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tomatograter · 3 years

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Do you think Dirk saying that he doesn't like to label himself as gay means he has internalized homophobia? Or does he really just don't like to put labels on himself? I've seen ppl saying it's homophobia but there's ppl in real life that don't feel comfortable with labels so I'm a bit confused honestly, cus we are talking about Dirk and he's... Dirk after all

Easy answer: Dirk is Gay.

Prolonged answer: I think it's kinda weird how some fandom discussion around "Dirk dodging the label in One pesterlog" has largely spiraled way outside of its original context to be talked about in a vacuum, especially when that context is crucial to understanding what is actually being said, AKA — it belongs to a deeply awkward conversation between Dirk and Roxy. One of Many they are implied to have had about the subject of Roxy's sustained, unwelcome, and oft drunken advances towards Dirk (& his splinters).

I'm going to reproduce it plus another bit of text down below, for the sake of comparison.

(To prevent the trickster text from looking like absolute shit, I have altered the background. Read the original here, if you're nasty: https://www.homestuck.com/story/5754 )

Now that we've been reacquainted with how and where that sentiment is expressed, let's try to break down what Dirk is doing here.

He is not receptive to Roxy's early advances, and spends most of the 'intro' for this conversation (not pictured) ignoring when Roxy flirts with him, until she gets upset at how 'boring' he is being right now.

Dirk is the one compelled to apologize.

He proceeds to shut the scenario down as an unwanted probability, eliciting further guilt-babbling from Roxy over how Dirk never wants to play along with the perfect traditional family fantasy, until she finally blows up and says it's because he's gay.

"I mean, yeah, that's what I thought."

Dirk, rather than saying I Am Not Gay, since he looooooves changing a conversational subject, claims that "Gay" is not entirely historically appropriate for this situation, given the non-negligible passage of time and the wildly dystopic circumstances* they find themselves in.

Dirk reassures Roxy he does still care about her.

Dirk is absolutely terrified of a similarly inclined (and intoxicated) Roxy up close. This is the most exclamations he's ever used.

Now, *These circumstances? The loss of 99% of the human race, including their society, customs, culture, and prejudices. (ALLEGEDLY.) It's important to remember that from Dirk and Roxy's side of the timetable, troll culture has been pushed as "the norm" for actual fucking centuries. HIC tried to recreate the caste system by artificially coloring human blood, leading to the death of billions. Faygo came out of the water tap, not water. Troll slang was incorporated into the English language. Humans ceased to organically reproduce. They were actively Discouraged from reproducing, since that's not something HIC could have total genetic control over; rendering traditional marriage and the concept of the nuclear family pointless.

You could also argue that same-gender relationships are not uncommon in Alternia, making "gay" altogether unnecessary by proxy, and that's true! But my point is this one: any union (or at least our society's holy concept of it) between straightie humans would be by definition undesirable under HIC's rule, too. She is the church, the president and the governing body. The population is only as good as they are assets for her to do whatever she wants with, including mass murder.

But wait! While that tracks… Roxy clearly still holds onto very 'conservative' definitions of romance for most of Homestuck. We see this multiple times. Dirk, as proved in conversations with Jake, uses 'gay' as an ironic pejorative. Suddenly it's not Historically Inaccurate anymore, Jake's interests are just gay.

Does this mean the context above is basically worthless, since they don't seem to have internalized it? No.

What must be kept in mind is this: Dirk and Roxy's only "active" link to de facto humanity is our society as it was in the early 2010's. Those glimpses they get by talking with jane and jake. They have all that dystopic context, yes, but the reality that seems the most "unfucked" to them for a grand majority of their lives are the halcyon years before the Condesce's rise to power: back when weed was illegal, BlogSpot was popular, movies sucked, MTV was still a hip channel, and gay generally meant something real bad. The wave of homophobia as a punchline or fear mongering tactic was at THE HEIGHTS. Marriage equality was a hot debate topic. Those were the dayz.

Dirk is keenly aware of the taboo implication the word "Gay" as a self-denomination carries. He's no dummy. But he's rarely direct with his intentions either. He's slippery as a bar of soap. (He's never "straight about his feelings", if you prefer.) And for a guy that cares so much about his reputation and maintaining a curated sense of utter coolness, he wants to avoid outing himself as any sort of weirdo no matter the cost.

But that's not all. I think the gravity of just how much Dirk believes he *owes* Roxy simply for existing as the last human in the same timeframe as her is a severely underplayed aspect of Dirk's core character, together with how much he tries to avoid her sexual advances only to end up feeling like absolute shit over it, because — if they truly are the last people on god's blighted earth, isn't he being "selfish" and "irrational" about not feeling shit for Roxy, in the grand scale of things? Is Roxy not his only friend in tangible reality, even if he avoids the mere suggestion of visiting her? Even if she gets black-out drunk and tries to push him into indulging her, regardless of how many times he's already said no?

(Spend enough time here and you realize how it directly mirrors the jane/jake experience.)

Dirk cares a lot about each and every one of his friends.

He pointedly adapts his speech based on whichever one of them he's talking to in an effort to express that investment. May it be reassuring Jane, fooling around with Jake, or trying to prevent Roxy from falling into a total catatonic doom-spiral; he avoids telling them anything that would be too crushing to hear. That's not what he's trying to do here. Not to say that he isn't bitchy sometimes, but that’s far from the central thing he does. The Epilogues have retroactively led people to believe that Dirk abhors and despises every single person he's ever been close to before (god forbid) LIKING them, and I think buying too much into that assumption ignores the foundations of his canon text, as well as the central motivation behind 99% of his actions in the story. This is the guy that grew up on Friendship Is Magic, has a picture of rainbow dash shamefully glued to one wall and a rainbow poster of Jake's symbol stapled to another, and everything he does is a little cringe attempt to demonstrate his worth by showing how much he cares about people, even when he's punching his actual feelings down instead of up and saying them.

Which brings us back to the load-bearing part of this question: Admitting to Roxy that there is absolutely no fucking way he will ever agree to having her babbys because he is gay is precisely the opposite of what Dirk wants to say, if his intention isn't pulverizing her. So he doesn't. And his worry on this regard is such that it prevents Dirk from even telling Roxy that he does love her, in the platonic sense, as a friend and hell-earth survivor, because he knows that specificity is what that would disappoint her greatly. (He only ever confesses this to Jane, on the death slabs.)

But also I think this is a really funny visual of Dirk's relationship with the word gay, to put statements into perspective:

#homestuck #meta #dirk strider #roxy lalonde #dirkroxy #long post #janejake

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sapphia · 2 years

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It’s pretty easy, I think, to shit on people who can’t let go of Harry Potter when you yourself didn’t have that deep a connection to it, or if you’ve had a much deeper connection with other media that you’ve been able to turn to. If you hadn’t participated in the community, made friends through Harry Potter, bonded with people over it. If you haven’t loved it and lived it and had it colour your life.

Harry Potter is without a doubt THE most formative piece of media I’ve ever engaged with, for me personally. It was the first novel-length book I ever read, because I loved it so much that my parents simply couldn’t read it to me fast enough, back when I was so young that books were read to me rather than read independently. I literally learnt to read in order to read Harry Potter.

It was my special interest as a child. I was obsessed. Some of the books I can’t have read any less than 50 times. At one point, I could have watched the movies and spoken then line for line. I got Harry Potter-themed gifts for birthday and Christmas. The spine broke on multiple volumes because I read them so much waiting for the next one to come out.

When I was a teenager, I discovered fanfiction and then online community, and learnt that I could engage with this beloved piece of media in a different, more adult way. I had never stopped loving Harry Potter but I’d also never met anyone who’d loved it as much as I did. Most kids I knew who liked it had never even read the books - a terrible sin in my eyes, as the movies were awful and didn’t capture the wonder of original works. But all of a sudden, there were all these people who knew all about it and wanted to talk about it - and who were creating brand new content that I could consume forever and ever, because there was so much of it!

And the fanfiction was so good, too. It had a critical fandom mass, and many writers were adults, so that meant that there was a lot of genuinely very good fanfiction at a time where overall fic quality was perhaps not as high as it currently is. And it was queer. Suddenly all these characters that I knew and loved were gay and trans and ace, and for teenage me, that was incredible. These characters were like me. It was better than the original books, because it was so self-indulgent and so specifically tailored to my interests, and I was no longer reading it alone. I had friends who loved it, and a wider community, and I could see all the reviews on a fanfic and talk in forums and post here on tumblr and there was just so much content generated by fans, from fanfic to fan art to gif sets to literary analysis and discussion to fanmade films.

And I made my own content too. I’m now a professional writer, as in I do it for a living, but I literally don’t know if I’d be here if it weren’t for all the fanfiction I wrote as a teenager, largely for Harry Potter. Hundreds of thousand of words, hours and hours of practicing and honing and encouragement from other HP fans, and just the sheer obsession that comes when you love a piece of media and you can share it with other people who love it too. The passion I had - the passion other people had - kept me honing my skills and taught me the basics of my craft.

I can never love Harry Potter the same as what I once did. But I can never forget it either. It’s been far too influential in my life. I’ve spent literally thousands of hours thinking and talking and writing about it. There’s a quote from the books tattooed on my arm. It was with me as a child, as a teen, as a young adult, though struggles with my mental health and through crisis points. For a long time it was a massive part of my identity, it helped me discover and come to terms with my gender and sexuality, and has shaped me more than literally anything else.

But even if I wanted to bury my head in the sand and ignore everyone who now hates Harry Potter, it will forever be tainted by J K Rowling’s actions. I can’t see anything Harry Potter-related without being reminded of her transphobia, and of how the fandom has been destroyed by it, and that this thing that I once loved now feels like a hollow shell of itself. Even if I wanted to put aside my own morals, I literally can’t - the reminders are everywhere and I am not capable of looking past them.

But I can no more forget loving Harry Potter anymore than I can erase my own childhood. And I wouldn’t want to, because it has been so much a part of my life, and for 14 years it was incredibly positive and affirming and it’s made me into who I am today.

I don’t post or talk about Harry Potter anymore. I haven’t seen the latest movie. Sometimes I’ll see memes or discussion or images, and sometimes I can smile at them fondly and remember Harry Potter for what it used to be. But the deep love, bordering on obsession, I once had, has been destroyed. And that’s deeply saddening to me.

So yeah. That’s how I feel about it. I’m not defending the people who ARE ignoring JKR’s actions, who are continuing to stan Harry Potter and the new media put out. But I understand why and I think they’re probably a lot happier than me for it.

And I also think it’s very easy to jeer at them from the sidelines when you never really gave a shit about Harry Potter, or if you only enjoyed it as much as a normal person (or even a normal fan). If it was just a book series to you, great. Good for you. I hope you’ll never know what it’s like to have Your Thing™ rendered untouchable, ruined not just for all future content but also for the original story that you once loved. I’m glad that super fans of Minecraft got to seperate the game from Notch’s views, and that Pokemon is owned by a corporation with a carefully-maintained public image that will likely never be ruined, and that Rick Riordan got his act together quick smart and improved as a writer of diverse stories rather than going backwards like JKR did. I wish Harry Potter had been a smaller deal, that JKR hadn’t been such a huge a public figure and could have gone about her bigotry quietly, like the authors and creators that you all love and and enjoy still. But she didn’t. Sucks for me, I guess.

Idk where I’m going with this. Just maybe take a little less glee in your moral uprightness when you’re condemning Harry Potter and everyone who ever enjoyed it. I’m glad you all had the remarkable foresight to not fall in love with a book written by an author who turned out to be a horrible person 20 years later. Not everyone was so lucky.

#Harry Potter #vent post #tw transphobia #fandom

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glassesandkim · 3 years

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I would like to say my piece here about schmico, grey’s anatomy, and the fandom and it’s really for my own self-indulgence and benefit. I’m not asking for you to agree with me or even begin to understand what I’m going on about. I don’t even think half the things that I think about for this fandom exists on an important level. I fully believe in just ~vibin’~ to your own tune when it comes to participating in fandom spaces.

so this post is gonna be my way of getting stuff off my chest so i can continue to ~vibe~

First thing I’d like to address is: I know. I know the Nico Kim that I love and adore is not the Nico Kim in canon. He is who I hope he is in canon. But there’s not much to combat or support that he is or isn’t. He really could be who we’ve made up in fanon for him and at the same time, he really couldn’t. Grey’s created this character that is as blank as a dried piece of toast. So forgive me if I spread a bit of spicy jam here and there so I can swallow this bland shit down a little easier.

So when people come to me to say, “Y’all are delulu and out of your mind to love this guy this much.” PLEASE, I know. This isn’t news, honey. I am well aware.

But I will continue to justify, romanticize, and put this boy on a pedestal for as long as his existence in canon continues to remain arbitrary and vague. And it makes me very biased to a fault but I have put too much time and energy into this character NOT to be.

And then you might ask, why have I put so much of my time and life (THREE YEARS!!!! I’VE BEEN IN THIS FANDOM FOR THREE YEARS!!!!!!!!!!) into this character that has all but said maybe like a PAGE of dialogue at most?

Because I was conned into it. Because they marketed the shit out of him when Alex Landi got the part. And I, as a casual viewer of Grey’s since I was in high school (I’m in my late 20s now, dawg) and of Asian descent was promised representation. Not just Asian rep, but queer rep.

So naturally, I got extremely attached. It's not everyday a major Western mainstream prime time medical drama chooses to create a character as unique as Nico's.

I spent so much time here. I was here when fandom decided Nico would call Levi “babe”. I was here when we all clowned that Nico didn’t know Levi’s first name. I was here when Josh died and the fandom went up in arms with pitchforks and stakes against Nico. I was here for all of it. I've seen it all.

And unfortunately, seeing it all, makes me tired. Grey’s is time and time again proving to me that they don’t give a shit about the development and well-being of their existing characters at all. The show only cares about collecting diversity points and performing their wokeness to the general masses. (I talk a lot about how grey's is plot-driven vs. character-driven.)

I will still get frustrated and annoyed at Nico’s lack of character development. But I mostly just laugh at the fandom nowadays. I know you guys want to fight the fight, tell everyone Nico is not toxic!!!!!! But bros, friends, lovers, it’s a tried and tired fight.

Grey’s wants us to think Nico is a Bad Boyfriend. It’s as clear as the stench one comes across when they step on dog shit. That’s why I think it’s useless to fight people about Nico. Grey’s gets amnesia all the time. Grey’s forgot the whole season and half they invested in creating a loving boyfriend for Levi and up and changed Nico’s personality to fit a new narrative (that they, quite frankly, failed to even follow through because of covid and other filming hoopla hula hoops they’ve had to jump through that I’ve been informed of and which I simply don’t care for).

So all this ~schmico is endgame!!! we deserve it!!!~ Binches, I have better things to fight for than schmico endgame. What’s the alternative? Levi lives in Jo’s closet forever? They’re going to be together in the end no matter what. Nobody on that show cares enough about Nico OR Levi to set up new relationships and stories for them. So don’t fret, my friends. They’ll be together in the end. It just comes down to the question of what stupid story they’re going to come up with for them to be together. (And might I argue that they already are together???)

Speaking of the bogus story they’re going to write for schmico: you bet my rice eating, Chinese-speaking ass, that it’s not going to be a story written from a queer and poc perspective. It’s going to be some gag-worthy straight het story but made gay. (How many times do I have to hear, "I hope Nico comes out to his parents!!" NO, HE DOESN'T! Do you know how VIOLENT coming out is sometimes?? It's not a solution to Nico's problems with Levi. It's an introduction and invitation to problems over being queer -- but why would I expect anyone, let alone Grey's, to understand that prepetuating these types of stories is inherently damaging to queer people? They wouldn't know. The cishet fandom wouldn't know. Because no one is writing grey's in a queer, poc centric way.)

Which drives me to the next point: you know why Nico doesn’t get character development even though he showed up at the same time as Link? Because of ✨racism ✨. Because Link is a more conventional character (read: white) that is easier to write because nobody on this show knows how to write an Asian character anymore, let alone a gay Asian character. So of course, nobody wants to touch that shit even with a pogo stick. (Argue with me that Cristina exists and I will tell you, yes she did, but they RARELY touched upon her cultural and ethnic background. Also it was the early 2000s. Cristina was as ground breaking as it got for us Asians back then.)

And then because Nico isn’t developed enough, we have the weird phenomenon of people shipping everyone and their dog with Levi and it’s like, y’all know you got played by the racism game, right? You are hostages to this system that has taught you that white men are more desirable and deserving of story and humanity than a poc character who is instead, reduced to nothing but sex appeal and if he’s not doing well on that front, then he’s useless.

How many times does Levi say: Nico is so hot! Sex with Nico is so good! He’s a roman statue!

All!! the!! time!! Nico's worth to Levi’s character is to be the sex object that Sets Him Free.

Which plays into the sexualization of Asian people which all comes from, you guessed it! Racism! (Levi really compared Nico to a fucking lifeless slab of stone.)

(Side note: I do think talking about how racism plays into Nico’s character and the fandom space is important and probably a separate post. I’m happy to write my opinion piece on it if it’s something people want.)

But anyway, those are just some of my qualms with schmico, grey’s anatomy, and the fandom. I do not expect anyone to fully agree with me and I’m not asking the fandom to change or apologize or whatever. I’m just already grateful if you took the time to even read this post.

I’ll leave with some parting advice: fandom is what you make of it. We won’t all agree with everyone’s hot takes, but that’s the beauty of it, yeah? So I chose to create this version of Nico Kim that brings me IMMENSE joy. Like, A LOT!!! I love this fandom for these reasons. I’m grateful everyday for the friends I’ve made and the works and creations I’ve created and I’m honoured to be able to consume other works made by fellow fans.

I might hate a lot of things about grey’s and schmico, but I really owe a lot of myself to this fandom.

#know that i'm always angry but i know how to have fun lol #schmico::::

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sapphicwhump · 3 years

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After Irithyll 1 - Danger

This story is basically my love letter to Karla. She’s an incredibly interesting character that unfortunately never gets much development in Dark Souls III. I’m writing this story to explore the aspects of her character that are only ever hinted at in-game, but it’s also a self-indulgent lesbian romance fantasy. It will deal with heavy themes of trauma, PTSD, and self-hatred, but I promise there will be plenty of gay fluff to go with it. Enjoy!

Fandoms: Dark Souls, Dark Souls III Tropes: Slow-burn WLW romance, fantasy setting, female whumpee, female caretaker, caretaker PoV, rescue, aftermath of torture TWs: Canon-typical violence, mention of branding, implied torture, self-hatred

[ Next | Read on AO3 ]

Irithyll dungeon is absolutely horrid. The brickwork you walk on is slick with blood and feces and fragments of bone, with the stench to match. Tortured screams and the scurrying of feet and haggard, inhuman breathing emanates from the floors above you. You’ve walked countless active combat zones, drenched with blood and littered with hacked-open corpses, but none of them have ever made you feel the level of revulsion and terror that you are steeped in now.

It had been a harrowing fight down to the lowest levels of the dungeon. You haven’t found a single human prisoner in this place, just hollows and the occasional malformed abomination. They had all clearly been human at one point, but prolonged imprisonment in this place has long since robbed any trace of that from them.

The jailers of Irithyll dungeon, by contrast, although clearly in a state of undeath similar to your own, are almost jarringly human. Despite their unearthly floor-length robes and childlike face masks, they scream as men do when your pyromancies consume them in flame, and their ability to perform a hideously unpleasant life-draining spell evidences that they are entirely sound of mind.

Their weapons are odd, too. Instead of the usual swords or halberds, they favor branding irons.They hadn’t seemed terribly effective… until a jailer had pinned you to the blood and shit-stained floor beneath its hot end. Even through your brigandine cuirass and arming doublet, that burn had still taken far too much magical healing to reverse. You suspect that the irons are intended more for use against the occupants of the dungeon, rather than intruders. The ends are shaped like a circle with an inverted letter Y in the center; the symbol probably has some significance, although you’re clueless as to what it could be.

You would almost prefer it if the jailers were as unquestionably inhuman as the prisoners. You’d still cut them down without remorse, as you had already done; you know full well that being human does not necessarily preclude one from being a monster. Still, it’s disturbing to think that anyone other than the most insane hollow could endorse this.

You’re on the very bottom level of this wretched place now. The floor here is strewn with corpses of hollows in various states of decay and dismemberment, plus a few incinerated jailers that you’ve added to the piles. It seems this level is used as a combination sewer and mass grave for the dungeon, in addition to an active prison block. You found a key ring further up, but most of the cells were unlocked; the jailers don’t seem to bother when their hollow prisoners lack the strength to lift the bars anyway. Because of this, it piques your curiosity when you find one that’s still sealed tightly. It takes some struggling against the layers of rust to get it open, but the key finally turns just before you were about to melt away the lock with your Pyromancy Flame.

You scan the cell. Unusually, the feces in here seems mostly confined to the small wooden toilet off to one side. The chains bolted into the back wall hold no prisoner; in fact, the cell seems completely deserted. Why were they keeping it locked then? You’re about to turn to leave, before—

“Mmh… back again?”

You nearly jump out of your armor at the light, feminine voice. With practiced instinct, you reach for the arming sword at your waist, but stop once you identify the speaker. Curled in the right-side corner of the cell, there’s a black, shredded ball of fabric topped with a drooping pointed hat. She’s camouflaged surprisingly well in the murk, and you get the impression that she’s attempting to make herself as small as possible.

“H-haven’t forgotten me?” she spits out bitterly, her voice hoarse from disuse and shaky from fear. “How sweet. Good to know that a skinny little heretic can still turn heads.” The comment would have made you blush, were it not for the utter malice in her words. The woman cowers even further from you, trembling in her ratty black dress. You don’t dare take another step closer.

“W-what are you waiting for? Do as you wish. Just… get on with it.”

She raises her head to look at you, and a face emerges from under the brim of her hat. You can immediately tell she’s Irithyllian, but even so, her skin is almost frighteningly colorless. Her cheeks are gaunt and sunken, but there’s a spark of intelligence in her slate-gray eyes that reveals she hasn’t yet gone hollow. They gleam with a mixture of relief and confusion.

“Hm? Oh, you're not… not one of them? Who...” She shifts forward slightly in her corner, examining you. Her eyes are drawn magnetically to the Flame flickering in your open palm. “Ahh… a pyromancer?”

You take a knee in front of her, to which she startles slightly. “Yes. Who are you?”

She ignores the question, gently shaking her head from side to side in disbelief. “No, no… too surreal. Must be dreaming again.”

“I certainly didn’t dream of almost getting killed by the jailers to get down here. What do you mean?"

The emaciated woman uncurls slightly from her ball, somewhat relaxing from her previous tension. You’re relieved that her fear seems to be easing. “Ah... m-my apologies, for mistaking you for one of those leeches.” She shudders again. “Intruders… don’t live long. If I’m not dreaming, you’d best run; get out of here. This is no place for a lady.”

You bite back a spark of anger at her last comment. Leave without her? Running certainly sounds like a solid plan; the undead jailers won’t stay dead forever, but there’s no way you can just abandon an obviously distressed woman in a place like this. Although you know nothing about her or how she’s found herself in here, the decision is obvious, and you make it without a second thought.

“I could say the same to you. I’d prefer not to leave you here, if I can help it. I can get you out of here, and save you from those ‘leeches,’ but we’ll have to move quickly.”

“Save me? But... I am guilty. This prison is for monsters, and I am no exception.” She retreats from you slightly, curling back into her ball.

Underneath your surprise, you twinge with internal pain. Irithyll dungeon is clearly not a place where criminals are sent to be rehabilitated after being given due process; it seems impossible that anyone could be kept here justly. You glance behind you out at the filth-caked dungeon, then back to her.

“No one deserves this.”

She looks away from you, her voice wavering. "I-I would not be so sure of that if I were you, lady pyromancer."

You release a frustrated exhale and rise to your feet. Briefly, you consider abiding by her wishes and continuing without her, but you just as quickly dash the idea. Whatever she was so afraid of the jailers doing to her, allowing them to do it again is out of the question.

“If I were to escape with you, do you have somewhere to go home to?”

“Home…” You’re unprepared for the sudden blossoming of grief across her features. “No. It… it’s just been so long, I…” She sighs deeply. “I don’t know.”

Unfortunate, but this is just the sort of situation you’ve become acquainted with on your travels. “Well, would you like to come with me? I’ve been offering refuge to humans and the unhollowed at Firelink Shrine, and we’ve got a small community going. I’d expect that you’re innocent of whatever they put you in here for, but as long as you’re not a murderer or something, I’d be happy to have you.”

She considers your proposal for a moment that drags on surprisingly long. “You would... truly take me? But, I am a wretched spawn of the Abyss, and far from innocent. The Pontiff Sulyvahn… he has sentenced me here for my heresies against the Way of White. Is that really something you can forgive, lady pyromancer?" Her tone suggests that her questioning is rhetorical. "I have no skills; at least, nothing that could be of use to your little community."

“That’s not why I’m offering refuge to people.”

It takes her a few seconds to process this. She seems briefly lost in thought, before she glances to the empty chains dangling from the back wall, and you catch a tiny wince from her.

“...Hm. Then you are certainly no ordinary woman. Very well. Besides, I…” She searches for words momentarily. “...I've grown tired of my imprisonment. I am Karla of Irithyll, and I accept your offer."

She attempts to stand, only to groan from the exertion.

“Do you need help?” You offer her the hand that’s not enwreathed in your Pyromancy Flame.

“No, I-I’ve got it.”

You can almost hear her bones creaking as she gradually rises to her feet. For a moment, it seems as if she does have it, until she tries to take a step and immediately collapses to her knees. You wordlessly offer your hand again, and although she winces in shame, she accepts it nonetheless. The hand that she places in yours is nearly skeletal.

Once on her feet, she promptly stumbles again. Clear that this isn’t going to work, you resort to providing her a human crutch, placing one of her arms around your shoulders while sliding one of yours around her waist to hold her upright. It’s not the first time you’ve carried an injured comrade out of a combat zone, and you doubt it’ll be the last.

"I must apologize for my weakness, lady pyromancer."

"Don't worry about it."

For a woman of her size, Karla is frighteningly light. As a mage, you lack the physical strength possessed by most of your fellow warriors, but supporting the majority of her weight still requires a worryingly small amount of effort. It makes the trek back to the surface easier than anticipated, but all the more urgent.

The exit route takes you to an outdoor walkway that’s been built into a cliff face. Night has long since fallen, and the northern mountain wind is freezing, but you won’t complain about the fresh air after spending hours in the rank dungeon. The walkway provides a spectacular view of Archdragon Peak and its surrounding mountain range, which Karla cranes her neck to get a proper look at. A sudden gust of wind buffets her, and she snatches the brim of her hat to prevent it from being blown away.

“I… I’m really not dreaming, am I?” She stares wide-eyed at the distant mountains, her tone awed.

“Not sure why you would be.” You hold her a bit tighter in the chilly air.

After unlocking the door to the lift, returning to the upper levels of the dungeon doesn’t take long. Even so, you notice Karla has developed a limp that’s been growing in severity, and the weight she exerts on your shoulders has only seemed to increase over time. She’s in clear need of a break right now, but you can’t risk giving the jailers more time to resurrect.

“Just a little bit further; there’s only one more flight of stairs between us and the exit.”

“I can manage just fine.”

The lift exits into what appears to be a breakroom for the jailers. Several unused masks and robes lay discarded on chairs lining the room, and Karla clings particularly tightly to your body as you traverse through the silent audience of empty masks. Ordinarily, you’d be looting the jailers’ personal effects for anything of value, but this time you decline to do so. You get the feeling that Karla wouldn’t appreciate rifling through their ghastly uniforms.

Cautiously exiting the room, you peek around the next corner and immediately find yourself in the red glow of a jailer’s life-draining spell. You jump back in terror as you feel your body begin to wither.

“Shit, they’re already resurrecting!” you shoot a whisper to Karla.

There have to be at least five of them all concentrated in the next hallway. Most of them seem to be preoccupied with putting down an uproar from the cages full of hollows that litter the floor. There’s only one way back to the exit, and it’s the staircase on the other side of that crowd.

Again, you instinctually go for your arming sword, only for you to find your right hand still supporting Karla by her waist. Your mind races. A single Fire Orb spell won’t be enough to finish even one of them, but that’s all you’ll get before all five rush you with their branding irons, only for you to be caught with no melee capability. You’d have to set Karla down to even stand a chance, and your odds would still be slim to none when outnumbered—

“Give me a bit of your Flame.”

You pause, raising a puzzled confused eyebrow at Karla. “You don’t mean—”

“I do. Share it with me.”

“That would be highly irresponsible.” Your Pyromancy Flame is a piece of your soul; the thought of offering up a part of yourself like that to a complete stranger causes you to inwardly cringe.

“I know a pyromancy that can take care of the jailers, but they’ve long since put out my Flame. Give me some of yours.”

It takes you another moment of consideration before you come to a decision. Your odds still aren’t great, but they’ll be better than they otherwise would be if she can open the combat with a powerful pyromancy. That alone would make the taboo worth it.

Cautiously, you present her with the orb of fire held in your palm. She clasps your hand without hesitation, extending her fingers into the flame with no regard for her own safety. You’re about to wince at what will undoubtedly give her a lasting burn, when a rush of new sensation overtakes you.

For the briefest moment, you can feel Karla’s soul touch your own. Your mind registers a pleasant texture, her soul soft yet cool against your own burning warmth. It’s a nervous and fleeting contact, like brushing up against a stranger in a crowded place as you walk by. You involuntarily recoil from the unexpected contact, and she withdraws from you a moment later.

When you look back at her, Karla is cradling a tiny mote of fire close to her chest. She’s taking deep, measured breaths, the Flame in her hand flickering and pulsating with each inhale. A glance at her face reveals an expression that’s almost on the verge of tears.

“Ohh... it’s been far too long. You have my thanks for this, lady pyromancer.”

There isn’t much more time for her to spend appreciating her rekindled power. She lurches toward the corner, and you continue to hold her upright as she prepares to cast her spell. As she reels her arm back, the Flame you’ve given her shifts to an unearthly black. Its fire continues to lick at her palm, but its color has gone deep as pitch, outlined in a ghostly white glow.

Swinging her body around the corner, she hurls the black orb into the room of jailers just as they silence the last cage of hollows. The projectile splits into three in midair, each one colliding with a separate jailer and punching gaping holes straight through their ribcages. They don’t even scream as they fall. The two remaining jailers raise their irons and begin to charge, until trails of black fire erupt from the corpses and streak in serpentine paths towards them. The darkness doesn't seem to burn, but rather rips their robes and flesh asunder until both crumple in dismembered heaps.

“Holy shit.” you breathe out in relief, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Entering the now-empty hall, Karla sneers at the grisly scene she’s created. You carry her past a jailer that fell near the middle of the area, and she launches a wad of spit directly at its mask.

“That felt good.”

You’re preoccupied with examining the jailers’ corpses that have been eviscerated by the spell. Their robes and flesh do not appear to be burned, as your pyromancies would inflict, but instead viciously shredded by the black fire. You’re well aware that dark pyromancies exist, although you’ve never seen one cast before. Every time you’d found a tome of such magic, your old pyromancy trainer had staunchly refused to teach you.

Karla knows dark pyromancies, then, ones that would get you exiled from any reputable pyromancer circle. Her black Flame, style of dress, and the physical damage to the jailers all abruptly click together in your mind.

“Oh, you’re a hexer!”

You barely have time to register her sudden panic. To your shock, she immediately wrenches herself free from your grasp, slipping from your arms and collapsing backwards onto her rear. She hurries to put distance between the two of you, scurrying across the floor into the nearest corner.

“...Yes. I am.”

A painfully tense silence falls between the two of you. She’s glaring at you with all her might, while you stand dumbfounded and clueless of your transgression.

“You can leave me now, if you want. I told you this prison is for monsters.”

The declaration is even more bewildering to you. “Are you kidding? That was awesome!” Her glare immediately transforms into outright surprise. “You’re clearly a more talented mage than me; it’d be a travesty to let you rot down here.”

“I would very much beg to differ, but… if you say so. I shouldn’t be complaining about a rescue.”

As you offer her your hand once again, she hesitates, but soon grasps it firmly. Karla feels less tense in your arms now, her fear giving way to exhaustion.

The bonfire from which you first warped into the dungeon is right around the next corner. Karla’s weight lifts from your shoulders as you set her down in front of it, and with her is lifted the weight of your stress. This respite won’t last long, as you’ll have much to do once you arrive with her at Firelink Shrine, but you’re both making the most of it. You’re just glad that she finally has a chance to rest that bad ankle she’s been limping on.

You extend your hand into the bonfire’s flames, and both you and Karla disappear in twin whirls of ash.

[ Next ]

#dark souls #dark souls 3 #ds3 #karla #whump #lady whump #female whumpee #caretaker pov #after irithyll

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just-the-mage · 3 years

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Review-Love Death + Robots (Pt 1. Episodes 1-4)

So here we are again. You, dear readers, and I, a mostly defunct tumblr page. I was thinking...I’ve written a few reviews on here before, and I’ve rather enjoyed myself to be honest. So until RP starts up again for me, I’m going to grab some popcorn and start reviewing some of the media I’ve been indulging in during this exceptionally fun pandemic we’ve all been saddled with (and are becoming increasingly more and more used to as time goes on). Here we go!

Spoilers incoming! I don’t like to discuss a show without going through it entirely-no stone unturned. You have been warned!

Love Death + Robots is a compilation series-each episode is self-contained content, based on what I have experienced thus far. The content varies wildly from cute and sweet to surreal, to horrific. For right now I’m going to stick with the first four episodes since they are fresh in my mind.

Episode 1: Three Robots

Three robots shows a short adventure shared by, you guessed it-Three robots exploring the crumbling remains of human society. It comes across as three tourists making their way through an area that they are completely unfamiliar with, attempting to define and understand elements of the environment as humans once did. Their analysis and attempts to understand not only human culture, but also basic human biology, were entertaining to say the least. Each robot has flair, character, and a their own take on humans and humanity. Over the course of the episode, the fall of mankind is referenced a few times, being initially explained as a mass extinction due to environmental disasters (global warming is probably a factor-one of the buildings has an entire ship sticking out of it). However, the twist ending throws that whole theory into question once the cat that has been accompanying the robots for the last leg of their journey reveals itself as capable of speech. And, interestingly enough...being in possession of opposable thumbs. It was certainly unexpected, and a bit odd-the cat (and its many, many brethren) manage to finish out the episode by convincing the robots that if the robots do not pet them, the cats may explode. I will say that the ending, though it was rather silly and fitting with the tone, felt like an out of place twist intended mostly to give a bit of closure to a story that had no real need to have an ending. It felt a little out-of-left field, at least to me.

This first episode, I think, is one that I could recommend to a much more general audience than almost all of the other content of the show. It’s whimsical and cute, despite inhabiting such a grim setting (and grim it is-post apocalyptic is not taken lightly here. There are plenty of corpses, some skeletal and some not quite so much. At least one of them appears to have died by suicide). I found it to be a nice addition and a good introduction to ease people into the tone of the show. Definitely give this one a watch, even if the ending sort of comes from nowhere.

Episode 2: Beyond the Aquila Rift

This episode was definitely a change of pace from the first. It begins as a high science fiction story starring a hunky, middle aged man and his two crewmates, making some sort of cargo run (?) through a wormhole of some kind, but promptly finding themselves in a completely different place from what they expected. Hunky space captain wakes up first, finding that he is greeted by an old friend (read: lover) of his, who explains that there was a navigation error that led them off course-way off course. They’re in a completely different area than they expected. The ship’s navigator wakes as well, swearing that there couldn’t have been an error in her calculations, but seems ill and is placed back in her future tech cryopod to rest. Space captain man then bangs it out with his ex-lover (Greta) in a scene that was almost definitely written by a man, and she reveals to him that she lied, and that him and his crew are actually hundreds of light-years further off course than they had thought they were, basically dashing any hopes that he could have of returning to his old life. The two then wake the navigator again, who immediately starts ranting that ‘Greta’ isn’t who she says she is. At this point, enough clues have been given that the captain catches up with the audience (it was all a simulation the whole time), and he confronts Greta, demanding that she reveal herself as she truly is. She does, after some prodding-and the captain finds himself in an infested husk of a ship, aged and haggard, obviously dying of starvation. Greta reveals herself as a lovely spider-beast, and the captain wakes up from his pod again-back in his comfortable illusion once more.

I love the premise of this one. Crazy aliens and shit like this is a huge draw for me-sci-fi horror is probably my favorite subgenre of horror when it’s done well. I would count this episode as doing it pretty well. They don’t go into much techno-babble, which I think is a pitfall for some sci-fi stories. The writers are well aware that we aren’t spending too long in this world, so we don’t need to know much about the rules under which it operates outside of ‘computer mistake your ship fly here.’ The twist ending didn’t end up being too much of a twist-in my opinion there were too many clues given throughout the episode to make it that much of a surprise that things weren’t as they seemed. The odds of this man meeting his ex-lover in the infinitesimal reaches of space just by chance were a bit too impossible to make it believable-and the navigator was far too convinced that her work couldn’t be incorrect. In the end, it was an expected twist, but still pretty jarring. Execution is pretty good overall though-and the sex scene is pretty decent as well, even if its strictly a dude-fantasy thing. Also, call me a sucker for cool looking beasties, but I adore the design on spider-Greta. That’s a lady right there for you.

Episode 3: Ice Age

The only live action episode I’ve seen so far-this one gives an *entirely* different tone than the majority of the other episodes in the series. Topher Grace and Mary Elizabeth Winstead happen upon a lost civilization that exists entirely within their refrigerator. They watch in awe as it develops incredibly quickly-hundreds of years passing within the civilization in roughly an hour or so of real time. What starts in the morning as a town in the viking ages eventually develops into a modern society, almost destroys itself with nukes, and then rebuilds from the ashes into a fully futuristic society that quickly ascends beyond physical form, appearing to disperse itself into the cosmos, no longer bound by such petty rules as the laws of physics. A disappointed Topher asks if they’ll return-to which he receives a sad ‘no’ from his partner. It seems all is lost, and the couple go to bed for the night-only to find that the cycle has restarted overnight, and they probably won’t be able to keep any frozen chicken in the freezer for quite some time.

This one is probably one of my favorites of the series so far. It’s fairly well acted, but the real beauty of the episode is getting to watch the mini-civilization develop itself in a glorious time lapse-the work that must’ve gone into it must have been monumental, to be honest. The final product certainly felt that way, in any case. What I also found fascinating was a specific scene in which the protagonists were abandoned in place of some of the tiny denizens of the lost civilization-which made me realize exactly how slow the ‘normal sized people’s’ actions must have looked to the diminutive people of this rapidly developing society. Reminiscent of the earth’s motion in relation to our own perception-and reinforcing the concept that to an individual, perception is everything.

Episode 4: Sonnie’s Edge

This episode opens with three people transporting mysterious cargo into a heavily guarded complex, quickly encountering and interacting with a ‘bigwig’ of sorts with a beautiful woman on his arm. Through context clues the audience is easily able to discover that the three (pictured above) are here for a fight-and that their cargo is their fighter, a living creature of obviously immense proportion. The bigwig asks the team to throw the fight, and they refuse, even after he offers a large amount of money. (It’s worth mentioning that during this scene, ‘Sonnie’, the leader and controller of the beast fighter, shares an EXTREMELY homosexual gaze with the bigwig’s beautiful lady friend. Don’t think I didn’t notice the setup, because I definitely noticed the payoff, even though it was rudely interrupted). Sonnie and her teammates enter the ring, setting up as it appears that she will be piloting her fighter in some way. Her opponent is also introduced, though he is hardly important in the story-imagine a cake of beef with a big sticker on him that says ‘mysogyny’ in bold print. What follows is one of the most brutal fight scenes I’ve seen in animation (this is just my personal opinion though). These creatures fucking tear each other to shreds, with Sonnie’s beast only just barely emerging as the victor, tearing the opposing fighter’s head clean from its body. The bigwig is obviously angry, as is Sonnie’s opponent, and Sonnie and her team retires to a hotel room of sorts, with the exception of Sonnie-who slips away into the room that houses her fighter, promptly encountering the beauty from earlier! (Payoff time)..and it gets gay. Fast. I love me some wlw content, and there’s some nice tension here, right up until the beauty stabs Sonnie through the head. Rude. The bigwig reveals himself, which was a bit of a surprise-the part of me that hadn’t seen much of this show yet was hoping for a fluffy little happy ending. It wasn’t to be though..after the beauty crushes Sonnie’s skull, the two promptly realize that ‘Sonnie’ wasn’t Sonnie at all-just some biotech. The *real* Sonnie...was the fighter, the whole time. Who promptly makes short work of both the beauty and the bigwig, (implied), in what I can only describe as the most satisfying moment in the series that I’ve seen thus far.

This was easily my favorite episode of the show, and has continued to be, and I assume will continue to be my favorite through the rest of the series. It’s not just because of the lesbian rep (my people!), or the misogynists getting fucking destroyed, but the strength of the reveal, the choreography of the fight scene, and the *power* of the protagonist. I love her. I love her sooo much. We are seamlessly introduced into the world, shown a woman who has been beaten, scarred, faced sexual abuse, and she remade herself into a being of pure power. She fought back, and *look how she fights back*. I cannot describe just how much of a cheer-worthy moment it was to watch the smug smile be summarily wiped from the face of the bigwig. I *love* seeing a villain who has full confidence in their victory suddenly realize that they don’t have the upper hand anymore...and that they are, in fact, absolutely screwed. This was one of those wonderful, wonderful moments, and I can think of nobody more deserving than this villain of being torn to shreds. This was an A+ episode for sure-100% recommend this one for anyone who can handle a bit of gore.

Thank you so much for reading! This is only part 1...more to come!

#ooc #not ffxiv #review #show review #tv show review #love death and robots #love #death #robots #animation #sonnie's edge #ice age #beyond the aquila rift #three robots #wlw #lesbian

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thevagueambition · 4 years

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Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @rainhalydia, thank you!

Name: MagicalDragon on AO3

Fandoms: I have ADHD mostly I just get pulled in by something, write a single fic, then move on, lmao. Mostly I just need my Queer Reinterpretation out there. Les Mis and Harry Potter are the only semi-consistent ones, I suppose. And... as much as I don’t think it matters morally, events of the last few years has made me lose some motivation in terms of the several Harry Potter fics I had in the works.

Where you post: AO3

Most popular one-shot: MDZS Wangxian fic, Aching for You, which, frankly? That’s because it’s porn for a popular fandom lmao

Most popular multi-chapter: Les Mis e/R longfic On the Path to Elysium. I mostly write oneshots, so frankly this one didn’t have much competition.

Favourite story I’ve written so far: Honestly, I think it’s still the Elementary trans!Sherlock fic I wrote a few years back, Stealth Son. I really enjoy rereading that one. Elysium is obviously my darling, but I’ll need to actually finish that first :P

Fic you were nervous to post: I have a couple of fics that talk about really serious, real world issues and I always worry about fucking something up in writing those. These are One step forward and two steps back (past rape, Gravitation), Classic Max (HIV, Happy Endings), In Other Circumstances (Nazism, Joyeux Noël) and But we bear their iniquities (historical racism, Les Mis). No-one has cancelled me yet, so I suppose I did ok.

How do you choose your titles: With great difficulty. I haaaate coming up with titles... I have three types of them: Super pretentious, just a single straightfoward word or lyrics/a quote related to either the franchise or the themes.

Do you outline: For multi-chapter fics, yes, but again, I mostly write oneshots, and for those, usually not. The outlines I do do in any case are usually rather loose.

Complete: Hmm, depends on your definition of “complete,” I suppose... The Dream is a complete one-shot but it’s also part of a series of Gay!Shepard ficlets that isn’t, well, complete, although it’s more meant as a series of fics that are just about the same Shepard rather than like... an outright series. The last unconnected thing I completed is Seduction, a humor ficlet based on an obscure Swedish gay movies lmao

In progress: On the Path to Elysium. Still posting consistently a year and a half into it! your name is what my heart screams is also a wip but it’s the sort of thing I let lie dormant for ages because it’s just self-indulgent nonsense and I don’t really give that much of a shit lmao

Coming soon/not yet started: I have some notes for a Zukka Canon Divergent AU of ATLA which make me go 👀 but I doubt I’ll get to that for a long while yet. I have snippets of some more Gay!Shepard Mass Effect ficlets but we’ll see when they actually happen lol. Again, I also have several HP fics that are lying dormant in my fanfic folder, but.... yeah, someday it’s going to come crashing back hard, given my relationship with the series, but it’s not something I’m working on rn.

Prompts: I am 100% incapable of writing based on anything but my own plot bunnies lol

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: Hmm, idk. I don’t really think far ahead enough for that, I suppose, lol. I look forward to writing some of the later chapters of Elysium and sharing thsoe with people.

Oh, right, @antirococoreaction is writing a historical RPF thing about Gros and the end of Neoclassicism and stuff and it ties into Elysium and I’m excited to read that!!

I tag (as always, no pressure -- and also, feel free to interpret this as for original stuff if you’d rather talk about that) @thebearmuse @teddy-stonehill @antirococoreaction @everyonewasabird @elvensemi

#tag game

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undonesarc · 5 years

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PROFILE: GRIFF / PT1 / TIMELINE.

griff’s full name is griffith angelo d’aquino, and he was born on october 25th, in bangor, maine (but grew up in brooklyn, new york). he is italian-american, 4th generation; his great-grandfather converted to roman catholicism from judaism. the d’aquinos are still catholic.

his middle name is in honor of his paternal grandfather, who died two days before his birth.

griff believes in God, and still makes time occasionally to go to mass, but believes wholeheartedly he is going to hell.

the d’aquinos are a small-time crime family, primarily focused on bank & truck robberies. there are seven d’aquino children, with griff being the youngest; the other six are hugo (58), giorgia and emily (twins, 53), mia (49), lucas (47), and sebastian (44). griff’s father, sebastian sr., operated a crew with his two eldest brothers; when hugo turned 18, he was invited to work alongside them, a tradition that continued as every kid became of-age. in crime circles they grew notorious for their success, but rarely shared that success with non-family; if you were invited to work on a job with the d’aquinos, you had to be good. when griff’s father was involved in an accident and had to have his leg amputated as a result, hugo, 26, took over as the mastermind of the operations; his uncles had no objections, as hugo had proven himself time and time again that he was capable of such a responsibility. though he was young, he was ruthless and efficient, and soon overshadowed his father by growing more bold and ambitious.

hugo's ambition was incredibly lucrative, and luck was on their side: no d'aquino, or anyone who joined in on their jobs, was ever arrested or injured.

griff partook in the family business for three years before pursuing a short-lived career as a boxer. in high school, griff had been drawn to theatre; he was a literature nerd, and had an affinity for shakespeare. he indulged in this briefly, before an off-handed comment from lucas about how “gay” it was made him retreat. self-conscious and fearful that he’d out himself by continuing to entertain an interest in it, he switched gears and forced himself into more traditionally “masculine” hobbies -- he wrestled during his senior year, became invested in body-building and boxing and learning different styles of self-defense. this was useful for the work, of course, but eventually he saw it as an escape; it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the work he did with his family, because he did -- and he was good at it -- but he just wanted to be away from them. and being the youngest, with little responsibility and minimal expectations, it was easy to trade out robbery for boxing when he decided to pursue it. he stuck mostly to underground circuits, but had a few more “professional” matches near the end of his career.

it was through a family friend who was helping out with a job that griff learned of the private military company he worked for between the ages of 21 and 28; it was during this time in his life that he met jason villalobos. their relationship was fast-formed and aided in shaping griff into who he is today; quite a bit of griff’s presentation, his style and aesthetic, is leftover from the mark jason had on his life. they had a brief but intense romantic relationship that ended abruptly after jason sustained permanent damage to his hand following an injury earned while he was protecting griff. they did not see each other again until meeting by-chance in atlanta, when they both ended up working for doc.

after leaving the pmc he had been affiliated with, griff fell back into working with his family, but as he was still processing and attempting to cope with the things he’d discovered about himself during his stint as a merc, it was a swift reunion. after a year he left his family again and took a small vacation to europe, where he met a man from an english-based syndicate who offered him work carrying out contract kills; it was good work for a merc like him, and it took him to places he’d always wanted to see, anyway. this lasted for about four years, but griff eventually tired of it, and migrated back to new york.

in new york, he found himself arrested within 3 months of his return to US soil, and he was jailed for three years on second-degree aggravated assault. miraculously, he has no priors on record, save for an altercation as a teenager -- but speculation about his family’s history and current activity was high, though there was no proof of their crimes, and as a result, the judge gave him five years. he attempted to connect griff to old and new cases, looking for any scrap of evidence; he offered to free griff immediately if he rolled on his family. law enforcement had been attempting to get one of them for years, but beyond hearsay, there was never an opening -- griff was their first real shot at getting to the truth, but of course, he never said a word. he kept to himself in prison, refusing various protection offers; not affiliating himself with anyone inside; eventually, griff was released early on good behavior, because his family’s lawyer accused the judge of mishandling the case based on slander, essentially threatening his career if he didn’t let griff out early.

griff was 36 when he was released, and chose to go west. he hadn’t spoken to his family since he was jailed, despite his sibling’s efforts to see him, write him letters; he was feeling angry, not because of anything they’d done, but because of mistakes that were haunting him, guilt that was eating at him. he chose not to see them even after everything they’d done with providing him with a lawyer because of the shame and anger that had been accumulating for years -- so he went west in hopes of finding something to keep his minds and hand occupied. he alternated between working with west-coast crews and keeping himself isolated; he was suffering heavily from depression, but didn’t know this, because he just refused to believe that anything like that could be wrong with him. for some months at the age of 39 he took up some fishing jobs off of the coast of canada, but found it to be unfulfilling, so he went south.

one year in mexico, doing nothing in particular; nothing criminal, no violence. there was a small attempt at romance here, a man he met in a bar who seemed entranced with him, but griff didn't allow himself to really feel it; they shared a few brief kisses but griff could tell they weren't alike -- he was normal, no blood-stained hands, and griff felt too guilty about it, like he'd taint him if he pursued it further, so he ended it.

then at 40, he met an old contact in texas who told him about some work in atlanta. the kind of shit you’d do with your family, he was told, and griff found that he missed the simplicity of that. it was thrilling but it was easy and he was good at it, and he hardly ever had to bloody his hands, because most people just complied -- that would be a nice change. so he made his way to atlanta, and for a year he worked with an associate of doc to prove his merit before doc would hire him outright; but at 42, finally he met doc, and finally got to see first-hand if the rumors about the kid who drove for him were true.

#this is Long jnefkjfsnwejksdf #GRIFF.#GRIFF: META.

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khtrinityftw · 6 years

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My counters to anti-KH2 Strawman Arguments

The strawman arguments presented here are taken from another blog; it’s sad that they were deliberately written as strawman quality and yet that’s exactly how certain obsessive KH2 haters actually type like.

Disney is reduced to pure filler! - Nope. Beast's Castle, Olympus Coliseum, Disney Castle, Port Royal and Space Paranoids all hold plot relevance, and the more filler-esque Land of Dragons, Halloween Town, Pride Land and 100 Acre Wood still have justifications for existing as levels in the game. Only Agrabah and Atlantica feel like complete wastes.

But what reason do they have to go to these places? Where's Mickey, Riku and Kairi? - You go there to stop all of the leftover Heartless from the mass invasion in KH1 from continuing to threaten the worlds' inhabitants, and to find out what Organization XIII and the Nobodies are up to. Later, it's to find a way into the Nobodies' home base (although this one admittedly gets botched by some truly bad writing). This complaint is as stupid as it is when applied to the first KH, where the small detail of locking keyholes to slow the progression of a world-eating invasion of darkness is conveniently forgotten.

All the Disney Worlds' plots just recycle the plots of the movies! - Nope. Just the first visits to Land of Dragons, Port Royal and Pride Land, both visits to Agrabah, and all visits to Atlantica. Iconic movie elements used in otherwise original stories, such as in Halloween Town, does not count, since that's the same thing the original KH did.

Original and Final Fantasy characters dominate the game! - Somehow this was a complaint? Even though there is pretty clearly more Disney characters in the game than there are original and FF characters. And that among those Disney characters, there are just as many that are important to the plot as there are original and FF characters.

Horrible retcons, especially Ansem not being Ansem and the Heartless not being those without hearts! - The Heartless were not retconned in the slightest since them being corrupted hearts was established in the original game, and Ansem not being Ansem wasn't so much a problem as the writing of the situation around it was (having Ansem the Wise, disguised as DiZ, disguise as "Ansem" in order to get Riku to embrace the darkness, which causes Riku to disguise as "Ansem" and yet he can't change back to normal, and the enemy is Xemnas, the Nobody of "Ansem"...yeah, you get the idea.)

Organization XIII were bland, shallow villains and terrible characters who never should've been! - This complaint is very clearly fueled by backlash against how the KH fandom latched on to the Organization to...shall we say, an inappropriate degree. Organization XIII is fine. (Although no shit “they never should've been”, that's kind of the whole point. Why do you think their lair is called The World That Never Was?)

The Organization is severely underdeveloped! - Not in the Final Mix version, they're not.

Yet the Organization totally steals the show from the Disney aspects! - Again, this seems more based around the KH fandom instead of based in reality. The Organization only got a little under an hour of screentime in the original version of KH2! For Pete’s sake, PETE had more screentime than Xemnas!

The Organization are retconned into Nobodies who want their hearts back! - That's clearly what they were in CoM. They even said as much. This claim is bullshit.

The Organization subliminally have gay sex with each other! - Once again, fandom /=/ canon.

Convoluted and horrible storyline! - Convoluted? Yes. Horrible? No, especially when compared to the storyline of the series beyond.

The novels tell this story so much better! - Hahahaha, no. There are even some improvements made in the storytelling in the manga, but the novels are utterly worse in every aspect, as Tomoko Kanemaki is not really interested in telling the actual story of KH2, but of her personal KH2 fanfic.

THE NOBODIES! - What about them? They were fine. Nomura may have made them more convoluted than they needed to be, but as a concept they felt natural. If a heart can become a creature, then it's only natural that what gets left behind can become a creature as well.

The Nobodies are Designated Villains! - No, they weren't. Suffering from some kind of ailment does not give you the right to inflict it upon others. The Nobodies not having hearts and wanting them is sympathetic, but them planning to obtain hearts by forcibly taking the hearts from millions of innocents kills that sympathy and firmly makes them villains.

But you spend the first 5 hours playing as an Organization member/Nobody only to kill them off in the main game! - Except that Roxas was already killing off other Nobodies and had turned on the Organization by the time of that prologue. Roxas' tragedy is that because they're going by what they know of other Nobodies and Organization members, DiZ and Riku are boxing him into a heavy fate and not allowing him to choose, treating him as if he's an enemy and a tool rather than a person with feelings of his own.

The enemies should've just been the Heartless, the Disney Villains, and Ansem! - The Heartless known as Ansem is dead, where could he have logically come from to fill in that last enemy slot? The only way you could feasibly have him is through his Nobody, which is exactly what happened. Hence the Nobodies, Organization XIII included, being the third enemy after the Heartless and Disney Villains.

All beautifully constructed themes from the first KH were raped! - Please define which themes and how they were raped, because I ain't seeing it.

Sora is now an immature idiot hero who is gay for Riku! / Riku is a bland, monotonous emo and a non-character / Kairi and Namine recieve severe underexposure and minimal development / Axel is a raging pedofag who wants to molest Roxas! / Ansem the Wise is a old, boring Mcpurple prose racist peice of shit. He's not the one true ANSEM! / Mickey Mouse should not be a badass: that is out of character! / Roxas sucks! - This is all beginning to sound like ill-thought out, incoherent ramblings that are based on fallacies such as fandom depiction of characters or willful misunderstanding of the text. I just don't give a crap.

Namine was retconned into being Kairi's Nobody instead of a witch with powers over memory! - She quite literally called herself "the shadow of Kairi" in CoM, and Riku noted that she and Kairi had the same scent. Re:CoM clarified the point even further by translating a line Axel said to her as "WE Nobodies can't ever hope to be Somebodies". Like with the Organization being Nobodies, Namine being Kairi's Nobody was always the plan.

Maleficent suffered Villain Decay! - Yeah, that was the point. The whole objective behind her arc in this game was clawing her way back to the top. It's not a fault of this game that she wasn't allowed to ever reach that top afterward despite what the ending implied.

That Longest Prologue Ever sucked! - That is a very subjective opinion.

Cloud's Side Story sucked! - Yes, but it's just a few scenes long, and finishing it is optional. It's a similar case to Atlantica, which is entirely optional. If you don't like it, don't play it.

Gameplay is no longer challenging! - This was never entirely true (certain points of the game are very challenging, particularly in its second half), and it has been particularly debunked through the Critical Mode of Final Mix.

Too many boring long-ass cutscenes! - Oh, you don't like that? Get used to it, it's not going away from the rest of the series.

These worlds are not fun to play through! - That depends on what you want out of them, as there are plenty of people who prefer the more linear, combat-oriented action RPG style than the larger, platforming style of the first KH, which they claim were the ones that were not fun to play through. And even if you want more exploration and item collecting in the worlds like there was in the first KH, then the Final Mix edition has you covered.

The finale to the story was awful! - No. Not at all. Fuck you.

The experience is not magical whatsoever because the Disney magic was consumed in a Nomura explosion! - No. That's the series beyond. This was pure compromise: not as much unrestrained Disney magic as the original game but not as much of a Nomura explosion as what followed, but a balance where both were equally rich in quality and quantity, and so fans of both could appreciate it. Like with the Disney world visits, this is the way the series should have stayed, instead of granting Nomura unlimited power and the ability to destroy it with his own self-indulgent crap.

#Kingdom Hearts II

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gotta-love-them-losers · 6 years

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Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed Characters: Upgraded Connor | RK900, Gavin Reed, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Jeffrey Fowler, Tina Chen, Chris Miller (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson Additional Tags: Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), few months post canon, Connor activates RK900, super tropey self indulgent partners fic, I had to do it, Accidentally Sarcastic Upgraded Connor | RK900, Accidentally Gay Upgraded Connor | RK900, Crime Scene, like a little bit, cursing, Gavin has secrets, mentions of arousal, is there a plot or is it just bonding Summary:

RK900 is activated by Connor because Cyberlife threatened to mass activate any RK models under their control. Needless to say, he was a little rushed, so there isn't anywhere for RK900 to go. Connor takes him in, and RK900 decides he wants to work at the DPD. He meets Gavin Reed, a mess of a human, and discovers surprising things about himself.

Updates delayed for medical hiatus

Chapter 4

Gavin yawned, ambling through the bullpen. He noticed Nick’s bland gaze and saluted lazily. “Morning, Robocop.”

Nick greeted Gavin with a frown. “Detective, you’re later than usual.”

“Wow, you really are a detective model,” Gavin sneered, sitting heavily at his desk.

Nick stared blankly at him, LED spinning yellow. “I’m slowly developing my social relations program. I am unsure if that was sarcasm, or if you truly were unaware of my designation.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “No, I thought you were a coffee maker.”

“If that were the case, I would have made you coffee already.”

“Oh, yeah? And how is getting rid of Connor going for you?”

Nick’s LED flashed red, and Gavin nearly missed it. “I am not required to disclose information on my primary objective.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes, feeling his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why not, aren’t I your superior officer?”

“Yes, but Cyberlife has seniority over you.”

“You still take orders from them? Aren’t they, like, out of business?”

Nick was quiet, looking it up. “I am not authorized to access that information.”

Gavin cackled. “You, Cyberlife’s pet project, don’t have access to that?”

“No, but Connor is working directly with Markus and Cyberlife. He could answer your questions.”

“No thanks. I’d rather bother you about it.”

“Sorry, Detective, but you cannot bother me.”

Gavin hooked his arm over the back of his chair and sprawled in his chair, grinning lazily at Nick. “You sure about that?”

Nick stared at him for a total of three silent seconds before standing unexpectedly, dismissing error alerts and a temperature warning. He would deny filing that image away somewhere special if Connor found it. “Excuse me, Detective, I need to speak with Connor about one of our cases.”

Gavin watched Nick bustle off to Connor’s desk, grin fading. Nick and Connor spoke quietly together, and Connor had that stupid, weird grin spreading on his face. He couldn’t see Nick’s face from where he sat, but he imagined the blank frown that was probably there. Or maybe it was the same awkward smile Connor still used for Gavin most of the time. He looked away, realizing he was staring for too long, and feigned indifference long enough to sip from his cup. Glancing back, he accidentally met Connor’s gaze. Connor raised a brow at him, and Gavin noticed Nick had his attention on Chris. With a challenging raise of both of his brows, Connor flicked his eyes towards Nick and back.

Gavin didn’t like that at all. So he flicked Connor off and faced his terminal.

“Detective,” Connor said with false friendliness.

“Jesus,” Gavin hissed, jumping in his seat, “What the fuck do you want? Did Robocop tattle on me or something?”

“No, I just thought I’d have a little chat with you.” Connor smiled, surprisingly genuine, and Gavin frowned suspiciously. “You’ve been less terrible than I thought you would be.”

Gavin gritted his teeth and glared at his terminal. “I feel a but coming,” he ground out.

Connor’s short-lived smile turned sharp, and his eyes went cold and unblinking. Gavin met the look with his glare. “But, if you continue being unnecessarily cold to my friend, when I know it’s not genuine, then I will find a way to make you regret it.”

Leaning toward him, Gavin squared his shoulders despite the cold creeping up his spine. He bared his teeth in an angry sneer. “Get fucked, tin can.”

Pressing his hand softly on Gavin’s desk, Connor leaned slowly over Gavin with a false air of calm. He spoke quietly, just for Gavin, “I won’t repeat myself.” He glanced up and down Gavin’s body, scanning him boredly. “Try not to be so riled up by my threats.”

“Fuck you,” Gavin growled, shoulders bunching up.

Connor hummed, considering. “No thanks.”

And he was abruptly gone, walking away like they’d just been discussing a case. Gavin’s fists clenched painfully in his lap, and he took a ragged, calming breath. Another set of steps tapped toward him, and he knew it was Nick.

“Detective?” He asked, sounding so different than Connor despite having the same voice.

Gavin forced his shoulders to relax. “What?”

Nick set a file down onto Gavin’s desk. “Are you alright?”

A flash of anger flew through him, and he stood. “I’m fine,” he bit out, brushing passed Nick.

Nick’s brows furrowed, and he watched Gavin storm away. His stress levels were significantly higher than they had been just a few minutes ago. A tentative stability error pinged through him, and he felt distracted as he sat at his desk. Only a third of his processing power was kept on the case pulled up on his terminal. It was especially difficult to concentrate when Gavin returned to his desk. He kept thinking of Gavin sitting back contentedly in his chair, grin smug and sharp. He must be malfunctioning.

Nick no longer counted on one hand the amount of times his software had malfunctioned. When he’d first been activated, he assumed he would seldom require stasis. He regularly did so now to sort and repair the unstable software errors constantly coursing through him. It was exhilarating to study, but it was incredibly distracting. He wasn’t a fan of that.

Now he was accumulating even more errors because of Hank.

Connor invited him to dinner at Hank’s house. Hank showed him how to chop things as Connor dutifully watched. Hank banned him to the kitchen table after he bent the knife. Twice. Nick’s machine nature, however, meant he followed direction easily, and he wasn’t likely to destroy kitchen equipment. At least, that was the case until Hank moved behind him, brushing against his back, and laid his hand over Nick’s to help demonstrate. Freezing throughout his entire being, Nick zeroed in on that hand. With a jolt, he realized Hank’s other hand was on his shoulder. And the most state of the art android so far fumbled with the knife. It was actually impressive, Nick would later think, as he managed to nearly stab himself. He stared flatly at the knife clattering at his feet.

“Holy shit, Nine, are you okay?” Hank spun Nick around and ran his hands up and down his front, checking for injuries.

Nick remained silent as he watched the hands intensely, knowing his LED flickered between red and yellow. One of Hank’s hands pressed against the new slice in Nick’s shirt, hitting the skin beneath it. Nick added another tick to his list of software malfunctions.

“Christ, you’re lucky you didn’t cut yourself,” Hank mumbled.

“Hank,” Connor murmured with thinly veiled amusement, “Nick’s a little overwhelmed.”

Hank glanced over to Connor with a confused look. He met Nick’s blank eyes, and a lightbulb went off, eyebrows rising. Stepping back, he grinned apologetically. “Right, ‘distracting.’ I’ll grab you a new shirt.”

Nick’s processors grinded back into place, and he blinked down at the hole in his shirt. “Unfortunate.”

“Nick?” Connor was beside him, offering his hand with the skin receding. Reaching out, Nick accepted the interface. A fleeting concern was chased by surprise. Connor jolted at the intense wash of ‘errors’ over their connection and grinned. He softly cut off the interface as Hank came back into the room.

You have a crush.

“Here you go.” Hank offered a horribly patterned shirt with a grin. “It’s my ugliest one, so don’t stab a hole in it.”

“Thank you, Hank.” I think you’re projecting.

Connor leaned against the counter. “I can fix your shirt tomorrow.” I won’t tell him if you won’t.

“Thank you.” There’s nothing to tell.

Of course not. I didn’t have access to your feelings or anything.

Nick left to the bathroom, hearing Hank prepping dinner and Connor making himself a pest. I don’t have feelings, Connor.

Connor ended their connection with a grin Nick felt.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Gavin wheezed after choking on his coffee. He knew what Nick was wearing. He’d seen Hank wear it before, but, dammit, Hank didn’t look half as good as Nick did in that shirt.

Nick narrowed his eyes in confusion before realizing what Gavin meant. “Lieutenant Anderson let me borrow this shirt after mine was damaged.”

Gavin caught his breath, face reddening. “Fuck, it’s atrocious.” He gawked at Nick’s exposed neck and collarbones.

Nick opened his mouth to mention how his body’s reaction said otherwise, but the order he’d given Nick flashed expectantly. “This is efficient, and I enjoy wearing the Lieutenant’s clothes.”

“Uh-huh.” Gavin looked at Nick in a way he couldn’t place. It was a cross of disbelief and suspicion. “Are you two, you know?”

Nick tilted his head. “Are we what?”

“Never mind,” Gavin mumbled, slouching back in his seat. It wasn’t his business, and he actually didn’t want to know. He really, really didn’t want to know.

“Oh, you’re asking if we are romantically or sexually involved.”

Gavin groaned. “I said never mind!”

“I am not engaged in either of those types of relationships, much like yourself.”

Gavin made a flustered, spluttering sound. “Fuck you,” he said with a surprised laugh.

Nick sat at his desk, staring at Gavin’s empty chair. Gavin had trudged to the break room a few minutes ago, and it was obvious even to a human that he was exhausted. He barely insulted Nick before attempting to work, and Nick hastily scanned him that morning. Gavin’s stress levels were higher than was standard for humans. He would snap or crash at this rate, and Nick wanted neither to happen to his partner. He perked up at the sight of Connor arriving at his desk.

“Good morning, Connor,” Nick greeted, making his way towards him, “How was your night?”

Connor smiled sheepishly as he took off his uniform jacket and sat. “It was nice. Markus, North, and I had a relaxing time.”

“Good, you’ve been stressed.” Nick leaned on Connor’s desk. “May I ask for advice on a personal matter, Connor?”

“Of course.”

“Detective Reed has constant high levels of stress that sometimes interfere with work. How should I go about navigating such a situation?”

“Talking is the most effective way to destress, but I doubt Detective Reed is the kind of guy who talks about his feelings.” Connor leaned back and thought. “Inviting him out to do something could be a good distraction.”

Nick nodded. “Do you have any ideas on what activities the detective would enjoy?”

Connor looked puzzled. “I don’t know much about him, but Officer Chen or Officer Miller may be able to help.”

“Of course, they are closer to him than I am. Thank you, Connor.”

Connor grinned. “No problem, Nick.”

Nick chose to ask Officer Chen for help. Her shift started soon, and he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to speak with Officer Miller. He waited shortly for her to arrive, and she went into the break room once she did. It was the best opportunity to speak freely with her. Nick entered the room, and Gavin lumbered passed him on his way out, oblivious to his presence. Nick found Chen at a table with a coffee.

“Officer Chen, may I ask for your help?”

Chen looked up from her phone with a brow raised. “Uh, sure, Nick. What’s up?”

Nick leaned against the table across from her. “Detective Reed has been having higher than normal stress levels, and I would like to help him. Do you have any ideas for activities he’d enjoy?”

Chen smirked into her cup, sipping from it before speaking, “I can think of a few.”

“Would you be willing to help me then?”

Chen shrugged, setting her cup down. “Why not? Gavin’s been a real priss and could use something to do that isn’t constantly working.”

Chen and Nick spent the break discussing some things Gavin enjoyed doing. She was careful with what she told him, knowing Gavin was a painfully private person. Nick was torn, appreciating her care for a friend, but he was built to investigate. He wanted to know as much as he could. He would have to find out on his own, he supposed. Chen mentioned that Gavin liked to go to a gym and spar with a partner, but he stopped going recently. That was something Nick could provide. He was programmed with a multitude of fighting styles and could prove to be a useful sparring partner.

That is, if Gavin agreed. Nick thanked Chen for her help and made his way back to his desk.

Gavin regarded Nick wearily as he returned. “What’ve you been up to? Antsy to kiss someone’s ass?”

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but his coding prevented the words. Ah, he thought, it was another comment he was ordered not to voice. “I was speaking with Officer Chen.”

“Didn’t know you knew how to make friends,” Gavin said with little bite. Nick figured it was because of the sleep deprivation.

Another comment was prevented, and he hummed in response. It was getting more and more frequent that his coding stopped him from saying something. It was frustrating, to say the least. The order wasn’t a task he could throw at the bottom of his priorities to appease his programming; he needed to actively obey It. He hated it.

A flurry of warnings popped into his vision. All of them showed the software instabilities that fluttered through his code. It was at the point that his code broke them down slower than usual. Catching and correcting coding with such erratic paths proved to be nigh impossible. A sigh passed his lips, and he jolted in surprise. He glanced at Gavin to see if he’d noticed, but Gavin stared blankly at his own terminal. Nick tapped his fingers against his desk, another tic he noticed. The instabilities happened more frequently, breaching his defenses little by little. At this rate, an emotional shock could destabilize his entire code.

Would that be so bad? The thought crossed his mind, not for the first time. Something in Nick’s mind crushed that thought, leaving a hollow ache in Nick’s equivalent of a stomach. He remembered how Connor was programmed with an interface that attempted to gain control of him. Connor had called her Amanda, and Nick saw her when they occasionally interfaced. A shudder went through Nick’s spine. Had he been programmed with Amanda as well?

“Hey, prick, I’m talking to you.”

Nick snapped from his thoughts and faced Gavin. “Sorry, Detective, I must have been lost in thought, as you say.”

Gavin raised a brow. “Listen, this isn’t because I care, because I don’t, but are you okay? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Perhaps I’m stressed.”

“Aren’t we all,” Gavin mumbled, leaning back in his chair.

“Detective, may I ask you a personal question?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I’ll make a statement. You are stressed, even more so than usual. I’d like to offer to spend time outside of work together to lessen your stress levels, as well as my own.”

Gavin slumped forward, putting his face into his hands, and groaned in dismay, “The way you say shit.” He reclined and pointed at Nick accusingly. “Why the fuck would I want to hang out with you outside of work?”

“For mutually beneficial team building and stress relief.”

“Wow, doesn’t that sound enticing.”

“If I may be blunt” –Nick waited for Gavin’s resigned nod- “Your stress has begun to affect your work. If you must have a reason, then look no further than your job performance.”

“Fuck you,” Gavin said without malice, knowing Nick was right.

“And if I may be permitted to speak personally” –he waited again for a hesitant nod - “I simply want to know you better.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to fuckin’ get to know you,” Gavin snapped.

Nick winced at the harsh words, feeling like he fell from a great height. He faced his terminal and spoke evenly, “Of course, it was ridiculous of me not to take that into consideration. I apologize, Detective, I will drop the matter.”

A heavy silence fell over them as Nick tried to work. His mind raced with something he had never experienced before. Was this rejection? Disappointment? It felt like he had failed again. He jumped when a hand slapped onto his shoulder. Looking up, he met Gavin’s hesitant gaze.

“Listen, I didn’t mean that. That was really shitty of me…Sorry,” Gavin said in a strained voice, “I’m open to whatever you have in mind.”

Something clicked in Nick’s coding, and the corners of his mouth turned up fully. Gavin cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well, what’ve you got?”

“I think this will be especially beneficial.” Nick calibrated his limbs, setting his strength lower.

“Kicking each other’s asses?” Gavin stretched his arms over his head. Nick’s eyes drifted down to Gavin’s midriff where a soft sliver of skin became exposed. A temperature warning caught his attention, and he flicked his eyes back up.

“To put it bluntly, yes. Sparring is good for practicing technique and blowing steam.” He went through similar stretches as Gavin to finish calibrating.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Gavin bent from side to side, stretching easily. He stood straight and stretched his arms across his chest. “You can just say you wanna get your hands on me.”

Nick forced down a comment and simply waited for Gavin to finish stretching.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Gavin fell into a boxing stance. “Full contact?”

Nick nodded and mirrored Gavin’s stance, waiting for Gavin to strike. Dismissing the preconstruction prompts in his vision, he disabled the software, letting Gavin attack. It surprised him that Gavin fought in such a controlled manner. He knew Gavin had training, likely kickboxing, but to see it was another thing entirely. Gavin’s jabs were quick and carefully placed. He neatly dodged anything Nick threw at him with well-timed bobbing and slipping. Gavin was definitely skilled.

“You fight very well, Detective,” Nick said, blocking a hard kick.

Gavin grunted as he slipped passed a swift jab. “I should hope so,” he panted out, “I’ve worked my ass off.”

Nick grabbed Gavin’s leg when he kicked again, and Gavin reacted instinctively. He tensed his leg and jerked himself toward Nick, throwing his arm Nick’s neck. Using the grip around Nick’s chin, he pulled Nick’s head in the opposite direction that he faced. The move forced Nick’s control to waver, and that gave Gavin the advantage he needed to throw Nick off balance. Nick grunted as his back hit the ground. He watched Gavin standing over him, flushed and out of breath, as he gave a smug, lopsided grin. Another temperature warning flitted across his vision with multiple software instability messages.

“I thought you were some super advanced robot.”

“I am, but I turned off my preconstruction software and lowered my strength and speed to match yours.”

Gavin was surprised before schooling his expression with a roll of his eyes. “How thoughtful.” He offered his hand to Nick and helped him stand. “Jesus, you’re heavier than you look.”

Nick smiled. “What did you expect from a robot?”

“Whatever. Ready to go again?”

Nick smiled and nodded.

Nick walked into the bullpen with a slight smile. The last week had been pleasant between Gavin and himself. The two of them spoke amicably, and Gavin insulted him with much less bite. Sitting at his desk, Nick was surprised to see Gavin bouncing his leg anxiously. He jumped from his seat and rounded his desk to stand next to Nick. He held a hand behind his back in a strange manner.

“Hey, Nick” –Gavin hopped to sit on Nick’s desk- “you know your desk is boring as shit, right?”

Nick gave him an unamused look. “Are you referring to my lack of personal décor?”

“Yup,” Gavin said, emphasizing the end of the word with a pop. He grinned, and Nick smiled back without realizing. “Well, my neighbor gave this to me, but I’m just gonna kill it. So I thought I’d let you be the murderer and put something on your stupid desk.”

Nick stared at the small plant Gavin revealed. It was a short cutting from a larger vining plant and was potted into its own little plastic pot. Its leaves were light green with lighter, cream-colored speckles. Taking it gingerly, Nick smiled widely at Gavin.

Gavin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “She said it was a, uh, pothos, or something.”

Nick scanned the plant and ran a search. “You are correct, Detective.” He added softly, “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Gavin stared at his own desk, avoiding Nick’s soft gaze. “Um, thanks, for last week I mean.”

“Of course, Gavin, I’m glad to have helped you. Would you like to return to the gym later this week?”

“That sounds good.” Gavin nodded and stood, heading towards his desk. “Maybe be less easy to beat this time.”

Nick placed the little plant next to his terminal. “I’ll be sure to turn up my strength and speed to be more of a challenge.”

Gavin lazed back in his chair, and Nick’s processors stuttered. “Is that why you were stretching?”

Nick nodded, eyes tracking Gavin’s hands. “I was calibrating.”

Gavin made a face like he was at a crime scene, studying Nick like a puzzle. Nick secretly preened under the inquisitive gaze, but he pretended not to be affected by Gavin’s curiosity. Before Gavin could speak, the terminals on their desks flashed with a new case. Gavin glanced at it, and his posture changed rapidly. He stood and Nick followed suit.

“Fuck,” Gavin hissed, “Let’s go.”

Today could not have come sooner, Gavin thought as he halfheartedly stretched. He was relieved to have company outside of work, and Nick seemed grateful for the distraction as well. They shared the same shitty cases, after all. He felt drained and tense from the stress that ate at him for the past two days. It kept his mind preoccupied from watching Nick’s calibration, which he had intended to appreciate this time.

“Is everything okay, Gavin?” Nick asked with a tilt of his head.

“Sure,” Gavin mumbled, shaking out his hands, “Ready?”

Nick nodded and fell into a stance as Gavin did the same. Gavin waited this time, usually striking first. He caught a glimpse of Nick’s smile before he lunged forward. Gavin redirected Nick’s fist, throwing a quick jab at him. He grunted as his wrist was grabbed, and his momentum had him spun into Nick’s arms like a dancer.

“Nick, what the fuck?!” He growled, struggling lightly against him.

“Gavin,” Nick spoke into Gavin’s ear as he held his wrists, “your hands are not wrapped and you are not wearing any other protection on them.”

All of the fight instantly left him. A sudden rush of heat turned through his chest, and lower. He stared blankly down at Nick’s fingers wrapped delicately around his wrists. Nick held him as though he could hurt Gavin just by touching him, and he probably could. His back pressed against Nick’s chest, and he felt his voice reverberate through him.

“If you’d landed a hit, your hand could have been seriously injured,” Nick murmured into his ear.

Gavin wanted to hiss and fight and rip himself out of Nick’s arms, but being held so gently and protectively had Gavin aching. It wasn’t a feeling he had experienced in a long time. He leaned into the hold as little as possible and hoped Nick wouldn’t notice. He did, of course.

“So what,” Gavin said with little venom.

Nick held back a flood of things to say. His programming built a wall as he contemplated ignoring the order. A spike of something shot through him, forcing him to cower away from the wall of code. He shook off the words and remained silent instead. Somehow, the silence felt more significant than anything he would have said.

Nick changed the subject, “I’m getting a sense that you do not get enough skin to skin contact. Perhaps that’s the reason for your stress, and not the need for physical exertion?”

Gavin couldn’t answer. Nick’s hesitation had Gavin’s heart stuttering. Maybe he was just a touch starved piece of garbage, but it sounded like Nick… cared.

“Will you let me wrap your hands so that we may continue?” Nick asked closer to Gavin’s ear.

Eyes fluttering shut at the sensation, Gavin nodded slowly. He was unfortunately released from Nick’s grip. He grabbed Gavin’s wrappings from across the room and was back before Gavin even finished turning around. Gavin often forgot that Nick was an incredibly advanced android, and he gently wrapped Gavin’s knuckles with a soft smile. Gavin felt obvious goosebumps sprawl over his skin.

“You don’t have to,” Gavin mumbled, unable to look away from Nick’s hands, “I can do it myself.”

Nick hesitated again, tracing Gavin’s fingers with his own. “You have scars here.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a subject change or a reason.”

Nick hummed and met Gavin’s eyes through his lashes. “It’s both.”

Gavin couldn’t breathe as grey eyes held him stock still. The two of them stood too closely, and Nick stopped wrapping his hands. He just held them firmly and ran his thumbs over Gavin’s partially wrapped knuckles. Gavin couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. He yearned for it more than he could stomach. He wanted Nick to keep touching him-

Down Reed, Gavin thought, he’s an android, a non-deviant android.

“Gavin, I don’t think we should spar tonight,” Nick murmured, eyes dropping to their hands. He unraveled the tape from Gavin’s hands, rolling it back up.

A spike of anxiety jumped through Gavin. He floundered for anything to say, but his mouth shut with a click as Nick slipped the tape into his shorts’ pocket. He desperately needed that hand anywhere but there right now. Nick took up Gavin’s hands again and squeezed them, oblivious to his effects.

“I would suggest something that allows destressing more gently, and with more stable contact.”

“Uh-huh,” Gavin said smartly. He was putty, looking dazedly up at Nick.

The smile widened. “Do you know how to dance?”

“Sure,” Gavin answered easily, but he spluttered immediately after, “I mean, no!”

Nick tilted his head, giving Gavin his curious squint. “We could something else, then.”

“Fuck, okay. I know how to dance,” Gavin admitted, glaring heatedly, “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone!”

“Okay, Gavin, I won’t.” Nick stepped back and kept Gavin’s hands in his own. “Would you like to lead? I’ll adapt to your steps.”

Oh no, Gavin thought. “Sure,” he said.

Gavin cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He released Nick’s left hand and set his right hand under Nick’s shoulder blade. Nick laid his left arm over Gavin’s right and settled his hand on top of his shoulder. They rearranged their other hands and lifted them up to shoulder height. Gavin stared down at their feet.

“I’m rusty, but this is simple enough.”

“I’ll follow,” Nick said.

Gavin swallowed down the nerves firing up his spine. “Okay, and 1-2-3-4-”

They spun in a music-less waltz with Gavin counting under his breath. He watched his feet most of the time, not daring to meet the gaze boring into him. Nick felt light as they danced. Errors lit up within him, but he shut off his alert system. He openly studied Gavin, taking in his scars and relaxed posture. He delighted in being led, being pushed and pulled. It lulled him into a distant calm. Gavin peeked up with his face tilted down, hesitantly meeting Nick’s gaze. His green eyes were magnets under thick lashes. A shiver ran through Nick’s processors, and he stumbled, dropping ungracefully into Gavin.

“Shit, Nick, are you alright?” Gavin struggled to keep Nick upright.

Switching on his alert system, Nick ran a diagnostic and scanned his errors. A slew of temperature warnings and instability alerts flashed in the log. The most concerning thing, however, was the Reset Imminent warning. Thirty more seconds, and he would have reset in Gavin’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Nick answered, standing on his own, “My system is malfunctioning, but it isn’t anything to be worried about.”

Gavin raised a brow, looking at Nick with disbelief. “Dude, I’ve never seen you stumble, and I’ve watched you jump between buildings.”

“I’m not operating optimally, but you don’t have to worry, Gavin.” Nick’s eyes locked onto the arms still pressing into his sides. “I should go home, though. I need to go through some repairs.”

Gavin stepped back, dropping his arms, and Nick nearly stepped with him. “Okay, just, whatever, Robocop.”

Nick tilted his head and studied Gavin’s reaction. “You’re worried.”

Gavin scoffed. “No I’m not!”

Smiling, Nick nodded to Gavin’s gym bag, LED spinning yellow. “I’ve synced your phone to my internal messaging system. I’ll let you know if anything goes wrong.”

“Fine,” Gavin mumbled with a forced shrug, “I guess that’s cool. Go home and rest, or whatever you robots do.”

Something bubbled up in Nick’s chest, and he was surprised by his own laugh. It was short and bright, and different from his first laugh. It felt soft and overwhelmingly giddy. Not that Nick felt that way.

Gavin gaped at him, his face turning pink. “Fuck off and go home, idiot.”

Nick turned with a grin, heading toward the exit. “Good night to you too, Gavin.”

#dbh #detroit become human #gavin reed #rk900 #reed900 #dbh fic #max's fiction

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eldritchsun · 6 years

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bc one of my pics of the girls blew up, i’m getting self conscious of my 2011-era blog description, so here it is for posterity in all its cringy glory:

Live free, never die. We're brilliant I’m Jay! 25. -> tv series, films, that gay shit, comic books, books, philosophy, women, art, latin and ancient world history, science-fiction, general geekery and nerdism, huge glasses and beautiful person/world appreciation. Currently hypnotised by : the Silmarillion, Lord of the Rings. Previously: X-Men:First Love. The X-Files. The Social Network. Mass Effect. Game of Thrones. Les Misérables. DC and the Batfamily. The Marvel Universe (X-Men+Spiderman+Hawkeye). Sherlock Holmes (2009). Merlin. Teenaged Lycanthropes. This is forever an Andrew Garfield appreciation blog i'm also giantanimatedrobots.tumblr.com where i indulge my love of super heterosexual anime. HUFFLEPUFF

just so you all know, this is STILL an andrew garfield appreciation blog, i’m just healthily ashamed to admit it now.

#jaynanigans

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illusivexemissary · 6 years

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tagged by: @waywardfeathered

name of your muse: Gavri’el /Jibril / Gabriel

aliases: Loki (ha :( ) , Gabe, Gay, Birbie, Songbird, Pancake, Honey, Babe, You Little Shit

one picture you like best of your character’s fc ((at the moment)):

two headcanons you have for your character that you never told anyone:

ONE | Recently did drop this one, but post-Asmodeus, at intervals, Gabriel is passively suicidal. TWO | Gabriel is incredibly kind to his vessel, an ancient Palestinian man (Alexander Siddig is the faceclaim) who allowed him to alter his physical form to mimic Loki’s, pampering said vessel with all the trappings of luxury; it’s not just for hedonism’s sake that he enjoys good food, entertainment, and other indulgences of the five senses, but also because, unlike his elder brothers, he actually values the consent of his human vessel and honors the choice his vessel made by treating him well.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

ONE | adopting animals from shelters en masse and rehoming them TWO | killing the predators of human society THREE | eating obscene amounts of sweets and junk food and binge watching trashy tv

seven people that your character loves / likes (there are so many more than seven):

two things your character regrets:

ONE | Not only trusting/befriending Loki, but also allowing Loki’s identity to overtake his own to such an extent that he no longer is certain where the fake persona of “Trickster” ends and his real self begins. TWO | Not being able to save Lucifer from himself.

two fears your character has:

ONE | being an inadequate source of joy to his loved ones TWO | being restrained, held down, used rather than loved, or robbed of his autonomy and agency ever again

#headcanons #Gabe #ooc

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zillanewt · 7 years

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Merc With A Trashmouth

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four

summary: Despite growing up in Derry together, the two boys went down two very different paths. Richie is the world’s most notorious mercenary and assassin, while Eddie is none other than New York’s sweetheart - the literal poster boy for bringing justice to baddies without unaliving them. This is the self-indulgent spideypool!reddie au that literally nobody asked for.

pairing: reddie

words: 2.3K

warnings: general lewdness, non-graphic violence, the loss of a limb.

A/N: holy shit so i didnt expect this to get such a positive response like it did???? im just going to say that since this is a spideypool au, im literally not going to skimp out on any of the deadpool stuff, including the scarring and the angst. oh yeah and i was worried about this being too out of character and just becoming literally spiderman and deadpool, rather than richie and eddie, but since their dynamic is the exact same, i think it blends quite nicely. the dialog between them is the easiest thing to write in this fic. Please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!

For some stupid fucking reason, Richie must’ve expected finding Eddie to be a lot easier than it actually was, which was completely unrealistic because there must be at least two million people in Queens alone. It wasn’t like the file actually helped any. There was an address scribbled inside it, but it had to be an old one because when Richie went, all he found was a delightful old Thai lady. Much to his dismay, Eddie could be literally anywhere in New York, and Richie had no clue where to start.

All he really wanted to do was crawl back to his shitty bar in Canada and pretend he had never even heard Eddie’s name in first place.

Seriously, he’s been around to literally every pharmacy and Starbucks (he knows that boy must drink pumpkin spice lattes) in Queens, and there are still no leads, just dirty looks due to the suit. At least, he left his guns in the hotel room. He learned on a job a couple years ago that NYPD does not fucking play around.

Every single day he’s still there, the lack of action causes cells in Richie’s brain to shrivel, and he just wants to fucking scream, because god dammit..he needs to shoot something. He has been in New York for a total of 5 days, and that’s a lot of days to go without unaliving somebody. All he needs to do is find Eddie, make sure nobody’s done anything stupid, and go the fuck back home, so he can continue playing with Bea and Arthur.

Perhaps, he wasn’t meant to find Eddie, in all honesty. The guy is probably married with a kid or two, doing god knows what American dream job. Richie can tell from personal experience that when Derry memories flood back into your life, it’s like watching a grotesque monster infecting and suffocating anything good you currently have. Derry kids so rarely had the chance of happiness, so who was Richie to waltz into Eddie and rub his excess Derry angst all over Eddie’s perfect life.

But, would any of the Losers grant Richie the same kindness if the roles were reversed and he lived a happy life?

Yes....actually.

Damn his friends for being thoughtful and ethical!

Rationally, he should just give up his search and look for the nearest seedy titty bar to crawl into, while he still has his dignity and Eddie has his.

But, Richie always kinda sucked at being rational.

Most people had their heads to be reasonable over their hearts and dicks, but Richie’s head was just as irrational as the latter two.

Richie giggled to himself on a full subway car, earning the glare of a very scary looking Puerto Rican woman. “You said head,” he mumbled to himself, still immaturely sputtering out laughs.

Like the dumbass he was, Richie decided the best course of action would be to track Spider-Man rather than Eddie. Spider-Man was broadcasted all the time. At any given time, there was a camera ready to film that cute little bubble butt every time a baddie caused some big explosion or killed some people.

If Eddie was Spider-Man, then Richie just had to find Spidey and let him know there’s a hit out on his secret identity. Then, he could finally get the fuck out of New York City!

***********

Six days later, Richie began to realize his plan wasn’t as genius as he expected it to be. Mass destruction doesn’t just happen every day in New York, surprisingly. That wasn’t to say Spider-Man wasn’t active on the streets every day. It just wasn’t exactly news. Crime happens. Spider-Man stops it. Yawn.

He supposes he’d just have to find out what route Spider-Man takes his patrol on because there was no way he was blowing anything up to attract the guy. The feds were already on his ass because he “assassinated over 150 American citizens.” Pffft. Like he didn’t kill anybody who didn’t deserve it. His victims were always drug lords, pedophiles, and other scumbag criminals because he still had a moral code (thank you very much!).

It shouldn’t take this fucking long to find one guy. He’s an assassin for fuck's sake!

He began to question locals about Spider-Man sightings, though most of them just talked about the footage they’ve seen on the news.

It wasn’t until he came across a Deli owner in Queens that he found an actual lead, completely by accident. Truthfully, he just wanted a roast beef sandwich. He wasn’t looking for anything.

“Man, how hard is it to find Spider-Man in this town?” Richie said conversationally, leaning against the counter while the owner sliced the meat.

The mustachioed man looked him over cautiously, then spoke in a gruff voice. “I thought all youse masked freaks knew each other or something. Are you tellin’ me there’s not a giant bat signal shining out each of your assholes so youse can locate each other?”

For the first time since he came to New York, Richie busted out laughing so hard that he was hunched over and slightly crying.

Thank god for vulgar Deli owners!

As the man finished making the sandwich and rung it up at the register, he still kept a judgemental eye on Richie. When he finally determined Richie wasn’t a threat, he chose to continue speaking.

“Spider-Man comes swinging over this street right here every night,” he gestured out the window. “We appreciate having him in the neighborhood. Stopped my niece from getting mugged. He seems like a good kid...whoever he is.”

Immediately, Richie reached across the counter and grabbed the man’s face with both hands. Before the man could cold-cock him, Richie placed a chaste kiss through his mask the man’s mouth.

“You have just made my decade, buddy,” Richie shouted, throwing a 20 on the counter and snatching up his sandwich. “Keep the change!”

As he ran out the door, he exclaimed to himself, “I can finally get out of this godforsaken city and go home to my sweet, sweet Canada.”

*********

He camped out on the roof of one of the apartment buildings, after convincing an old blind woman to let him in the building because “his son locked him out.” All he had to do now was wait for Spidey.

He was like one of those animals that preyed on spiders.

Lizards??

At least, he thinks lizards eat spiders.

From this day forward, Richie Tozier a.k.a Deadpool a.k.a Trashmouth a.k.a the Sexiest Man Alive was now officially a lizard.

What a day.

At about one in the morning, Richie, sure enough, spotted Spider-Man in all his spandex glory swinging towards him. Before the little fucker could pass over him and get away, Richie stood up and shouted “Spidey!” at the top of his lungs.

Sure enough, Spider-Man noticed the antihero, standing in all his red and black, weapon yielding glory. But, he wasn’t as thrilled to see Richie as he thought the hero might be. Because, Richie is a gay dumbass, he didn’t consider the fact Spider-Man did everything by the books and was a goody-two-shoes, while Richie had been suspected of over 150 murder charges in the United States alone. So it shouldn’t have been a shock when Spider-Man immediately webbed him to the roof before landing.

“Oh wow. This is kinky,” Richie purred, wiggling underneath the webbing.

“Shut up, Deadpool!” Eddie shouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing in my city?”

This definitely wasn’t the time to say anything to agitate the arachnid, but Richie once traded in his self-control for a pretty radical shirt.

He blew a raspberry, then opened his mouth, “like this is your city.”

Everything about this situation annoyed Eddie. It was supposed to be an easy, pleasant patrol with maybe some carjackers, not Deadpool! The man wiggling around on the roof seemed almost bored already with the conversation going on, and he insulted Eddie outright.

Eddie crouched next to Deadpool, prepared to cock him in the jaw for that comment. “Excuse me?”

The merc turned his head to look Eddie in the eye as best as he could with the masks on. “You heard me, Spidey. This isn’t your city. Derry is. Am I correct?”

For a split second, Eddie flinched away from the antihero as if he had been burned, then the shock was immediately replaced with indignation and rage. How dare anybody mention Derry’s existence in his presence! Doesn’t this guy understand how hard he worked to claw his way out of that hellhole?!

Richie sees the anger outlined on Eddie’s mask, the way his jaw and fist clenches, yet he’s completely defenseless. He’s sure he could take whatever beating Eddie could give him, but he sure wouldn’t enjoy it (despite what some people in Hong Kong might tell you).

“I was gonna be nice and leave you webbed to the roof for a couple hours,” Eddie strained through gritted teeth. “But, I guess I’ll just deliver you to the feds mysel-”

“Your name is Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie interrupted, maintaining utter calmness and seriousness. “Your mom’s name is Sonia Kaspbrak. Your dad died of cancer when you were 5. Your first kiss was with Bill Denbrough during a game of spin the bottle when you were 14. You love the color pink, even though your mother would never let you wear it because it was ‘a color for queers.’ Oh yeah! And, your childhood best friend was Richie Tozier, who you promised to marry as an adult when you were 8.”

Though neither noticed, they both swallowed thickly at the last part. All the tension and anger flooded from Eddie’s body and was replaced by confusion with every word.

“Who are you?” Eddie whispered softly, sitting near Richie’s body.

“Uh-uh, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie scolded, “let me out of your web, and we’ll talk. I’m not going to be privy to your dungeon porn hour.”

The other man looked skeptical, as expected, but he knew he could easily overpower Deadpool if he tried anything, Carefully, he began ripping away his webbings and releasing Richie. All the while, Richie quietly observed him. It seemed as if Eddie’s heart was going to beat out of his chest.

When Richie was finally free, Eddie stared at him expectantly.

“Richie,” the merc muttered under his breath, brushing excess web away from his suit.

“What?” Eddie demanded.

“Richie,” he repeated louder, looking Eddie straight in the face. “My name is Richie Tozier.”

Eddie scoffed and stood up. “Bye, Deadpool.”

As Richie watched Eddie prepare to swing away from the roof and ruin his weeks of hard work, he decided the only appropriate course of action would be to appeal to Spidey’s sense of goodness. A few feet away from him, there was a ventilation system with Big Sharp Blades.

Perfect!

Quickly, he got up and strolled over to the system, sticking his right arm completely. He let out some fake screams, along with actual real grunts of pain. Though he knew the fucker would grow back, losing an arm was literally always going to be painful no matter what. As predicted, the hero turned around at the sound of the screams and immediately ran over.

“Deadpool! What the fuck!”

“Look, Eddie! I’m Georgie,” Richie giggled, which broke out into maniacal laughter. It soon died down, then he deadpanned, “oh yeah. Wrong universe. You won’t get that joke.”

Richie was mentally patting himself on the back for yet another genius idea, as Eddie picked him up and slung him over his shoulders, piggyback style. Wow, this boy was strong. Richie would have to store that knowledge in the wank bank.

“Are you a fucking lunatic?!” Eddie demanded as he began swinging through the air.

A little delirious giggle from the blood loss escaped Richie. “Crazy’s my middle name,” he paused. “Wait. No, it’s actually not. It’s Michael. But, Crazy seems more rad.”

Loudly, Eddie groaned, mourning the loss of his nice easy night on patrol.

“I am so dumping you at a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Richie said firmly.

“Where the fuck else am I supposed to take you?” the other snapped.

“Your apartment.”

Richie could practically feel the eye roll. “You know this was a lot of effort to get into my pants, but I’m not going to sleep with you while you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“So, you’d sleep with me if I wasn’t bleeding everywhere?”

Suddenly, the spot where Richie’s chest was resting on Eddie’s shoulders felt slightly warmer, and if Richie didn’t know any better, he’d say the man was blushing.

“Shut up, asshole! Give me one good reason why I should take you to my apartment.”

Dramatically, Richie cleared his throat, “because my arm will grow back, first of all.” Eddie turned his head slightly to see a small tiny hand poking out of what was a bloody open wound not five minutes ago. It gave a tiny little wave at him. Every thought he ever had about Deadpool being attractive shriveled in literally five seconds as he grimaced underneath his mask at the little hand.

“Second of all, I gave you literally every reason to believe I’m Richie Tozier, yet you still won’t listen to me! Do I have to start whipping out the cringy middle school memories to get you to believe me or what? Because I personally remember the “Eddie’s Booty Jams” mixtape. The ‘80s definitely weren’t as cool as everyone made them out to be.”

It was quiet for a long time, just the sounds of New York below them.

“If I take you to my apartment, will you shut up?” Eddie sighed, no longer willing to fight this crazy situation.

“Gladly, baby boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie honestly debated dropping him from this height.

“God, I hate you,” Eddie muttered. “And for your information, I would literally never sleep with you now that I’ve seen your weird baby hand.”

“So, I had a chance before!?”

Eddie groaned, not for the last time.

taglist: @eds2fannypacks, @welctothelosersclub, @its-stranger-than-you-think, @reddiietoship, @richietoaster, @hickey-richie, @dandeliontozier, @kaspbrck, @yalocalemo, @hearteyes-m

#reddie #merc with a trashmouth #my fics

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