#ship-garbage-pile

[the-haiku-bot]

Honaka cannot

be anymore direct than

she already is

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

Honaka cannot be anymore direct than she already is

[swan2swan]

I am actually so thankful for Oshamir because it's reminded me that...yes, I actually DO love me my Corruption Ships. My Nice Girl and Evil Guy ships. It's been years since I've been able to enjoy them, though, because there was one giant piece of garbage writing taking prominence.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”

Ah, yes, that ominous opening line from Daphne du Maurier’s novel, “Rebecca.” Have you ever read it? It’s an old book – from 1938, in fact! – but it’s truly a remarkable story, especially for its time. It’s not often you find yourself rooting for the murderer.

Lately, I have found myself becoming more and more frustrated with the fandom. And, no, my annoyance is not from the Sincerely Ignorant teetering on and off the boat every time someone takes a dump on the deck of the USS Lukola – I’m pretty fucking used to that shit – and, honestly, many of our dear Sincerely Ignorant seem to be gaining their sea legs. It’s the Conscientiously Stupid that have struck a chord with me – a disturbing, dissonant chord that leaves me questioning the average level of human intelligence.

My issue with the Conscientiously Stupid is that they push narratives that, when taken collectively, make no goddamn sense. Thanks to The-One-That-Lurks-in-a-Play-Misty-For-Me-Heaping-Pile-of-Discordant-Garbage, I have had the [dis]pleasure of learning about Nicola- and Luke-Adjacent theories. Did you know that the small scrap of green blanket Nicola was sitting on in her August 11 “Drink Your Milk” picture proved that the picture was meant for Jake? You know the guy that, at that point in Fandom History, most people had no clue even existed? I mean, that makes a lot more sense than linking the “Drink Your Milk” shirt Nicola was showcasing to the one Luke was seen wearing on June 22. Now, I’m not saying the shirt belonged to Luke, but if we’re comparing apples to apples, which one of these theories seems more plausible to you?

At this point, you have probably started to realize I enjoy weaving in and out of storytelling mode, mixing fact with theory and speculation. Today, I decided to take a classic novel – surely you didn’t think I made that reference to “Rebecca” for nothing – and loosely intertwine it with some Conscientiously Stupid adjacent theories. This is all in good fun and, like usual, mostly for my own dark humor.

I should probably begin by introducing our book characters. Honestly, you can probably guess which of our shipmates I have assigned to each role fairly quickly.

First, we have our Unnamed Narrator. Seriously, her first name is never revealed.

Second, we have Mrs. Danvers, the obsessive, borderline psychotic housekeeper.

Third, we have Maxim de Winter, our Narrator’s husband.

Fourth, we have Jack Favell, the dodgy and unlikeable cousin.

Lastly, we have our titular character, that darling creature Rebecca.

Now, let’s see who is on the playbill.

ANTONIA AS MRS. DANVERS

It pained me just a little to give the role of Mrs. Danvers to Antonia, primarily because Mrs. Danvers is such a complex character and I’ve always found Antonia to be rather simple. And, no, I’m not insinuating Antonia is simple-minded; I am saying it was never difficult to see through her bullshit (i.e., the phrase, “patterns are patterning,” didn’t come out of thin air). It helped that Mrs. Danvers is one of the main antagonists in the book and almost certainly the GOAT at trolling the heroine of “Rebecca.” I mean, the second Mrs. de Winter didn’t stand a chance with Danny lurking in the background.

The general narrative in Lukola Lore is that Antonia is an online troll. I’ve never been sure as to who her primary target was – Nicola or the Lukola fandom. I tend to believe it originated as Nicola and the Lukola fandom was simply collateral damage. I also cannot say for fact that Antonia was trolling anyone, but I can confirm that the general belief within the fandom that Antonia was trolling is well-documented on social media. For today’s story, we are going to assume the narrative that Antonia was trolling both Nicola and the Lukola fandom. We are also going to assume the USS Lutonia (because I have no fucking clue what the Luke-Antonia ship is called!) was real. Don’t get your feathers fluffed over this. This belief does exist – and it’s why Antonia has been able to fuck with the Lukolas as long as she has – but I promise I have every intention of peppering the side of this ship with holes.

Okay, let’s tow the USS Lutonia out to sea. Don’t forget your Dramamine!

We are living under the umbrella that Luke and Antonia were dating during the World Tour. Poor Antonia was forced into hiding by – who the fuck knows but let’s keep rolling with this narrative – and she wasn’t allowed to be openly seen with Luke or post anything on her social media with Luke. And, Luke mirrored this behavior and made an effort to keep Antonia out of the spotlight (in fact, at the New York City premiere, the average viewer wouldn’t have known Antonia was anything more than Luke’s “friend of a friend”). Antonia, annoyed with this lack of engagement (and, almost certainly fed up with, at a minimum, fans shipping Luke with Nicola), started the pattern of posting pictures of herself and tagging her location as places the fandom knew Luke had recently been. Luke, for his part, made no effort to acknowledge his relationship with Antonia. Instead, he continued his flirtatious relationship with Nicola. After the London premiere, the Lukolas put a target smack dab in the middle of Antonia’s back and blamed her for setting up Papsmear for her own benefit. Luke still made no effort to acknowledge his relationship with Antonia or protect her from the abundance of online hate she received. In fact, he posted his “I will not let [Cressida] ruin our night” story to Instagram instead (see my “Entry 1 – The One About That Weird Ass Cressida Post” if you’re confused by this comment). During post-Papsmear events, Luke did not list her as a plus one and he didn’t like any pictures of Antonia that were not on her grid. In fact, the only evidence directly linking Luke to Antonia were leaked and/or since-deleted pictures and videos not released by Luke. Throughout the summer, Antonia continued her efforts to place herself in proximity to Luke via tagged or easily recognizable locations. Oddly, many of Antonia’s posts seemed to occur shortly after Nicola posted or before/after DeuxMoi posted pap pictures, which gave birth to the “Antonia is trolling” subplot. Still, Luke made no effort to acknowledge his relationship with Antonia. On July 30, Luke was papped with Antonia and his friend group in Sorrento (see my “Entry 11 – The One About the Heart of the Ocean” if you want my opinion about that excursion). This was the last time Luke and Antonia were publicly photographed together. Once Luke returned to London on August 2, Antonia continued her campaign of insinuating she was in the same location as Luke, with the most recent being the Italian restaurant in Rome (which the restauranteur debunked, in my opinion). Again, Luke and Antonia have not been photographed together since July 30. To date, Luke has made no effort to acknowledge his relationship with Antonia, and the only visible interaction by Luke are his likes on Antonia’s semi-monthly Instagram grid posts, which seem obligatory at this point. For the month of November, there was no interaction between Luke and Antonia because Antonia did not post to her grid (gasp!).

Now, for all the Lutonia’s out there, explain to me why this kind of relationship is acceptable to you. Seriously, explain it to me.

Convince me that Luke didn’t shutter Antonia from the moment the USS Lukola schematics were presented to the engineers.

Convince me that Antonia is the kind of woman who would happily accept Luke’s blatant dismissal of her existence while he globe-trotted around the world with a woman he was being openly shipped with by fans, the press, and Bridgerton mates.

Convince me that Luke’s behavior towards Antonia doesn’t make him the worst boyfriend on the planet.

Convince me that Antonia’s online behavior towards Nicola and the Lukola fandom during and after the World Tour doesn’t make her a troll.

Convince me that Luke and Antonia are the definition of “true love.” Actually, before you do that, convince me that Luke and Antonia are currently dating.

Or, maybe you’ve realized that any effort to try to convince me would be a waste of your time because you, too, are starting to find this entire narrative unacceptable. It equates Antonia to someone who doesn’t mind being boxed into a corner and forced to claw her way out, and it likens Luke to an overbearing womanizer who doesn’t give two flips about how online hate may be affecting his partner. I mean, we may as well dump these two into an entirely different book called “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

I didn’t assign the role of Mrs. Danvers to Antonia because I thought Antonia was a feeble coward without her own voice. And, no, I didn’t give her the role because Mrs. Danvers is an obsessive psychopath. I gave Antonia the role of Mrs. Danvers because the fandom handed her the power to influence this narrative on a silver platter, just like the Narrator in “Rebecca” allowed herself to be manipulated by Mrs. Danvers. Moving forward, when you see Antonia with a lit match, all you need to do is lean over and blow it out. Poof! And, she’s gone. Seriously, if you see our version of Mrs. Danvers with anything that might light a fire, take it away from her!

Surely someone out there gets my joke…

LUKE AS MAXIM DE WINTER

Of course, Luke is Maxim de Winter, the outwardly charismatic, but recently widowed anti-hero who caught the affection of our Unnamed Narrator. I mean, he’s a good guy, right? Uhh, yeah, sure… Who doesn’t want to be married to a brooding chauvinist who is outwardly obsessed with the titular character? Wait a minute, that doesn’t sound like Luke at all! Oh, no, actually it does – if you believe the USS Lutonia is real!

For Luke, we are going to assume the same narrative as above – that the USS Lutonia is real, that Antonia trolled Nicola and the Lukola fandom, and that Luke refused to acknowledge his relationship with Antonia. Besides the obvious “Luke is the shittiest fucking boyfriend in the universe,” I have a few other gripes with the USS Lutonia.

Initially, I understood the concept of “keeping Antonia in the dark,” after all I try to be logical when I process information. It was always possible Luke and Nicola were rocking some great PR in the beginning of the World Tour, and that was the only thing they were rocking. In fact, that’s what I initially believed Nicola was doing – being cute but also professional in her interactions with Luke during those early press junkets. Luke, on the other hand, always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve. Once they hit Australia, it seemed obvious to me that something had changed (go back and read my “Entry 12 – The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy” for a briefing on this). The more I watched Luke and Nicola interact on the World Tour, the more I became convinced Antonia must have been a thing of the past (or possibly nothing) for Luke – until Antonia showed up at Papsmear. At that point, I fully expected Luke to just own up to her. Like, give up on trying to hide Antonia from public view. But, then he pulled that goddamn “Cressida” post (seriously, if you have not read my first entry to this blog, go back and read it!). When you look at the World Tour and subsequent Hot Boy Summer, and the behaviors that were – and were not – on display during that timeframe, you start to develop a completely different view of the USS Lutonia. I mean, I’m not even sure that ship ever left the planning room!

One of the most glaring cosmetic flaws with the USS Lutonia is why “nice guy” Luke would treat Antonia with such indifference if he loved her. When asked who was most like their Bridgerton character, everyone always answered Luke. That he was the kindest, most genuine person. If that’s true, then why did Luke treat his “girlfriend,” Antonia, like she didn’t exist? Again, convince me that Luke’s Public Display of Apathy towards Antonia made him a great boyfriend. Even if Luke was a private person, one would think that after someone he cared about received as much hate as Antonia did after Papsmear, he would have stepped up and taken control of the narrative. He didn’t hesitate to clear up the “cake eating” picture from his September 7 Instagram post (about Nicola), and that “Cressida” post will live rent-free in my mind forever. The only “logical” explanation I can come up with for “nice guy” Luke to shutter Antonia right from the jump is that Antonia is not, and was not, a significant person in his life. That, or he really is a shithead, and he has a team of people lying about what a great guy he is.

We also need to consider Nicola’s interactions with Antonia. First, Nicola has never followed Antonia and Antonia has never followed Nicola, at least not on her public account. But, Nicola followed – and still follows – Luke’s ex, Jade. Now, typically, I’d just be like, “Meh,” on something like this. But, after Papsmear, Nicola could have very easily played the “Diplomat Barbie” and given Antonia a follow on Instagram. But, she didn’t, which signals to me that Nicola wasn’t touching Antonia with an invisible 10-foot pole. Second, if you watch the back-and-forth between Nicola and Antonia on social media – in black and white, pen on paper – you’ll see Nicola playing the cat-and-mouse game right along with Antonia (Nicola just played it a helluva lot better). It even appears Nicola sicced her – what my father calls JVN – “assassin” on Antonia starting around July 20 or, at the very least, she condoned JVN teasing Antonia. If everything was great between Luke and Antonia – and Luke was genuinely happy with Antonia – why would Luke put up with the back-and-forth on social media between Antonia, Nicola, and JVN? Oh, that’s right, because Luke is the corrupt captain of the USS Lutonia.  Seriously, if all was well between Luke and Antonia at this point in the timeline, then you’d have to surmise that all was not well between Luke and Nicola. We will get to that in a moment. Right now, aboard the USS Lutonia, Luke is just a lousy boyfriend.

Lastly – and what has always left me scratching my head – why would Luke allow Antonia to troll his fandom? Why allow Antonia to make insinuations online that they’re together but never come to her rescue when the fandom starts flinging shit at her? In my opinion, the InStyle copycat pictures (go read my last blog entry…) were just Antonia getting her feet wet. Why continue to put up with Antonia after allegations began flying that she arranged Papsmear and the Italy pap pictures? I suppose the answer most Lutonias would give is, “Because they’re in love.” With everything I have outlined in this entry, do you honestly get the “in love” vibe from those two? Because I don’t.

Now, why did I draw parallels between Luke and the book character, Maxim? It’s not because I believe Luke to be a male chauvinist so wrapped up in his own drama that he ignores those around him. The USS Lutonia will definitely paint that impression, though! It’s because Maxim’s demeanor was superficial. What the Unnamed Narrator believed was true about her husband was not actually true. And, that’s how I view the USS Lutonia – Luke’s behavior and the narrative surrounding this ship does not match the logic.

JAKE AS JACK FAVELL

Sorry, Jake, you get to be the icky Jack Favell. Yeah, that manipulative, blackmailing creep sleeping with his own cousin! But, hey, that subplot isn’t any more disturbing than Jake being shipped with Nicola, is it?

Alright, let’s jump on board the USS Jakola but not before I preface this section with my father’s flabbergasted words: “This ship is on the bottom of the ocean. These people must have oxygen masks. They’re down there with Jules Verne. This just doesn’t make sense.” No, it really doesn’t make sense but, because I’m here to tell a story, I will begrudgingly dive into the USS Jakola narrative. And, by “dive,” I mean plunge to the bottom of the ocean because that’s where this ship rests.

Just like we did with the USS Lutonia, we are going to assume the USS Jakola is real. The Jakolas believe that Nicola has been seeing Jake since, I guess, the Renegade Nell premiere on or about March 26, 2024. Although, the last I checked Eamon Farren was also at that premiere holding an umbrella for Nicola. I am not confirming Nicola was ever dating Eamon; I am simply saying he was present at the event and holding a fucking umbrella for her. You can make up your own mind about Eamon’s role in Nicola’s life. Regardless, it must have been an instant connection between Nicola and Jake because, if the Jakola narrative is to be believed, they began secretly dating after that. The Jakolas will argue that all the songs Nicola posted to her Instagram stories were for Jake. The Claddagh ring has no traditional meaning when Nicola wears it, and Chaos Week was also for Jake (and a “fuck you” to Luke). The Lukola-coded fan fiction was a “fuck you” to the Lukola fandom (see my “Entry 10 – The One About the Audibly Loud Lukola FanFic”). And, Jake and Nicola are in love and have hard launched their relationship because (a) Jake has been seen wearing Nicola’s bucket hat, (b) they have been seen in public together, and (c) they occasionally hold hands.

I’m not going to lie – for the longest time I didn’t pay any attention to the USS Jakola because it was such an incredibly absurd concept to me. A few weeks back, I posted to my Tumblr account a music video that Jake had done in early 2023. The song is called “Mixed Emotions” by You Me at Six, and the article that came out with the video on February 7th, 2023 stated, “With Jake Dunn who played the protagonist in the video who is actually a friend of mine, we actually spoke a lot about toxic masculinity and his experiences within his sexuality and the impacts it has had on his relationship with his dad.” It honestly never occurred to me the USS Jakola actually had passengers on board until October when the Jakholes went bananas over Nicola holding Jake’s hand. In my opinion – and you do not have to agree with me – the music video speaks for itself as does Jake’s social media presence, whether it be on his own pages or on those of his friend group. I’m sure I’ll get some Jakholes in here crying that we shouldn’t speculate on Jake’s sexuality, but the reality is the only people speculating on Jake’s sexuality are the Jakolas trying to discern whether he’s heterosexual. But, why doesn’t he just come out and say it? I get this question all the time. The answer is quite simple – he doesn’t need to. Jake never buried this part of his life; it’s other people burying it for him. Do you need to blast your sexual preferences out into the universe? I didn’t think so.

For shits and giggles – because that’s what I’m here for – let’s keep going with the story that Nicola and Jake are hot and heavy with each other. I’ll play center field and say Jake is a switch hitter. Happy now? If Jakola is real, then why would Nicola lay all those Lukola-coded breadcrumbs? And, NO, I am not explaining every crumb she’s dumped online. This post is already too damn long. But, Dear Jakolas, don’t tell me those coordinated airplane pictures didn’t have you crying into your pillows. Seriously, though, why would Nicola fuck with the Lukola fandom? I’ve mentioned in previous posts that Polin and Lukola have even been blurred by Netflix & Co. at this point. What would be the point of dragging the Lukolas along only to find out it was Nicola just fucking around? That makes about as much sense as “nice guy” Luke being the shittiest boyfriend on the planet. Again, the narrative does not fit the logic – although you’re welcome to try to convince me that Jakola is real.

For starters, convince me as to why Nicola is Jake’s “type” and not Luke’s. I am not being factitious. I seriously want to know why she’s acceptable for Jake but not Luke. And, if you’re going to tell me it’s because Luke likes brunettes, you better bring me some evidence that Jake likes blonde women.

Convince me that the Claddagh ring has no traditional significance to Nicola and that Jake would be okay with Nicola wearing that Claddagh ring – the one she had made in honor of Bridgerton Season 3, the season she shared with the man that fills her Instagram grid and tags and is the other half of Lukola. If you’re stuck on the significance of this ring, go read “Entry 6 – The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad.”

Convince me that Nicola and Jake are a couple. And, if you’re going to mention handholding, then convince me that Nicola is not in a relationship with Mark, JVN, Jack R., Golda, Hannah D., Dylan L., or Luke. Oh, and is it true Jake is now dating Ellie Bamber? Convince me he’s not…

Any ways, good luck, babe, trying to sway me into believing Jakola is the real deal because I have a feeling your efforts are going to make your face become as flushed as Jack Favell’s when he was caught with his hand in the till.

NICOLA AS REBECCA

Surely you didn’t think Nicola was going to be the heroine of this story! If you believe the USS Lutonia and USS Jakola are smoothly sailing across the ocean blue, then the only role Nicola could reasonably play is that of the story’s villain – Rebecca. Yes, Rebecca was a bad, bad girl. She was manipulative and intentionally cruel; a Bitch with a capital “B.” She haunted poor Maxim and controlled Mrs. Danvers and Jack like a master puppeteer. She also tortured the Unnamed Narrator from her watery grave.

Seriously, though, let’s turn the tables. Let’s pretend Lutonia and Jakola are real. Starting, say, April 29, Nicola started trolling Antonia by dropping Luke-coded material online and really started ramping up those doe-eyed looks in Luke’s direction. Remember all that cute BTS? Perfectly timed to make it look like Antonia was trolling her when in reality Nicola was trolling Antonia! Unbeknownst to Luke, Nicola commissioned that Claddagh ring and started wearing it to make it look like she was in a relationship with Luke. She even organized a side jaunt over to Galway to introduce Luke to – surprise! – her mother! But, after being rejected by Luke – because he really is in love with Antonia (the USS Lutonia is blasting its horn right about now) – Nicola – YES, Nicola! – set up Papsmear to ruin Luke. I mean, if he wasn’t going to be her boyfriend, he sure as shit wasn’t going to be anyone else’s! All summer Nicola waited for Luke, but he’d gone into hiding, scared to surface because Nicola might find him! After growing tired of waiting for Luke, Nicola got her assassin, JVN, to start trolling Antonia online, that way Nicola could put all her efforts into finding and trolling Luke. She set up Chaos Week. She trolled him on the airplane. But, she needed help (after all she had so many other events and awards shows this summer) so she enlisted her unwitting accomplice, Jake! Jake helped her set up that Lukola FanFic to remind Luke of what could have been. But, nothing was working so Nicola upped the ante and volunteered Jake to be her confused boyfriend. “Luke…Luke…” I can still hear her desperate cries being carried like ashes in the wind…

SEE!  I can do it, too – make up total bullshit to fit whatever narrative I please!!!

Yeah, yeah, maybe I went a bit too far (I warned you I had a dark sense of humor) but, honestly, I believe the only way the USS Lutonia and USS Jakola could stay afloat is if Nicola is the villain. She doesn’t even have to be a super villain. She just needs to be disingenuous enough to alienate Luke, terrorize Antonia, manipulate Jake, and mislead an entire fandom. Lucky for her, I don’t believe Nicola to be a real-life Rebecca. If you need an explanation as to why, then you didn't watch the same World Tour as me and you’re clearly on the wrong side of the fandom.

In truth, I believe the real villain to be…

YOU AS THE UNNAMED NARRATOR

Now, now, calm down. I’m not calling you out – at least not individually. I’m calling all of us out.

We as a fandom are the Unnamed Narrators of Lukola, Jakola, and Lutonia. We built these ships, and we control whether they stay afloat.

We took the narrative out of Luke and Nicola’s hands the moment we launched the USS Lutonia. Then we had to go and build the USS Jakola – I guess, because we were bored. No matter how hard Luke and Nicola try to pull the narrative back under their control, we allow side characters to feed us their side of the story! We fill our bellies with their nonsense and then vomit it all over the deck of the USS Lukola.

Seriously, we are the villains in this story. And, collectively, we are one bloody powerful super villain, aren’t we?

We control the narrative. So, if there’s a narrative you don’t agree with – for example, one that doesn’t make sense to you – stop being Conscientiously Stupid and feeding into it.

Remember what I said earlier? If you see Mrs. Danvers with a lit match, blow that fucker out! Otherwise, you’re going to let that bitch burn down the whole goddamn house.

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 15

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Danny shouldn’t have come back here. It was too risky. They had a way to disable his powers now, and Danny couldn’t let his mind dwell on that or he would freeze in terror, he had to focus on the present and not what happened the other night. At present he was looking up at the apartment where Red Helmet had taken him. 

It could so easily be a trap. 

But facts. Red Helmet had not stuffed him into a tiny electrified cage while he had the chance. He may of course have thought he had more time before Danny’s powers returned, but he hadn’t taken advantage. He’d stopped questioning when it was clear Danny wouldn’t talk. And- Danny’s throat closed and he fought a sob - he’d just sat there with him, invited him to lean on him and rested an arm around him. 

Just thinking about it made him ache with longing. Two days alone, hiding and licking his wounds, had only highlighted his loneliness. He’d tried to keep busy, to work on the portal, but it was limited how much he could do with a broken wrist. He’d stolen a brace, something he at least hadn’t been discovered at. The feeling of being watched crawled all over his neck whenever he didn’t have his back to a wall. 

Danny just hoped his wrist would grow together right. He couldn’t go anywhere to get the position of the bones checked. It wasn’t usually something he worried about. His healing was normally so fast and it’d always gone fine. But usually he was hurt in ghost form, not human form. Usually he had a better supply of ectoplasm. His ribs still hurt on deep inhales and it had been more than a month since he’d been crushed underneath Red Helmet on that rooftop. 

Danny had no clue how long bones took to heal on normal humans.

He didn’t know if he should be worried - he was worried. If his wrist didn’t heal right, it would make it harder to work on the portal. Danny needed to finish the portal. For a moment he felt faint as the delay stretched out indefinitely in his mind’s eye, and he had to lean back against the wall behind him to steady himself.

His hands shook as he closed his eyes counting his breaths: in, hold and then out slowly. In again- It would be alright. It was just a minor setback. Hold- He would heal. He would heal fine. And out- He would finish the portal. He would go home. 

He couldn’t dwell. He had to focus on the here and now.

Bricks were digging into his back. Flat pavement was under his shoes. Noise of cars driving through puddles, people walking, someone talking on the phone. City smells in his nose: smog, damp garbage, he wrinkled his nose; someone had pissed somewhere nearby and it was rank. The earlier rain clearly hadn’t been kind enough to wash it away. 

Yeah, that was about all the grounding Danny could take. He blinked open his eyes. The overcast sky left the city gray and dim. Across the road, 5th floor, 7th window counted from the right, that was were Red Helmet had taken him. 

Danny should not be here. It was objectively a terrible idea. 

And there he was again, trembling, because this could be a trap (and Danny had had enough of traps). But also he was so fucking tired of feeling like he was a pile of yarn, stacked too high in his arms so bits of him kept rolling off and unwinding and it was all he could do just to pick up the pieces and keep himself together, never mind actually taking a step.

He hated it. 

What was he even doing here?

He didn’t owe Helmet for not trapping him, for not being terrible, for being warm and gentle. Danny grit his teeth. He should not feel guilty for leaving without a word when he discovered his powers were back.

But he did.

Helmet had mentioned something about anger, and that Danny quieted it. He could have been lying, but to what purpose? To capture Danny? He’d already had him helpless? And he’d seemed genuine, his eyes had seemed so tired and pained, and boy did Danny know tired and pained. 

Danny’s longing stretched towards the apartment, before he harshly reeled it in and stuffed it back in his wayward core, ignoring the pain as he did so. That was another thing. He’d said he felt Danny’s call for him. Danny was torn about how to feel about that, and until he sorted out his feelings he had to keep a tight lock on what he might be projecting. 

It also meant Helmet could sense him, possibly from further away than Danny’s ghost sense detected Helmet’s not-quite ghostliness. At least if he was projecting, which he wasn’t. Not right now, and he would keep that locked tight, even if it felt like a hand squeezing his core. 

The one good thing about Gotham was that not a single person looked twice at some anxious, scruffy looking young man standing too long in one place. Danny picked restlessly at the straps on his brace. 

He had to make a choice. He either had to go or leave. It was too dangerous to stay out here in the open. He took a step- and left. He cursed himself for his weakness all the way back to his lair.

He returned the next day to the same pointless, time wasting result.

The day after that he forced himself to not set his feet on the ground. Invisibly, he flew right up to the wall next to the window. The drapes were still drawn, on all the windows that had to belong to this apartment. His ghost sense didn’t activate, even this close, but that didn’t have to mean anything. Danny could only detect Helmet like that, the apartment could be crawling with the rest of the vigilantes. 

It could still so easily be a trap, just waiting for him to stick his head through the wall.

He reminded himself that Helmet already had had his chance to capture him, he hadn’t take advantage. But that was the logical side of his brain and the paranoid one yelled so much louder. Danny was not a stranger to cruel tricks of pretend compassion. 

Still, this was the third day he’d been back here, and he couldn’t go on like this. He needed to know. One way or another, he needed to know for his own peace of mind. For his core which wouldn’t fucking quit it with the longing; single minded pile of useless instincts, is what it was. 

It didn’t mean he had to be risky about it. He’d spent a while thinking about it and if it was a trap, they’d expect him to come through the outer wall. Danny had other options. 

Mentally apologizing to whoever was the upstairs neighbor Danny slid through the wall of that apartment instead - thankfully it didn’t seem anyone was home. Danny lowered his shoulders in relief, and flew across the similar open floor plan, when he reached the kitchen, he halted in the air. 

He took a deep steadying breath, refusing to dwell anymore. If something he happened it happened and he would deal with it - one way or another. Then he stuck his head through the floor. 

It took a moment for him to orient himself, but most importantly he quickly discovered the apartment was empty. And as he looked over to the drape covered windows, nothing seemed to indicate a set trap. He let out the breath he’d been holding in a suddenly exhausted sigh, as the tension left him. 

Something caught his eyes on the kitchen island. He tilted his head, not believing his eyes. That was his backpack! Just sitting there, innocent as if it belonged there and Danny hadn’t lost it and several days worth of food. Danny slid the rest of the way down through the ceiling and absently righted himself as he went. He dared not set down his feet on anything. 

Carefully, he floated over to the backpack and inspected it, not daring to touch it. It was definitely his and not a well made copy. He ran his hands methodically through it intangibly searching for trackers and other technology that could have been hidden in its weave. There was nothing. For all intents and purposes that was his backpack, though of course his phone wasn’t in there anymore. 

Impulsively, he grabbed it and hugged it to his chest. He closed his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily. He was not gonna cry. It was just a stupid old bag - but it was also one of the few things he’d had of home and he’d thought he would never see it again. 

When he got himself back under control, he realized there was more on the table. His brain refused to comprehend what he was seeing because it just couldn’t be. Hesitantly he reached out and picked up the metal cylinder; the spectral calibrator. It just couldn’t be. Why would it be here? It had to be left on purpose, but why?

There was a yellow post-it note stuck to it and Danny rotated it until he could read, expecting an explanation of sorts, instead it just said in all-caps “FOOD IN THE FRIDGE.”

Bewildered Danny looked to the fridge. He’d honestly not even noticed its presence before, it had just been part of the kitchen backdrop, like the sink, the stove and the numerous cupboards.

He put the spectral calibrator in the backpack and put it on, just in case he needed to make a quick exit then floated over to the fridge. It looked like a regular fridge. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Gingerly he opened it, ready to go intangible at any moment. He let the door swing open, waiting, but nothing happened.

The fridge was well-stocked with bottles of water as well as pop and electrolyte drinks. There were also two shelves with shrink wrapped sandwiches right at the height of Danny’s head. They were labelled: chicken-bacon, ham-cheese, egg, tuna, falafel and dated with todays date. Helmet had been here today. Danny’s eyes were wide as he looked from the selection to the post-it he’d left on the table. It was an offer to take something, right? 

But why? Why would he do that? Why would he leave Danny’s bag here and the calibrator? What game was this?

Hesitantly, he picked out a water bottle and turned it around in his hands. It was sealed and didn’t look like it had been tampered with. He picked out more random bottles. Everything seemed fine. The sandwiches could have been tampered with. They could be drugged. But that wouldn’t be a problem as long as he took the sandwiches with him. If he got knocked out for a few hours in his lair that didn’t matter. 

It seemed unlikely they would poison him after all that trouble they’d gone through to capture him. So at most it would probably be something to put him to sleep. 

Exhaustion hitting him suddenly, he realized he’d been using his powers too long. Letting gravity take him, he leaned against the kitchen island behind him. His vision swam a bit as he wiped sweat off his brow. That was the trouble with having a human body, gravity did actually exist for it. It felt a bit like he’d run a marathon. 

He let out a slow breath, debating, then grabbed a bottle of cola - he recognized the Zesti brand. He could use the sugar.

The sugar worked fast. Eating something substantial would be better, but Danny was not eating anything here. He started packing sandwiches into his bag and a couple more of the Zesti bottles. And when he felt he shouldn’t burden it’s old seams anymore, he stopped. 

Potentially drugged or not, eating something other than dry granola bars would be good. 

He left and like a coward, he was glad Helmet hadn't actually been there; even if Danny still hadn't figured out what his deal was. That was future Danny's problem now.

-

Yeah I don't know what's with my strange productivity either, next part is also nearly done but then we'll run into a good deal of stuff that's just plain unwritten.

Also do you have any idea how hard it was to get Danny to go into that apartment? He's just so cursed skittish, this part wasn't meant to be this long - my notes for this was just basically "Danny goes back to the apartment to find his backpack, the calibrator and food left for him" - sigh.

If you wanna follow the story you can subscribe via the masterlist

Update: next

[deerspherestudios]

Hii, I just finished your new game, astronought, and I liked it sm! I love all the effort you put into the design and different effects and the storyline was super interesting! 🩷

Also, how did you come up with Atom and their species? I’ve never seen a character in a vn that’s multiple in one like Atom, and I find the concept of it super cool!

Waa thank you!! I've said it over and over but it was really fun experimenting with the visuals. If any of you are familiar with Slay the Princess, a lot of the kinetic bits are inspired by that game!

I'm gonna start answering asks about the game so if you haven't played and want to, I advice blacklisting #astronought vn? I think that's how it works,,

Anyhoo I was really nervous about the reception with Atom since their design is so out there but so far everyone's liking the new silly?? Spoilers below but I go into detail on designing them a bit (tw//worms):

Initially they were gonna be an amorphous shape-shifting blob similar to Venom, but as I developed the game further just the idea of worms piloting a suit and invading your ship just creeped me out enough I wanted to illustrate it hahaha! So I dropped the shape-shifting aspect and just made them a pile of worms in a trenchcoat.

In a way what made me like their design so much is just how much I'd be grossed out from it in real life,,, but hey!! It's monstrous desires jam for a reason!! Get out of here with the humanoid garbage, it's icky spaghetti all the way!! /silly

Here's one of the earliest concept sketches for the ending CG:

[uvobreakmylegs]

Set Pattern

it has been far too long since I wrote for the trash clown

Hisoka x reader

Warnings: stalking, blood, mentions of death, depictions of violence, noncon

Word count: 8.7k

….. Was this really where you were supposed to go?

That was the question going through your head when you found what was at the end of the alleyway. Wherever the map was supposed to lead you, it seemed odd that it would lead you here.

Maybe you had messed up at some point along the journey here, perhaps by way of misreading the map completely and making a wrong turn. But when you looked down at the map you'd gotten from the man who you met when you came into port, the directions you had followed appeared to be correct: the route provided to you led to this spot.

But it couldn't be right. Why would the map lead to a dead end?

Looking back up to the area before you, you scanned over it again, trying to see if there was anything of note in the open area. All you saw were piles of garbage sitting next to a metal trash can that looked as though fires had been set in it regularly, and opposite that stood a large but flimsy sheet of plywood with a bit of cloth hanging over the edge as it leaned against one of the four stone walls. Aside from old cobbled surface beneath your feet and the small flight of stairs you had just descended, there was nothing else, and you once again looked back to your map, looking over the highlighted route and trying to figure out where you had messed up and where you were really supposed to go for the exam.

Once again, it didn't appear to be wrong. This was where the map had wanted you to go.

Sighing to yourself, you put the map into your hoodie pocket as you figured that you should at least investigate the area.

Though while your hand was in your pocket, you instinctively reached for the weapon you were keeping hidden in there, your hand brushing up against the hilt. Despite the feeling of apprehension that this spot was giving you, the knife in your pocket gave you some sense of security. Though you knew you shouldn't bring it out now in case someone was watching. Better to keep it hidden and not reveal your hand too quickly.

Now there was a lesson you had learned the hard way.

You shook your head, as if the physical action would send away those thoughts from the past – both past and recent – as you needed to be focused on the task at hand. A lot of time had been spent researching the Hunter's exam. You'd looked over discussion threads and testimonials from people who had claimed to have attempted the exam, and while there had definitely been a few entries where the authors had clearly either been greatly exaggerating or flat-out lying, the one thing you could say for certain regarding the exam was that you needed to be on your guard at all times.

So it was better to not focus on the unpleasant memories regarding your stalker.

You craned your neck as you took a step forward, trying to see around the round metal can without getting too close, though there was nothing to be seen outside of the piles of garbage and a few odd planks of wood. And when you looked to examine the wall behind you, there was nothing aside from the opening to the narrow alleyway and the stairs that led up to it. No doors, no windows, nothing.

Was this really a dead end?

Or was the door hidden?

Ah, that could definitely be it. This place certainly felt a bit odd – why else would an alleyway lead to an open space with seemingly no real purpose? Maybe it was meant to deter those who wanted to take the exam, make them turn themselves around and then get lost trying to find the “right” location, and while they were doing that, they missed out on the window to officially enter the exam and be forced to wait until the next year.

That seemed in line with what these examiners might do, if that ship captain was anything to go by.

Feeling a bit more confident, you began to walk towards the area in the space that seemed as though it was hiding something – the piece of plywood, and when nothing happened after taking the first few steps, you quickened your pace, hurrying over to the wall as you glanced up to the sky above you. It was late in the day, but not close enough to be the evening. The captain didn't tell you how much time you had to make it to the official gathering spot for the exam, but with how fast you had found the other examiner at the docks, you felt that you were getting through the stages at a decent pace.

That certainty increased when you pulled the plywood away and found that there was a door in the wall that had been hidden behind it. A door that was locked, but still, what else could a secret door be for? You probably just needed to find the key somewhere in this area, and then that'd be another part of the exam under your belt.

Another step towards the protection and security that had evaded you for a while now.

Now for the key.

Your eyes naturally went to the trash can and the bags around it, though you questioned yourself on that almost immediately as it felt too obvious. But if not that, then what?

You looked about the area again, glancing at the stairs and then at the cobblestones.

….. Could they have hidden it underneath one of those?

Within an instant you were on your hands and knees, pulling at the individual stone pieces in an effort to find one that was loose. This seemed right. This sort of trickery felt in line with the things you had read during your research. The Hunter Association didn't want just anyone joining them, so you needed to do more than just follow instructions and a map. You needed to have some brain power if you were going to get that license. That was fair.

You paused briefly after having that thought, focusing in particular on the word you had used.

'Fair'

…. No, it really wasn't. It wasn't fair at all.

There was nothing fair about the fact that you needed to go this far just to get some safety.

Your mood fell as those intrusive thoughts came to mind again, and this time you weren't able to push them away so easily.

It really didn't seem like the Hunter's Association did much good for the world. More often than not, it seemed as though the majority of those who worked for the association had joined just to take advantage of the protections that it offered. Before everything with your stalker had started, you had heard in passing about a few horror stories of the deaths of civilians at the hands of Hunters, and how those Hunters in question were rarely punished for it. It was only in the truly gruesome and egregious cases that made headlines where the association was forced to make a statement and do something about it, and those cases were few and far between.

So most of the time, all those Hunters would do when caught was flash that card of theirs and they were off the hook.

A sight you had seen all too often by now.

But it would be okay, you told yourself as you continued moving from cobblestone to cobblestone while prying at them with your fingers. You'd get that Hunter card, and then he couldn't do anything to you anymore. And sure, the exam itself would be tough, but you were confident that you could get through it.

Just keep your guard up and your mind focused.

It looked like you finally found what you were looking for when one of the stones in the middle of the open area moved when you pulled on it. Of course, it wasn't coming out easily, and in an effort to force it out, you changed your position and moved so your back was facing the alleyway opening. The stone came out a bit more when you tried from that angle, but it still didn't want to give.

You continued like that until you stopped to take a break, at which point you reevaluated your thoughts.

Was this right? Would an examiner really hide a key underneath the cobblestone? Was it something more elaborate? Or were you right earlier in thinking that maybe it was in the oil drum? Maybe you were overthinking things.

Fuck, maybe there hadn't even been a hidden key. Maybe all you needed to do was knock on the door and it would open. Maybe you had wasted a lot of time doing something stupid.

You sighed to yourself as you wished that you didn't need to be here, and you began to get up so you could check the door again.

“Is there a reason that you're trying to pull apart the pavement, pet?”

The sound of the voice combined with a presence that was suddenly standing behind you had you freeze in place, and after a few moments as reality sunk in, you felt your heartbeat starting to pound as you were immediately aware that you knew that voice. You knew it better than you wanted to.

There was no mistaking that disgustingly playful tone of voice.

That day he'd been waiting for you when you got home, and he kept quiet until you entered your bedroom, at which point he announced his presence by giving you a cheerful 'hello', like he was supposed to be there.

The sight of him lounging on your bed made you panic, and after a few choice words and demands that he leave which were all met with a flippant refusal from him, you pulled out your phone to call the police.

You weren't even able to put in the first digit before the phone flew out of your hand and straight into his.

Fear and confusion hit you then, while he told you not to be so dramatic.

In that moment, being around him felt far more dangerous than it had in those previous meetings, and all your brain was telling you to do right then was to run.

You managed to turn around and step out of the room-

But that was as far as you got, as something pulled you back in. And just like your phone moments earlier, you were pulled into his grip.

You tried to keep your breathing level in an effort to keep calm. Panicking never helped you when it came to dealing with him. It was hard, but you needed to do that much.

Although you didn't want to, eventually you managed to compel yourself to turn your head and confirm visually what you already knew the instant you heard his voice:

Hisoka had found you.

He stood at the top of the stairs, the signature star and teardrop painted beneath his eyes and clad in one of his usual gaudy outfits. He'd also changed his hair color since you'd seen him last, having gone from orange to back to pink.

Despite your sullen expression, he was as amused as ever when your eyes met his. Raising up one hand, he waved at you as he said “I saw that you were taking a trip to Begerosse, so I thought I'd surprise you.”

When you didn't reply, Hisoka continued with “well, pet? Aren't you happy to see me?”

He was smiling when he said that, knowing full well that you were currently the furthest thing from 'happy' whenever you saw him. And especially now.

No doubt he'd realized what it was that you were trying to do and was here to put a stop to it.

As easy as it would have been to admit defeat while falling into despair, you reminded yourself that you weren't helpless, not completely. For now, try to keep him talking while you figured out what to do from here. At least that part would be easy enough – Hisoka loved to talk.

“So you lied about going to Heavens Arena,” you finally said.

“I didn't lie,” he answered, “but there was nothing interesting going on, so I left early.”

He pulled out a deck of playing cards, and he began to shuffle them from hand to hand as he continued with “it's a good thing I did. If I hadn't seen you heading off to the port, you might be in a terrible situation right now.”

“It's hard to imagine that anything could be worse than being alone with you,” you responded flatly.

Instead of being insulted by your jab, Hisoka smiled. As usual, nothing you said was able to upset him. You could've spewed out the most hateful, vile words towards him (and you had a few times when you'd reached your limit) and he was only ever proud of the fact that he'd managed to get you that angry with him. Nothing ever phased him. Nothing that you were capable of, anyway.

A majority of the cards in his hand disappeared, and he was left with a smaller selection of around five or six. You weren't sure if there was any significance to what he was doing. You were inclined to doubt that there was; Hisoka wasn't one to stay idle for very long.

“Despite how you view me, I'm actually quite nice to you, pet,” Hisoka told you.

You scoffed.

“It's not very nice to stalk people,” you answered.

“And yet, it was quite good for you that I did just that in this instance.”

He pulled out a random card from the selection in his hand and turned it so you could see the face of the card.

Whichever card that was, you didn't know. You were more focused on the bright red blood spatter on top of it.

Somehow, for a few moments, you'd managed to forget that he used those cards as weapons. Though you'd never seen it in person, your curiosity had driven you to watch the recordings from the arena, allowing you to get a glimpse at what the clown was capable of.

“….. You killed someone?” you asked, to which Hisoka smiled while he put the card back with the rest and began to shuffle them again.

Your voice was far more quiet when you asked that, and it shook slightly despite how hard you tried to keep it steady. Truthfully, this scenario happening was one that had crossed your mind. While you had hoped that it could be avoided, it was ultimately wishful thinking that he wouldn't find out and confront you on the way to the exam site.

But it was the fact that he'd killed someone that rattled you. That he was willing to cut down members of the association just to keep you in this game of cat and mouse that he loved so much. That his obsession went that far.

“Won't you get in trouble for killing someone from the association?” you asked. Your voice was stronger that time.

He cocked an eyebrow at that, asking back “who exactly did I kill from the association?”

“One of the examiners.”

“You aren't at the point where you'd be meeting any examiners, pet,” he corrected, “until you reach the starting line, you're only in the pre-exam.”

“… Fine. One of the pre-examiners.”

“And what makes you so certain that I killed one of them?”

“The next checkpoint is right there,” you answered, pointing at the door as you said “if I'd gotten in there before you came, I could've continued.”

Hisoka stopped shuffling the cards as he looked to where you had pointed, staring at the door for a few moments before looking back to you.

And then he started to laugh.

You didn't really want to ask, but knowing that he likely wouldn't tell you on his own, you were compelled to ask “what's so funny?”

“You haven't figured it out? You still think you're in the running for the exam?” he asked.

Your brows furrowed as you answered “of course I am. I got the map from the guy at the port.”

“And that was where you went wrong, pet,” he began, “because you weren't supposed to get any map. The man who gave it to you wasn't working for the association.”

“And how do you know that?” you asked.

“Because the person you were supposed to go to was the woman in the crab boat at the other end of the port.”

“How do you know that?” you asked again.

“From the captain. I overheard him speaking to the three of the others who got off the ship with you,” said Hisoka.

“And he told them and not me?”

“Clearly he must have felt that you weren't suited to take the exam. And I have to agree with his judgment on that. You couldn't even see the obvious trap that you walked right into.”

“What trap?”

“Do I really need to go into that much detail, pet?”

His tone was mocking, and you hated it. And what you hated even more was that you were starting to believe what he was telling you as you thought back on the man you had run into at port.

He was tall and had an eye patch, and he had scared off another man who had approached you with offers to sell you the information you needed to get to the next point of the pre-exam. The man with the eye patch had been polite to you, handing off the map while telling you to be wary of people who were looking to take advantage of newcomers to the exam.

Had all of that been an act? Was that first guy in on it and only there so you would trust the one with the eye patch?

“Why did that guy tell me to come here?” you asked.

Hisoka hummed. He was having too much fun with this.

“Do you know how many people die or go missing during the Hunter's exam?” he asked in response.

“A lot,” you answered.

He nodded.

“On average the number is in the triple digits,” he continued, “and with so many people vanishing or dying around the same time, it's not much of a surprise that there will be those who try to take advantage of that.”

“And how was he going to take advantage of me?” you asked.

“His friends were going to kill you.”

You stayed quiet as Hisoka continued with “that man was part of a group that murdered would-be participants of the Hunter exam so they could sell the pieces of their victims on the black market. And if everything had gone as they'd wanted, the ones who were waiting here earlier would've jumped you the instant you walked down those stairs, and by now you'd be dead in that building while they scooped your organs out through your stomach.”

He clapped his hands together and pulled them away, revealing that the cards in his hands had disappeared completely.

Then he smiled as he said “luckily for you, I prefer that your insides stay where they are.”

… He could be lying, you reminded yourself.

“If these people were known to kill participants, why didn't the association do anything about them?” you asked.

“They likely hadn't found out about them yet,” Hisoka answered, shrugging as he continued “it's not as though they're the only ones to take advantage of the opportunity the exam creates. And I'd guess that they were smart and never took out too many at one time; the ones who get caught are the ones who get greedy.”

“Though they won't be continuing their operations anymore,” he added, “so you're welcome, pet. I saved you from a horrific death. I do hope you appreciate the things I do for you.”

You looked to the door before looking back to him.

“This really isn't the next point for the exam?” you asked.

“Would you like me to break down that door and show you the state those people are in now?”

After a moment, you shook your head; based on that response, it seemed pretty likely that he was, in fact, telling you the truth.

Which just made this whole thing worse.

You'd been tricked. In your desperation to get that license, you went with bad intuition on who to trust at the port, and because of that, you hadn't even managed to get to the true start of the exam before Hisoka found you. Hell, he was aware of what had happened at the port you'd gotten off at, so he'd been watching you for a while. He could've stepped in at any point, no doubt he just chose to do so when he felt that his entrance would be sufficiently dramatic enough.

It left a bad taste in your mouth that you should technically be grateful for him since he did save your life.

Though if he hadn't been the one to stalk and harass you, you wouldn't have even been here.

Hisoka brought your attention back to him when he called out to you.

“Well, pet? Don't I deserve some gratitude for my efforts?”

“….. Thanks for not letting me die.”

“You're welcome,” he cheerfully replied, before continuing with “now, how about we head off?”

“No.”

You finally pulled yourself to your feet while Hisoka watched, staying quiet for once. When you looked at him again, you told him “I'm going back to the port. I need to take the Hunter's exam.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he asked “what makes you think you still have a chance of taking it?”

“I'm sure I'll find that woman. It hasn't been that long since I left and it isn't that late.”

“Hm. I suppose I should rephrase that,” he said.

Those golden eyes seemed to pierce through you when he spoke again.

“What makes you think I'll let you go back?”

…..

You weren't sure what to say at first. When he asked that, there was an intensity in him that you weren't used to, and you weren't sure what to make of it. Was he upset? That would be a first, though since he'd let you go as far as you did, it seemed unlikely.

Maybe he wanted you to give up and go back quietly when he revealed himself to you. Realize that this escape route was just as much of a dead end as the others you'd tried. Go back to that house and let him feel like he'd won. Again.

Fuck him. You weren't going to give up that easily.

Eventually, you asked “what would be the alternative if I can't go back to port?”

Hisoka's more cheerful demeanor returned when he spoke again.

“I was thinking I'd take you back home,” he answered, “the exam simply isn't for you, pet.”

“I can handle it.”

He laughed.

“It's very cute that you have so much confidence in yourself,” said Hisoka, “but if you were to actually make it to the starting line, you would have a very harsh reality check.”

“I'll take my chances,” you replied, “it can't be any worse than living with you constantly breathing down my neck any opportunity you get.”

At that, he actually shook his head, saying “you're a tad delusional, pet. You always say such cruel things about me, but if you were to enter the exam, you'd find yourself at the mercy of hundreds that would have no issue throwing you under a bus if it meant they were one step closer to getting a license for themselves.”

“Some of them wouldn't even do it for the license,” he added, “some would do it just for their one amusement. So despite how you feel, I'm afraid that I have to put my foot down on this matter, as I have no desire to see you kill yourself by way of your own stupidity.”

Hisoka held out his hand towards you and said “now, lets head home.”

You looked at his outstretched hand and then back to him. And then you shook your head.

“I'm not leaving without taking the exam,” you told him.

There was a silence after you spoke, as Hisoka didn't say anything at first.

If he was really having enough of your stubbornness, then this conflict would be over quickly. Hisoka was far stronger than he looked and it took next to nothing for him to restrain you.

But that he hadn't felt the need to go that far yet.

That was at least something in your favor.

After several moments of that awkward silence continuing between the two of you, he spoke again.

“Tell me something; why do you want to take the exam so badly?” he asked.

“Why does it matter?” you asked back.

“Because I've never seen this desire to become a Hunter before,” he replied, “and I'm curious as to where this suddenly came from.”

“Maybe I'll tell you after the exam.”

“Mm, I don't think so. Like I told you pet, I don't want to see you kill yourself doing this.”

“Then I guess you don't get to know,” you said, before adding “I'm not telling you anything without you working for it first.”

That seemed to get his interest, as his eyebrows raised and he hummed to himself.

“You do know that I can just make you come with me if I really wanted to, don't you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “but I also know that you wouldn't find that very entertaining.”

He laughed, and seemingly agreed with your statement.

Was this going in a direction where he'd let you go take the exam? With how adamant he was on you not being able to handle it, it was hard to think that would be a possibility.

And as much as you'd rather not do it, you did technically have a plan B if things were to escalate, though the thought of going through with it scared you even more.

You'd never heard of it happening, but it seemed likely that a civilian could get into a lot of trouble if they managed to kill a Hunter.

“It's been some time since I've seen you so determined about something, pet. I can't help but be intrigued about why you want to take the exam so badly,” Hisoka said.

You didn't respond. And in the moments after, it seemed that he had come to a decision.

“Since we seem to be at something of an impasse, how about this: if you can land a single hit on me, I'll take you to the true starting point of the exam.”

“Land a hit?” you repeated.

Hisoka nodded, adding “you can attack me for as long as you like, and it'll only end when you choose to give up. Or if you take so long that you can no longer be part of the exam, though I doubt you'd be able to hold out that long.”

He smiled then, asking “how does that sound, pet?”

The smart reaction would've been to refuse. You'd seen the videos from Heavens Arena – you knew how brutal he could be when it came to beating down opponents. Hisoka was strong. Far, far stronger than you. A true one-on-one fight between you two would be extremely one-sided and end quickly.

But if you wanted that Hunter's license, you needed to be a little tough, right?

For that reason, when you spoke next it was to ask a question.

“What kind of hit are we talking about?”

Hisoka seemed a bit surprised, given the way his eyebrows lifted some when you finished speaking. But he got over his surprise quickly and the grin on his face that formed after was one of excitement.

You didn't comment on that as you added “can it only be a punch? Or am I allowed the use of a weapon?”

“Any attack will count, as long as it lands. Weapons are allowed,” he replied.

“And what about you?” you asked, “if you get a hit in on me, does the fight end then?”

“Of course not,” Hisoka answered, smiling pleasantly as he said “it would be over too quickly if we did that.”

Disregarding the obvious provocation, you were about to agree to his terms when he spoke again.

“And one more thing,” he said, “when you give up, you'll need to tell me why you want the license so bad.”

“…. Fine,” you replied.

But I'm not giving up, you added in your head.

With a deal now in place, Hisoka made his way down the steps and into the open space, stopping a short distance in front of you. With his hands on his hips and an amused look on his face, he told you “whenever you're ready, pet.”

As soon as he said that you launched yourself at him.

You tried to punch him in the face but found your fist punching at the air, the clown taking a step back to avoid the hit.

You threw another punch, and that also ended in you hitting air as he took another step back.

When you threw a third punch was when he acted, stepping to the side instead of straight back. His foot then caught your heel, and because of how unbalanced you were, when he pulled his leg up, your leg went up with it and you fell backwards. In the split second you had, you clenched your eyes shut as you anticipated the impact from falling onto the cobblestone.

Instead an arm caught you.

You opened your eyes to see Hisoka hovering over you, his arm beneath your back as he held you up. He smiled at you, humming cheerfully when he saw you looking at him. He acted like you weren't trying to attack him and that the two of you were sharing a cute moment.

Asshole

When you tried to get a punch in from that position, Hisoka dropped you, and you let out a noise of pain when your back connected with the pavement. He stayed where he was, standing over you while you were in a rush to get yourself back to your feet. You were struggling, and of course the bastard needed to make some comment in that moment.

“I suppose that isn't enough to convince you to give up, is it?”

Still not on your feet, you tried to punch one of his legs.

He stepped backwards again, chuckling to himself as he said “guess not.”

The sun was steadily setting as the two of you continued like that; you, trying your best to get even the weakest punch or kick to connect with him, and Hisoka expertly dodging everything you threw at him with the barest amount of effort. At one point you grabbed one of the wooden boards that lay next to the trash can and used it as a bat, only for him to wrench it out of your grip with one hand and then throw it against the adjacent wall where it smashed into splinters.

Though you hadn't been expecting much when you grabbed it, there was something disheartening about that moment.

He was just too strong, too skilled.

But, you reminded yourself, he was also too smug for his own good.

And as the amount of time the two of you were at this increased and you refused to give in, you told yourself to just keep at it. You didn't need to be stronger than him to get lucky and get in just one hit. You just needed to wait for an opportunity when his guard was lowered enough that you could strike him with the knife that was still hidden in your hoodie pocket.

If you were able to do that, your problems would be over.

That moment felt like it would be coming when you had paused on your assault, hands on your knees and breathing hard while you glared at him. During this time, Hisoka pulled his card deck out again and was making a show of shuffling them, just to further express how little he was worried about you managing to do anything to him. Another slight towards you.

“It is cute how determined you are to win this, pet,” he said, “but you can't get through everything in life on determination alone.”

“Cool. I'll keep that in mind,” you breathed out.

You lunged at him again, this time at a speed far slower than when you had first attacked him.

He dodged it easily, and you collapsed to the ground after, still breathing hard.

At that, Hisoka frowned.

“Even I'm starting to feel bad about this. You should give up now,” he told you.

“I don't want to,” you stubbornly answered.

He hummed as you forced yourself back up to your feet.

A few more times you tried to connect any sort of hit, and a few more times your attempts resulted in nothing. Hisoka would always get out of way at the last moment, having put his cards away again. However, now the clown appeared to be less smug and more thoughtful.

Minutes later and you were on the ground again, your arms holding you up while various parts of your body were aching in pain from how often he had caused you to fall. It didn't feel like you'd be able to get up again.

Hisoka seemed to sense that as well.

His heels echoed within the space of the alley as he walked towards you, and then he was standing in front of you, looking down as he asked “don't you think you should stop wasting both of our times and put an end to this?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“Aw.”

The bastard then had the nerve to kneel down and pull you into his arms, holding you close as one hand began to caress your head. It was yet another way he humiliated you, the way he would act caring at a time like this, belittling you as he made it clear just how little of a threat he viewed you to be.

“There's no shame in giving up, pet,” he whispered to you, “I won't judge you for it.”

All you were able to get out in that moment was a sad-sounding noise, one that had him cooing at you despite how you were able to hear the smirk on his lips.

You just hoped to god that he couldn't tell how hard your heart was pounding at that moment.

When he pulled you up into his embrace, you had used that as an opportunity to move your hand back to your hoodie pocket, and now you were gripping the hilt of the knife.

You didn't even need to fully stab him with it.

Just one scratch would be enough to do him in.

Just one scratch.

You acted when he spoke next, when he said something else about you giving up. This was your best chance.

Grabbing at his shirt with your free hand, you pulled the knife out from its sheath and your pocket and aimed for his side.

Just one-

A hand gripped your wrist and you were forced to your feet as you were pulled upwards by your arm. Suddenly you and Hisoka were now standing and he was holding your arm high enough that you needed to stay on your toes to try and alleviate the pain the position brought you. The knife was still in your grip. You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, letting out a small noise of discomfort when you failed to do so.

Hisoka didn't acknowledge that, his eyes focused on the knife in your hand.

“Is that a Ben's knife?”

You didn't respond to his question as you continued to pull at your wrist.

This can't happen. He can't win.

Not again

When you failed to reply, Hisoka raised up his hand and pointed a finger at the blade of your knife.

Then he flicked his finger back and the knife was wrenched out of your grip as it flew towards him. He easily caught it, holding it up so as to inspect the design of the blade. And now that your backup plan was literally in his hands, you stilled, uncertain as to what was going to happen now.

“I'm not terribly familiar with these,” he said, “but would I be right if I were to guess that this was one of the knives that has poison on the blade?”

You frowned, and he hummed, looking back to the knife with some amusement.

“You must've spent a lot on this; I know enough about those knives to know that the poison-edged blades aren't cheap,” he added.

Hisoka smirked as he asked “are you that desperate to be rid of me that you want to kill me, pet?”

“How the fuck can you ask that after everything you've done?” you spat.

“Is showing you affection such a terrible crime?”

“That's not affection, you freak! That's just you ruining my life!”

He hummed again, and then let go of your wrist.

Right at that moment Hisoka moved.

And then something rammed into your ribs.

You were sent flying a few feet before you toppled to the ground, your side aching while you gasped for breath. The pain you had felt before this was nothing now, and as you tried to go over what had happened mere seconds ago in your head, the best you were able to guess was that he'd rammed his knee into your side.

Just how much damage had he managed to cause with that?

Your hand instinctively went to press against the area where you'd been hit, and you cried out the instant you pressed down on it. He had broken your ribs. You were sure of it, and the pain was great enough that tears were already starting to run down your face.

Hisoka stayed where he was, the Ben's knife still in hand as he watched you, taking in your cries of pain and how hard you fought against the tears that were falling, obsessively wiping them from your eyes while you struggled to get back to your feet. You were so desperate to not appear weak that all you were doing was hurting yourself. So desperate to fight him that all you were doing was delaying the inevitable.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You noticed when he walked towards you, the heels of his shoes clacking against the cobblestone beneath his feet. Wanting some distance between you two again, you tried to pull yourself up and away from him, but the pain that burst through your side when you tried to move like that forced you back down.

He stayed standing this time, cocking his head to the side as he looked down at you.

“Like I told you earlier; it would be over too quickly if I were to fight you for real,” he said, “I hope you realize now that I wasn't saying that as a slight; there's simply too much of a difference in strength when it comes to the two of us.”

He chose to emphasize that point by pressing the heel of his shoe into the spot where he'd hit you, and from that bit of contact alone you felt the pain was great enough that you might pass out. It was a mercy when he pulled his foot away.

But now you were forced to face the grim reality:

You had lost.

Once again, your efforts to get yourself away from this man were in vain, and once again, you were at his feet, on the ground and sobbing as despair took over you.

You hated this.

It wasn't right.

You hated him, and you hated the people who sat back and let him do as he pleased.

If only the stupid Hunter association hadn't given this psychopath a license, you would've been able to get help.

You looked back up to him then, and found that he was still staring at you with that amused look while he loosely gripped the handle of the Ben's knife.

“Well, pet? How long do you intend to drag this out for?” he asked.

…..

… Ah. Right.

This would only end when you hit him or gave up. And it was incredibly clear that you wouldn't be able to land any sort of hit. Even if you could, you wouldn't be able to handle the Hunter exam after. Not with the condition you were in now.

Hisoka was sticking to the deal you'd made, and he wouldn't be doing anything until you gave the word.

“……. Alright,” you whispered.

“Alright what?”

“I give up,” you spoke, your voice even softer.

“Could you speak up louder? I can't quite hear you,” he told you.

You gritted your teeth in frustration, but you complied anyway.

“I give up,” you answered, adding “I can't hit you, so I give up. You win. Again.”

You didn't need to look at him to know how he was grinning at you in that moment. How wide that smile was across his face as he looked down at your fallen form, watching excitedly as your determination to win broke into a million pieces and was replaced with bleak resignation.

Just like the other times.

“I'm so glad you saw reason, pet.”

With that, Hisoka picked you up from off the ground and placed a kiss on your forehead after you cried out from the pain yet again.

“Lets get you to a doctor, and then we'll head home,” he told you as he began to carry you up the stairs and out of the alley.

Hours later, after a long hospital visit that had lasted well into the dead of night, the two of you were alone again, this time trapped in the confines of an airship cabin. You aimlessly watched the tops of the clouds through the window while you did your best to ignore how close Hisoka was sitting next to you. At first there had been a small bit of hope that he might not crowd you too much, given that this was the first time he had ever hurt you in a way that required a trip to the hospital after. But even with the state of your ribs – that had somehow only been fractured and not broken – Hisoka was determined to cuddle with you and stroke your hair during the long flight back.

Eventually you pushed his hand away, though that did little to stop him from bothering you.

“Sulking isn't very becoming of you,” he said.

“You cracked my ribs,” you answered flatly.

“And you tried to murder me,” he replied, “I'd say that makes us even.”

“Not really,” you said, “not after all you've done.”

“So saving your life counts for nothing?”

“I wouldn't have needed to be saved if you had just left me alone. I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you,” you snapped.

“Oh?”

His hand returned to your hair, but when you tried to slap it away again, he grabbed your hand and held it while he did as he pleased with your hair. You huffed, but kept your attention on the darkened sky outside.

“That reminds me – you still haven't completed your end of the bargain,” he then said.

“What part of it?”

“You were supposed to tell me why you wanted the Hunter license.”

“…..”

When you didn't reply, Hisoka let out a soft sigh.

And then the hand that was stroking your hair was now gripping it. Hard. Your head was pulled back while he whispered “there's been so much needless pain today, pet. Do you really want to go through even more just because you don't want to answer my question?”

“…. No.”

He released the grip on your hair when you said that, and you sensed the way he stared at you expectantly.

No, there was no more point in continuing to defy him just to end up going to another hospital once the flight was over.

Better to give him what he wanted.

“I wanted the license so I could protect myself from you,” you told him.

At first he said nothing to your admission, and when he did, there was a tinge of confusion in his voice as he asked “what do you mean?”

“Hunters aren't allowed to kill other Hunters,” you began, “and although it isn't written anywhere, I figured that Hunters couldn't kidnap other Hunters, either.”

He understood what you were getting at then, and he chuckled to himself as he said “scared that I'm going to do something to you, pet?”

“Outside of everything else you've done to me? Yeah,” you replied.

You kept your gaze on the clouds outside the window as you added “if I had the license whenever you kidnap or kill me, at least then the association wouldn't be allowed to ignore it. If they're happy to protect you whenever you break the law, they should be fine with protecting me when I haven't done anything wrong.”

Your voice was trembling slightly when that last bit of your sentence came out, your mind going back to all the things that Hisoka had done to you and how no one would do anything about it.

It wasn't right.

Hisoka had made both his presence and his interest in you known early on, almost immediately after you met him for the first time. He had tried to win you over with flowers and gifts for a short while, and when that didn't work, he resorted to forcing his way into your life.

That horrible day where you'd found him in your bedroom, where he had managed to pull you towards him when you tried to run – something that you still couldn't wrap your head around – that had been the start of a long, stressful night that made you want to cry just thinking about it.

When he left in the morning, you'd called the police. Though there was little they could do in that moment, they took your statement and told you to call them if you saw him again.

You followed their instructions and did just that when he returned that next evening, waltzing in through the front door like he owned the place.

The moment where Hisoka had a pair of handcuffs slapped on him and was led away never came. Because when the officers that arrived approached him, all he'd needed to do was show them that Hunter's license and they stopped in their tracks. When they left shortly after, the only explanation that they gave was that they couldn't do anything for you.

So you spent a second night with Hisoka, this time even more confused and horrified at the lack of help that you needed so desperately.

Hunters get special privileges, you learned. Access to exorbitant amounts of jenny, an ability to travel to almost anywhere in the world, and no real consequences if they committed a murder.

Learning that last point had things make a bit more sense to you, because if law enforcement were willing to brush off a Hunter killing someone, then it was no wonder why they would do nothing for you, someone who was 'just' at the mercy of a stalker.

You weren't dead, so they didn't see it as even being that bad.

Calls to any and all lines of help resulted in nothing being done. You would cry and beg for anyone to help you, even getting down on your knees and debasing yourself as you pleaded to be saved from the man who had now forced his way into your life, and all you got in return was uncomfortable silence that was usually followed by a short “sorry”.

The police didn't come around anymore. Your employer let you go. The neighbors didn't talk to you. And when one of your friends wound up missing after having tried to defend you from him, everyone else had cut you off, too scared that just being in your presence would set off your stalker and they would also end up on the missing persons list.

All you had was Hisoka, who was always there to revel in your despair by holding you close.

There wasn't much else you could do but try to act like it wasn't as distressing as it actually was, leading to you putting up a brave front in front of Hisoka. Maybe if you acted like you didn't care anymore, he'd lose interest and move on.

That didn't work, and so you were forced to cope while you looked for any opportunity that arose for a way out.

You thought you had a chance with this – you really did. When you read up on the Hunter bylaws and you saw that Hunters weren't allowed to target each other, you thought you had a way to end all of this. Even if just getting the license wasn't enough to make Hisoka stop on his own, if he continued to do anything after that fact, then the association would have to step in.

But none of that mattered now.

This was another loss for you, another hope of escape for you that Hisoka had made sure to dash thoroughly.

And just like he always did, he was now holding you after having pulled you up against him.

“It was an interesting thought, pet,” he began, “but ultimately, you really had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

So you keep saying, you thought to yourself.

“And wouldn't it have been a better idea to just use the knife on me instead of going to all of the extra effort to try for the exam?” he then asked.

“I wanted to avoid that, if possible,” you answered, “I wasn't sure what would happen to me if I did manage to kill you without the license.”

“Hm. Still seems like a wasted opportunity to me.”

“…. Whatever. You got all of your answers. Stop talking to me.”

“Don't be like that, pet,” he said, “after all, we have quite a few hours ahead of us before we get back home. I'd rather that we didn't spend all that time being mad at each other.”

He said that just as the hand that was holding yours let go in favor of sliding up your inner thigh.

“After all, I haven't been properly rewarded for saving your life,” he added.

The way his nails trailed up your leg combined with the way he said that sentence with such a sultry tone made it obvious as to where this was going, and your heart started to pound heavily in your chest as you realized that Hisoka was going to do what he wanted regardless of the state you were in.

“Please don't,” you began, your voice cracking as you said “not now. Not like this. I-I can't-”

“You'll be fine.”

Hisoka emphasized that by shoving his hand down the front of your pants, his fingers blatantly rubbing up against your sex.

Despite knowing what would happen, you tried to elbow him in the face in an effort to make him stop, only for both of your wrists to suddenly snap together. And no matter how hard you tried to pull them away, something invisible was keeping your wrists bound together.

Just like that, you were completely helpless.

With one hand still in your hair, Hisoka moved your head and forced you to look at him.

You were crying again.

And Hisoka looked even more excited.

“I truly can't get over it, pet,” he breathed, claiming your lips in a kiss after.

“There's nothing quite like the despair in your eyes when you've realized that you have no other choice but to give in.”

[jasmineandcedar]

Stepping away

I have written and rewritten this so many times it now turned into a full-blown incoherent ranting essay but I don’t really care anymore. I am trying to remain my usual level-headed self but I will allow myself one rant before I’m out. (Proceed with caution—I will be mentioning the pliant bones pile of shit below)

Until recently, I hadn’t fully grasped how vile this fandom can be. Blocking and filtering kept things tolerable for a while, but the closer we get to the announcement, the harder it becomes to escape the vitriol.

This has been my first fandom experience. I enjoyed ACOTAR offline for six years. It was a peaceful, enjoyable part of my life. Nothing about my love for the series has changed. The only thing that’s changed is that I no longer want to be part of this fandom.

(I have edited down this post a little since I first posted it, because I just don't want to be involved in any of this. I wanted it to be clear that I don't think this has to do with ships at all and I dont mind at all who people ship together. I also don't really want any of this to be seen, but I didn't want to just disappear.)

With the resurfacing of the ‘pliant bones’ garbage, the past few days have been the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. And that camel had been struggling. Holding itself together through sheer willpower. I’m surprised it lasted this long.

I am sure that most people in this fandom don't agree with the implications of this 'theory' but every time it resurfaces, it spreads in ways that make it impossible to avoid. It has become one of those cyclical shipwar debates, and ‘women with fertility issues’ are caught in the midst of it. Women who do exist and deserve better than this discourse. It is, in fact, more common than some might think to either struggle with fertility or not be able to have children at all.

I joined this fandom excited about Elriel. I never thought that excitement would turn into being constantly reminded of one of my life’s biggest pains. I never thought I’d have to filter the words ‘womb,’ ‘children,’ ‘pelvis,’ just to be part of the ACOTAR fandom. Because I could never have imagined a scenario where a couple that want each other being separated due to perceived fertility issues would be considered part of the basis of romance between another pair.

It’s the foundation of tragedy.

Even if one does not struggle with this oneself, it should be possible to imagine the pain of not being able to have children with the one you love. But people throw this argument around like they’re discussing the weather. Over a fictional ship! For some people, this is not just a hypothetical. It isn’t just an abstract concept. It isn't a dainty little literary device. It is a reality, and it is damn hard pill to swallow. In many cultures, the ability to have children is considered the very essence of womanhood, making the inability to do so an existentially painful reality to come to terms with.

I’m leaving. I don’t know if I’ll come back. Maybe if the hostilities die down, I will. I wanted to have fun alongside others who love Elriel and the other characters. I wanted to anticipate Elain’s book together. And I have had fun, but at a cost I’m no longer willing to pay.

To those who stay and continue creating—writing fics, poetry, theories, headcanons, and doing art—you’re the ones actually fighting the good fight, trying to make this space fun. Those who ride at dawn for the fics and the art. I tried to do the same. Five months was all I could manage. Now, I surrender. I’m no Elain. I’m not a rose in a mud field. I’m a miserable twig drowning in the dirt, who just wanted some goddamn memes and joy in life.

So, I’m going back to my peaceful offline existence. Enjoying my ACOTAR memes and inside jokes with my fiancé.

I’m going back to peace and quiet.

(Sorry for ranting)

[magennta09]

We all know Caleb is a compulsive liar right

He obviously lied about what was going on with him, EVER and all. The whole turning people into wanderers which he surely didn't act upon. Mf doesn't even RESPOND when you asked him about his work.

Oh but those lies were piled up like a garbage pit in the back of his head. He did lie before, lots too. About his night terrors, the guys he so kindly battered when they got too close to you, his worried mind. Him fooling around in college.

But as he would lie about where the snacks are hidden in his apartment just to watch you search for them like the raccoon you were (you were adorable in those moments to him), he'd never lie about his affections, never.

He loved you, so much.

But through the thick veil of restraint.

You always felt loved, even in Old Days, when he went off to academy and wasn't around as much. He always sent money, packets filled with snacks, he made sure to facetime you weekly to see how you were taking care of yourself. You promised to keep everything neat, right?

He wrote those letters for you before he went on a mission like he'd write in a journal. That time he got absorbed into the tunnel and came out of that gory ship still breathing, his letter before that was that he was scared, and that he loved you, and that he hoped to return to you. He hoped you'd answer his prayers.

You were his faith.

Oh, he'd never hide that.

EVER could strip him of everything but his love for you. So, out of love, he lies.

[dailykrusie]

Why A Daily Krusie? In 2025?

UT & DR are important to me but I've never been "involved" with the fandom. In advance of chapters 3 & 4 releasing, I felt something akin to FOMO... I decided I wanted to do a silly daily project.

This was almost entirely inspired by @dailykatnep. I thought it was amazing that they were doing a "daily Katnep" project in 2023, and that despite the ship name most of the art just consisted of Karkat & Nepeta hanging out.

(The cartooning is also genuinely so good. A bicycle handle sticking out of a couch is an image you never see outside of cartoons and it cracks me up. It's like the classic "intact fish skeleton" in a garbage pile.)

Another factor is that I have a lot of followers on my main blog and it makes sharing my work stressful. It's been stressful for a long time. I want to be able to make a lot of silly unpolished comics like I used to and share them with a smaller amount of people. It's easier within a fandom space, you don't have to justify anything you're doing. You can just draw the characters! And Kris & Susie are such a charismatic pair.

That's enough from me for now. Thanks for reading, and look forward to more daily Krusie :)

[marlynnofmany]

Other Uses for Packaging

I waved goodbye to the customers — other humans this time — then sat back and waited for the trash pickup. I didn’t blame them for not wanting to take all the packing material out into the spaceport. They hadn’t brought a hovercart or forklift, and had been unprepared for the huge crate full of bubble wrap and foam.

Other times, our little courier ship had done deliveries where time was short or regulations were tight, and all we would have been able to do was advise them on where to rent a hovercart or buy a crowbar. Luckily for these customers’ convenience and my conscience, today we could stick around and help them unpack the custom end table or whatever that was.

They’d left happy, with something much easier to carry, and Captain Sunlight had headed for the cockpit to call in the station’s trash crew. (Apparently this was a regular feature at this space dock, which was a nice change from the last few where we’d had to move the ship’s garbage over to the trash area under our own power.)

Zhee looked over the crate that he’d just taken great joy in disassembling. “Wood may be valuable here,” he said with a thoughtful click of a pincher arm. “If not to the station at large, then surely to another ship. I wonder if the captain thought of that.”

I glanced back at the open cargo bay. “Probably?”

“Probably,” Zhee agreed.

We were both silent for a moment while the spaceport bustled around us.

“I’m going to check,” he said, tapping his way up the ramp on his many bug feet. “Make sure none of that blows away.”

“Sure thing.” I looked at the piles. The only breeze in here was the faint wafting of ventilation systems and the occasional gentle landing of other ships at a safe distance, but I understood the impulse to be careful. That one package awhile ago, full of styrofoam beads, had been memorable. And terrible. The darn stuff was almost as bad as glitter, what with the way it stuck to things with static electricity. Nobody wanted a repeat of that.

This set of packaging was much better. The boards made a tidy stack, the foam was in rubbery sheets that didn’t leak bits everywhere, and even the bubble wrap was in long rows instead of individual panels. This was no top-of-the-line cryo suspension or force field generator, but it was respectable.

I organized the mess a bit while I waited. The rest of the crew either had stuff to do on the ship or out in the station, so despite all the ambient noise, things were quiet.

I started rolling up the bubble wrap, thinking someone might want to use it again, but found that many of the bubbles had gotten popped in the disassembly, leaving it only good for one thing.

The first bubble popped with a satisfying snap. By the third I’d pinpointed which direction the sounds were echoing from most, and I enjoyed the different noises I could get by tilting my head. None of the pedestrians were close enough to pay much attention, so I happily worked my way down the roll. I’d seen multiple other types of bubble wrap, some made by different cultures and different materials, and most of them didn’t actually pop. What a simple joy to find the regular old Earth kind again.

Mur’s voice from the cargo bay asked, “What’s making that sound?”

I sighed and turned. “Don’t tell me, this is another swear word in your language.”

Mur waved a tentacle. “No, of course not. I just wanted to know what’s breaking out here. It sounded like a problem.”

Before I could answer, Paint appeared behind him in a rush. “Is there a problem??”

“No,” I hurried to say. “Everything’s fine. It’s just bubble wrap. See?” I held up the section I’d been working on and popped another bubble.

Paint winced. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, it’s just garbage.” I rolled up the part I’d already flattened, then twisted it to pop the next row all at once.

“Okay, that almost sounded like a swear word,” Mur admitted.

I had to laugh at that. “Of course it did.”

Blip and Blop hurried out to join the growing crowd in the cargo bay. “What keeps breaking?” Blip asked, frills waving anxiously.

“It’s just bubble wrap!” I exclaimed. “See?” I held it up and popped another one.

Instead of nodding and going back to whatever they’d been doing, my alien coworkers remained perplexed. “Why does it keep popping?” Blop asked. “Are you doing that?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.

“Why?” asked both Frillians at once. Paint and Mur also looked curious.

“Because it’s fun?” I replied, scrambling for an answer. I hadn’t thought this needed explaining. But apparently it did.

Paint asked, “How is that noise fun?”

“Well, it echoes—”

“You don’t need to worry about condensing materials for the trash pickup, if that’s the concern,” Mur said.

“Yes, I know—”

“Are there food items on your planet that you have to open like this?” Blip asked. “Large fish eggs, maybe?”

“No, ew! It’s just—”

A shadow loomed taller than the Frillian twins. “It is violensssss,” Trrili hissed, making them twitch. (I don’t know how she found a shadow in the cargo bay. Sometimes I think she brings them with her.) “Small-scale, sanctioned violence. These can be destroyed without repurcussionssssss.” She was choosing which words to hiss on, for effect.

“Sure,” I said, spreading my arms and lifting the bubble wrap. “Let’s go with that.”

Trrili wasn’t done. “Each tiny section can be crusssshed individually, with precision, or multiples at once for maximum volume.” She glided forward on quieter feet than Zhee’s, and the others made room for her.

I held out the bubble wrap. “You want a turn?” Her pincher arms didn’t seem suited to it, but I was curious to see where she’d go with this.

“Plasssssse it on the floor.”

“Sure.” I flapped the row out in front of her like a red carpet, and she moved like the predator she was to crush one after the other. With precision. And shiny black bug feet.

It gave me an idea. “Hey, wanna see who’s faster?” I grabbed another section and laid it out to one side. “You’ve got more feet, but my shoes are bigger.”

Trrili spread her mandibles in her favorite creepy smile. “Challenge acssssssepted.” She crouched like a spider and waited for me to be ready.

I glanced back at the others. “Anybody else wanna race?”

Mur spun on his tentacles and scooted back into the ship. “No thanks! I’m going back where it’s quieter.”

“Me too,” Paint said. “But thank you!” She scampered off.

Blip and Blop looked at each other in silence for a moment, fins waving. Then they turned to me. “We’ll judge,” Blip announced.

“All right!” I said. I wrangled my own section of bubble wrap, roughly the same length as Trrili’s, and struck my own ready pose. “Say when!”

The twins chorused, “Start!” and we were off. Pops filled the air along with Trrili’s delighted hisses and my laughter. There were probably people staring, but that didn’t matter.

Maybe I could talk Trrili into a dance-off afterward. On whatever was left when one of us was declared the champion of small-scale, sanctioned violence.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[procyonloser]

He almost stepped in it, before Adam realized the little white glob was alive. He'd been heading home after playing a gig, annoyed at the drummer over some bullshit he couldn't remember, then it caught his eye. It just looked like a lump, a squishy looking pile on the sidewalk that could probably fit in his hand, like an abandoned ice cream scoop. But then it moved, just as Adam was starting to put his foot down, and eyes rolled over the side of it, to look up at him.

Adam cursed, stumbling to the side on the sidewalk to not crush it, before he peered down at it closer. He had wanted to be a biologist for awhile, took classes, but this fucking thing escaped his range of knowledge.

"Hello! Can you help me!" It asked, gooeing closer to Adam's foot, blinking big yellow eyes up at him.

"What the fuck... Am I tripping?" Adam asked himself, crouching down to look at the thing. It reminded him a bit of a Ditto, just a sentient little blob. "How you fuck are you talking?"

"I come from the heavens! I have fallen here, and I need help getting my strength back to return home!" It said, and Adam made a face. Fell from the heavens?

"So, what, I should call you Lucifer or something?" It blinked, before doing the equivalent of nodding.

"Yes, that is a nice terran name!" Lucifer said, as it truly sunk in on Adam that it was saying it was an alien. Adam reached over and poked the body, and found while jiggly, it was firmer than he was expecting, his fingers didn't just sink in. Lucifer made a sound like a giggle, and Adam thought of the Pillsbury dough boy.

"How do I help you get your strength back. You're tiny." Adam asked curiously.

"I'll get bigger, and then I can fly up to my ship. It is hidden from human equipment. But, all I need from you is either your saliva or non-waste bodily fluids." Lucifer said, and Adam paused for a long minute, trying to process what he'd just said.

"... Wait, what the fuck, you eat spit and jizz?" Adam exclaimed, glad no one else was on the street. Lucifer nodded again in agreement.

"Humans produce a hormone in their body that my body thrives on." Adam grimaced at the cheerful attitude the thing had.

"Well, I can't help with one of those. Do you know what being transgender means?" Lucifer stared, not getting the clue. "I am a man with a vagina, not a dick. I can't jizz like a someone with a dick. My best friend though, she's got a dick... But I think she'd rather skewer you than help." Adam hummed, tilting his head, picturing what Lute would do to Lucifer. Probably throw him down the garbage disposal.

Lucifer seemed to take no issue with what he'd said, "that's fine! Vaginal fluid is fine!"

Wait, what the fuck was he agreeing to again? He didn't want the weirdo anywhere near his junk!

"So... what do you want me to do?" Adam asked tentatively, and Lucifer rolled closer to his knee.

"Just pick me up and open your mouth!" Lucifer's eyes reappeared as he turned over, and Adam breathed out, counting to three, before holding his hand out to the thing. Lucifer was warm to the touch, which was a weird sensation in his hand. Solid, but not solid, a bit like a water balloon, but not with quite so much form.

"Okay, but... don't kill me." Adam said slowly, and Lucifer's eyes widened in shock.

"Never!"

Adam lifted Lucifer closer to his face and opened his mouth, revealing his tongue piercing. "Oh, how lovely!"

He didn't know what Lucifer was planning on doing to him, just getting a little saliva? That was gross and weird, but Adam could just ...spit on him instead, right?

Lucifer jumped up, and plunged the majority of his body into Adam's mouth and halfway down his throat. Adam fell backwards from where he was crouching, fingers going up to his face in shock and horror as the weight of Lucifer moved in him. He made a panicked noise as Lucifer began to pulsate on his tongue, pushing and pulling. His fingers tried to wrap around Lucifer, but his body just pushed further inside, until he was almost fully in his mouth, filling it out, and down his throat.

Adam leaned against the rock wall, eyes beginning to roll back. He couldn't breathe.

As quickly as it started, it ended, and Lucifer pulled himself out, and dropped down into Adam's lap, noticably slightly larger than he was before. Adam panted, and found his mouth full of some kind of slime, sticky, and coating his entire throat.

"What the fuck?" Adam asked hoarsely, still in shock. Lucifer began purring, or something like it in his lap.

"I take your saliva, then I create a substance that protects your mouth and throat, and that will trigger your body to produce more saliva. See, totally harmless!" Lucifer said. "The same will happen when I'm inside your vaginal corridor, there's no need to worry!"

Adam felt a shiver run down his spine.

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (41)

***

Life settles into a routine. Silco tends to wake early and check with the harbour master for the ships scheduled to arrive. They work in the mines, in the wide tunnels of level one while they wait for the engineers to return. They eat in the mess hall at night and spend the rest of the evening exploring their worthless land, marking out the edges of it and planning how to build.

The land itself is uneven and steep, a crevasse leading to the mine and impossible to climb to riverside. It's clearly been used by the mine as a garbage dump because they come across a pile of junk, stacked up high. There's old devices, cogs and gears. There's pieces of steel, the type used to reinforce the mining shafts. Broken bits of wood and broken tools. It's a pile of resources, a chance to build something here.

Vander gets the others to help them sort through it. They separate it into stacks of building materials and machinery pieces, and Vander laughs at Connol and Benzo arguing over the same wrench.

"What are you going to do here?" Felicia asks as Connol and Benzo keep squabbling.

Vander shrugs. "Build. Build a market, I guess."

"Build homes," Silco says. "Stop paying the company for everything."

"What? You're going to build a town here?" Felicia asks, laughing. "Your own little fiefdom?"

"Our own kingdom," Vander says, like something out of a fairytale. "Somewhere you could build a life."

Silco waves a sarcastic hand at the rubbish around them. "The grand nation of Zaun. Built from discarded scraps on worthless land."

"But it would be ours," Vander says. "And if we weren't paying half our wages back to the company every night, the mines wouldn't be so bad."

It's Benzo that pulls him aside later that night, falling into step with him as they walk back to the mine. "No one's going to sleep here. Be full of the Grey every morning."

"So we only build a market," Vander says quietly. Silco's deep in conversation with Connol, something about heights and riverside, but Vander doesn't want to discourage these dreams if he doesn't have to. "It's still something."

***

The engineers return from Piltover and everyone gets moved up to level one while they take control of the elevator. It leads to a lot of grumbling amongst the miners. There's too many people working the same tunnels, it's harder to work and harder to meet quota. Vander pools his efforts with Benzo and Felicia, and together they manage to scrape by.

He's relieved that Silco's working with the engineers, helping them dig and blast the elevator shaft deeper. He has a moment of guilt the first night, and asks Silco if they should be working together, if Vander should volunteer to work on the elevator shaft.

Silco rolls on top of him, eye glittering with amusement. "That depends. How hard will it be for you to resist punching them in the face?"

"It's a challenge," Vander says, as seriously as he can while Silco's lightly scraping his nails over Vander's chest. "But I think I could manage it."

"Even if they spend half an hour talking about how the berries this year have been disappointing and they're sure last year's was sweeter?" Silco lowers his mouth to Vander's skin, sucking a mark right above his heart.

"I could do it."

"And if they start talking about someone in this house courting someone in that house, and how last time one of them married, there were fireworks and doves?"

"At the same time? Were they trying to kill the birds?"

Silco smothers his laugh against Vander's chest. He doesn't get to hear Silco laugh enough.

"It could be a topside tradition," Vander continues and Silco snickers. "Freshly barbecued dove."

"I hope not."

"You can never tell with Pilties."

"With that attitude, you should stay on level one, if you're happy there."

***

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 20 - The Power of Thor

You smell a trap.

On AO3.

They took the tiefling girl, the one with the eye patch. You learn this once you join the others the next morning, body aching like they all took turns taking a baseball bat to your joints. Them ghouls killed a fair number of the harpers, too, though they didn’t take Sailor Moon.

They took the kid.

It takes about a quarter of a day (you think, it’s damn hard to tell with this Shar-induced gloom) to find Reithwin town. Sailor Moon’s jesus hands been keeping the creepy mist from reaching you—spectral fingers curl away from your face like smoke in the wind, if the smoke was audibly hateful and wanted to shred your skin off your meat.

Reithwin might’a been a pretty town, once. Pale stone chiseled into graceful arches and spindly columns. Traces of faded paint still linger—it must’a been colorful, once. There’s fragments of moon motifs everywhere—and only fragments, all of them rough, like somebody took a crowbar to any and all they could reach. Shadowheart looks downright smug about that. The fuck kinda goddess holds a grudge against the moon.

Ain’t much else to the place, except molding skeletons in disintegrating armor. Piles of rotten, picked over gear. There was a fight between harpers allied with druids, and Shadowheart’s forebears. It’s tied to the unkillable fuck, somehow.

Then y’all find the tollhouse. And the gold coins scattered around.

You know it’s a trap. The others know it’s a trap. Whole town picked clean, and gold coins just glittering in y’all’s torchlight? Then something goes tha-tha-thud upstairs hard enough dust and grit rain down, and it reminds you of them predatory plants with sweet nectar to bring bugs come a-sniffing.

It is a trap. Some big, golden lady thumps around upstairs. Demands a toll, which y’all hem and haw about. That, too, reeks of a trap, though you can’t put your finger on the why. In the end, y’all give up a gold coin.

That is also a trap. Because Big Bertha over there gives an audible whiff—a bear scenting out garbage in a can—pins y’all with her flat, golden-masked eyes, and says she smells more of it on y’all.

You’re a bigger girl. People think that means you can’t walk or move very fast and yeah, before you woke up on a butthole ship with a brainworm and started your very own death march across Middle fucking Narnia, that was partially true. But being fat and being outta shape ain’t the same thing. And when a big girl uses physics—her mass and speed—she manages to pack in a lot of energy. Wallops Karlach right into the side of a fucking bank vault so hard the foot-thick steel fucking dents.

It becomes a game of keep-away after that (while Shadowheart swoops in to lay her own jesus hands on y’all’s heavy hitter).

You manage to take down a floating fucking head that Big Bertha summons up. Turns out Lae’zel was right to give you that spear. It’s pretty good for jabbing wildly at things. You get your hit.

Then you get hit from the side. Electricity blasts just under your ribs and your muscles seize and your spear clatters to the ground. You’re right on the edge of a big, broken hole in the second story floor, staring down a thirteen-foot drop, and what the fuck is with this entire world and dropping you off things?

A blur of white and silver. Hard arms catch you and whirl you away from the hole. Spicy herbs fill your nose and Astarion hunches over you as he drops you onto your back.

He’s usually all sharp edges and catty smirks, mean smarm and overdramatic sarcasm. Lately, his face has taken on soft edges when he looks at you—lips not pressed into a thin line, eyes round, the sharp lines of his face easing into something less guarded.

Now, he’s all vampire. His eyes seem to glow a little red, lips pulled back to show his teeth. His gaze sweeps over you a second before flicking up to Big Bertha rampaging at Wyll and Lae’zel in a lethal game of tag.

“Can you drink this?” he says.

Healing potion.

You nod, teeth chattering. Only fumble it a few times before you can lift the spicy burn to your lips and chug it down.

He stays over you until you’re done. Both knives drawn, body almost vibrating. It…it does something. Makes you feel something you ain’t got the time (or the will, right now) to analyze.

Once you pick up yourself and your spear, he sizes you up again, gives a nod, and sprints for Bertha. Good god, the man moves fucking fast. Almost a blur as he streaks across the room. He dives feet-first, slides right between Bertha’s churning legs. His knives flash and metal shrieks. He takes out the backs of her knees. You ain’t sure if there’s flesh in there—there ain’t no blood.

Bertha crashes down. Only for a second, as she screams and lunges after him. Still moving, still a threat, take out the threat.

It’s long enough for Gale’s echoing voice to fill the air. Makes your teeth itch and raises all the little hairs up your arms and down your thighs. The others scramble clear—

“Peruro!”

The air flashes hot white. You close your eyes but it burns red through the lids. Then the shock wave hits. Smashes through you, rattles your lungs against your spine and knocks the air clean out. You stumble blind. Go down on your bad knee, which pops and pain lances up your leg.

The quiet following squeezes your head. Sound comes back muffled to hell. Dull. You blink your eyes open to find Shadowheart checking Lae’zel, whose mouth moves soundlessly. That’s when you feel the trickle down the side of your neck. Slap a hand up, and fingers come away red.

Oh cool. Gale done busted out your eardrums.

Astarion’s attention snaps to you, and you wonder if he’s keeping tabs, or if it’s the blood (it’s the blood, isn’t it, holy shit he just smells it). His mouth moves, too, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes at him before turning and coming over to you, Gale meandering not far behind.

“I do apologize,” y’all’s wizard says once Shadowheart’s magic washes through your skull and swats out all the bees humming around. Man winces a little as you wipe at your neck (Astarion, lurking to the side stares. Would it be weird to offer it to him? You suspect it might weird out the others). “I’ve been experimenting with my magic and the limitations our cranial occupants seem to set. Hadn’t realized a good old lightning bolt would produce quite that effect.”

The effect being the smoking pieces of singed, golden armor and what smells like burnt, rancid pork jerky strewn everywhere. Along with a fucking heap of gold coins that exploded out of Bertha.

“I mean, it worked,” you say and nudge a piece of armor that flops over to show steaming meat. You look away.

“It did,” Gale says, that wide smile trembling around the edges. You’re pretty sure man is suppressing a full on geek out. “Which I find incredibly encouraging. And not just for myself, mind you. I am a most talented wizard—an archmage, as we call it—but I’ve found my access to the Weave distressingly limited.”

“That’s comcast for you,” you mutter, because you just got electrocuted like, twice.

Gale’s too busy being a nerd to pick up on that, bless him. “But I suspect our stowaways are either adapting to their hosts, or may even be weakening.”

Like a virus. Like a nasty virus that wipes out a new host population before it tames itself and ratchets down the lethality so it doesn’t burn through the host population and kill itself.

“Which could have interesting implications for you, my friend,” Gale says.

Your dud ass.

Except…

“If I’m adapting to y’all’s world,” you say. “I might also be fighting the brainworm? A double stack limitation?”

“Precisely.”

Huh. Magic.

You look again to the pieces of Big Bertha. It’d be real nice to catch a fucking break for once. Maybe enough you could heal your own ass.

Y’all gather up y’all’s dumped bags and gear (and the coins not lying in piles of cooked viscera—well, most of you: Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel don’t seem to mind the gore). As you dump your non-slimy coins into your pack—holy fucking shit, this is more money than you ever held before—you catch Gale watching you. His lips purse.

“I realize this may be a sensitive topic for you,” he says. “But as we may soon find ourselves face to face with the Absolute, I would ask about your exact experience with such things? If only because we’ll soon be facing a decision on how to tackle this particular issue.”

He’s smiling. A bit guarded, a bit curious, you think. Not trying to pry or be a general dick. They only got the vaguest idea. Seems like they’re familiar enough with each other’s pantheon, but you’re the wild card. The foreigner.

He ain’t the only one snooping, neither. Half the damn party’s got magic pointed ears. And while most of them seem fine minding their own business, Shadowheart ain’t even trying to hide her eavesdropping.

You sigh. Catch Astarion watching as his brainworm nudges yours and the image of a knife drawing across your cleric’s throat flashes. Excitement fills you as she thrashes and gurgles in your grasp. The delicious, heady scent of so much rich, partially elven blood spilling down her front and surely you wouldn’t mind if you had just a little taste—

He’s asking if you want him to murder her.

Your panic-face seems to quell that thought, though. The man shrugs and resumes cleaning his weapons. Flashes Shadowheart a downright obsequious smile when she picks up on something and glances his way.

Logically, Gale’s right. Classic Sun Tzu shit—knowing yourself and the enemy and all. Y’all do not know y’all’s enemy all that well. Which means y’all need to know each other so y’all don’t get outright murdered.

But that means actually spilling your guts. To all of them.

Fuck. Fucking fuckshit mcfuckity fuck.

You cannot explain it to most people back home. You learned real quick other people don’t understand, can’t understand. How easy it is. How all-consuming it is. The horror, yes, but also the good parts. The way all them people was your people come hell or high water. Y’all were Chosen. Blessed. The Righteous, and everybody else in the whole world was beneath you. That while y’all had to face your own tribulations and wrestle with your own sin, y’all would one day reign in peace and love and glory.

How bad you wanted it, sometimes. How even when the backs of your thighs throbbed and stung after a switching, when your belly ached from hunger or your hands cracked and bled, you’d close your eyes in your bunk, surrounded by the breathing of your sleeping sisters, and you’d curl your face into your wet pillow and weep for the love of the lord.

People got a hard time with that.

But somewhere around here is a fortress filled with psychic brainworms, and getting killed at this point—by another fucking cult no less—would be fucking embarrassing.

So you sigh again. Tie up your pack and move outta the stinking debris field. Stop once you reach the first floor and wait as the others file down after you. Then you set down your pack, plonk down on top of it, and clasp your hands tight in your lap.

“Mother came for me when I was four or five,” you say.

[tinyraptorhands]

Just A Spark pt. 2

-Makings of a Home-

Unpacking 23 years of your life into a small, two room apartment (minus the small bathroom) seemed easy enough.

Well. Turns out the furniture you bought and sent over was still in transit, and all you could sleep on was a pile of blankets. So, you immediately had to figure out the nearest super store to find yourself a futon (they cost how much!?).

You settled for a cheap sleeping bag, and bought some nice pillows.

So living out of boxes and your suitcases it was. Thankfully, you had somewhat a sense of mind to not pack everything you had back in America.

It gave you an excuse to buy new things, and a way to map out your new home city, Musutafu.

You had come during the spring, during the start of a new school year for Japanese students. March boasted budding cherry blossom trees, cool yet comfortable air and the sense of new beginnings. As you opened up your apartment window, you inhaled the fresh air that circulated through. You noted the busy streets below, the urge to yell out 'good morning world' warming in your throat.

Musutafu was as busy as Tokyo, and densely populated with heroes and villains alike. Apparently it boasts the most villain activity in Japan.

That wasn't new to you, seeing as you grew up in a similar type of city. Densely populated, lots of villain and hero stuff, the usual fair when dealing with crowded cities.

But at least people were kind. Once they saw you, they noticed your accent and looks and instantly began to practice English on you-only to be impressed you could speak Japanese.

And of course, you also had the odd, rude xenophobic person-but that was to be expected as well.

But you handled it all with a smile. It was a drop in the bucket compared to how nice and accommodating everyone was. Hell, even your landlord was a sweetheart!

Your landlord was an old woman named Hikari Midoriya, with greying blue hair, who offered to have her son; Hisashi Midoriya, move in some old furniture for you while you waited for your own to be shipped. You didn't want to impose, but she was stubborn.

"You can't live out of boxes and sleep on the hard floor, dear!" She had said, pushing another Tupperware full of sweet mochi into your arms. Another one, filled with strawberries (daifuku, she called it;) rested on the small kitchen counter behind you from a previous visit.

"Are you sure? I couldn't possibly impose-"

"Nonsense! A young girl all on her own, in a new country, sleeping like a homeless person? I couldn't bare one of my tenants living like this!" She smiled, patting your back. "Take the help when you need it, deary! Besides, it's old furniture! I was going to thow it out anyhow! And my son just recently retired! He used to work over in America, you know."

You bowed politely over and over, and she chuckled as you profusely thanked her.

"Just make me an apple pie! An authentic American pie!" She said, smiling.

She also talked about her grandson. "Hes an amazing boy! He's a pro hero! A quirkless one! The first of his kind! ...I think!" She said. You smiled as you listened.

"Oh, what's his hero name?"

"The One For All Hero, Deku!"

Hm. That sounded familiar. You brushed it off. You never really paid attention to the Hero scene, let alone in the one in Japan. You supposed that would have to change, seeing as where you were teaching was a hero school.

"His friend, ah...I think his name is Dynamight! I play shogi with his grandmother, Mai Bakugo-"

As she prattled on about her various hero connections, you listened half heartedly. You poured her some tea from the kettle she gave you, and handed her a cup, along with some daifuku on a plate.

She chatted about inane things; like your neighbors, who had the best fish in the downtown wet market, where to get the best foods, the garbage collection schedule...and then something you dreaded talking about came up.

Because, of course it did.

"Oh, my grandson-Izuku, the hero. He recently found his soulmate!"

Oh boy, here we go.

"The boy was born quirkless as I've said, but thankfully he had a soul mate mark! A little swirl! He had it on his palm, and wouldn't you know it! His soul mate was right in front of his eyes! He went to high school with her!"

You humored her as you both sat on some throw pillows you bought. "Thats so neat." You smiled, sipping your tea.

"Have you found yours?" She asked. You shook your head.

"Oh, no. I'm much too busy at the moment-"

"Oh dear! You'll find them, I'm sure!" She winked. "Its when you least expect it!"

You gave her a small smile.

"Its probably not going to happen. I moved too far away." You said, pouring more tea.

Hikari clicked her tongue. "Never say never! It's rare, but you can find your soul mate outside of where you were born!"

You chuckled half heartedly. "I guess."

'Not if I can help it.' You thought to yourself.

"Anyway, I'll have Hisashi come by with the furniture. Maybe I can get my grandson to help as well!"

Hisashi was a nice man. He had greying black hair, and warm greenish brown eyes. Unfortunately, his illustrious son could not make it, which he wouldn't shut up about.

"My son is amazing!"

"He helped during that nasty war in Japan eight years ago-"

"His friends are amazing too! Why, his one friend, Katsuki-"

"Did you know his super suit-"

You nodded politely, the man clearly loved his son. "I couldn't be around for him all that much due to work, but I try to be the best father I can be! I'll have to introduce you sometime!" He said as you both set down an old worn couch. It was grayish blue, and threadbare in some places. But it would do.

Faaaaabulous. Its not that you didn't want to meet the hero.

But honestly, you had enough of hero talk for the day. And here you thought Japanese people were quiet by nature.

You offered Hisashi and Hikari some tea (pretty much the only thing you could offer besides tap water-a big no no apparently), but they declined, citing your need for rest and Hikari's hip was acting up. Hisashi also mentioned coming by if you needed any repairs and the like. You were grateful, as you shut the door behind them.

And so, there you were with some moth ball smelling furniture (the couch, an old mattress, a nightstand and a small coffee table) amidst a sea of cardboard.

You slurped on some instant curry ramen, sitting at the coffee table that night and watched Japanese variety shows.

It was times like this you reflected on your decision.

There was absolutely no way you would meet your soul mate in Japan. You chewed on a still slightly undercooked piece of potato.

The odds were zero.

They had to be.

You sighed, setting down the ramen cup.

'Maybe I should start looking at places to buy food...' you thought, grabbing your phone.

After all, that apple pie you promised Hikari wasn't gonna make itself...

"And she's all the way from America!" Mai crowed, as Mitsuki passed her mother-in-law some rice. "Hikari says she'll invite her over to play some shogi. I havent met her yet, but she made a bunch of apple pies! Hikari gave me one."

"Thats so sweet." Mitsuki smiled, and Masaru nodded.

"A young person making the move all across the ocean for a dream job, hm?" Masaru said softly. "Sounds like a go-getter." He nodded. "Couldn't have been easy."

"Sounds like a load of bullshi-" Katsuki was thwacked by Mitsuki and Mai's hands. "Ow!"

Just another day at the Bakugo's. Mai Bakugo, Masaru's mother had stopped by with some apple pie. Courtesy of Hikari's new tenant.

"Watch your tone, young man." Mai said simply.

"Seriously, brat. Get over yourself." Mitsuki said, spooning Masaru more rice.

"I didn't have to come visit, y'know!" Katsuki reminded them, stuffing some grilled fish in his mouth.

"We appreciate it, son." Masaru said, smiling kindly.

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

Katsuki didn't hate visiting. But he definitely was reminded how much he enjoyed having his own place.

As soon as dinner was done, out came the apple pie.

"Oh, it's gorgeous!" Mitsuki said. Masaru nodded.

Katsuki looked at it. It looked like a pie. That was it. Mai beamed. "She said to heat it up a little and put some ice cream on top. Vanilla."

"So that's why you had me buy ice cream..." Masaru said, going to the kitchen. Katsuki huffed.

"Its probably just gonna taste too sweet." The young man said, folding his arms across his chest. No one paid any mind to him as Mitsuki began to slice even amounts onto some plates, and took them into the kitchen for heating.

Soon, Katsuki was faced with a warm apple pie, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream dripping lazily down the golden crust.

"Well! Let's see how it tastes!" Mai said, everyone except Katsuki digging in. Katsuki grimaced. It was like back in U.A. all over again, trying Sato's pies and sweets really killed any desire for sugary confections.

But why the hell not? He sighed, and dug in.

Woah.

Caramelized apples burst on his tongue, a decadent flavor that was sweet, but also had a barest hint of a salty flavor. Sea salt? The crust was buttery and rich, but not overbearing as the crisp and flakey texture balanced out the soft and gooey apple filling. The vanilla ice cream added a mellow flavor to the sharp apple taste.

The pie was amazing.

He thought Sato had baking down to a science.

This? This was pure poetry. A work of art.

"Katsuki?" Mai called out to him a third time.

"Mmfh?" He looked up, his mouth still full. The others looked at him with a knowing smile.

"How was the pie?" Masaru asked.

"...s'fine." He said quietly, setting his fork down. He looked at his cleaned plate, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Damn.

"You want seconds?" Mitsuki asked, grinning.

"...Fine." Katsuki huffed.

You were glad Hikari was able to take the extra pies off your hands. Honestly, you always had a bad habit of over baking and over cooking things, making double the amount you should need. But that was fine. It made meal prepping easier. And in this case, gift giving was easier, too. Hikari passed it on to her other tenants, (your neighbors), and even to her family and friends.

Okay, so you baked alot more than necessary.

But you were bored.

You mapped out the neighborhood, the local shops and eateries. You did all the necessary shopping.

You even squared away your new bank and bank card, and got yourself a train pass.

All that was left was setting out your professional working clothes and preparing yourself for your new career.

You quadruple checked the U.A. map, the schedule for teachers and students alike, even practiced your introductions.

There was nothing left for you to do except relax. And that was fine. You flicked on the T.V., and decided to start dinner.

As you cooked, (a simple stir fry, you were still leery of the rice cooker Mai had given you-it was her grandson's apparently. It looked like it had seen better days;) You listened to the t.v. play in the background.

"Pro Hero Dynamight and One For All Hero Deku have yet again saved the day! Stopping villain Leviathan in record time! Oh! Here's the explosive hero now! Pro hero Dyna-"

"I ain't got time for interviews!" You heard a sharp voice say.

You chuckled, your back to the T.V.. He sounded like a real 'piece of work', as your dad would say.

"But Dynamight! Japan wants to know-"

"Shove it! I got better things to do! Deku! We're heading out-" without looking, you took the remote and clicked the TV to some random anime.

"Talk about a headache..." you muttered.

Those names though...didn't Hikari and Hisashi say something about them?

You couldn't really remember. It must've not been important anyways.

-Fate Weaves and Plots-

@crimsonrubie

[tutlessss]

So what have the Scraps been doing before they all met (or met again in Molten and Baby’s case)

So the Scraps were pretty much scattered across Utah before eventually all settling right nearby the latest Fazbear location!

Molten Freddy

Molten spent most of his months living in and wandering the underground sewers. He didn't mind how gross it was and actually found it comforting as it kind of reminded him of the bunker they all came from. He spent his days wandering, finding cool junk, playing with rats and watching city life from the cracks below. The sewer also had tons of underground electrical boxes connecting to various buildings, which allowed him to recharge whenever he felt himself running low on power. (He left large scratch marks behind on them, which freaked the hell out of any workers who came down for maintenance.)

He also stayed down there to avoid humans as he was very afraid of what they would do if he was ever discovered. That and the sewers were a good spot to avoid most of the elements.

Emphasis on most, as he finally left when a heavy storm nearly flooded the entire system, and he had no choice but to finally make it to the surface.

Scraptrap

After Fazbear Frights burnt to a crisp, Scraptrap adapted to his situation and resorted to living in the shadows of Utah's streets and alleyways. During the day, he hid in abandoned buildings and waited for night, where he would come out, mostly because he needed food (human corpse and organs and all that).

He got his food mostly by grabbing whatever he can from the garbage, or stealing from any poor sap who left a window open to their kitchen. He didn't care if it was cooked or rotten, as long as it was technically edible.

He avoids humans for obvious reasons, and wishes to avoid conflict as much as possible. But the very few times he was seen by some random passerby at the dead of night...well, he has some unfortunate blood on his hands, to say the least.

He was also the first of the group Molten met, after he helped Scrap escape a group of people that were trying to catch evidence of "The Utah Cryptids".

Scrapbaby

On the outskirts of the city was a junkyard, and in that junkyard was where Scrapbaby lived. After being ripped out by Ennard and tossed into the rivers of the sewer, Baby miraculously found herself in the yard filled with piles of unwanted garbage and scrap.

After a lot of angst & mood swings, she eventually rebuilt herself, adopted her "punk girl" persona and basically lived the hell out of her life in the yard. Breaking stuff, vandalizing the buildings on the property, and playing rock music on a radio she found. No struggles anywhere to be found.

Until one night she saw a notice sign suddenly appear on the front gate, and read that in a few weeks, her paradise was scheduled for demolition since basically nobody used it. So feeling pissed she decided to search for a new place to crash early and wandered into Utah at the dead of night looking.

Instead of finding a place that night however, she instead found her old "friends" and a cranky rabbit.

Lefty

As far as Lefty knows, he was simply produced from a factory and shipped to the pizzeria. That's what it said in his box after all.

Which makes his strange visions of being built in a secluded workshop by an unidentifiable man, breaking into an auction house, and laying lifeless in the forest...kinda puzzling. He really wonders a lot about where he came from, why he can't feel emotions all that well, and what his purpose is.

Well, one night when he was outside pondering on those thoughts and eating alone, he met 3 strange individuals in the alleyway.

[selfship-confession-box]

Feels like every time I consider rejoining the selfship community proper, I see someone getting piled on for having a 'problematic' F/O (usually, y'know, a villain who's done villainous shit because they're a villain). In realistic settings I guess I get it, when a character is *just* intended to be a realistic depiction of a vile person (which I handle myself with the block button rather than siccing my followers on people who make me uncomfortable with their taste) but it has me so on edge to see people being treated like garbage when they're clearly not condoning anything terrible that happened in canon, just shipping with a character they usually openly admit sucks. I wouldn't ever fit with the prosh!p crowd as I don't take joy in being controversial and upsetting people or support adult/minor ships etc, but as someone with OCD-like symptoms 'my side' is becoming just as stressful and I can't live with the fear of them nitpicking every bad thing my F/Os did like they're trying to catch me out, feeling like if someone's limits are different to my own I'm going to get them at best vagueing and at worst inviting strangers to harass me or turning my existing mutuals against me. I respect you guys' commitment to keeping the space safe, but I can't help thinking it's gone too far. As much as I like this community for the most part, it's just easier to stick to fandom blogs as at least everyone already knows what the characters are like and the worst I can get sideeyed for is being cringe.

.