaze until he relents into an embarrassed chuckle.

“I thought you needed saving, is all.”

“I don’t need to be saved from anyone, Paul. Don’t intervene again. I’m an adult,” you scoff, opening the door to his apartment.

For the first time, you flinch away from his touch when you are in bed. Tears choke up in your throat all night. But you hold them tight, not letting any slip out. And you realise it takes so long to get over losing someone. That no band-aid, no pretty and nice boyfriend, no amount of friends or sad music could make the process faster. And you realise it isn’t possible to get over Viktor so quickly. And then, you realise that your grief hasn’t moved an inch. It’s still in denial.

[geonij31]

Okay but we all agree that the 75th Hunger Games reapings were 1000% rigged right? It’s been pointed out before but I wanna rehash some things for the sake of clarity before I get deeper into it.

If you look at the pairs chosen for the districts you’ll notice they’re almost ALL duos/complimentary pairs. Siblings from 1, the morphings and of course, Annie and Finnick, who many have theorized that they were chosen to “compete” with Katniss and Peeta. Many of the victors chosen were also revolutionaries or at odds with Snow. (Wiress, Beetee and Johanna being the most obvious of the bunch.) So it’s pretty safe to assume that the reapings were rigged, but I don’t think we talk enough about what that means.

Snow’s ultimate goal was to kill off any and all problematic victors and quash any rebellion in its tracks. It’s hard to say who he favoured to win the games, but I’d say he didn’t care so long as it wasn’t Katniss. However, based on who was reaped for the 75th, I don’t think Snow saw Peeta as a threat. I also don’t think he expected Peeta to volunteer for the 75th games.

I think both of the names in that bowl said Haymitch Abernathy. I’ve thought so for years.

Snow already had beef with Haymitch (thank you SOTR for confirming my HCS) and of course beef with Katniss, so he figured this would be perfect to get rid of both of them. If he had predicted that Peeta would’ve volunteered, he might’ve put Peeta’s name in the bowl so he could guarantee a shot at getting rid of both The Fire Starter and The Girl on Fire in one fell swoop.

Because Snow would never have volunteered for Lucy Gray (because he’d have seen that there was a chance for them to both live if he wasn’t in the games), he couldn’t fathom that Peeta would volunteer to try and protect his love. If Peeta had won the games, as Katniss intended, he would’ve made a wonderful example of what associating with troublesome personalities led to.

Do I think there could’ve still been a revolution without Katniss after Catching Fire? Yes.

Do I think there could’ve still been a revolution without ANY of the (main) victors after Catching Fire? NO.

The tributes for the 75th were strategically picked. Mags volunteering for Annie was likely an unpredictable event as well, but not so much so that it wouldn’t have been a “oh well, that works too” moment.

Snow couldn’t touch Katniss’s family. Johanna was right, if anything had happened to Prim there would’ve been riots in the Capitol itself. Therefore, the 75th was conceptualized and Snow saw it as a chance to rid himself of all of his District Victor threats. The 75th hunger games was a new type of poison which he could use on the victors themselves.

I think Snow definitely saw an opportunity to get rid of Haymitch, because even after he killed everyone he loved Haymitch still fought back 24 years later and made the Capitol look like fools. Even after 24 years at the bottom of a bottle, he was still a threat.

In some places it felt as if Snow almost forgot about Peeta as an independent person from Katniss. Like he was only important in the sense that he was connected to Katniss. Snow just didn’t see Peeta for who he truly was.

Underestimating Peeta may just have been the true beginning of Snow melting under Fire.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Chapter 4 - Terms and Conditions

A/N: Alright you’ve waited enough, here’s Chapter 4. Leave your thoughts, likes and reblogs :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Wife! Reader

Warning: slow burn, angst.

Terms and Conditions

.

The door clicks softly shut behind you.

Tony doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just keeps his weight braced against the sink like it’s the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the floor.

You hover there for a second, caught between instinct and apathy, obligation and something you don’t want to name.

He’s still pale, still trembling, the arc reactor in his chest sputters like a dying lightbulb, his veins glow faintly beneath his skin, spidering outward in sickly tendrils of blue.

You cross the bathroom slowly. Kneel. Say nothing.

There’s a towel on the floor, damp and crumpled. You pick it up, fold it once, and press it to his forehead.

He flinches, but doesn’t pull away.

For a long, brittle moment, all that exists is the hum of the yacht, the shallow rasp of his breathing, and the flicker-flicker-flicker of the thing in his chest trying not to fail.

“You’re okay,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “You’re alright.”

A lie. But maybe it helps. His jaw unclenches and his shoulders drop maybe an inch.

You don’t look directly at the arc reactor, instead you look at him, the shadows under his eyes, the sweat beading at his temples…quiet panic stitched into every line of his face.

“What do you need?” you ask softly.

“New lungs. Less poison. Maybe a hug,” he rasps, then winces. “Definitely not the last one. Ignore that.”

You almost smile. Almost. But your hand doesn’t move from his temple. Neither of you mentions it.

Tony starts to sway and you react before thinking, an arm around his back, a hand to his chest, too warm, too close, too human, steadying him as he sinks to sit on the edge of the tub. He exhales, the sound catching somewhere between relief and defeat.

You crouch beside him again. This close, the palladium burns are impossible to ignore. The faint scorch-marks, the angry blue lines branching from the arc reactor like poisoned veins. You can smell metal. And something sharper—copper, maybe. Blood?

You force your voice to stay level. “This has been happening for a while, hasn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He stares ahead, eyes dark. “What would I even say?”

“I’m dying,” you say, and the words sound too harsh in your own mouth. “That might’ve been a good place to start.”

He huffs a tired laugh. “Real conversation starter. Probably not great at dinner parties, though.”

You sigh and sit beside him, back against the cold tiles, neither of you speaks for a while.

It’s a strange thing, being here like this. You’re not his friend. Not his lover. You’re his wife on paper, on press releases, and in rooms where the champagne flows. And yet, in this moment, with the yacht silent around you and the reactor in his chest dimming like a failing star, you’re the only one here.

A part of you hates him for not telling anyone. A part of you hates that you care this much.

You look over, catch him watching you.

Not in the usual way, no lingering glance, no smirk. Just a quiet, exhausted sort of study, like he’s trying to figure out why your presence doesn’t make this worse.

He speaks first. Voice low, dry.

“You’re very calm for someone who just walked in on a man short-circuiting.”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Emotionally, yes.”

He almost grins at that—crooked and reluctant. The reactor hums faintly between you both.

“You should go,” he says eventually. “Before I pass out on your very expensive Italian tile and ruin the aesthetic.”

You stand up slowly and offer him your hand.

For a second, he looks at it like it’s a foreign object—something he can’t quite figure out how to accept. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he takes it. His grip is warm, unsteady. Like he’s not used to being held up by anyone but himself.

You guide him out of the bathroom. Step by step, he leans a little more weight on you than he probably means to. The lights in the room are dim, but you can still see the strain in his features. The way he’s trying to hold himself together.

He sits on the edge of the bed, exhales sharply. “This is humiliating.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly the poster child for vulnerability, so I’d say this is overdue.”

Tony chuckles—quiet and brittle. “You’re terrifying when you’re right.”

You grab the throw blanket off the nearby chair and drape it around his shoulders. He blinks at that. Not mocking, not sarcastic. Just surprised.

“You don’t have to keep pretending in front of me,” you say, voice soft.

That silence returns thick as smoke. His gaze flickers to yours, guarded and vulnerable all at once. A man who doesn’t know how to let anyone stay long enough to see the damage.

Then he does what he always does.

“Don’t get used to this,” he mutters, slouching back against the pillows like he’s not unwell, like his arc reactor isn’t still glitching in his chest. “I’m usually much more charming when I’m not half-dead.”

You shake your head, but there’s a pull at the corners of your mouth. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you married,” he murmurs, almost too quietly to hear before his eyes slide shut.

You watch him for a second longer before you switch off the light, and leave the door slightly ajar.

Yep. The idiot you married.

.

The next morning

When Tony walks onto the deck, the sun’s just starting to rise over Monte Carlo. The sky is gold, the sea is glass, and the woman he married for optics is hunched over a tablet with the intensity of someone plotting world domination.

You don’t notice him at first.

There’s a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, coffee half-drunk beside, and your hair’s pulled up in a haphazard twist that says you didn’t sleep much—if at all. Your fingers flick rapidly across the screen, lips pressed into a thoughtful line.

Tony frowns.

He’s halfway through deciding whether to announce his presence with a charming quip or a dramatic sigh when you glance up.

“Oh. You’re awake.”

“That’s usually how mornings work.” He approaches slowly, eyes scanning your setup. “What are you doing?”

“Research.”

“Fun,” he deadpans, peering at the screen. “Please tell me you’re planning a hostile takeover of Disney and not looking up palladium toxicity rates.”

You give him a look.

“I said not.”

You tap the screen, flipping it toward him. “I’ve been cross-referencing theoretical element structures with arc reactor stability metrics.”

“This is my idea of foreplay.” He squints.

“Good. Maybe it’ll keep you alive long enough to get lucky.”

Tony lets out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “You’ve been up all night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” A beat. “It was hard to, after what I saw.”

He leans against the railing, sunglasses already back in place. “Right. That.”

You don’t say that he nearly collapsed. You don’t say you were scared. Just lock eyes with him and say, “We should go back. Soon.”

“You want to leave Monte Carlo? I thought married couples liked to… I don’t know. Day-drink and buy impractical footwear.”

You don’t smile. “You need help, Tony. And you’re not going to find it on a yacht.”

His jaw tenses. He opens his mouth, probably to deflect, probably to dodge..and then looks down at the tablet again.

“You really think you can help me?”

“I think,” you begin carefully, “that you’re too stubborn to admit you need help, and I’m too smart to let that kill you.”

There’s a silence between you crackling, live-wire sharp. His sunglasses mask his eyes, but something in his posture shifts, a sliver of vulnerability still clinging to him from the night before.

“Right,” he mutters eventually. “Well. I’ll tell the captain.”

You watch him walk away then turn back to the screen and keep digging. Because the truth is, you don’t know how this ends. But if he’s going down, he’s not going alone.

[nineheadeddemon-a]

@sirensofthefiveseas liked for a starter! (for Rose)

Nine heads hovered before the floating form of the injured fishwoman. Watching her for a long moment even as his presence caused any sea life that would be drawn by her blood to stay clear. It was clear she was conscious, though how long that would last he was unsure as he moved forward. One scaled snout gently pressed against her side, urging her to grip onto him as he waited to see if she would accept his aid.

His people after all had not forgotten about him. While he was still more rumor than truth to his homeland, she should at least know of his stories and that he always saved his kind when he found them. He would be unable to treat her underwater since he had to remain in his beast form due to the curse of the sea upon devil fruit users. But he could carry her to the surface and shore.

[underesources]

FRANTIC FANFIC SENTENCE STARTERS ... 5!

quotes that me and my friends have written , taken from various fanfictions. trigger warnings for swearing.

❛ I don't know what you want from me. ❜

❛ I'm sorry that I can't help you now. ❜

❛ I cannot understand what you are trying to get me to do. ❜

❛ You are getting nowhere with this. ❜

❛ Careful, now, we don't want to upset our new guest. ❜

❛ If I didn't know any better I'd say you were making poisons in here , not coffee. ❜

❛ Planning on staying up for the foreseeable future? ❜

❛ Did you need something? ❜

❛ That could not have been very comfortable. ❜

❛ I just haven't found anything better yet. ❜

❛ I expected as much. ❜

❛ Just make sure to credit me for the idea. ❜

❛ This feel as familiar to you as it does to me ? ❜

❛ You think it would get a little old after this long. ❜

❛ It seems things just keep coming. ❜

❛ We're still here, aren't we? ❜

❛ I believe things can work out. ❜

❛ There's that look again. ❜

❛ You're moping in here. ❜

❛ That is why you are here, is it not? ❜

❛ Oh, don't give yourself that much credit. ❜

❛ I'm here because you miss me. ❜

❛ What else could there possibly be? ❜

❛ Have you come here just to taunt me? ❜

❛ There is nothing more for you to tell me. ❜

❛ It's great to meet you! ❜

❛ Prying eyes are not something I am unfamiliar with. ❜

❛ Something weighs on your mind. ❜

❛ You're just .. really hot. ❜

❛ I mean, the outfit. Looks great. ❜

❛ My decisions are my own. ❜

❛ I could be looking at anything. ❜

❛ What exactly do you do around here for fun? ❜

❛ That sounds like fun. ❜

❛ I do not wish to hear anything out. ❜

❛ I don't have that kind of money. ❜

❛ Are you out of your fucking mind? ❜

❛ It's a rare delicacy! ❜

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Apple fucked us on right to repair (again)

Today (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tonight, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

Right to repair has no cannier, more dedicated adversary than Apple, a company whose most innovative work is dreaming up new ways to sneakily sabotage electronics repair while claiming to be a caring environmental steward, a lie that covers up the mountains of e-waste that Apple dooms our descendants to wade through.

Why does Apple hate repair so much? It's not that they want to poison our water and bodies with microplastics; it's not that they want to hasten the day our coastal cities drown; it's not that they relish the human misery that accompanies every gram of conflict mineral. They aren't sadists. They're merely sociopathically greedy.

Tim Cook laid it out for his investors: when people can repair their devices, they don't buy new ones. When people don't buy new devices, Apple doesn't sell them new devices. It's that's simple:

https://www.inverse.com/article/52189-tim-cook-says-apple-faces-2-key-problems-in-surprising-shareholder-letter

So Apple does everything it can to monopolize repair. Not just because this lets the company gouge you on routine service, but because it lets them decide when your phone is beyond repair, so they can offer you a trade-in, ensuring both that you buy a new device and that the device you buy is another Apple.

There are so many tactics Apple gets to use to sabotage repair. For example, Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on the subassemblies in its devices. This allows the company to enlist US Customs to seize and destroy refurbished parts that are harvested from dead phones by workers in the Pacific Rim:

https://repair.eu/news/apple-uses-trademark-law-to-strengthen-its-monopoly-on-repair/

Of course, the easiest way to prevent harvested components from entering the parts stream is to destroy as many old devices as possible. That's why Apple's so-called "recycling" program shreds any devices you turn over to them. When you trade in your old iPhone at an Apple Store, it is converted into immortal e-waste (no other major recycling program does this). The logic is straightforward: no parts, no repairs:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

Shredding parts and cooking up bogus trademark claims is just for starters, though. For Apple, the true anti-repair innovation comes from the most pernicious US tech law: Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA).

DMCA 1201 is an "anti-circumvention" law. It bans the distribution of any tool that bypasses "an effective means of access control." That's all very abstract, but here's what it means: if a manufacturer sticks some Digital Rights Management (DRM) in its device, then anything you want to do that involves removing that DRM is now illegal – even if the thing itself is perfectly legal.

When Congress passed this stupid law in 1998, it had a very limited blast radius. Computers were still pretty expensive and DRM use was limited to a few narrow categories. In 1998, DMCA 1201 was mostly used to prevent you from de-regionalizing your DVD player to watch discs that had been released overseas but not in your own country.

But as we warned back then, computers were only going to get smaller and cheaper, and eventually, it would only cost manufacturers pennies to wrap their products – or even subassemblies in their products – in DRM. Congress was putting a gun on the mantelpiece in Act I, and it was bound to go off in Act III.

Welcome to Act III.

Today, it costs about a quarter to add a system-on-a-chip to even the tiniest parts. These SOCs can run DRM. Here's how that DRM works: when you put a new part in a device, the SOC and the device's main controller communicate with one another. They perform a cryptographic protocol: the part says, "Here's my serial number," and then the main controller prompts the user to enter a manufacturer-supplied secret code, and the master controller sends a signed version of this to the part, and the part and the system then recognize each other.

This process has many names, but because it was first used in the automotive sector, it's widely known as VIN-Locking (VIN stands for "vehicle identification number," the unique number given to every car by its manufacturer). VIN-locking is used by automakers to block independent mechanics from repairing your car; even if they use the manufacturer's own parts, the parts and the engine will refuse to work together until the manufacturer's rep keys in the unlock code:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

VIN locking is everywhere. It's how John Deere stops farmers from fixing their own tractors – something farmers have done literally since tractors were invented:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

It's in ventilators. Like mobile phones, ventilators are a grotesquely monopolized sector, controlled by a single company Medtronic, whose biggest claim to fame is effecting the world's largest tax inversion in order to manufacture the appearance that it is an Irish company and therefore largely untaxable. Medtronic used the resulting windfall to gobble up most of its competitors.

During lockdown, as hospitals scrambled to keep their desperately needed supply of ventilators running, Medtronic's VIN-locking became a lethal impediment. Med-techs who used donor parts from one ventilator to keep another running – say, transplanting a screen – couldn't get the device to recognize the part because all the world's civilian aircraft were grounded, meaning Medtronic's technicians couldn't swan into their hospitals to type in the unlock code and charge them hundreds of dollars.

The saving grace was an anonymous, former Medtronic repair tech, who built pirate boxes to generate unlock codes, using any housing they could lay hands on to use as a case: guitar pedals, clock radios, etc. This tech shipped these gadgets around the world, observing strict anonymity, because Article 6 of the EUCD also bans circumvention:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#medtronic-again

Of course, Apple is a huge fan of VIN-locking. In phones, VIN-locking is usually called "serializing" or "parts-pairing," but it's the same thing: a tiny subassembly gets its own microcontroller whose sole purpose is to prevent independent repair technicians from fixing your gadget. Parts-pairing lets Apple block repairs even when the technician uses new, Apple parts – but it also lets Apple block refurb parts and third party parts.

For many years, Apple was the senior partner and leading voice in blocking state Right to Repair bills, which it killed by the dozen, leading a coalition of monopolists, from Wahl (who boobytrap their hair-clippers with springs that cause their heads irreversibly decompose if you try to sharpen them at home) to John Deere (who reinvented tenant farming by making farmers tenants of their tractors, rather than their land).

But Apple's opposition to repair eventually became a problem for the company. It's bad optics, and both Apple customers and Apple employees are volubly displeased with the company's ecocidal conduct. But of course, Apple's management and shareholders hate repair and want to block it as much as possible.

But Apple knows how to Think Differently. It came up with a way to eat its cake and have it, too. The company embarked on a program of visibly support right to repair, while working behind the scenes to sabotage it.

Last year, Apple announced a repair program. It was hilarious. If you wanted to swap your phone's battery, all you had to do was let Apple put a $1200 hold on your credit card, and then wait while the company shipped you 80 pounds' worth of specialized tools, packed in two special Pelican cases:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

Then, you swapped your battery, but you weren't done! After your battery was installed, you had to conference in an authorized Apple tech who would tell you what code to type into a laptop you tethered to the phone in order to pair it with your phone. Then all you had to do was lug those two 40-pound Pelican cases to a shipping depot and wait for Apple to take the hold off your card (less the $120 in parts and fees).

By contrast, independent repair outfits like iFixit will sell you all the tools you need to do your own battery swap – including the battery! for $32. The whole kit fits in a padded envelope:

https://www.ifixit.com/products/iphone-x-replacement-battery

But while Apple was able to make a showy announcement of its repair program and then hide the malicious compliance inside those giant Pelican cases, sabotaging right to repair legislation is a lot harder.

Not that they didn't try. When New York State passed the first general electronics right-to-repair bill in the country, someone convinced New York Governor Kathy Hochul to neuter it with last-minute modifications:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2022/12/weakened-right-to-repair-bill-is-signed-into-law-by-new-yorks-governor/

But that kind of trick only works once. When California's right to repair bill was introduced, it was clear that it was gonna pass. Rather than get run over by that train, Apple got on board, supporting the legislation, which passed unanimously:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/79902/apples-u-turn-tech-giant-finally-backs-repair-in-california

But Apple got the last laugh. Because while California's bill contains many useful clauses for the independent repair shops that keep your gadgets out of a landfill, it's a state law, and DMCA 1201 is federal. A state law can't simply legalize the conduct federal law prohibits. California's right to repair bill is a banger, but it has a weak spot: parts-pairing, the scourge of repair techs:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/69320/how-parts-pairing-kills-independent-repair

Every generation of Apple devices does more parts-pairing than the previous one, and the current models are so infested with paired parts as to be effectively unrepairable, except by Apple. It's so bad that iFixit has dropped its repairability score for the iPhone 14 from a 7 ("recommend") to a 4 (do not recommend):

https://www.ifixit.com/News/82493/we-are-retroactively-dropping-the-iphones-repairability-score-en

Parts-pairing is bullshit, and Apple are scum for using it, but they're hardly unique. Parts-pairing is at the core of the fuckery of inkjet printer companies, who use it to fence out third-party ink, so they can charge $9,600/gallon for ink that pennies to make:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Parts-pairing is also rampant in powered wheelchairs, a heavily monopolized sector whose predatory conduct is jaw-droppingly depraved:

https://uspirgedfund.org/reports/usp/stranded

But if turning phones into e-waste to eke out another billion-dollar stock buyback is indefensible, stranding people with disabilities for months at a time while they await repairs is so obviously wicked that the conscience recoils. That's why it was so great when Colorado passed the nation's first wheelchair right to repair bill last year:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

California actually just passed two right to repair bills; the other one was SB-271, which mirrors Colorado's HB22-1031:

https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billNavClient.xhtml?bill_id=202320240SB271

This is big! It's momentum! It's a start!

But it can't be the end. When Bill Clinton signed DMCA 1201 into law 25 years ago, he loaded a gun and put it on the nation's mantlepiece and now it's Act III and we're all getting sprayed with bullets. Everything from ovens to insulin pumps, thermostats to lightbulbs, has used DMCA 1201 to limit repair, modification and improvement.

Congress needs to rid us of this scourge, to let us bring back all the benefits of interoperability. I explain how this all came to be – and what we should do about it – in my new Verso Books title, The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

Image: Mitch Barrie (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Daytona_Skeleton_AR-15_completed_rifle_%2817551907724%29.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

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kambanji (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/kambanji/4135216486/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

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Rawpixel (modified) https://www.rawpixel.com/image/12438797/png-white-background

[chirpsythismorning]

The Vanishing of BLANK Wheeler

I wanted to make a list, from least likely to most likely, for which Wheeler I think is going to go missing.

But I also wanted to give a little disclaimer first, that even if these titles are real, they could still be fake, or could even possibly change given how much time we still have until s5 actually premieres.

For s2-3, the Duffers literally released official promo videos announcing episode titles for their upcoming season, with some of them changing when the season finally premiered.

Like in the case of s3 for example, they dropped a s3 episode promo video only a day after they completed filming. Meaning them titling 3x06 The Birthday, made absolutely no sense. They knew they didn't film anything birthday related for that episode. So they intentionally gave that one a fake name.

In the case of s4, that was the first time they promoted an upcoming season without giving fake titles, with the s4 promo announcing them following through with what we ended up with when s4 finally dropped.

I guess I sort of assumed s5 would follow in s4's footsteps, but from a leak standpoint, it might be smart to remember that fake titles are still a possiblity regardless. Especially in this case, where it's getting to the point in production where leaks are unavoidable. And so that might even explain why they play with this idea of fake episodes, which is because they can rest easy knowing leaks will mostly consist of half fake titles they planted there.

But for the sake of this post, lets humor the title for episode 2.

For starters, it's worth noting that the person who shared this leak originally said 'BLANK wheeler'. So as far as I know, they did not give any number of letters via underscores (_) to hint at who this Wheeler could possibly be. It's when ST news accounts caught wind of the leak and started rolling out posts, replacing BLANK with 5 underscores, that led a lot of fans to assume that the Wheeler had to have 5 letters in their name, which would have obviously ruled out Ted and Mike. But since all the Wheeler's are still on the table based on the original leak, they will all be included in this list.

5. Ted Wheeler

Believe it or not, there is something that I think actually warrants considering Ted as a possiblity.

There were some posts @stranger-chichka made a while back, comparing visual parallels between Stranger Things and Chernobyl, which could be hinting at this concept of Ted being in danger.

TBH though I think Ted being in danger or ending up dead is a possiblity regardless of him actually being the missing Wheeler.

Technically speaking, quite literally no one on the show is ruled out from being in danger at this point, so that's not saying much.

And considering the show is going to need to kill off some people next season and they are insistent on not killing any of their leads, supporting characters amongst the ranks have a high risk at being taken out. The emotional connection for Ted from the audience isn't as strong as other characters, but at least him being in close relation to a few main characters is something? I mean, he's funny I guess?

Quite frankly I don't think it's likely nor do I think it would actually make sense narratively for Ted to be the one to go missing out of all of them. I think it's a lot more likely they'd just kill him off, hence the Chernobyl parallels which imply he's gonna die. And so wasting time by having him go missing, only to kill him, just doesn't track. I think they'd just get that over with without dragging it out for very long, if anything.

Can you just imagine someone on the show shouting emotionally, It's Dad (Ted). He's gone.' Like, okay... And? I have a hard time imagining the characters being in serious turmoil over this, at least not enough for it to warrant like final season stakes amongst a bunch of other crazy shit happening. At best, the characters would be indifferently guilty for getting him roped into all this.

So yeah, I really don't see it happening.

4. Nancy Wheeler

I honestly feel like Nancy is even less likely to go missing than Ted, but the un-seriousness of an episode titled The Vanishing of Ted Wheeler is so astronomical, that I really had no choice but to put him last.

The reason I think Nancy is just very unlikely to go missing is because they technically already had her go missing as a cliffhanger between Vol 1 and 2 last season. It would just fall flat if they repeated something along those lines, with that same character, 3 episodes later. Vecna could have killed her and yet he didn't. His point was to send her a message, which was why he did what he did and then released her. The choice to target Nancy and taunt her about her family's safety in the first place, felt like their attempt at foreshadowing the danger that is to come for all of them, but one specifically. One of them that is not her. Which will make this moment back in s4 feel a lot more impactful upon rewatches.

So yeah, not feeling like Nancy is very likely.

3. Karen Wheeler

Karen is sort of a hard nut to crack all around. In the case that she is somehow connected to the Creels (Alice), anything is possible in terms of not only her being targeted, but again the entire family being at risk in some capacity. Without much to go off of outside of the obvious very haphazard timeline confusion, I feel like putting her somewhere in the middle. She was given a poster for s4. If she is Alice, then yeah it would make sense to target her. The stakes are also a lot stronger in comparison to Ted, because she was the parent in the family that actually came to Mike or Nancy and told them verbally that she wanted them to open up to her and is actually shown trying on several occasions. Whereas Ted is sort of just there when he's on screen. So the characters' distress would be a lot more dire and interesting to see unfold amongst everyone.

I also remember there being a leak in relation to Karen, Holly, Mike and Nancy all being at the hospital filming. And this was also like a day or so after ST dropped a video of Cara saying she was filming that day to hype up fans. So that leak did check out on the Karen front at least. Which puts her at the hospital at some point, potentially along with the rest of the Wheelers. Now that I'm thinking about it though, this could all fit with a Ted Wheeler death...

At this point, I'm sort of like indifferent to the possiblity, but it's still more likely than Ted and Nancy to me.

2. Holly Wheeler

It all goes back to s1, when Karen was visiting the Byers to console Joyce after Will went missing, when Holly sort of ventures off to Will's room, being guided by the lights, and sees the demogorgan in the wall.

I feel like people overlook this moment too, because it's kind of crazy that Holly has seen UD shit for herself. She was young enough that she could rule it out as just imagining things. And that could be partly the case even if she is skeptical.

There is something about Holly that makes her curious and sort of open to this world that most around her have no idea exists. And yet simultaneously some of the people closest to her do know about it and could easily clue her in when the time comes to do so, and because of that, I think she would probably be able to believe it all a lot faster than others.

Maybe this is a story where things need to happen and it just always ends up this way, but she has this tendency to be included in things that feel very important. Like in s4 with her playing with the lite-brite, and how that ended up being used to communicate with the others in the UD. There's this almost clairvoyance vibe about her. Her feeling the need to follow the Christmas lights to Will's room and her noticing and then fixating on the trees in s3.

Like I said, I don't know if it's something deeper, but it very well could be in the case she is connected to the Creels.

And while that is all somewhat compelling, at the same time it also feels very convoluted. Even if the Wheelers are Creels, I don't think that means the Wheelers would have powers, given that Henry got them when he was a child, meaning none of his family could have gotten them unless they too were taken in by the lab at some point, or were born with it.

Though I'm being full serious when I say the theories about Mike having time powers or maybe just manifestations from his emotions connected to the powers of others around him is one of my favorite theories of all time. I want it to happen. It would be cool. But that just opens the door to all of the Wheelers in my opinion, assuming his time powers came from being related to Henry. And if it was done that way, I feel like it would add way too much confusion to the story, where now all the Wheelers are gonna need to have powers, and then as a result would just takes away from the uniqueness that is already associated with Henry, El and potentially Will. One person potentially having powers without us knowing until the end aka Will, is enough honestly. Adding the Wheelers to the mix might be a bit much.

I'm also not totally convinced of the Wheeler's being Creels, and yet I also can't seem to want to rule it out entirely. But the prospects of Holly having powers or some sort of ability and just going through the same thing as Will when he was young and unaware of his powers, who is just now finding out the truth about his experiences... It just feels like serious whiplash honestly, when they haven't spent much of any time on Holly up to this point.

Like what are the stakes here exactly? What makes her disappearance and what that would look like compelling, on her front specifically? Because sure, I can see it being compelling watching the perspective of those around her reacting to this, what they would do to try to save her and all that, but what does that mean for her exactly? Are we going to see what she's doing? Are they going to hide it from us like they did with Will and then have to spend even more time uncovering it later on. And what does she even gain from being alone and taunted by Vecna presumably? What does the audience gain from witnessing that sort of event? There isn't a lot of story to explore there, outside of maybe making direct parallels to Will in s1? And then wouldn't that sort of take away from the importance of Will's role in it all just now being uncovered, if it all just repeats for Holly?

Which brings me to something that I see a lot of people using as strong evidence for why it has to be Holly, which is the fact that they recast her character.

What I think people are failing to consider is the fact that the twins who were cast to play Holly originally, were like 3-4 years old while filming s1. They weren't just kid actors, they were damn near baby actors. And while I know a big part of the reason why they gave Holly such few lines over the years was because the actors were aging way faster than the character they played, I think another factor could have been the fact that their acting experience is near nothing outside of Stranger Things, which is also pretty little on its own as well given that they have very few lines on the show.

It's not at all uncommon for child actors, let alone toddler actors to leave the industry once they start getting older. It could be for personal reasons, like wanting to explore other ventures, or it could be that they just don't perform as well with all the added expectations that come with acting as a character who is a kid with a lot of lines vs. a baby with 2 lines.

The girls got cast because at the time, they were able to perform as well as a 3 year old possibly could and would be expected to be in that role. But does that skill carry forth as they grew older? When now they have to deliver full sentences and carry conversations for scenes that are longer than 5 minutes? They've never really had to do that up to this point. Is it something that they feel comfortable with doing? Is their performance believable and is it something the writers feel confident about?

Honestly, I think they might have recast Holly, not because I think she is going to be targeted and focused on as this missing person they have to find, going through a near identical situation to 11 year old Will, but because they simply want her to be more apart of the story in general. And maybe because either the twins and/or the production didn't feel that they would be able to perform it in the way that they wanted it to be done.

And I mean, even if Holly isn't the one to go missing, one of the Wheelers is going to go missing based on this leak. If it was one of her parents, she would get a lot more scenes than she has in the past. If it was one of her siblings, again it would make sense for her to be more involved with the story. No matter what she is going to have a bigger role.

So no I don't think her being recast is as strong enough of proof as some might believe. If anything I think there is much stronger evidence that, like Karen, if they are related to the Creels, Holly is as fair game as any of them. The stakes could be high because she i such s a child. And her parents and Nancy and Mike worrying about her seems like something they would obviously do because she is so innocent and completely ill-equipped to endure something like that. But like I said, I just can't picture an focus like that on her, for her character, being very compelling given that Holly isn't really someone that needs like alone time with us witnessing it...

But there is one Wheeler left, and boy oh boy would he benefit from being alone.

1. Mike Wheeler

The most simple explanation for why it makes sense for it to be Mike, is that he genuinely benefits more than anyone when it comes to being alone with his thoughts, and with the audience watching. There's a lot of stuff dude has to work through in his own head, and since they haven't really let us have a moment alone with him that isn't under ten seconds since s3, an episode or two dedicated to making that a priority would make him coming back and things building up to the end, feel a lot more earned.

The audience needs to feel confident about how Mike feels about things. It can't be a guessing game for much longer when so many different factors are involved.

And while I think Mike may be the strongest possiblity in terms of the value it would add to the overall story is compelling enough to put him at number 1, the evidence supporting it happening is even stronger.

If we want to be crazy we can go back to the beginning. Plenty of fans have already speculated about how Mike is always late at the start of every season and how that might play into the beginning of season 5 again. I made a post about this recently and speculated it would happen one last time around the 15 minute mark. And maybe I was wrong... but maybe I was also right? Because if the second episode is called The Vanishing of Mike Wheeler, it's likely Mike's fate wouldn't be confirmed by the opening of 5x01, but in fact the closing scene of 5x01.

Throughout the show Mike plays a key role in leading the others, he's even referred to as 'the key' in s3 by Hopper. You know this show and their keys, they don't joke about that sort of thing. It's likely that Mike's story and what it is leading to is going to be central to how all of this ends.

Also in s3, there is one scene in particular that I think could be hinting at Mike being targeted, along with the s4 main poster with all of the characters. In the poster, we see El at the top, with Max and Mike as near equals on each side of her. Of course their roles are central and that's a fair layout on it's own arguably, but the equal-ness provided to Mike and Max feels very intentional. While she is slightly bigger than Mike in the frame, that could be a hint in regards to her being central now in s4, with Mike joining the mix alongside her in s5. Honestly, they could have made it so these two were beside other characters that also played a huge role in s4, and yet they chose those two to give a specific focus to. I think that is interesting (and probably intentional).

But if I'm being honest, there are so many moments in s4 specifically that hint at Mike being in danger, that I will not be able to include it all in detail in this post. So I'm going to link those below and then build off of some of it with some new details I've recovered that are worth re-contextualizing again with all of this in mind.

Hints regarding Mike and Will being targets of the town, but Mike specifically being focused on after the word 'missing' is said...

I'm gonna expand on this one because I think it's important to recognize the massive curtain in the background as this is all happening. And I vaguely reference this concept here as well which is worth checking out. But not is this whole concept of the curtain pretty blatant in this episode, this scene of the town all fleeing to hunt down hellfire club, is followed directly after, by this:

Notice how Mike is nearly always central in these moments? And how what follows feels eerily similar to what is about to go down at the end of s4 aka Suzie = Mike.

Now, this has already been talked about plenty so I won't go into detail, but... based on everything else happening surrounding this, this would apply to Mike in the sense that not only is he not in love with El, he's gay and in love with Will aka a boy. A BOY!

And then this mention of 'the terrible truth'. This word has been used like 3 times in the last few minutes. First intensely during Jason's speech about a terrible truth, with Ted and Karen being focused on with the Mike and Will extra in the background.

But what is even more crazy is that what follows sort of seals the deal for me that, this IS about Mike and it's foreshadowing what is about to come in s5.

5:02... 5x02!!!!

Also peep the watch and the letter from Dustin under it... I don't want to speculate but lettergate is looking extra relevant within all of this as well...

And to close off this point, lets show the shot that follows directly after this one.

Then later in the season, after Nancy is back from being taken by Vecna, here we have this long and emotional pause before she says Mike's name, last after her mom and Holly.

If they wrote and filmed this scene, knowing Mike would be the Wheeler missing early s5, it would make sense for them to list off the characters like this.

Mike peeking in the frame at this moment is not suspicious at all...

If it wasn't enough that Jason hyped up the whole town to see the Hellfire club as their enemy responsible for all of this, here we have a focus on Mike specifically being targeted by Jason.

The Duffer's statement about the show overall in the Piggyback script, and I gotta say it fits Mike a lot more than any of the other Wheelers.

Mike is a Paladin. And when they break an oath, they might spend an all-night vigil as a sign of penitence... aka everything is going to come to a head and Mike is going to be alone dealing with this shit for a bit, until he can come back ready to face it.

And I know it's controversial, but this post explains perfectly why Mike being central to this would make the show go full circle in a really compelling way.

Mike hasn't really unpacked...

Karen lookalike standing in front of the missing persons board. Could be any one of them but still, considering the costume of this extra looks closer to what Karen was wearing when she reunited and hugged Mike... I'm gonna put it more so with him.

Mike's guilt and shame regarding the past and what it has led them to could also play a big role and why him going missing would be worthwhile to explore. Part 1 / Part 2

Mike paralleling Yuri, who eventually reveals the truth (in his pocket) after stalling. If Mike parallels him all throughout the start of that moment, what does that mean for how it ends for Mike?

An antique funeral home fan behind Mike in the s4 character promo photos in the Creel attic, how Mike is seen sitting before Will sits beside him shortly after and it involving upside down imagery, Mike's first line in the show being used to later foreshadow his fate in early s5, and also bringing it back to Suzie's house which I already went into but it might be helpful to look at it again from this lens.

The Duffers would not pass up on the opportunity to parallel Mike with Finn's other character Richie in IT, which is literally based on a book that heavily inspired ST in the first place. And how all of that plays into the queer-coding for Mike going all the way back to s1.

The Duffers revealed after posting the funko-pop shotplanning pictures (2) that they were finished with planning for 5x01-5x02.... meaning this shot of Mike all by himself, is going to occur in one of those episodes...

We could still hypothesize Holly is the one to be taken, given that she doesn't have a funko and so they couldn't include her here regardless. But the fact that Nancy is with the other seems to imply to me that they are all likely working together to get Mike back, who is alone.

This one is a little more hard to pinpoint for sure, but it comes from a BTS Ross posted recently.

We are clearly in the Wheeler's house here. And if you zoom in, it looks like someone is standing (hiding?) behind a doorway/curtain. And the only person that seems to fit it imo is Mike... But why would he be hiding in his own house...?

It just makes me think about what is going on with Mike in early s5. What would be occurring that has him in this sort of situation? And it makes me wonder if him going missing has solely to do with him being taken and gone in one single moment, or if it could involve him avoiding his family and others potentially, with him being taken after that.

Lastly, I'm going to go into more choppy territory, stuff I know only a couple of people will actually consider. But it is pretty fucking fitting of what is about to go down so I can't not mention it.

In the Puzzle Tales' most recent Hellfire Campaign, this is the title...

Like the whole chapter is just a big joke on Mike about him being scared to be alone, which is painfully ironic if this is the direction the show is about to go for the next 2 upcoming episodes.

And then we have a song WSQK posted on Twitter back in January. I know people don't believe that this account is connected with anyone in the production, which is fair because I myself rarely believe leaks from anonymous accounts as it is. But I've been keeping up with it and it genuinely doesn't seem like a fan could come up with these songs.

The song I'm about to mention is the 7th song they posted, called Army Dreamers by Kate Bush. And you might fight it sounds a lot like the situation Mike might find himself in in early s5.

And though I'm sure I didn't cover everything, I feel like all the things I've mentioned and referenced from other posts are plenty to at least consider this as opposed to rejecting it all together.

At the end of the day I think there are some valid arguments for all of them to some extent. And quite frankly all of the Wheelers and most of the characters in the show will find themselves in danger in a way that is going to probably last longer than just one single moment the entire season. So even if it's just one of them, I don't think that rules out the others playing a bigger role in what is going down.

I just think narratively, there is one person that benefits from being on-screen and alone with their thoughts. And the other 4 being confronted with what that person discovers eventually will also make all of this a lot more worthwhile than any of the other options in my opinion.

[haguenauisforlovers]

HAGUENAU IS FOR LOVERS A Webgott Valentine’s Week Fan Event Feb. 12 - Feb 19, 2025

♡ PROMPT POLLS OPEN ♡

Vote for your favorite prompts today and pick your Webgott poison.

Prompt polls open: Dec. 18, 2024

Prompt polls close: December 26, 2024 

♡ HOW TO VOTE FOR YOUR FAVE PROMPTS ♡

Click the link to open the Prompt Polls Voting Form: https://bit.ly/WebgottVDay25

Among the choices, choose three (3) of your preferred prompts per event day.

Complete your voting for all seven (7) days of ‘Haguenau is for Lovers 2025’.

Submit the form. 

Webgott nation will celebrate your service.

New to prompts? Click ‘Keep Reading’ to get more info.

Image source: Manipulated the original poster is called, 'Register…The Ballot Is a Power in Your Hands' (1944) created by Ben Shahn. Instead of a heart, the original artwork had a bright yellow notice (containing a warning for those who failed to vote) stuck between the fingers .

What is a prompt?

A thought starter, brain lube if you will. Prompts are there to 1) spark any ideas for your works, whether they’re edits, gif sets, text posts, or fics; 2) keep you on theme. You don’t have to use them as is, but they’re there to help you jumpstart an idea. e.g. Prompt: Spit  Fic: Web finally spits out what he’s been wanting to tell Joe since day GIF Set: Side by side: Web open mouthed, Lieb spit compilation

Do I have to use every prompt for each day? 

No, you don’t! You can choose one (1) of the prompts, or incorporate all four prompts if you’re a beautiful overachiever like that.

Do I have to participate/create something for every day of the fan event?

Not at all! This is a: No Pressure Zone. Create and post for the event as much or as little as you want. On the same note, just engaging with the posts created by others or the page is already active participation with the fan event. Haguenau is for Lovers just wants a fun week where we all hyperfixate on Webgott in love together (more than usual). Don’t feel the need to put something out everyday single day.

Any questions, reactions, etc.? This fan event's Inbox is open.

[witch1nghour]

𝜗𝜚 ⠀𝗕𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗕   ﹔   various  sentence  starters   (   platonic/romantic/antagonistic/etc   )  from   SHERLOCK HOLMES   (   2009   )   .  please   , like   or reblog   if  you plan  on  using .   feel free to change pronouns as needed.   part three.

what  he  does  next  will  be  far  more  dangerous  --

he's  going  to  raise  a  force  that  will  alter  the  very  course  of  our  world.

we  need  you  to  find  him  and  stop  him  before  he  does.

name  your  price.

one  of  the  great  benefits  of  my  work  is  that  i  can  pick  and  choose  my  clients.

if  the  rest  of  his  family's  dead,  why  are  you  still  alive?

if  you're  going  to  watch  me  take  my  clothes  off,  name,  the  least  you  can  do  is  help  me  with  the  buttons.

to  watch  a  lady  undress  without  her  permission  is  a  criminal  offense,  name,  and  could  get  you  into  a  lot  of  trouble...

so  don't  don't  you  come  over  and  help  me  instead.

i  knew  i  could  count  on  you.

that's  nobody's  business  but  my  own.

you're  in  over  your  head  this  time.

this  is  the  only  way  it  could  ever  work  between  us  --  one  in  shackles,  the  other  with  the  key.

how  can  you  live  like  this  --  always  a  fugitive.

you  can't  fight  it.  it  comes  from  a  power  greater  than  yours.

i've  been  imagining  this  moment  for  a  long  time  ...  i  must  admit,  it's  better  than  i  thought  it  would  be.

don't  take  this  the  wrong  way,  but  might  i  borrow  your  hand.

i  have  no  idea  what  to  make  of  that.

it's  endless.

right.  well  uh  ...  best  of  luck  with  everything,  then.

what's  the  meaning  of  this?  why  did  you  call  us  here?

i  am  humbled.  i  am  honoured.

help  me  stop  him  before  it's  too  late.

there  was  nothing  honest  about  it.

i  cautioned  you  to  accept  that  is  beyond  your  control.  now  you  see  the  truth  for  yourself.

i  want  you  to  bear  witness.

thank  you  so  much.  i  owe  you.

no  more  games.

oh,  i  poisoned  that  one.

better  a  snake  than  a  lap  dog.

i  could  deduce  very  little  from  my  investigation.

don't  you  see  it's  for  their  own  good?

how  terrible  is  wisdom  when  it  brings  no  profit  to  the  wise.

there's  no  time  to  waste  then,  is  there?

that  was  something  new  for  us.

it's  bad  manners  to  leave  without  at  least  saying  goobye.

i'd  tell  you  i'm  sorry,  that  i  wish  things  could  be  different  but  you  wouldn't  believe  me  anyways.

[ask-pits-number-1-hater]

Incorrect Arcane Quotes which may not be 100% in character but I don’t care: part 1/?

Singed: Mint is just cold spicy.

The Squad: ...

Heimerdinger: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

Caitlyn: I dare you-

Silco: Singed is not allowed to accept dares anymore.

Caitlyn: Why not?

Singed: "I have no regard for my own or others personal safety", as some would say.

Mel: Hey, let’s mess with Viktor, guys!

Jayce: Hey, Viktor, your momma so fat-

Viktor: My mom committed multiple war crimes and is now locked in solitary confinement in a Bolivian prison.

Jinx: Well, uh- your dad-

Viktor: My father left when I was two to be captured and consequentially sacrificed by a group of feral ferrets.

Jayce: The fuck-

Ambessa: Well then...

Mel: Stop, Ambessa!

Ambessa: Your grandparents so-

Viktor: My grandmother floated into the sky like a balloon with too much helium when my grandfather spontaneously combusted.

Viktor: You cannot best me, mortals.

Caitlyn: Just took a personality test and got an A+.

Jayce: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Singed: This knife is actually a magic wand.

Silco: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Vi: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Heimerdinger: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

Viktor: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins?

Vi: Can't relate.

Jinx: Why would my brain release a bunch of dolphins?

Jayce: New challenge! Don't say stupid shit for 24 hours!

Jinx: You’re mean!

Singed: You’re meaner!

Jinx: Yeah, well, you’re ugly too!

Singed: You’re uglier!

Jinx: You’re a dumbass!

Singed: You’re a dumberass!

Jinx: You think “dumberass” is a good insult!

Vi: I made tea.

Ekko: I don't want tea.

Vi: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.

Ekko: Then why did you tell me?

Vi: It's a conversation starter.

Ekko: It's a horrible conversation starter.

Vi: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

*At a bank teller window*

Jayce, in a bad Italian accent: I'd like-a to make-a da deposit!

Silco: HEY BUDDY, WAIT, I REMEMBER YOU!

Jayce: *Frantically pours marinara sauce into the vacuum tube*

Silco: GODDAMMIT, IT'S THEM AGAIN!

Jayce: Are you this rude to everyone?!

Ambessa: Yup.

Ambessa: Don't think you're special.

Ekko: Hey, how are you doing today?

Vi: Can we change the subject before I start crying?

Jinx: What’s the status up here?

Vi: Fucked up, about to die, Singed’s a nerd. The usual.

Ambessa: Today at 7 am, Ekko poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing.

Silco: I watched Ekko brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm.

Caitlyn: The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

[sepublic]

            If you think about it, the Vulture really did get his revenge on Norman because while he didn’t kill the man, nor did he get him to apologize or admit to his theft, he still traumatized him deeply. Weisman confirmed that Adrian’s attack on Norman made him desperate to never again feel helpless, to the point where he became the Green Goblin to do so, especially after feeling cornered into a deal he couldn’t back out of by Tombstone, who had leverage against him.

            Meaning Toomes straight-up haunted Norman, he set into motion a series of events that would’ve led to Norman likely dying a grisly death by his own hand, as he’s publically revealed and humiliated as a supervillain. Early in S2, when Vulture has otherwise lost relevance as a villain, we find out Norman is STILL fucked up by the encounter because he has people searching for him, and has even admitted to it by making the order under his civilian persona. Toomes lives in this man’s head rent-free.

            So in a way, the Vulture kind of got the revenge he wanted after all, and given he’s easily the most justified victim out of all the supervillains, I find this quite satisfying, and I hope he would, too. Adrian did have to lose his civilian life due to his criminal record; But on the other hand, the writers remembered his friendship with Otto, which makes it pretty neat how he’s hanging around as a second-in-command, even if he’s not… the most viable bodyguard, because while Silver Sable has the excuse of being caught off-guard and poisoned, Vulture really did just go down like a chump to a regular guy with a regular gun. Oof.

            But in the end, it’s not about whether Vulture is as powerful as others, like Kraven; Because a bodyguard’s use is also measured by their trustworthiness. So it speaks volumes that Doc Ock trusts Vulture enough to watch his back. I imagine he also likes reversing the power dynamic between them as well. Which wouldn’t have happened if Norman hadn’t gotten Otto into an accident, which he wouldn’t have done without Adrian setting all that in motion. But in the end the friendship seems chill.

            This reminds me of how in Spider-Man: The Animated Series, its Vulture also got exactly what he wanted; He’s introduced as an old man trying to get back his youth, and is foiled as typical. But after a couple of other adventures, actually reaches a perfect arrangement when he restores Silvermane, who’s been reduced to an intelligent baby, back to his usual elderly age, in exchange for Vulture having his youth restored permanently.

            He is still a criminal after this; I guess his record forces Adrian to keep up the title, though tbf, he can fly so why not start a new life abroad, with his scientific skills the Scorpion sought him for? But then again, gotta pay bills. Maybe being young again means Adrian’s pursuing the reckless thrills of youth, which means the life of crime is indeed his choice and he is having fun; Meaning again, the Vulture got exactly what he wanted. I love that for him, Vulture Ws are great.

            Imagine Norman’s death in TSSM involving him having nightmarish visions of the Vulture as he goes legitimately insane, and starts seeing him where Spidey is… Informed by the trauma and dying by it. His own Goblin Glider uses Vulture’s Tech Flight, so I guess it’s symbolic of how that seemingly insignificant starter villain has left his mark on Norman more than the other way around. Norman thought he stole Adrian’s work but really it invaded his life.