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yakkolicious-writing · 3 months

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The Obituary

"Graveyard at Night" by Rennett Stowe, Modifications: Resized to 3000x1055 pixels is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Fandom: Animaniacs Central Relationship: Yakko, Dot, & Wakko Warner Wordcount: 2,612 words Summary: Yakko knew something was off about today, and he was right. Today, a certain "special friend" of the Warners, one Yakko didn't like to think about, made his way into the morning paper, forcing Yakko to confront his regrets with how he dealt with the situation. With Dot and Wakko's love and support, can Yakko realize that one mistake, no matter how severe, does not determine his worth as a person? Warnings: This story discusses death and uncomfortable implications of "Chairman of the Bored," a segment of Animaniacs 1993. Rating: T. Not suitable for younger audiences.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56754184

This is probably the single most angsty fic I've written. Lately I've been struggling to continue Animaniacs (I actually haven't seen the full series yet), but Chairman of the Bored is my single least favorite segment, mostly because of Pip Pumphandle, the special friend the Warners have in that episode. If you haven't seen Chairman of the Bored yet... brace yourself. It's something, to say the least. I wrote this fic to give myself some closure so I can get back to watching the show. I hope you enjoy this!

There was something off about today. Yakko didn’t know what it was, but he could just tell something was off. Everything seemed normal in Burbank today: the morning sky was a peaceful light blue, the sun shone just as brightly as it always did, the birds sang happily, and the Warner Bros. staff were just as busy as ever. Surely anyone else would’ve said this was a normal day. If the day seemed so normal though, then why did Yakko feel like something strange was going to happen?

Yakko jumped out of the tower and grabbed the morning newspaper. Yakko liked to stay informed, and his way of doing that was reading newspapers. Maybe it was a little old-fashioned, but he liked the way the papers felt in his hands, and seeing the words in print made them easier for him to take in. Yakko smiled at his unread paper before jumping back up to the water tower and opening the door. He saw Wakko and Dot sitting at the kitchen table. Wakko was busy scarfing down a copious number of grapes, while Dot adjusted the cute little yellow flower in her ears: normal sibling stuff. Yakko closed the door behind him and grinned at the paper.

“Morning paper!” Yakko exclaimed in a singsong voice.

“Yeah yeah,” Dot said, “you got your newspaper.”

“Sis, it’s important to keep up with world events and the news,” Yakko explained, “it keeps ya smart, and knowledge is power.”

“But it’s so depressing!” Wakko whined.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Yakko replied, “but sometimes there’s something sweet in here! Or something really satisfying.”

“Satisfying.” As Yakko said that, he felt his stomach drop. Why? It was just a word. What was his body trying to tell him? Should he not have said that? Was something satisfying going to happen? Was something unsatisfying going to happen? There were so many things that it could be that it just left Yakko confused and worried. This day was shaping up to be anything but normal, and not in the “having fun with his siblings” kind of way.

Yakko sighed and opened the newspaper. As he flipped through the black-and-white pages, he saw the usual stuff: political news, the weather, sports coverage, comics with art styles that screamed that they’ve been going for a while, and the daily crossword puzzle, Yakko’s favorite. Yakko took a moment to examine the crossword and its clues for a moment, his tail wagging as he did so. Dot looked over at Yakko, saw his tail wagging, and giggled.

“Aw, does Yakko love his crosswords?” Dot asked.

Yakko promptly grabbed his tail and only let go when he was certain it had stopped wagging, not saying a word to Dot. Then, he resumed looking through the newspaper. Eventually, Yakko saw the obituaries. Obituaries, though not as gloomy as the political news, were still quite depressing. Usually, Yakko would skim through the obituaries with a frown before moving onto something else, just so he could have the knowledge, and that’s what he tried to do today. Yakko looked at the obituaries and saw if there was anything interesting. At first, everything seemed normal: a seventy-eight-year-old man who died of a heart attack, a ninety-year-old woman who passed peacefully in her sleep, a forty-two-year-old father who died of cancer. Yakko didn’t know any of these people, but they seemed like fine people who were very loved, and he felt sorry for their loved ones. This is why the obituaries were so gloomy: it was always the better people who ended up on those pages. Sometimes someone who was a bit more morally dubious ended up on the pages, but it wasn’t too common.

As Yakko read through the obituaries, he saw something unusually interesting. A sixty-three-year-old man was hit by a bus. His eyes bulged, alerting Wakko and Dot.

“What did you find, Yakko?” Dot asked.

“This is the most interesting obituary I’ve read in a while,” Yakko began, “this old guy got hit by a bus!”

“Whoa!” Wakko said.

“Is there anything else?” Dot asked.

“Let me see,” Yakko replied.

Yakko began to read the obituary in more detail.

“He was hit by a bus on July 15th,” he began, “he was known for his rich life experiences and his strong desire for human connection. Family members remember his stories about his many meetings with celebrities fondly for how they aided their sleep. In his spare time, he could be found socializing at parties and bonding with people over cheese balls.”

The Warners’ faces sunk. Now, Yakko knew why today felt so off. Yakko read the title of the obituary. It read “Pumphandle, Francis ‘Pip.’” He looked at the photograph next to the obituary, and there was Pip’s face. The same droopy eyelids, slightly wrinkled face, and bald spot on the top of his head as there was when the Warners first had the misfortune of meeting him. Wakko and Dot leaned over to read the newspaper, and they saw Pip’s photograph as well.

“Pip died?!” Wakko asked.

“Looks like it,” Yakko answered.

“He was so young!” Dot cried, “well, actually, not really, but still.”

“Whoever wrote this sounds like they couldn’t come up with a lot of nice things to say about him,” Wakko said.

“Yeah, I think you’re right, Wakko,” Yakko replied, “seriously, who would actually put that he ‘bonds with people over cheese balls’ in an obituary unless you had nothing really nice to say about him but don’t want to be mean? That’s like saying a cult leader had great people skills!”

The Warners smiled and laughed at Yakko’s joke and how ridiculous the obituary was. However, after a moment, Yakko’s smile faded into a frown and his laughter died. He looked away from his siblings as they hooted and hollered, Dot occasionally cackling like a witch on helium. Wakko and Dot didn’t seem to notice that Yakko stopped laughing, and when Yakko noticed that, he sighed. He handed the newspaper to Dot, who took it without hesitation, and sat crisscross on the sofa.

Yakko had a lot of feelings about the day they met Pip. To say that day was a good one for him and his siblings would be the worst lie ever told. Pip would not stop talking about the time he met Bob Barker, and he would do anything to finish his story. When the Warners tried to leave, Pip was on the bus they were on. When they got home, Pip was inside the water tower. The Warners got no sleep that night thanks to Pip. Pip even decided he would take part in their bedtime routine at the same time as the Warners. Why Pip thought that was a good idea is a mystery that Yakko will never know the answer to. What Yakko did know was that Pip decided to sit in the bathtub with him and Wakko, and when it was time for bed, Pip had claimed Wakko’s bed before Wakko could, forcing the brothers to share Yakko’s. The Warners didn’t do anything to Pip other than make sarcastic jokes at his expense: he wasn’t outright hostile to them in the way a lot of unscrupulous figures they met were. Even then, Pip was so determined to tell his story that he didn’t seem to care that the Warners didn’t like him. Pip eventually left, but the silence he left was so deafening that the Warners chased him down, begging for another story: they didn’t find him, much to Yakko’s relief looking back.

It was only after Pip had been gone for a few days that Yakko let what he did to him and his siblings sink in. Pip had basically stalked him and his siblings, got in the bath with him and Wakko, and stole Wakko’s bed all for a story that ended in Bob Barker eating a bologna and cheese ball sandwich. Yakko was horrified that he let this happen. The Warners didn’t have any trusted adults in their lives. The closest was Dr. Scratchansniff, but he could be a killjoy sometimes. Yakko wouldn’t dare tell Scratchansniff about Pip anyways: it would only tell him that he was a failure of an older brother. Without any trusted adults, Yakko was often seen as the guardian of the Warners. He didn’t like to be seen as a father figure, just a cool older brother, and Wakko and Dot helped to take care of him too some days, but as the oldest of the Warners, he felt it was his job to make sure the chaos that he and his siblings got into wasn’t too much for them. This was absolutely too much. By not hitting Pip with a mallet or crushing him with an anvil when he had the chance, Yakko put not only himself, but also his siblings in danger. Most days, Yakko tried not to think about it, but now, Pip was relevant again. He was gone, but he only recently died, meaning that Yakko had to think about Pip and their fateful meeting once more. He hated thinking about it. It was a cruel reminder that something needed to be done, but nothing was done. For Yakko, it made him feel like the worst person on the planet.

It was only when Dot realized she was holding the newspaper that she realized that Yakko moved. She stopped laughing and looked around the tower before seeing Yakko on the couch. She elbowed Wakko to get him to stop laughing, and he too looked at Yakko.

“What’s wrong, Yakko?” Wakko asked.

“Why’d you move?” Dot added.

“I’m thinking about when we met Pip,” Yakko said, “how he wouldn’t stop shaking our hands… we traded each other off… we tried to run away from him but he followed us home… he… he got in the bath with me and Wakko! He stole Wakko’s bed! And I did nothing about it!”

Wakko and Dot’s eyes switched focus between each other and Yakko as he ranted. Yakko’s eyes filled with tears, and his fists were clenched in balls of rage. Why did he let that happen? Why did he put his siblings in so much danger? How could he sleep at night? Yakko got up, stormed to his room, and slammed the door behind him. Wakko and Dot’s eyes shrunk when they heard the slam. They exchanged glances, but those glances were all they needed to know that they knew what they needed to do. They jumped out of their chairs and ran to Yakko’s room. They knocked incessantly, Wakko with both of his fists.

“Yakko, open the door!” Wakko cried.

“We’ll bust down your door if we have to,” Dot began, “and then we’ll replace it, because we love ya!”

Dot and Wakko only stopped knocking when they heard Yakko’s footsteps. Yakko opened the door. He looked a lot more tired than he did before he ran off. His eyelids drooped, as did his slightly reddened face. His frown looked plastered on, and it caused his entire face to sag. Wakko and Dot both gave Yakko their best puppy eyes.

“Can we come in?” Dot asked.

“Sure,” Yakko said, “why not.”

Yakko walked back into his room, Dot and Wakko not far behind. Yakko plopped onto his bed, grabbed his pillow, put it against his face, and began to scream into it. Wakko sat next to Yakko and patted his back gently. Dot stood up with her arms crossed.

“Jeez, Yakko, you’re a mess,” she said.

“Dot!” Wakko glared at his little sister.

“OK, OK, maybe that was a little mean,” Dot said, “I’m sorry, Yakko. It’s just… I’ve never seen you this upset before.”

Yakko lifted his head from the pillow and sniffled.

“I hate myself,” Yakko said.

“Don’t hate yourself, Yakko!” Wakko replied, “we’re not mad at you.”

“You should be,” Yakko began, “I’m supposed to be looking out for you guys. Of course, we’re all supposed to look out for one another, it’s what good siblings do, but… I shouldn’t have let him so close to us. I understand he wasn’t exactly a jerk in the same way a lot of the people we meet are, but there’s a point that shouldn’t be crossed, and Pip crossed that point and we did nothing about it. I did nothing about it…”

Dot put her hand on Yakko’s shoulder. He looked at her and sniffled.

“Yakko,” Dot explained, “we’re not mad at you. That was a long time ago. None of us knew what to do with Pip. He was just so… strange, you know?”

“Yeah,” Yakko replied.

“You know, I was mad at you in the moment when you swapped our hands out and made me listen to Pip,” Dot said, “but I don’t think I would’ve done anything differently than you, especially since I swapped myself out for Wakko.”

“Yeah, you did do that,” Wakko replied, “but I probably would’ve swapped myself for one of you two if I had to talk to him first. After eating all those cheese balls, that is.”

Dot, Wakko, and Yakko chuckled, Yakko wiping a tear from his eyes with his finger.

“I just… I just wish things went a little differently that day,” Yakko said.

“Pip drove us crazy, Yakko,” Dot replied, “when he finally left us alone, we wanted to hear more from him! For some reason!”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Yakko agreed, “but either way, we’ve got each other now, and Pip… well, considering what happened that one time we were in Sweden, I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon.”

Wakko and Dot hugged Yakko as tightly as they could. Yakko smiled at each of them for a moment before wrapping his arms around them as well and closing his eyes. The Warners hugged each other for ten minutes straight until they decided they had enough.

“I think I’ve had enough news for one day,” Yakko said.

“Me too,” Wakko added, “all that thinking made me hungry.”

“But you just had a ton of grapes!” Dot replied.

“I know! I’m hungrier now!” Wakko explained.

“I’m a bit, uh, too shaken, right now, to uh, make breakfast or anything like that,” Yakko began, “so why don’t we get dressed up and go out for waffles or something?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Wakko answered.

“Sounds like a plan to me!” Dot added.

Wakko and Dot ran out of Yakko’s room, and Yakko beamed. He couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t change his feelings. If Yakko could make it so he and his siblings never met Pip Pumphandle, he’d do it in a heartbeat. However, that wasn’t the way the world worked. Life was full of experiences, some fun and others not so much. All that Yakko could do was be the best older brother he could be. He felt he wasn’t perfect by any means, but even after what had happened with Pip, Wakko and Dot still loved him dearly, and that was enough for him. Whether Yakko deserved forgiveness or not was something he wasn’t sure if he would ever know, but if Wakko and Dot felt he did, then that meant the world. Pip was gone now, but Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were still here, together, on the Warner Bros. movie lot, in the water tower, just the three of them. Now, they could enjoy some waffles together, and hopefully, Yakko could move on from the day he and his siblings had the misfortune of meeting Pip. It wouldn’t be easy, but with the two best younger siblings he could ask for by his side, Yakko knew that he had people to lean on.

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m3rkur3 · 2 years

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in this 5am post i talk about how i feel about the Rusty Quill allegations and (inexplicably) how using an anarchist co-op approach in the industry could maybe possibly potentially have not allowed these issues to happen (from experience!)

honestly please read cuz now i want to start a podcasting co-op and it would be great if others did too.

i really loved tma (until plot>statements cuz i can't really follow the plot that much and i much prefer anthology horror that only hints at a wider plot and this is quite a long tangent actually) so this is kinda disappointing fr.

as someone who works in an anarchist co-op it's interesting to see how business who start out with horizontal leadership & pay devolve into full-on capitalist practices. is this inevitable? can i trust in the process? our bar, for example, works. at least, that's what it looks like to me. we're all paid the same, we all have equal rights within the business, we all have a stake in it, even though we all do very different jobs: bartending, hosting, talent-sourcing, sound-tech...ing. but i guess a massive difference is intent. from the start, the bar had a mission: prove that a business model like ours can work in parallel with capitalist businesses, creating networks of anarchist businesses, federation stuff etc etc, spread the anti-capitalist, if not explicitly anarcho-communist message throughout the city. a local bakery/cafe is also doing just that and they are fricking booming tbqh, it's remarkable.

with rusty quill, it's not a co-op, it's a capitalist business. hence the CEO. could the bar scale to this level and keep its core mission intact? well, i guess another difference is the fact that not only do we not expect to scale in that way, neither are we gonna franchise. it doesn't make sense. our aim would be to help other upcoming co-ops and related create their OWN co-ops, not come under our wing and become a massive co-op. is it possible to create a workers co-op in the podcasting world? pay everyone the same wage but keep that wage a healthy amount above minimum wage? No bosses, just people who do it because even in the hard times its what they WANT to do. Any creative job could be like that under a different system.

underneath this cut i go into a little detail of what i think a rudimentary podcasting co-op would look like and how it solves at least 1 (one) of RQs missteps and honestly i did not expect to talk about this and its 5am so it's a bit of a ramble but tldr; i think its possible and (obvs i'm biased) much preferable. given the time, interested people, and literally any knowledge of podcasting, would try to implement. tldr 2: capitalism sucks and it will kill everything you love if you're not paying attention.

I mean that's what we're trying to do. We are a grassroots music venue in a place that people never consider when they think about the country's culture. and yet we've managed to be a hotspot for people who've heard about us from word-of-mouth whenever our city is mentioned. yes, in general we have shit advertising but what works works lmfao.

so back to RQ: my point is it literally doesn't have to be like that. the music industry, from local venues to big studios, is extremely exploitative and such a scummy example of capitalism at work but WE MANAGED! Against the odds, a blooming spot in a tired, dying town. Can other industries do the same? Can podcasters do the same?

What would be the issue? What are the differences that make it more or less difficult? What issues befell RQ? Mismanagement and lack of communication? In a co-op, would this be fixed? I would venture a tentative "yes", because you no longer rely on a central body to have these discussions. You are the decision maker, as is everyone in the business. If it's "we should raise our pay", everyone else can say "well we want to pay for this studio or that bit of advertising, maybe we shouldn't" or they can say "yes, good idea because we have this surplus and can afford to spend less on this kind of microphone" or whatever. Everyone votes to change an established reality, and if there's a consensus, we go ahead! If it's a query that would affect only YOU and YOUR production, guess what? you need ask NO ONE!

This is just one of the ways in which i see a way out for this industry. Eventually, capitalism will come for every last one of our beautiful, independent podcasts. It's obviously already happening. And then the monopolization of it all into one, formless, Disney blob. Podcasts, one of the last bastions of high-quality, widely accessible art that so many people love and anyone can create, succumbing to the maw of the approaching terror that is the death of creativity at the behest of the invisible hand. This isn't about Rusty Quill anymore, really. I am just advocating for one of my favorite things to wrest itself from its destiny before it becomes nothing. All we'll have are the podcasts that made us think and feel decades ago:(

This became me just telling everyone to form co-ops. Also join the IWW - it's a massive international workers union. kill capitalism before it kills the things you love. do things today that make sure those things can continue being a light tomorrow. honestly, if making a podcasters co-op is viable then pls someone do it, i know nothing about podcasting, i cannot act or make sounds in microphones of high quality, so there's not much i can do on my own really. but if literally more than one person got up to this part then 1) you are a champ and 2) lmk if this is a good idea cuz rn my body is saying yes it is and that i can do anything rn.

i am sorry that this is just a stream of conciousness rambling, again i have been prescribed new adhd medication and accidentally took more than they told me to.

I am doing this instead of my C++ assignment. If anyone can also tell me how to understand operational amplifiers or how to calculate the uncertainty of a standard platinum resistance thermometer that would be fantastic.

xoxo not a girl

#rusty quill #the magnus archives #i have shit to do #uni exams i am shitting myself about #yet here i am #5 am #tma posting #and communism posting #some things will never change #anarchism #communism #how about a bit of both #anarchocommunism #how did i end up putting these things together am i insane #or just high on elvanse #how about a bit of both x2 #tma #the extra meds were not an accident i lied dont try this at home kids i cant sleep and i am shaking

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the-lunar-library · 2 years

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How I Spent Years Figuring Out My Book's Cover

I don't have any experience in advertising, and my digital art skills are limited, and every article on self-publishing urges you not to do your own cover, and probably they are right. But I did my own cover, and I thought I'd share some of the process. The figuring out how it should look part, not the technical part.

For a long time, I just practiced playing around with images. These weren't finished products by any means.

This image from early 2019 was one of my favorites. It's supposed to represent my protagonist Yew, reflecting on her ruined village and, by extension, some of her choices. The set up is straightforward – tragic woman gradating into a creepy graveyard. I felt it looked very similar to other covers I'd seen, which is both a good and a bad thing. A cover should clue you in to the tone and genre, so having set symbols and moods is helpful. On the other hand, you don't want your book to look like a million other people's.

Silent-film-era actress Mary Astor is standing in for Yew. The painting is by Caspar David Friedrich. To the best of my knowledge, both images are in the public domain.

For a while, I played with collages. (Pretty much all the stock photos/art is from Pixabay, which I found to be extremely helpful.) I liked the way these gothic windows formed frames, and I wanted to include both protagonists, Eider and Yew. This never made it fully into a test cover, but I did a few versions of this image, both with just photos and also including original art.

(Please admire my stock photo Iron Stag with his candle-antlers. I worked hard affixing each little flame to each little tine.)

The background I used here (Image Source: Freestock.com) is unromantically called “Plastic Chunks” in my files.

I also really like the ceiling paintings of Jules-Edmond-Charles Lachaise, so I experimented using one as a frame.

Above is a Yew cover, and below is an Eider cover.

I can't remember where I picked the asset(s?) for this background, but I suspect it was also Freestock.

I eventually decided on having both heroines front and center, each paired with an antler from one of the two mysterious stags in the story. This focal point would be a hand-drawn piece of art with less obtrusive public domain stock stuff framing it. I wanted the picture to be intricate, feel fairy-taleish, and include different elements from the story – a snake, a diary, flowers, mirror shards, a pear, seeds, antlers, and a hand mirror.

My first sketch had the basic idea down, but it was very long and skinny and with the title as part of the drawing it felt too tattoo-y to me. Though, looking closely, I see I included Pete the mule's head (upside down, just under the word “magic”), and it's sad he didn't make the final cut.

So I made the image more of a circle and worked really hard until I was proud of it.

From there, I just had to decide on which assets to use and what colors to go for. I really liked the combination of dark desaturated reds and blues in this one, along with the very gothic doily frame. However, it also felt somewhat cluttered, maybe a better design for a poster than something that was going to have text on top of it.

There's also a lot I like about this one, the cold colors, the blending of ice and aged iron. (The original title for the novel was The Iron Claws.) But again, that border felt like it would be fighting with any text thrown over it.

I was also concerned whether the central image would look too small and muddled in thumbnail, so I did this very stripped down version. I wasn't a big fan of it, but it's interesting.

(By the way, you may have noticed that none of these share the actual dimensions of my real book cover. I hadn't even done the page layout yet at this point, and this was all very much in the testing stage.)

As it turned out, I was on the right track with the earlier gothic doily cover. Aside from the hand-drawn image, I ended up going with different assets, most notably a smaller frame, deeper colors, and additional borders along the sides. (This image also isn't in the proper scale.) I did this cover over and over again, making little adjustments until I was satisfied.

What do you think? Did I make the right call?

Here’s info on the book itself: THE PRICE AND PREY OF MAGIC

#fairy tale #indieauthor #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fantasy #book design #yew bosse #eider isarna #iron stag #the price and prey of magic #long post

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josiebelladonna · 2 years

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i was just reading about the nevada test site and, being from southern california and north-central nevada, it was something that i always had knowledge of. i always knew it was there, everyone in carson city/reno knew it was there, i always knew that it... it is what it is (i mean, if the fact that nye county is literally the shape of a mushroom cloud doesn’t tip you off, i can’t help you). people flocked to vegas in the 50s just to see the clouds due north of the valley, for god’s sake. you know that stock footage that you see of the mushroom cloud going up and the house and the forest blowing over and then jerking back as the cloud rises? that’s from operation teapot. yucca flat is the most contaminated place in the continental u.s. from a radiological standpoint: it’s not chernobyl, for sure, but... you know. have lead linings, will travel.

but the one thing i cannot stop thinking about is the sheer amount of fallout from the blasts, specifically as it spread over to st. george in utah: by the way, i checked the map and sherman ranch is weirdly outside of the fallout zone. just for numbers’ sake: 1 rad is harmless (you might feel hot and see a blue light, but that’s about it) where 1000 rad is lethal. 100 - 200 rad is survivable: uintah county, home of sherman ranch, sustained less than 1 rad after the testing (and they’ve been witnessing paranormal activity since the 30s, before the manhattan project even got off the ground so-) but my point is that radioactivity is weirdly complex - just for perspective, it throws me sometimes, someone who’s intimate with nuclear science - especially when given the context of the rocky mountains, and especially when in junction with humanity and evolution. the type of fallout also needs to be accounted for as well, as most of the plutonium and uranium is centered in the ground at the test site: we’re talking iodine-131 and strontium-90, two isotopes that are not necessarily deadly, especially when you account for evolution and adaptation through generations.

i had a friend in high school who was born in blanding, on the eastern side of the state, a couple hundred miles from st. george, although she lived there for a long time. iirc, she was small in comparison to the rest of my friend group in my junior year of high school. what’s even more bizarre is i never really knew about it until after my graduation and i was stalking her page. i remember when the fukushima disaster happened and they were talking about iodine-131 flooding out from the reactor and how it could be potentially dangerous to those within the zone of the plant because we metabolize iodine through our thyroid gland (people who have thyroid issues often have iodized salt in their diets because of how it helps with that gland). i don’t remember kristen having thyroid issues but like i said, she was... small, about 5′ tall and 100 pounds soaking wet, and she was very thin (compared to me, 5′6″ and 165 pounds in my junior year when i met her, and i was relatively thin myself at the time). what makes strontium more sinister than iodine, in my humble more-or-less educated opinion, is it behaves like calcium and it’s absorbed into the bones: i saw her about a month ago before my facebook logout and she still looks very thin even though she’s 26 now. her hair’s different and she’s been wearing more eye makeup, but she still looks exactly the same as she did in 2009.

it’s disconcerting but it’s also interesting to think that you can come from a place with a high rate of horrible diseases - st. george and pretty much all of southern utah has an unsurprisingly massive cancer rate, especially of the thyroid, blood, and bone type - and yet somehow you can skip that and you can have a body that’s a lot stronger than it looks: she was a soccer player and she could run like it was nobody’s business. she looked frail but she was a firecracker, though.

when you read about this stuff, you almost immediately start deconstructing the fears around all things nuclear and you find out that said fear it mostly emanates from a lack of knowledge - just like everything else in existence. it’s not all gamma rays and glowing green: you have a whole set of units of measurement (with apologies to anyone tired of converting the american standards to the metric system). barrels of nuclear waste are nothing like the ones on the simpsons (if anything, they look like actual barrels, not like trash cans you see at the beach). some humans react to it better than others (marie curie’s notes are behind a 1-inch pane of glass lined with lead and yet she mostly walked out of the shed with nothing more than burns on her fingers, and she succumbed to anemia not radiation poisoning). if anything, it’s not green at all: the cherenkov effect is blue light, and radium glows a silvery-white.

when i was a freshman in high school, and i took earth science, my teacher brought in pitchblende, uranium ore: i’m not even kidding, it looked like just a regular old rock; little “bubbly” on top, but it looked like a rock straight out of her front yard. i remember she put a geiger counter next to it and it went off, it made that “staticky” noise (it wasn’t like crazy going off, but when you’re holding the counter yourself, it is... somewhat of a sobering moment to hear it). she put a piece of paper over it and the counter kept going; piece of tin foil and it stopped. i remember holding this thing, too: it was about the size of a deck of cards but it had some weight to it (uranium being a heavy metal among other things). it was one of those “oh my god, it’s real” moments, but it was cool, though: i actually held something that was radioactive in my bare hand. it wasn’t very radioactive - for perspective, she told us you could get more radiation from a microwave than you could that little stone but it made a geiger counter go off.

it makes me wonder like... what else the general public is refusing to learn, because this stuff is very fascinating, and it’s a lot closer to home than you think: in the nevada test site tag on here, i’ve come across a few accounts from people who have lived downwind from the site and it’s definitely sobering, especially when you realize that it’s literally right there, about four hours away from you (wind’s blowing the other way but still). on wikipedia, there’s a map of the fallout over the continental u.s. and while the west coast is pretty much spared, there’s this big plume extending from utah over to the plains states and into the great lakes - and yes, p r o f e s s o r, i checked all the links and the sources are credible. stop shaming people for using wikipedia, it’s a legit place to learn new things and fall down rabbit holes, and i think there should be no shame in using it.

again, you have to take measurements and the isotope types into account, but even though the government has been opaque about all things nuclear, it is imperative that we teach ourselves about it as well. our government has sucked for decades and it’s more than okay to be afraid - hell, i can’t visit the chernobyl tag without seeing a fucking meme about the elephant’s foot and immediately get the heebie-jeebies WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE - but knowledge is power, though, and with said power, the fear loses its grip, and you can better understand these things.

madame curie herself said it is imperative that we look into these things headlong for that reason.

also, i didn’t know this: apparently, in 1970, at yucca flat, when they were testing a bomb 900 feet underground, it cracked the soil and collapsed and the bomb was a dud as a result. but. it instead caught fire (as plutonium is pyrophoric) and shot up a bunch of smoke and ash for several minutes. something like 80 workers were exposed: two of them died... a few years after the fact. but everyone walked away from it. but some of the lighter particles blew into the higher latitudes and wound up inside a cold front and dropped irradiated snow on lassen and sierra counties. it was called “baneberry” although i feel it should’ve been called “operation whoopsie” (plus, when you read about this stuff, your sense of humor is going to darken and twist itself a bit. in terms of sense of humor, you have proctologists at the very top and right behind them are anybody who studies the human reproductive system, i.e. urologists and gynecologists, and then behind them are nuclear scientists. this shit is complex and painfully misunderstood and abused: you’re not only going to expand your mind and understand einstein’s fears and oppenheimer’s sobering moments but you’re going to learn to genuinely laugh once in a while. i mean, the fact the states had two nuclear tests named “little feller” and “nougat”-)

#i should be writing #i just wanted to share this #nuclear science #science nerd #long post #text

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blkkizzat · 6 months

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Indian reader is back here again AHSJDH I SWEAR THIS IS THE LAST ONE 🙏🙏🙏 honestly reading your post made me hungry send help

I am SO glad you enjoyed your trip here, I love it when people learn about each other's cultures it literally makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!!! I love how detailed your posts about the trip were and I really appreciate you sharing it with us <33

You knowing your tourist guide's whole story with the pharmacist to history lover is so real 😭 some people be having the wildest career paths especially the ones who've been at it for a long time and you somehow get to know their whole story in the span of 20 minutes

Personally I think summer in the US feels worse bc ceiling fans and all around ventilation isn't very common there from what I've seen and heard, while winters in India are worse for the most part since electrical heating and room temperature control isn't common here outside of the cities (inbuilt room temp control isn't a concept here at all currently, I've only ever seen it in hotels)

This was probably the best time for you to visit india cause peak summer temperatures haven't even started yet and you were already dying from the heat (me too dw)

And trust when I say you're not the only one struggling to cross the streets not all of us are built for this do or die type of shit 💔💔💔 (though I'll have to build up that confidence since you know. I live here. Don't exactly have a choice 🤡)

PS I'm going to be craving a restaurant thaali for the rest of the day bc of the pics

Omfg no please write me anytime!! <33

Awe thank you! I def love sharing my experiences! I love traveling and will def have to come back. I'm glad you enjoyed reading it cause i tend to ramble on about stuff! Yes! Another tour guide we had in Jaipur used to be a laywer. He was so knowledgeable too, he was with us all day and took us a few different places. It was fun learning about them. One thing I definitely took back from that and was inspired by was seeing people leaving "socially prominent" or high status jobs for something they loved. Seeing as I went as apart of my MBA program it was an unexpected but great reality check that sure we are all in this program to progress our careers but we really need to keep self-fulfillment and happiness in mind. Whats money or status if you are miserable? Like they had us eating out of the palm of their hand with how much passion they had for what they did and it really inspired me to find that in my own life!

Omfg yeah, it really depends on where you are. The sun feels a bit more intense in India because we were closer to the equator than in the US but the heat in India I experienced at 100 degrees F was a walk in the park compared to the time I stupidly went to las vegas in August and it was nearly 120 degrees F. Also where I live summers have been getting hotter and hotter so people arent equipped for heat waves. I've always had AC cause I have really furry dogs who need to stay cool though so thankfully ive been prepared. Also winters can be an issue here too, Texas been getting ice storms and blizzards in the past few years and as a hot area are completely unequipped. Even in places that are used to cold like NYC, when I lived there I moved into a new building paid a stupid high rent to live in a box that had central AC but was poorly insulated so I had to buy like the shiny foil insulating sheets to put over my window in the winter or I felt like the wind was passing right through.

Haha thankfully I was always in busy areas cause me and my friends when we werent with our guide would always just wait until we saw someone else who was clearly Indian cross the street and cross with them lmfao. We probably looked so stupid standing and waiting there lmfao but we never waited more than 5 mins thankfully LOL. Its funny cause looking back I've had friends here in the US scared to "jaywalk" with like one car coming thats practically crawling down the block and in India you have people boldly stopping speeding cars to cross LOL. I just imagine how funny we must look scared to cross with one car wayyyyyyy down the block coming, even I'm laughing at us.

I hope you get some resturant thaali soon! I'm definitely going to be craving it soon too. I know the next time I eat Indian food it ain't going to hit the same AT ALL lmfao.

#lovely anons #kizzatanswers

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chubbyheroesworthyheroes · 5 years

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Oh, oh, can I please have Caspar + 🐷?

Being a general in the imperial army had its ups and downs.

There was a lot of responsibility involved, of course, and Caspar found that quite a lot of it felt like red tape to slow down doing actual good. He wanted to get out there and do what was right for the people, but – apparently – there were rules about that, and him charging in recklessly to do what he thought was right wasn’t what he should be doing. Edelgard allowed him some slack with things, but many grumbled about his attitude and style of handling issues.

Caspar didn’t let it stop him much. If he saw people being wronged, he jumped to their defense. If he could protect someone in a battle, he’d do so – rank be damned! He wasn’t the sort to sit back and watch others do the work for him.

It was because of this that he had rode out to a remote village, word having reached his ears that a powerful magic user had stormed in and taken over the place. People were scared, but they couldn’t get away with this sorcerer practically holding them hostage as he did whatever he pleased in their little town. It wasn’t a big enough issue for the empire to devote its attention to, or so he’d been told when he brought it up, but Caspar wasn’t going to let that slide. It was only the one man, so he was confident in his ability to take the sorcerer down easily. He left his unit in his lieutenant’s care until he returned, sure that he would only be gone for a day at best.

As soon as he reached the village, Caspar could tell that things were off.

It was unnaturally quiet, the setting sun making the silent town feel eerie and dark as he moved through it. Ax in hand, ready for anything, the squelch of mud under his boots was the only thing Caspar could hear as he trudged further into the village.

“Show yourself!” he eventually shouted in frustration, knowing he was being watched. “I’m here to free these people, and hiding is only drawing out your punishment longer, you fiend!”

Windows were dark or shuttered in homes, no people in sight – not even any animals.

“You really are a loud thing, aren’t you?”

A shiver ran down Caspar’s spine at the voice – it felt like those words had been spoken directly into his ear – but when he whirled around, there wasn’t anyone there. Growling at how easily he’d been spooked, Caspar resolved his expression into something more fiercely determined.

“Why don’t you say that to my face!” the young man called back, eyes scanning every possible place this mage could be hiding.

“If that’s what you really prefer,” the voice returned, calmly, a face to finally go with it appearing in a flash of warping magic right in front of Caspar.

The light caused Caspar to close his eyes against the abrupt intensity of it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and get a good look at the sorcerer who had been terrorizing this town for some time. His confidence shot up again when he looked the man over. The mage was tall and spindly; thin limbs, boney hands and a gaunt face. He was older, hair thinning and age marring him. A gnarled cane of dark wood was gripped tightly in his hands, and Caspar was sure that a stiff breeze could have knocked the old buzzard onto his ass. There was no way he could lose this.

Of course, without anyone there to rein in his recklessness, Caspar was ignoring the important fact that this old mage had completely taken over a small town without any trouble.

Charging forward, swinging his ax wide, Caspar blinked when the man disappeared like a wisp of smoke – the blade of his weapon hitting nothing but air. He skidded awkwardly in the slick mud, whipping around to try and relocate the mage. The man reappeared as silently as he teleported out of the attack, cheekily waggling his fingers at Caspar.

Taking the bait, Caspar tried again.

And again…and again.

Every single time he came close to landing a blow strong enough to cut the skinny old bastard in half, the sorcerer would simply warp out of harm’s way with a raspy chuckle. It went on like this for a while, Caspar’s energy and stamina starting to fail him after some time, tired legs slipping and sending him face first into the mud; his ax knocked out of his grasp as he fell, skidding through the mud just out of reach.

Panting and sputtering mud out of his mouth, Caspar shoves himself onto his hands and knees, sweating and limbs shaking from fatigue.

“Rolling about in the mud like a hog, are we?” the old man hummed, his foot steps hardly making a sound as he approached. “Quite fitting for a squealing piglet of the empire. Did they not have anyone else to send out here but an obnoxious, arrogant boy?”

Caspar bristled at that, scrambling to get to his feet. “I am a proud general of the empire!” Sure, he was still young and he hadn’t ever hit much of a growth spurt, but that didn’t give this old coot any right to insult him in such a way when he was clearly the evil doer here.

“A proud pig, I see.”

“You’ll regret insulting me–”

The mage waved an age-shaky hand at the younger man, a smug look on his face as he chanted something out in a language Caspar had never heard before. “And you’ll regret ever coming to this little village, Sir Pig,” the old man mused, a wave of magic blasting Caspar off his feet and back into the mud once more.

Caspar groaned, shaking his head and trying to refocus his dizzied vision. He felt so tired, and it was an alarming struggle to keep himself awake, but he managed to sit himself back up and shake off the worst of the sluggishness. Aside from the fatigue, he was fairly certain that whatever magic had been cast at him hadn’t caused him any damage outside of a bruised rear end. Grinning at his luck – for the old man must have simply messed up – he made to jump back to his feet and get right back into the fight, only to stumble in surprise when he felt like he had tried to get up with heavy weights attached to himself.

“W…What the…?” he muttered under his breath, struggling once more to get to his feet. He managed to get onto his knees, but found himself hit with another wave of exhaustion, his breathing heavy and…what in the world, was he snorting?!

Muddy fingers reached up to his nose, Caspar blurting out in shock when they met with the round, flat of his nose – or, what had been his nose. Now, it was more akin to a snout, just like a pig’s. He snuffled exaggeratedly, swallowing thickly against the panic that was threatening to overtake him.

Okay, so what? The old mage could do a few tricks, make him look like a fool, but this could always be reversed, right? It wouldn’t be so bad, especially once he beat the sorcerer and made it back home. They had plenty of skilled magic users in the empire who could probably fix his nose in a matter of seconds. This was just a tactic to get under his skin!

Grunting in anger, Caspar settled a foul look on the far too amused old man, and tried once again to push himself out of the mud.

Why did he feel so damn heavy?! His armor didn’t restrict his movement this much, and he was used to carrying the weight of it by now – not that it was really all that much armor to begin with, really. But, after another few moments of struggling, it started to dawn on Caspar why he was having so much trouble. It felt like his armor was constricting him all of a sudden, movement restricted and breathing getting more difficult. It was a risk, taking away some of his defenses, but the feeling of claustrophobia got to him quickly, and Caspar scrabbled to get the pieces of armor off.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the way he was changing. The way his ears changed shape from rounded off to something more triangular, becoming wider, perky and pointed at the tips. His face started to round out, too, plump cheeks and a swell of fat beneath his chin. It was only when his fingers started to get thicker and harder to use – luckily, after undoing most of the buckles for his plate armor – that Caspar realized that this was going far further than just an embarrassing pig nose.

“H-Hey, what the hell is happening to me–?!” Caspar demanded, fear tinging his words as his statement ended on the horrifically piggish sound of an oink. With his armor now loose and mostly off, he saw the way that the rest of his body was shifting.

He was getting bigger…

The old sorcerer chuckled as he saw reality smack the young general right in the face, dark eyes twinkling as he watched the once confident fighter squirm and struggle as he grew more and more into what he’d spelled him as.

He’d called the young upstart a hog, and a hog he would be in every sense of the word.

Embarrassment and anger flushed Caspar’s features as he was helpless to do much more than watch as his body was ruined. Trim muscle was quickly overtaken by soft, supple fat. He grunted and cursed as his armor popped off and his clothes became uncomfortably tight against his frame. Stuck on all fours, it was easy to feel the way his body got heavier. His thighs grew thick and meaty, brushing up against each other as he struggled, but then forcing him to widen his stance as they pressed into one another. His ass soon followed, rounding out wider and wider, wobbling as he shifted his growing weight. His arms plumped up as well, plush and fat enough to overlap his elbows a bit; even his hands and fingers had gotten chubby.

The worst, however, was his chest and stomach.

His abs had quickly disappeared under a layer of chub, but it didn’t stop at just a pot belly. It kept growing – out and out, rounder and fatter. It was so bizarre to feel, this heavy part of himself just hanging there, getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. His gut bounced and jiggled as it swelled outward with fat, stretching his shirt out as far as it could go before buttons gave up and popped right off, pale flesh now exposed to the cool of the air. To Caspar’s dismay, his chest wasn’t too far behind; pecs rounding out and puffing up, drooping weightily against the continuously expanding swell of his stomach.

It was getting harder to keep holding himself up on his hands and knees, his weight just getting more and more to deal with. Desperation started to sink into Caspar’s hastily narrowing mind, a shiver running through his fattening body as his burgeoning belly grew big enough to connect with the ground beneath him, cold mud smearing across the vast expanse of his gut. He can barely even tell when a curly pig’s tail pops up above the wide spread of his ass, his rear doing its best to keep up with the rest of him.

Caspar jolts when he feels a hand on his head, thin, bony hands messing into his shock of blue hair. The old mage is smiling at him, a knowing look on his wrinkled face.

“Don’t look so frightened about all this, boy. You’ll find I’m not a cruel master, especially to dumb beasts that don’t know any better. Isn’t that right, my loud little piglet?” the old man speaks in a soft and assuring tone, another, softer glow of magic from coming from his palm as he pets the former general’s head like one would to calm down a spooked animal.

Caspar wants to protest, wants to get up and shake off the terrible dream that this has to be…but, as that last spell starts to take, thoughts of getting away or fighting back any further seem to slip through his head like water between his fingers. Eventually, the growing weight of his body is simply too much for him to keep holding up, so Caspar simply lets himself collapse onto the solid mound of fat that is his gut. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the mud was becoming less of a discomfort to him as he practically started to wallow in it like a real pig would.

“Good pig,” the sorcerer praised, ruffling Caspar’s hair before withdrawing his hand, watching with amusement as the young man oinks at him lazily, now finally content to simply do what pigs do best.

Grow fat and fatter still.

#Anonymous #male weight gain #male wg #chubby!caspar #pig transformation #pig tf #this damn thing fought me so much because i still havent gotten to the end of 3h & im still only on gd route #so be central stuff is not yet in my knowledge & i had to go looking a bit online #but pls accept this humble oinker

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cuti-romeros · 2 years

Text

Carraville + kiss for @well-good-luck-with-that

Thank you for the prompt, hope you enjoy! (Apologies for how long this took, carraville’s beautiful happy giggly mnf yesterday was apparently the kick of inspiration I needed)

“Good show, yeah?” Jamie says as they settle into the taxi.

He thinks briefly about asking Gary to start a Live, then decides against it. They’ve been just-barely containing themselves in front of cameras all day, all week—let this moment be only for them.

“Yeah, not bad. I’d give it an eight, I think.” Gary doesn’t pull out his phone either, even though they’d both agreed after the prep meeting this morning to do a pre and post show Live to kick off the new season in style. It seems Gary is just as tired as he is.

(It’s less that talking with Gary takes energy out of him, camera or no camera, and much more that resisting the urge to take Gary’s hand or rest his head against his shoulder is much harder when only half his brain is awake to remind him they can’t. Not yet)

Maybe someday they won’t have to pretend.

“Yeah, an eight, because you left all the tech screen stuff to me,” he says, because winding Gary up is as second nature as breathing at this point.

He’s rewarded with a sharp elbow to his side and a mumbled, “Fuck off.” It’s said in the strong, slurred Mancunian that only comes out when Gary’s properly tired, too far gone to waste brainpower on things like enunciation and elocution, and Jamie treasures every word. Gary has a tv voice just as much as he does, and he doesn’t take for granted that he’s one of the few who gets to stick around when it falls away.

“Five out of ten for the show,” Gary says. “Extra three is for getting to see your face when Palace scored first.”

“My face is worth three points, you’re right.”

Another elbow, softer this time. It’s more a caress than a jab.

“It was nice to be back,” Gary admits, looking out the window. The streetlights and neon signs outside paint his face in shades of red and blue, and even in a rumpled black T-shirt with his hair all askew, he’s pretty enough to eat.

Jamie contents himself with reaching his hand across the seat and settling it on top of Gary’s, like they’re blushing schoolchildren fumbling around in a crowded movie theater. It feels that way sometimes.

“Missed the Premier League,” Gary says, but there’s a smile in his voice, and Jamie takes that as an implicit invitation to hold on a little tighter, curling his fingers around Gary’s the way he’s been wanting to do all day. “Thirty years, can you believe it?”

Jamie thinks of Gary’s hand in his own, Gary’s faded United pajama bottoms tucked in a drawer of his wardrobe, Gary’s wheaties in his pantry, Gary’s contact saved with a little heart at the end in his phone—and snorts. “Thinking about a different anniversary, honestly.”

“Oh?”

Gary still won’t look at him, apparently deeply interested in something happening on the deserted streets of central London, so Jamie continues, “Our first MNF was nine years ago to next Friday. But we met a few days before that, do you remember? Some luncheon thing that Sky arranged to get over the painful introductions before we had to start working together.”

“Are you honestly going to tell me it was exactly nine years ago to the day?”

“Are you honestly going to tell me you don’t remember?” Jamie remembers, but then again, he doesn’t forget much. And he’s happy to lose every last bit of his football pub trivia knowledge before he loses the memory of that day, shaking hands with Gary across the table and looking into his eyes and realizing that without the United crest or the usual sneer, he’s actually a startling beautiful man. Jamie remembers, because it’s hard to forget a day that changed your life.

“I remember,” Gary says, very, very quietly, and that’s how Jamie knows he’s telling the truth. “I wanted to punch you, and then I wanted to—well. Not something you forget easily.”

And yeah, Jamie remembers that moment too. Not as well as he’d like, the exact sensations stolen away by time, but he’s had plenty of kisses from Gary in the interim to refresh his memory.

“Happy anniversary, Gaz,” he murmurs under his breath, low and quiet so the taxi driver won’t be able to catch it.

It’s dark enough back here, and they’re turning onto a pretty dimly lit street. Maybe…

“I don’t like the look in your eye. What’re you up to?”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“Am I wrong?”

“All the time.”

Gary turns away from the window, and finally looks at him. “James.”

Heat pools low in his belly. Even half asleep, Gary only knows one way to look at people—intensely, with a stare that would root lesser men to the spot. Combined with the growl in his voice—Jamie is only human. And a very tired human at that.

He spares one second to think about how everything could crumble down around his ears if the driver picks this particular moment to check his rearview mirror, and then leans forward and steals a kiss. It’s quick and soft, a peck more than anything, but he feels warm from head to toe when he pulls back, their hands still intertwined on the seat between them.

“What was that?” Gary sounds like he’s somewhere between wanting to kill him and wanting to kiss him again, so Jamie figures he’s in the clear.

“Unless we’re remembering nine years ago very differently, there’s only one way to celebrate this anniversary.”

“I remember it going a little differently,” Gary teases, and Jamie has just enough time to think oh are we—

Gary kisses him exactly like he first did then, tongue and teeth and fire, and every other thought disappears from his head. It takes every ounce of concentration Jamie has not to moan into it and give everything away, but he holds himself together, even manages to lift his free hand to cup Gary’s cheek—he couldn’t do that when they first met, but he can now, knowing it won’t be batted away. Sparks dance across his palm, even all these years later, at the feel of Gary’s skin beneath his own.

A bright red glow falls over them, and Jamie tries to pull back. Must be a traffic light.

But Gary holds him there, inches from his face, with nothing but the weight of that piercing gaze. “Happy anniversary, James,” he whispers, so close that Jamie can feel Gary’s breath hit his cheek and all but taste the words on his lips.

Jamie gives Gary just enough time to see that look in his eyes from quite up close, before saying with a smirk, “Did you kiss Scholes with that mouth?”

Back then, he nearly got decked to the floor for that. Today, Gary rolls his eyes with a huff (and it’s fond huff, Jamie can tell), and never even tries to let go of his hand.

They’ve come a long way in nine years. Jamie looks at the sky through the window, and he doesn’t see a shooting star, doesn’t even believe in that sort of thing, but he silently makes a wish for nine more.

#carraville #*writing

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fatehbaz · 3 years

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hi maybe you’ve written about this before but i’m working for someone who is part of the ecological landscape alliance and we’ve been having big talks about the concept of “invasive” species vs “native” plants and how the concept is rooted in xenophobia, and also talking about how maybe invasive plants aren’t that bad?? this goes against everything i’ve ever heard anyone talk about invasive species but i really don’t know all that much about it. sounds silly maybe coming from a farmer but i really don’t have a super firm ecological understanding, most of my plant knowledge is agricultural based and im really curious to learn more and was hoping you could point me in the right direction?

Yes, I definitely run into this disk horse all the time. Especially the “maybe invasive plants aren’t that bad” discussion. It seems the native/alien stuff is most often mentioned in disk horse about the Anthropocene. Basically, you’ll sometimes see statements like: “Is anything really natural in the Anthropocene?” I have also seen, and spent a lot of time contemplating, how belief in the categories of “natural” and “alien/invasive” in discussion of ecology might be rooted in or at least inadvertently support racism/xenophobia.

But I am still wary of the “native vs alien” and “no creature or landscape is really natural, not any more” disk horse, at least as explored by some white/settler-colonial academics, for exactly the same reasons: because it might be rooted in or support racism/xenophobia. Because the proposal that “nothing is native, nothing is invasive” itself can actually engage in a sort of “settler absolution” that obscures how there really is a contrast between imperial and Indigenous peoples, and the “nothing is natural, nothing is invasive” proposal could excuse the colonial/imperial introduction and expansion of monoculture by accepting the spread of industry/agriculture/non-native species as an inevitability. And these concepts can actually work to generalize conditions of ecological degradation and apocalypse, as if to say that “all humans now live in such a damaged world, we’re all victims” (even though many non-white, especially Indigenous, people actually bear most of the violence and burden of living in “post-apocalyptic” ecologies.)

But actually, I don’t think I can be too helpful here.

I still have a lot of contemplating to do, about how categories of natural/invasive in ecology might support the violence of categorizing people as natural/invasive. Don’t really know where I stand yet, y’know? So I don’t want to be too quick to come to a conclusion. I don’t even really want to offer opinions here. That said, I am very sensitive to language, and the language that I use. So I do appreciate that there is an effort to interrogate the negative consequences of describing things with words like “alien”. Also, the categorizing of lifeforms is and always has been a mess.

I don’t have many reading recommendations. The “native vs alien” and “nothing is really native, actually” proposals are concepts that I brush up against but don’t read too deeply into, even though this disk horse has been popular-ish in dark ecology and academic ecology/environmental studies circles for at least 10 years or more by now.

I guess, for my thoughts on native vs alien, what counts as “natural”, invasive species, and how the disk horse can excuse settler-colonial/imperial racism, I would point to this post I made about Pablo Escobar’s feral hippopotamuses in Colombia.

One introduction to the concept, which I think is an enjoyable read (though I don’t necessarily agree with all of his implications), is this essay by Hugo Reinert about the category of “natural” and the “purity” of a species: “Requiem for a Junk-Bird: Violence, Purity and the Wild.” Cultural Studies Review. 2019.

Anna Boswell’s very famous article about stoats and non-native species in Aotearoa kind of dances around this same issue of naturalness: “Settler Sanctuaries and the Stoat-Free State.” Animal Studies Journal. 2017.

-------

Generally, I agree with the implication that there is no “remote” or untouched corner of the planet where ecology has escaped human influence.

On that aspect, here’s a post I made about “planetary urbanization”.

But the native/alien disk horse can be extended to problematique degrees, with proposals that sometimes remind me of sci-fi goofiness, like fans of dark ecology or weird fiction or Mieville/Van der Meer got a little too excited about “the boundary between human and other-than-human has become so blurred that there may as well no longer be distinctions between native species and invasive species”, like they got a little too drunk on theory and just decided that “everything is in flux!”. Criticisms, then, of the “nothing is native” disk horse include how this oversimiplifies ecology and might enable/excuse settler-colonial invasion.

A lot of the “invasive plants are good, actually!” disk horse I’ve seen shows up in Australian literature written by settler scholars, which might be pretty telling.

Basically, it seems some scholars will take Alfred Crosby’s “neo-Europe” and “ecological imperialism” concepts, and then say something like “look, the damage is done, so much of Earth’s soils/landscapes are altered by introduced plants that we may as well accept it as the new baseline/normal ecology, and work from there.” As if to point at how North America has been entirely overrun by non-native earthworms and then to say “well, the worms are going to inevitably destroy hardwoods forests, soils of the Great Lakes region, the boreal-temperate transition zone, and maple trees which supply place-based maple syrup foodsheds, so we may as well accept that we live in a damaged world.”

I don’t know if I’m entirely satisfied with this.

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Other related concepts brought up in the same discussion of “nothing is really native” might include “invasion biology” and “assisted migration.” I see these concepts brought up in academic writing from the University of California system, Australia, Aotearoa/New Zealand, and “environmental humanities” generally. Basically, these writers/scholars will point to the past ten thousand-ish years of the Holocene, and how humans have had such profound influence on global ecology that “introduction of non-native species” and “mass-scale anthropogenic climate/ecological change” are not just recent developments since Industrial Revolution or Indus/Yellow/Mesopotamian statecraft, but even older. For example, I’ve talked a lot about how, in the Late Pleistocene or early Holocene, the Asiatic steppes and parts of the Great Plains could have apparently been more like intermittent woodlands before humans engaged in deliberate fire-setting to better target megafauna herds, meaning that the human role in creation of vast “naturally-occurring” grassland regions may be underestimated. This dove-tails with the better-established fact that the forests of Central America and eastern North America in the early Holocene were/are actually more like cultivated food forests managed by Indigenous people.

The argument, then, may also point to yams, sweet potato, and coconut as examples of creatures with what now appear to be “old” and “established” widespread transoceanic distribution ranges which actually may have been introduced via assisted migration by humans.

The argument, basically, says: Well, let’s say hypothetically that humans didn’t play a role in spreading sweet potato or coconut. By chance, if ocean currents “naturally” introduced these species, if these plants “naturally” colonized whatever lands they were swept off towards, doesn’t this mean they could essentially be “natural” to anywhere they might arrive and successfully establish themselves? Therefore, does it really matter if humans helped them get there?

This seems to be related to the “no plants are actually invasive” proposal. As if to say: “If English pasture grasses have successfully reproduced themselves in Patagonia, Aotearoa, South Africa, the Canadian prairies, etc., what does it mean that their migration was assisted by humans?”

But this is where I have reservations: It wasn’t just any humans that “assisted the migration” of monoculture grasses from Europe to the prairies of Turtle Island. It was specific humans, with deliberate intent, upholding specific institutions, protecting their own well-being at the expense of other humans and lifeforms, enacting specific violence against specific victims.

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Another aspect of this which I see mentioned often is how early human/Polynesian settlement in Oceania and the South Pacific is an example of how mass anthropogenic ecological change doesn’t always involve statecraft, mass mono/agriculture, and imperialism. Aside from the famous decline of creatures like the moa, Polynesian islands were also home to relict species of large land turtles and ancient terrestrial/semi-arboreal crocodiles until human arrival in recent millennia. Writers will also point to human settlement in the Caribbean, where human arrival coincided with extinction of remnant populations of endemic Pleistocene ground sloths. (This also happened on Mediterranean islands, which hosted endemic species of hippopotamus and goats until recent millennia.)

Again, though, this is where white/settler-colonial academics advocating “nothing is natural” can kind of obscure settler-colonial violence, by pointing to history of anthropogenic environmental change and saying “see, all humans provoke extinction.”

Thus, you’ll see these scholars invoke Anna Tsing or Donna Harraway, referencing the “arts of living on a damaged planet” or “living in post-capitalist ruins.” Essentially, advocates of “nothing is native, any more” might say “we all live in a post-apocalyptic world now, so we should get used to it.”

This, coming from white/settler-colonial academics, sometimes rubs me the wrong way, as if it’s sort of like wish-fulfillment, or “an adventure” for comfortable white academics to engage in low-stakes thought experiments about extinction, naturalness, and apocalypse from which they’re actually largely insulated, at least compared to the poor, non-white, non-academic people who cope with the worst of environmental racism and ecological collapse.

This, again coming from white/settler-colonial academics, is also of course more than a little grating, since it kind of co-opts or culturally appropriates the “Indigenous/Native people actually live in a post-apocalyptic world” concept proposed by Indigenous scholars. It kind of takes from Indigenous/non-white people, and then generalizes the apocalypse as something that all humans now live with in seemingly equal measure, obscuring the fact that many people are actually forced to cope and/or live with more-serious-of-an-apocalypse than others.

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At the end of the day: Sure, kudzu or English pasture grasses or coconuts or European earthworms or domesticated cattle might be generalist species which can successfully inhabit landscapes across the planet. So whether humans introduce them via agriculture, or whether they "naturally" expand by some accident or by drifting across ocean currents, they might exist in this strange ontological space between "native" and "alien" which confounds human conceptions of what "belongs"? And this is worth considering! This is good to think about! But there are still, and always have been, those "small" landscapes, those isolated pockets, those relicts and remnants in shaded stream corridors, where small populations of endemic species teeter on the verge, with highly-specialized adaptations to highly-specific microhabitats. You're not going to "assist the migration" of or "accidentally introduce" a cave-obligate salamander from a limestone cavern or a temperate rainforest-dwelling land-slug to a desert biome.

But, again, I still think it is good to stop and ask ourselves whether categories of “natural” and “alien/invasive” in ecology make sense, are outdated, or if they reinforce racism/xenophobia. And, again, I haven’t read enough -- I haven’t grappled with these questions enough -- to have an opinion which I’m comfortable sharing, so I don’t want to discourage this disk horse too much.

Anyway, hope some of this is interesting. Sorry. Again, I don’t really have any good recommendations.

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emiko-matsui · 3 years

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hello this is my official list of what i think every member of the bau would work with if they wouldn't work at the bau like if that wasn't a reality you get me

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Jason Gideon: look i know this is technically canon but i truly do think he would be an author and would guest lecture a bit in his later years and like sure he could still write true crime books but also just regular crime novels i think this old man would just like to write

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau: i think she would work inside of the media, not in front of the camera necessarily but as a communicator or similarly inside of the media and the news. however i think there's a possibility of a divergence of path for her, i think its possible she could end up in a hostage situation due to her job in a similar situation like in neon terror and would start working out as a coping mechanism and like genuinely would pick up a (extra?) job as a personal trainer at her gym

Derek Morgan: firefighter. that's it i don't know what to say other than that, derek would 500% be a firefighter. there's nothing else. now that i think about it derek should've been a firefighter from the beginning fuck the bau this is his true calling don't even @ me

Elle Greenaway: similarly to JJ i think elle would work inside of the media but as an investigative journalist. well i think she would start out as a regular journalist but become an investigative journalist after a while because her drive would be too big you get me. also niche but i think that when she was a teen she was like briefly a singer like you know robin from how i met your mother but she would've made angry girl music

Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner: genuinely don't think this punk could stay away from the government so i think he would still work a fancy government job just not inside of the bau, maybe not even the fbi but i so think he'd still be in government. now what i have no idea because i know nothing about the government especially the american government seeing as im not even remotely american

David "Dave" Rossi: now i don't even know if this fucking counts but you know those really fancy shops that are like made of dark smelling wood and is called something extravagant with a cursive gold font and they sell like cigar or wine or herbal products or like mustache wax or whatever the fuck you know the places im talking about. i think rossi would work there and be that old man at the counter who will come up and talk to you and you have no idea if he just works there and is really invested in this stuff or if he owns the place or just a really weird costumer but then he's the one you pay too so you assume it's his but the moment you step out of the store you've forgotten his face and you never want to go back there but you always think about it once a month or something. if you don't know what kinda place im talking about consider yourself lucky

Penelope Garcia: if the bau wasn't even a prospect here there's no question that penelope would still be a hacker illegally and make most of her money from there but i also think that she would work in a small second hand shop with lots of old trinkets and clothes and stuff just because she genuinely thinks it's fun to work there and also the old woman who owns the shop lets her be on the computer when there's no costumers in the store. i just think she would sit there in her cupcake dress next to a ceramic old cat from the 1930s talking to bernice about her grandson while hacking jeff bezos on her computer

Spencer Reid: now it's time for spencer all over the place reid who i think would work at like one of those really prestige but still public libraries where like everyone is welcome but they have like locked rooms with super valuable books and stuff and he kinda does whatever there bc sometimes he gives tours talking about thr history of the building and stuff and sometimes you find him at the counter ready to guide you to the specific book you're looking for plus twenty other recommendations you should read if you like this book and sometimes you find him in a window reading and his coworkers politely ignore he's had his "break" for three hours now bc he guided 17 tours yesterday (only ten were scheduled) and they suspect he mightve slept here. plus in his spare time i think he would do some independent work to keep him stimulated with stuff but that's not a fully developed idea yet

Stephen Walker: this might be controversial but i think stephen would be a guidance counsellor at like a school and i don't know why but he has the vibe and i think he would be quite good at it. maybe he just gives me more official jawbone vibes from dimension 20

Emily Prentiss: i firmly believe this woman cannot hold down a job for her life. i think the bau and interpol were flukes in her reality because im quite certain emily would physically not be able to keep one job for longer than a year. if you mention a job she's probably done it. she's done everything from high positions in government to bagging groceries to leading seminars to breeding puppies. listen emily prentiss is a lesbian ex goth trust fund kid (like canonically yall). i think right now she's working with the lights for a theatre production and she's liking it and seems to have a knack for it

Tara Lewis: this one's out there but i think she would work as a principal at a university (do universities have principals?). but like the one who's in charge of a school but like advanced studies with like adults study after they've already studied if you know what i mean. idk i just think that's what she would be

Luke Alvez: hate to do this to luke but he would simply just be a cop. or like a detective (that's like a promotion for a cop in america right? bro my knowledge extends to brooklyn 99 and brooklyn 99 only). i hope this is because i feel like luke is the serious crime version of jake peralta and jake is the sitcom version of luke. anyway, cop

Matt Simmons: this is my magnum opus but bro i think he would be a podcaster. i think he would do a podcast with kristy. for everyone who follows my blog think justin and sydnee mcelroy but matt is sydnee. i think they would have a little podcast together. after his unit at the fbi (?) got got by linda barnes i think he would retire home and start doing podcasting full time with kristy. this is my hot take

Kate Callahan: because such a central part of kate's personality/backstory is that her sister died in 9/11 i think that kate would've been a nurse. specifically a nurse not a doctor and i don't think it's because a lack of competence or anything like that fuck u no i genuinely think kate wanted to be a nurse and chose to study to become that. her hours would still be crazy but maybe meg isn't as worried about her now

Ashley Seaver: i don't have a lot for seaver but i think she would work in local government more centralised like those guys from parks and rec and yes i realise ive made way too many references that some people might not understand but here we are. i think seaver would do whatever leslie does in parks and rec or something like that

Alex Blake: this is just a formality to have her on here because she's literally a linguistics professor in the show

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chocolate1721 · 4 years

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Hello chocolatiers here is a new idea, and this is one of my altime favorites so far.

Ok so, Marinette and Jason are siblings who got separated. Jason is adopted by Bruce and Marinette is adopted by Tom and Sabine. Jason becomes Robin and dies. Marinette is informed of his death but isn’t able/allowed to attend the funeral. She never meets Bruce. Marinette is bullied by Chloe and then Lila and the class. She becomes ladybug and chat is useless.

Even though things in class are tough. Marinette makes a fabulous class trip. She has them set to go to New York (with tours of Stark Industries, and New York Times along with Broadway production tickets), then they are to go to Starling City (where they get to tour Queen industry, and their parks), next they go to Central City (they have some basic tours of some museums and stuff), finally they will end in Gotham (tour Wayne Enterprise and the gardens).

Marinette had a good time in New York, Lila lies all day every day, but she ignored it. They had a fligh to Starling City and Marinette had to use the restroom or something before they left, but when she got back to the gate the plane was gone, and so was her class. She had no clothes (those were on the plane) and she didn’t have a lot of money. She was having a hard time breathing when all of a sudden Tony f*cking Stark struts his way over to her and helps her breath again (couldn’t decide if she has a panic or anxiety attack).

Tony and Peter were coming back from Wakanda. Peter knoticed Marinette and points her out to Tony, making some joke of if she is a lost Stark or something. Tony looks at Marinette and immediately knows she is having an attack, he knows how that feels, so he immediately goes over to her and helps her through it. He finds out that Marinette got left behind by her class and this pisses Tony off. He then tells her he can/will help her out. All three of them then head to the Avenger’s Tower.

[[More]]

She meets the Avengers, and she is totally normal. No stuttering, spasming, tripping, or anything but treating them like they are normal. This intrigues the Avengers. They invite her to watch some of them train while Tony looks into getting her back to her class. While she watches them train she ends up handing Steve his shield (like it was a piece of paper), and Thor his hammer (like it was nothing), this shocks everyone.

Steve: Hey Thor, does this mean this kid is now the new ruler of Asgard?

Thor: . . . . . I must introduce her to the Allfather. Come child of earth.

Tony: *runs into the room, body slamming the door on his way in* DONT GO WITH HIM!!!!!!! IM ADOPTING HER!

Pepper: *appears from nowhere* no you’re not

Peter and Marinette become close friends. The hulk also meets Marinette. The team is worried, but Hulk just kinda picks her up and says “Baby” and tries to burp her. . . . . . . . Tony gets plenty of pictures of this. Marinette is a grumpy sunshine child, and she threatens Tony and Peter if they post any of those pictures.

Tony tells Marinette that he has a friend in town that lives in Starling City and he has agreed to take her with him when he returns home. Marinette will be getting picked up in a few hours, so Tony, Peter, Steve, Thor, and Pepper take Marinette out to get some clothes. This ends in chaos, mayhem, emotional trauma, and the Avengers learn how truly terrifying teenager girls are. Pepper is now wanting to adopt Marinette.

Later that evening Oliver Queen and Roy Harper show up at Avenger tower to pick Marinette up. Roy thinks she will be like all the other girls he knows, shallow and a gold digger or a super hero. He isn’t prepared for the absolute angel that is Marinette. He is love struck, and he becomes the gentleman that Oliver has tried to teach him to be. The only thing Oliver is thinking is “did Bruce get another one?”

Marinette and Roy hit it off very well (roynette is endgame people) they talk for hours. They exchange numbers. Oliver finds out that no, she isn’t adopted by Bruce <not yet anyway>. But she was born in Gotham, she had an older brother who died when she was younger. Oliver found out she is MDC and immediately wanted to commission a suit. She agreed and they were talking suit styles and colors until they arrived in front of her hotel in Starling City. They told her not to hesitate if she needed anything.

Her class didn’t even knotice she was missing. She got her room key and went to sleep. The next morning she was the first one up and downstairs. The breakfast pasteries were gross so she went to the kitchen and taught the staff how to make a good crossaint. She was putting a fresh batch out in the buffet area when her classmates arrived. Lila pauses when she saw her. How had Marinette gotten here? She made sure to destroy her plane ticket. Anyway Lila lies the entire trip as well. She convinces Max to hack into Marinette’s phone and change her alarms. On the day they head to Central City, Marinette’s alarm goes off 30 minutes after the bus leaves.

Marinette sighs and calls Roy. Roy is pissed that her teacher left her behind AGAIN. So he calls up Barry Alan (I watch the Flash tv show so those are the characters I will be using). Roy tells him about how the teacher is incompetent and left a student behind. Roy arrives to pick Marinette up, only to see two guys hitting on her. Roy stops that sh*t real quick. Then they head to Central City. They swing by Star Labs and Marinette meets Barry and his friends. They fall in love with Marinette. She is sweet and kind and adorable. Barry sees her as an innocent sister who must be protected. They take her to her class. He convinced the chief to let the class come visit the precinct. Lila is taking credit for everything, while Marinette gives out pasteries that she made at Star Labs. The officers love Marinette, especially Joe. He sees his daughter in Marinette. Some of the officers offered to teach the class some self defense, in case they were in trouble, and they refused to say how scared they were when Marinette took them down. It was way too easy for her to take them down. The tall kid with frosted tips didn’t do half as well as she did. Roy and Barry only seen that level of skill on hero’s or black belts. Lila started gushing about how she trained with some famous martial artist but had to stop due to her arthritis. The class got held hostage by Captain Cold. Marinette distracts him long enough for the hostages to escape, and the police and hero’s to arrive. She talked about everything from how he could make more money by hiring himself out as a ice machine to people in third world countries to his lack of fashion. By the time the hero’s arrived she was redesigning his entire wardrobe. He was just confused. The officers that arrived on the scene recognized Marinette and were horrified that her class left her in the hands of a criminal. Marinette just brushed it off as no big deal, she was used to it. This had them in near tears. The Flash helped her get back to the hotel. Barry was freaking pissed, so he took a couple pictures with Marinette, took her to get ice cream, and then took her back to her hotel; all before the class arrived.

When the class did arrive at the hotel they started accusing Marinette of working with Cold, but then they saw the Flash. Alya immediately started interviewing him. Only for him to snatch her phone out of her hand and delete the video. She wasnt happy about that, but Barry didn’t care. He stalked over to Bustier and started tearing her apart for abandoning a student. He then went to the police chief and let him know what happened.

Joe finds out what happened and knows that the class’s next stop is Gotham. He calls an old friend, Gordon, and tells him what’s going on and to keep an eye out for Marinette. Gordon agreed but doesn’t think that any teacher can be that stupid.

He is proven wrong when he goes to greet the class only to find that Bustier left Marinette behind. Gordon is dumbfounded, then furious when she said that Marinette can handle herself. Gordon then calls for a manhunt for this child. 15 minutes later he gets a call from Bruce that he has Marinette in his custody. He has permission from her parents to take care of her while she is in Gotham. Gordon starts compiling evidence of criminal neglect to send to the French Board of Education.

Roy was woken up to a call from Marinette. She got left behind again. He calls his friend Jason and tells him about what’s going on and if it’s ok if he stays with him until Marinette goes back to France. Jason,doesn’t know this is his sister, says yes. Roy and Marinette become an official couple on the way to Gotham. Bruce is trying to get everything ready for a non hero to come to their house, even if only for a few hours.

What no one expected was, when Alfred led them into the house. For Marinette and Jason to lock eyes, and for Mari to body check Jason. They also didn’t expect for Marinette and Jason to start crying, or for them to be siblings. Marinette slapped Jason a few times for making her think he died.

Roy pales when he realizes that Jason is her brother. Jason is furious at Roy for dating his sister. Marinette tried to keep her brother from killing her boyfriend, which is a struggle. She tells Bruce what happened with her class and he excused himself to go call her parents and inform them of what has happened. They give him permission to take care of their daughter while she is in Gotham. He also sets up future visits for Marinette to come to Gotham.

While Bruce is away, Damian arrives, sees a new dark haired minor, and immediately concludes his father has adopted another. He then proceeds to attack her, but Marinette takes a sword from a nearby knight and parries him. She barley keeps him at bay, when he realizes that she has some very basic knowledge of swordsmanship. He stops attacking her and starts teaching her. Thus an impenetrable sibling bond has formed. She cookes with Alfred. Dick teaches her how to trapieze. She gives Tim her illegal coffee recipe. Her and Jason talk for hours.

She also finds the Batcave. Only because she went to the library and tried getting a book, that happened to be the hidden enterance. She chews Bruce out for not dealing with the Joker in time to save her brother. She was just letting out her frustrations and everyone knew it. She met Louis and Clark, who she pulled to the side and told him to find a better disguise because it is obvious he is superman. She pats his shoulder and walks away. Louis slips Bruce $10.

Bruce invites the class to the Wayne Gala and provides clothes for them to wear. Marinette refuses the offer and makes her own dress. She also makes gifts for the Batfam.

Marinette is finally able to see Lila’s lies fall apart, at the Gala, and she refuses to forgive the class. What they did is not something that she can get over that easily. All of the abuse, the lack of loyalty, the manipulation, and demand for her time, energy, and supplies to give them what they want. She. Is. Done. She burned those bridges.

When the class is heading back to Paris their notifications go off. They are getting tagged in pictures of Marinette with the Avengers, Oliver Queen and Roy Harper, of the Central City Police force, with the Flash, with the Wayne’s, and Louis and Clark. They were shocked. How could Marinette get the opportunity to meet all of these people when she was with them the entire time. That’s when they realized, she wasn’t with them. The only time they remember seeing her is when they were on tours or she suddenly appeared in the places they were heading to. She was never with them when they left.

#maribat prompt #big bro jasonette #roynette #roynette is endgame #mlb x dc au #mlb x avengers au #mlb x avengers #class salt #lila salt #alya salt #adrien salt #bustier salt #caline bustier salt #the police have marinette’s back #she is the only one who is capable to take over the world

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 4 years

Text

Undercover - Chapter 1

Story Warnings: Smut, rape, mention of suicide, murder, domestic abuse, sexual assault, mention of abortion, addiction, torture, kidnapping.

Just a mention that these are serious topics and are not promoting anything and those topics are specifically for character development....

Chapter Selection

______________________________

I walk into the building and feel a rush of cool air. Dammit I wish I brought a sweater. When I walk into the office I get called by a man wearing a black suit with a red tie,

"Agent y/l?" I turned my head and walk over to the man that called my name; my Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. "Yes?"

"Can I see you in my office." He asked in a clam stern voice. I walked up to his door and walked inside.

He gestured for me to take a seat. "I see that you have a degree in criminology and criminal psychology."

"Yes sir." I started to rub my thump over my fingers. "Why the BAU", I couldn't read the emotions on his face. He was like stone. "I've always been interested in criminals and their behavior the why was the question I constantly asked myself when I'd see or read a story of a crime."

He doesn't say anything he just looks. His brows furrowed with his eyes focused on my body language.

"Okay", Hotch stands up and holds out his hand. I follow his movements and shook his hand. He walks out from behind his desk and walks to the railing outside. "I'd like to introduce you to Agent y/n y/l."

A crowd of 6 people came around from all over the bullpen. Hotch pointed to all the people; "This is Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, David Rossi, and Penelope Garcia,"

We all made conversation about how it was at the BAU and the types of cases they had gotten in the past. They were quick to disperse having paperwork to do. Hotch showed me to my desk and Garcia helped me get familiar with the system.

"Hey you need some help." Morgan approached me. "I'm already in the system and I have nothing to work on." He looks a me.

"I can show you around the building if you want; I'm already done my paperwork and I don't get off till 5 so." I shrug I've got nothing better to do.

JJ walked into the bullpen with a file at hand, "We've got a case." Everyone files to the round table taking a seat. Emily looks around taking notice at y/n and Morgan's absence, "Where's y/n and Morgan."

"He took her on a tour of the building, he was done his work." Reid says.

Me and Morgan were walking back into the bullpen when we notice everyone at the round table.

Hotch gave Morgan a disappointing look and showed me no emotion. "Don't be late. Garica." He wanted her to start.

Garcia starts ,"16 yr old Julia Martin went missing in Georgetown, Delaware Tuesday night at 10:32pm. She goes to Sussex Central High School, she is a sophomore and keeps to herself, she has a few close friends. She doesn't go out very often."

Now it's common knowledge that with cases like these it's time sensitive. "Wheels up in 30", We all head out to get our go bags, getting into the SUVs and heading to the jet.

We start to go over the case again. Hotch starts, "Prentiss, Morgan and I will go to the police station to set up, Reid and JJ go talk to the family.

Y/N you're with Rossi I want you guys to go to the school and talk to her teachers and friends."

The plane lands and we all get into the cars.

Rossi gets into the driver's seat. "So how do you like it so far." He continues to look at the road.

"It's great I've always wanted to be in the BAU since I was a kid." I look at Rossi, "Is Hotch always so serious?" He glances at me, "Most of the time but he'll warm up to you."

The rest of the car ride is filled with small conversation.

We get to the school and walk and start talking to her teachers. I asked "What was Julia like in class? Did she talk to anybody that she usually didn't and how were her grades?"

"She didn't really talk to anyone other than a few of her friends. I would try and help her to talk but she would end up doing the work independently even with a group and she would do all the work and as for her grades they were great. She was an A, B student for the most part."

The rest of the teachers said the same thing as the first.

"Okay so if nothing was going on at school and there were no suspicious people hanging around then they must have grabbed her at home."

I told Rossi as we walked back to the car. Someone caught our attention. There was a boy leaning against our car.

"Can we help you", Rossi asked. "I might know what happened to Julia, she was talking to this guy online... she might have mentioned that she was gonna meet up with him."

"Can you come by the station later we're gonna need to talk to you", I said and he agreed.

We drive back to the police station and the rest of the team is there. "So apparently Julia was talking to someone online and her friend thinks that's who might have taken her." Rossi says.

"And she's never met this guy. He doesn't even go to the same school according to her friend" I continue, "The friend's name is Kevin Philips and he's coming by tomorrow."

"Okay everyone we have a long day tomorrow let's get some rest." Hotch tells the team.

We go outside to the cars and drive over to the hotel. "There were only four rooms left so we're gonna need to share.

JJ and Emily I'm assuming you two are gonna share, Morgan and I will share so that leaves Hotch and y/n." Hotch stares at Rossi

"So you just get a room to yourself?" "Exactly." He walked off going to his room.

Of course.. "Are you ok with that, you can just share a room with JJ and I."

"No really it's fine." It wasn't fine. It was my first case and I sharing a room with my boss. Not just my boss but someone I found attractive.

Hotch grabs the key and we walk to the room. He walks in, drops his stuff on the chair and I just look at him then the bed. "What is it?"

"Um there's only one bed."

He looks at the bed and then the floor. "If it bothers you I can sleep on the floor I dont mind."

"No, it's ok, it's a large bed." He then turns around, grabs a towel and hops into the shower. I heat up our leftovers from lunch; I know he hasn’t eaten since this afternoon.

I put on some music and I start to change into a black crop top and grey sweatpants when he walks out of the bathroom.

I don't notice him at first but I can feel his eyes traveling up my body. I turned around and he's looking at me and I was staring at him.

He was buff, not ripped, but perfectly toned. You could clearly tell he had abs and a V line that went straight to..... I hadn't put on my clothes yet I was only in a black lace bra and some matching underwear.

He kept staring and I was too lost in thought to do anything about it. "I'm sorry", and he turned around and walked back into the bathroom out of embarrassment. "It's ok Hotch really."

"You sure." "Yes I'm sure." He walked back out with just the towel when I finished changing. While I was eating at one of the desks.

There was a mirror in front of me and I could see him perfectly. While I was chewing I could hear a faint voice. "y/n...y/n" I snapped to look up at his eyes through the mirror.

"Uhh you were staring." I didn't answer but I didn't have too. The brush rose to my cheeks and he could tell.

"You made my food?", "Yeah i knew you hadn't eaten so I figured."

Once I finished I turned off most of the lights as Hotch was still awake; I crawled under the covers and drifted off to sleep.

Aaron POV

I finished up eating the food she made me. I noticed the music she had on was still playing, the song was Brian Crain - Earth.

She was already sleeping...she looked so beautiful and peaceful. I turned off the music and crawled into bed. She didn't move and I went to sleep.

I woke up at 2am and her arms wrapped around my torso. Her head was laying on my chest; I slowly got up and went to the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and saw the sweat through my shirt so I took it off.

I went back into bed and right as I put one foot in she grabs my hand and pulls me toward her.

I'm now laying next to her with my arm wrapped around her back with my hand on her waist. She pulls me closer to her, puts her head back on my chest, and put a hand at the base of my neck.

"Where'd you go", she whispered into my ear. I got chills that ran up and down my spine.

"I had to go for a second but I'm back now", my voice was soft and low almost a whisper as I didn't wanna wake her even more. It was nice, I did like her.

She nestles her head in the crook of my neck. I felt her breath on my body. We both just drift in each other's arms.

She's just so beautiful... everything about her. The dips and curves of her body to the sound of her voice.

I notice something though, the scars running down her back. Like someone had dragged a knife down it.

-----------------------------------

I woke up first again this time; it was 6am. I didn't wanna wake y/n so I just stayed in bed laying down looking at her.

This time she wasn't holding me, she was almost on top of me; I could feel her heart beat at a steady pace. Her legs were on mine, her face nestled into my chest and her arms around my body.

I put my hands on her holding her close. After about 10min she started to open her eyes. "Hey", I said with a soft tone. Surprisingly she looked at me and didn't visibly freak out but her heart rate was picking up, she closed her eyes and tightened her grip.

"How'd you sleep", I asked her and she looked down at my chest. "It was good", She said lazily. Y/N let out a loud sigh and got up into the bathroom.

The heat that was next to me started to fade away as her side of the bed got cold. I heard the shower turn on when I went to get some food.

When I came back she was out of the shower and dressed. "I got you some coffee." She took it from my hand and waited for me to get ready for work.

Y/N POV

Oh my god, I was sleeping on my boss....all night. I enjoyed it- he didn't get up when he saw me. Did he enjoy it too?

I get out of the shower and Hotch is gone. I started to get changed; I put on a white dress shirt and a black slacks with black heels. I hear someone knock at the door.

It was Hotch holding some coffee and two muffins. "I got you some coffee." He said holding it out.

I start eating my food and he started asking me questions. "So what made you wanna join the FBI?", that was one question I didn't really wanna answer right now.

"It was my sister for the most part but also the fact that basically my whole family was involved in the government."

"Why your sister?", He looked at me studying seeing how I was reacting. When he asked that question my heart sank into my stomach. "She-", I was trying not to cry; I took a big gulp.

"She was murdered when I was teenager, I was the one who found the body...It was a long time ago but it still hurts", tears started to fill my eyes and my face was getting red. I looked up for a moment trying to blink the tears away.

There was a flash of regret in his eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get upset."

"No it's okay you didn't know." I was trying to hold it together clearly it wasn't working when he walked over to me, he put his arms around my waist and back and hugged me.

I was caught off guard by the sign of affection but I put my arms around him and hugged him tight.

"it's okay, I'm sorry." A few tears managed to escape from my eyes; they rolled down my face they were absorbed by his shirt. He cupped my face and wanted me to look at him.

He didn't say anything, he used his thumb to wipe the tears that were still falling from my face and hugged me again.

I started to calm down in his arms listening to his breathing. I felt protected, secure, and warm. Being in his embrace was like a shield; nothing else mattered.

Time skip

While waiting for Kevin to get here we all are gathered around talking. I walked over to Reid; he has his nose buried in a book, "Hey." He looked up at me. "Hey", "How's it going." I was getting a little nervous running my thumb along my other fingers.

He seemed to notice when his face softened a bit. "Good"

"Look I'm sorry in advance I'm not really good with conversation." I said as he stood up from the chair. "It's okay neither am I, I always worry if I'm saying too much or saying the wrong thing."

Knowing there was someone else on the team that was also awkward it was comforting. "Well since we'll be working together a lot how about when we finish this we go get a cup of coffee."

His shoulders eased and his eyes lit up. "Yeah I'd like that." I can tell the corners of his mouth were turning up and his cheeks were slightly pink.

Reid sat back down when I walked away he looked slightly disappointed but resumed reading. I was about to talk to Morgan but Kevin walked into the station.

JJ walked up to him, "Kevin?" He nodded. "Follow me", JJ brought him to a back office and sat him down. "Before Julia left did she say anything to you."

Kevin started, "I might be her best friend but she didn't tell me much only that she'd been talking to him for a few months and that he wanted to meet up with her. She said his name was Danny. He went to another high school but she didn't say which one, he was 17, and lived near Middletown or New Castle; I don't remember which. If it were up to her she wouldn't have told me at all, I was bugging her about it and she finally let it out."

Morgan called Garcia, "Hey baby girl, Do you think you can trace her phone?", then Garcia started talking "Honey if you don't think I can do that then your in for a surprise on what I can do." Morgan laughed. He's obviously the flirty one.

"Her phone is off best I can do is get the last known location....and that is in...New Castle Glasgow Park, its roughly an hour and 30 away." "Alright thanks babygirl"

"I'll call you back if it goes online." She ended the phone call and told the team.

Reid looked at Hotch, Morgan and I. "Either that's where they took her or she really didn't wanna get caught", I stated.

"Y/N and I will drive up there." Hotch glances at me and nodded his head towards the door.

The drive with Hotch was nice. We talked and I learned he had a brother in New York that works as a chef. His dad was a lawyer and his mom was a nurse. He likes dogs, Bon Jovi, and the beatles.

I told him more about my sister, how my mom was a Marine and my dad was a detective. I told him I liked the beatles, cold weather, and Elvis.

When we got to the park we noticed there was no one there, it was silent and secluded. "Walk with me", I tugged his hand gesturing to follow me. "Were on a case", "I know were just looking around."

His eyes looked down at my hand on his, I let go and my cheeks blushed, he took notice; the corners of his mouth turning upwards. There was no one else on the trail.

Trees surrounding the majority of the area. "What did you do.. ya know before this." As we were walking he averted his gaze from the ground to me. "Before the FBI?" I turned slightly. "Yeah", "I was a prosecutor."

I slowed my steps, "Why'd you stop, you were still putting the criminals away. Why'd you lose interest." He smiled a bit when he looked to the side to see me already looking at him.

"I don't know, I guess it was because I was tried of it. When those cases came to me they had already committed the crime. I guess I thought I wasn't doing enough. I wanted to get them before those cases reached my desk."

We were approaching some of the wooded pathways that broke of in two directions.

That's when we stopped, I walked in front of him and kept my eyes of the ground before looking up.

"Well sir congrats you were successful. I mean think of how many lives you've saved based on that one decision you made." His eyes softened and his face eased his shoulders dropped, he was relaxed.

"What's that", he points to the ground in front of one of the gates by the woods. I bend down and grabbed it, "It's a phone. Still has power, no password."

Hotch calls Garcia, "Hello sir what can I do you for." "Can you run a number for me...302-555-4276." After a few seconds and the sound of typing she speaks.

"The number is registered to a.. Julia Martin. Sir, that's her phone" Hotch ends the call.

"The phone was in front of the woods if you were taking someone to a public park to meet with them the woods would be an easy exit", He states.

Hotch gestures me to continue walking into the woods I look at him then the woods. "No you're going first", I put my hands up and he stares down and chuckles. "You scared?", I shrug and grin, "Maybe."

"Think about it in the movies where do the people go missing" I pause before continuing, "the woods and I'm not gonna be one of those people."

While he's stiffing a laugh I follow behind him. It's starting to get dark so we pick up the pace. We go on for 2 miles before I stop him, "Right there", I point to a broken house at a clearing.

I remove my gun, he takes the back while I stay in the front with my gun raised.

I hear Hotchs footsteps through the house, I walk in the front door; seeing nothing but broken chairs, torn wallpaper, and rotting wood. He signals me to go upstairs.

The floor creaking below me feeling like it's going to fall any second. I get to the top and check the rooms. There's a chair in the middle of the room, blood on the walls and clothes covering the floor but they are worn and discolored. They've been for awhile.

As I go back downstairs I fall through into the basement, "Fuck!". "Y/N what happened, are you okay." "I'm fine", I say strained. I slammed my back on the concrete knocking the wind out of me.

I hear something moving in the room with me. "Hotch there's something down here." I call out to him yelling in a whisper.

#aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x y/n #reader x aaron+hotchner #hotchner x reader #fanfic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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ladylynse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 [FF | AO3] of Revision: Maddie can’t deny it any longer. If ectoplasm can become blood, there’s more to this story than she ever realized.

Beginning | Previous

-|-

“Tucker, please tell me you’re in a position where you can talk right now,” Jazz hissed into her Fenton Phone. “Vlad’s denying everything. He said he doesn’t have any copies of Danny’s ecto-signature, that you guys wiped everything, and he made up some weird acronym for the Maddie program to try to not sound like a creep. And I think Mom’s buying it, which is even worse.”

“Dude, calm down. You can just turn on the Maddie program and show her,” Tucker answered immediately. She could hear the equivalent of wind over his mic, which didn’t narrow down his position. He’d either landed somewhere with a microclimate or was creating enough of a breeze while flying that the mic was picking it up. “It’s, like, a big round button by the central screen. It used to be labelled, so look for a sticky spot if there aren’t any labels. I haven’t run into your dad yet, but I stopped Johnny 13 and Kitty and they’re gonna look for him. They’ve promised not to let anyone try to kill him.”

That was not as comforting as Tucker probably hoped it would be.

“I, uh, kinda had to promise them that Danny would let them off the hook if they chilled in the real world for a few days next week. Like a vacation. They promised they wouldn’t destroy stuff.”

Definitely not as comforting as he thought, but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. If Johnny 13 or Kitty—or Shadow—tried to go back on their word, she still had a Fenton Anti-Creep Stick under her bed.

“I’m fighting my way through snow drifts right now. My jetpack gave out and Frostbite hasn’t sent anyone to come pick me up yet. Or at least they haven’t gotten to me if he has. Tell Mr. and Mrs. F they need to invent retractable snowshoes.”

The exercise Tucker would be getting slogging through drifts might be one of the reasons he wasn’t freezing yet. He can’t have been at it for long, though, since he wasn’t out of breath, and she knew he wasn’t exactly in shape, despite running around after Danny.

Jazz walked back over to the computer and started pressing every round button she could find, but nothing activated the Maddie program. Come to that, nothing had any discernable effect. “You wouldn’t have wiped out the Maddie program the last time you wiped Vlad’s files, right?”

Tucker’s snort came across loud and clear. “Please. I’m combating that with the Jack program. It’s a virus and much harder to get rid of than a simple reset or reinstall. If you can’t get the Maddie program to activate, it’s something Vlad did, not something I did. And, yeah, we did wipe his files recently, but he’s bound to have it backed up in places we haven’t found yet. That’s why we need to do it whenever we get the chance.”

Comforting. So she didn’t have proof, and her mom certainly didn’t look like she was in the mood to accept such an accusation without proof. What had Vlad told her? Jazz should have never left them alone. Really, why would Maddie be inclined to believe a creep she’d lost touch with for twenty years and not her own kids?

Jazz already knew the answer to that, of course. Maddie still tried to see Vlad as an old college friend, just like Jack did. Maybe because Jack did, and she didn’t want to burst his bubble. And for all Jazz knew, she still hadn’t gotten the truth of halfas through her head. Vlad could certainly have told her something to make her doubt Jazz’s knowledge—maybe Danny’s, too, if Vlad played it off as ignorance born of inexperience.

Then there was what Maddie had done.

Even Jazz wasn’t sure what Danny would say when he faced her again.

It might depend entirely on how Danielle had fared.

Jazz knew perfectly well that this most likely wasn’t a situation she could fix, but she just…. She wasn’t going to leave Danny out there to fend for himself and Danielle alone. And she wanted to help Danielle, if she could, and not just because she wanted to know Danielle’s story, even if Danny would complain loudly that that must be her motive.

Jazz, who was only half listening as Tucker grumbled in her ear about yetis needing a better alarm service so he could get picked up faster, glanced to the other side of the lab, where Maddie and Vlad were bent over blueprints.

Jazz had always thought she’d be able to stop her parents before it went too far.

She’d always thought Danny would be able to stop them with the truth if she wasn’t there.

But now that this had happened, now that they had gone straight past too far….

Vlad wasn’t helping. Jazz was really starting to think that Tucker was right and Vlad was the reason she couldn’t pull up the Maddie program. It can’t have been that hard for him to create an invisible double, letting that Vlad remove anything incriminating while this one stalled.

That was, of course, assuming he hadn’t done that the moment he’d gotten home, since he would’ve known she wasn’t willing to play nice anymore.

She’d always thought being able to tell her parents Danny’s secret would go better than this. She hadn’t expected Vlad to be so effective at saying whatever he’d said to keep her mom wrapped around his little finger. And if she couldn’t find actual proof to back up her words….

They needed to find Danny and Danielle.

Maddie would believe them, even if she wouldn’t believe that Jazz knew what she was talking about. Jazz’s mouth twisted. The fact that Maddie seemed to be willing to discount what Jazz thought just because of her age and, no doubt, because she wanted to try to rescue a friendship that had probably been destroyed over twenty years ago….

Come to that, though— Jazz frowned. What had Danny ever told her about Vlad? About how he’d come to be this way? She knew it was a lab accident back in his college days; it must be. She remembered her parents saying how he’d had to drop out after that, how he’d had no desire to go back even when he had recovered, how he’d asked them to give him space and then never reached out again until the reunion. They’d been happy to find out that their friendship wasn’t over, that they could just pick up where they’d left off.

But they hadn’t, even if Jack and Maddie certainly seemed to have tried. They couldn’t. They assumed Vlad was the same person, and he very much wasn’t—or, at least, Jazz hoped he’d changed for the worse and hadn’t always been this way. It really didn’t say much for her parents if Vlad hadn’t changed for the worse.

“Danny,” Jazz murmured, “where are you?”

“Dora hasn’t seen him,” Sam reported. She must have come out of the dead zone in time to overhear Jazz’s question; she hadn’t realized she’d forgotten to silence her Fenton Phone. “We’re heading to Poindexter’s now and will swing by the Ghostwriter’s on the way, just in case. You have any luck, Tuck?”

“I should know in a bit. I think the shadow I’m seeing is a yeti and not a rock.”

Jazz chewed her lip and tried again to bring up the Maddie program—or, for that matter, any incriminating evidence at all.

By the time Tucker reported that Danny hadn’t gone to Frostbite, either, she hadn’t turned up anything out of the ordinary.

Vlad’s lab, though a secret one, now seemed little different from the one in her basement.

“Find Dad,” Jazz whispered. “I don’t trust Vlad, not when it was his idea to separate them, and I don’t know if it’s a good idea to leave his protection entirely up to ghosts.”

There was a long silence before Tucker tentatively asked, “You want us both to search for him instead of looking for Danny? We still haven’t hit up Clockwork—”

“I don’t think Danny’s in the Ghost Zone.”

“Because—?”

“If he’d thought he could come to Vlad with this, he would have. Since he didn’t, he doesn’t want Vlad to find him, either. And even I know Vlad has a lot of eyes in the Ghost Zone.”

“I’ll still check with Clockwork and some of the other ghosts Danny’s on good terms with.” Sam this time. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for your dad, and I can split from Dora if you’re really worried. The Ghost Zone might be a big place, but your dad stands out. Any ghost who’s seen him will know they’ve seen him. He won’t be that hard for Tucker to find.”

Well. That did make more sense than abandoning the search for Danny and just focusing on Jack. Jazz just….

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the sudden tears at bay.

This wasn’t fair.

If she could just trust Vlad with this, it would be so much easier, but when he was against Jack, against Danny, trying to wrap Maddie around his little finger while thumbing his nose at her—

The truth was, Danny hadn’t trusted any of them. It wasn’t just Vlad; he hadn’t even told Sam and Tucker anything. Why? He’d kept things from her in the past, but them? He’d always confided in them.

Hadn’t he?

Grabbing a first aid kit and leaving without giving any answers wasn’t like him, and she knew Sam, at least, had a good hand for patching them all up, and Tucker was well on his way of overcoming his phobia of all things medical, even if Jazz wasn’t sure he’d ever be comfortable with it.

It wasn’t like Sam and Tucker couldn’t keep Danny’s secret, unless he thought this put it at more risk than normal. This would have hardly been the first time they’d lied to pretty much everyone else in their lives for Danny’s sake. Was he really avoiding them just because it would be too easy to be found with them?

Jazz opened her eyes and glanced over at the other side of the lab again.

That did seem likely, and it was what she’d first suspected, but it still seemed odd for Danny to not even try. Granted, not telling them anything would mean they wouldn’t be guilted into saying anything or accidentally let something slip, either. With how Maddie had been acting, it certainly wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she’d force herself into whatever safe space Danny had made if he’d stayed nearby, and Danny knew exactly how their parents could get.

So if Danny didn’t trust that their parents wouldn’t find him with Sam and Tucker or that Vlad wouldn’t find him with his allies in the Ghost Zone, where would he have gone?

What was she missing?

XXXXXX

Vlad’s invention was rather ingenious, but Maddie supposed she hadn’t expected anything less. If Vlad hadn’t given up on studying the paranormal, it made perfect sense that he’d have made such strides—especially considering his condition. Her stomach twisted at the thought that she and Jack were partially responsible for that as well and that Vlad hadn’t thought he could trust them….

Well.

Given what had happened, she couldn’t fault him for that. She wanted to think she’d have stopped if she’d known, but if she hadn’t believed him—

It was astounding how easy it was to fall into their old rhythm. This was far from the first time she’d checked over Vlad’s work. His notes were as meticulous as always and, as always, she couldn’t find any mistakes. They had no way of refining the tracker to Phantom—Danny—specifically, but….

“Could you modify this to run off a biological sample?” She tapped the portion of the blueprints that interested her without bothering to raise her head to look at Vlad. He’d follow her train of thought easily enough—he always had—and, in the meantime, she could focus on the idea that was taking shape in her mind.

Currently, Vlad’s prototype was built to take into account specific ecto-signatures fed into it with the option of finding and locking onto the nearest one, but Maddie highly doubted Danny had remained nearby. He wouldn’t want to risk it.

He wouldn’t want to risk her finding him.

She knew he didn’t want to be found, but she had to find him. Them. She had to do what she could to fix this, even if it wouldn’t fix everything, because this was her fault, and if she didn’t—

If she didn’t—

“I’ve plans for a different invention with that capability,” Vlad said slowly, “with technology that we could try to integrate into this, but I hardly think a few of Daniel’s hairs would be enough.”

“Have you started building it?”

“Only the most rudimentary pieces, but—”

“Let me see it. Please.” She thought he had enough here already that it would be more a matter of modifying the computer input on the device than its parts; if he’d already built the missing pieces, all they needed to do was put it together and input the proper programming. Really, depending on what he had built, if they could just tweak that and extend this chamber to connect there and feed back into that, assuming the computer could read the sample from there….

The prototype Vlad placed in front of her a few moments later was not rudimentary, except perhaps by his standards.

The more she looked it over, the more convinced she became that her idea might actually work.

He handed her the original prototype without asking, scooping it up from the other table where they’d put it down for safekeeping while poring over the blueprints. All the tools she needed were suddenly within easy reach, and Maddie slipped on her googles and got to work, barely noticing Vlad drift off to talk to Jazz.

XXXXXXXXX

Maddie didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke up. She yawned and sat up, hearing the slight rustle of silk sliding off her shoulders as Vlad’s suit jacket fell to the floor. She bent to retrieve it and set it on the back of her chair before starting to knead the knots from her shoulders.

“We thought it best not to wake you,” Vlad said quietly. He sat across from her at the table, the completed prototype—now reminiscent of a large mechanical beetle—on one side and the computer to which it was hooked up on the other. He’d donned a white lab coat, no doubt in concession to the fact that he was working in his lab, around multiple chemicals that could stain, but it was still spotless.

Maddie turned to look for Jazz and found her daughter perched stiffly on a tall stool by Vlad’s main computer. She looked like she hadn’t slept a wink, despite clutching a mug in one hand—coffee, Maddie suspected, though the smell might come from the cup near Vlad. Still, Jazz’s acceptance of Vlad’s offer of a drink—assuming she hadn’t gone to get her own—might hint at a tentative peace between them. Of course, if she had gone to make her own coffee, the capped water bottle sitting on the console behind Jazz, half empty, might be Jazz’s way of making a point of not accepting anything untouched from Vlad.

Maddie knew some of Jazz’s misgivings wouldn’t be unfounded even if she were wrong about most of it, given Vlad’s successful ruse, but she wished the two of them could put their differences aside long enough to find Danny. They could sort out the details of it all later. Finding Danny, helping Danielle— That’s what mattered right now.

Jazz met Maddie’s eyes but said nothing of what she was thinking, and Maddie wasn’t sure she could guess anymore. At one point, Jazz had braided her hair—plagued by flyaway strands as it was, it seemed to be mostly holding together, likely because she’d repurposed her headband to tie its end—so she must have been studying something intently, but Maddie wasn’t sure what it could be. Even if Jazz did have mechanical knowledge of which Maddie was unaware, there was nothing around her that would suggest she’d been working on something, no tools or odd parts or even another set of blueprints.

The Fenton Phone on Jazz’s ear stood out prominently, but even though Maddie was sure Jazz would have said something if she had news from Sam and Tucker, Maddie still asked.

“We wouldn’t still be here if they’d found him,” Jazz said. “Tuck’s keeping an eye on Dad, too, in case Vlad gets any ideas. Really, the only upside is that Vlad hasn’t found Danny yet, either.”

Maddie raised her eyebrows—whether at Jazz’s declaration or conviction, she wasn’t entirely sure—and Vlad allowed himself a small huff of disbelief at her brazenness.

“I’m not going to explain how I know that,” she added before Maddie could ask. “Not when he’s right there. Just…think about it. If you still know Vlad half as well as you think you do, it’s not that hard.”

“I’ll have much better luck doing my part in this search if you’d simply agree to let me into your house to collect some of Daniel’s DNA for use in our new tracking device.”

“My answer on that isn’t gonna change, even though I know it won’t stop you.”

“Please, you know I’d hardly break into your house.”

Jazz snorted. “Sure, because you don’t break anything when you phase in. All the better to leave behind no evidence that way.”

Vlad sighed.

This was not, Maddie suspected, the first time they’d had this conversation. Quite possibly, it was also the reason Jazz had not allowed herself to sleep, although worry for her brother and wanting to keep in contact with Sam and Tucker could explain that as well. If only there had been word from them or from Jack….

No matter. If Vlad had finished the prototype after she’d fallen asleep, then they had everything they needed. Assuming it worked, assuming everything had been integrated properly, assuming—

No. She had faith in her own skills and in Vlad’s, especially since he clearly wasn’t rusty. This should work. She had to believe it would work.

“We don’t need to go home to find some DNA from Danny,” she said, sparing Jazz another glance before facing Vlad.

“Right, because Vlad probably has some stashed here already.”

“No.” The centrifuge tube of ectoplasm-turned-blood was still in her pocket. “I already have a sample we can use.”

She hadn’t explained any of this to Vlad. She hadn’t told him about the sample, not when she’d first asked for his help and not since, and even now, knowing what he was…. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t listened, that he had been right to cut her and Jack out of his life, that she didn’t deserve to call herself Danny’s mother if she could—

How different would things have been if she hadn’t caught Danielle unawares? If she hadn’t had a chance to inject her with the solution that made ghosts temporarily unable to become intangible, at least under their own power? Jack’s Ecto-Dejecto formula may have failed, but after they’d been able to tweak the formula and use the strengthening effect to interfere with a ghost’s intangibility, she’d thought it the solution to their problems. Keeping a ghost captive in phase proof bindings, after all, never guaranteed that a scalpel could meet their ecto-flesh. But after the formula had worked….

Jazz was sure Vlad knew more about Danielle than he was saying, but even if she were just a ghost that Vlad was aware of and had helped in the past, Maddie didn’t want to say more than this. He knew about Danielle’s nature. Somehow, he shared it. That was more than enough.

He’d be able to guess the details without her needing to give them voice, anyway.

“Oh.” Jazz’s voice was quiet as Maddie withdrew the sample and set it on the table between her and Vlad. “Mom, maybe giving this to Vlad isn’t the smartest thing—”

“We need help. You said that yourself. That’s why we came here in the first place.”

“Yeah, but we can do that without giving him everything.”

“I know you don’t trust him, sweetie, but you can do this for Danny.”

Vlad smiled at her as he reached out for the sample. “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask about it. He might not realize that it was Danielle’s blood and not Danny’s. Maddie didn’t think it would make a difference in the end; finding Danielle would mean finding Danny. Finding Danielle would mean having the chance to help her, if she’d allow it.

If Danny would allow it.

She might never have his trust again, especially if she found him by working with Vlad when he and Jazz were convinced of Vlad’s ill will.

Vlad moved to retrieve a dropper from one of his shelves and added a few drops of the sample to the prototype. The machine whirred slightly as he turned it on and let it analyze the sample. She moved to stand beside him, checking the readout on the computer against the settings on the device.

She wasn’t sure where he’d put the centrifuge tube with the rest of the sample. His own pocket, perhaps; the biological sample within the machine would degrade over time, and they’d need to add more if they didn’t find Danny and Danielle quickly enough.

“For the record,” Jazz said, “I just wanted to fix the Booo-merang.”

Vlad unplugged the prototype, and it rose to hover in the air. The mechanical wings stretched, acting as stabilizers, and gave her a view of the screen built into its abdomen.

She frowned. “What’s the projected range again?”

“Easily twenty-five miles,” Vlad answered. “I originally intended it for short distances, so I can’t guarantee beyond that as I’ve never tested it, let alone with these modifications, but—”

“That’s not far enough.” The beetle turned slowly in the air, and Maddie saw Vlad glance at the screen as it came around to face him. “They’re farther away than that.”

“Or they’re in the Ghost Zone after all.” Maddie hadn’t heard Jazz come up behind her, her sock feet silent on the tiled floor. “I didn’t think they were.”

Vlad was frowning. “I tried to extend the range to a hundred miles. Surely the little badger hasn’t gone that far, if he is still on this side.��

Jazz had moved off to the other side of the room and was already speaking into the Fenton Phone again, no doubt to tell Sam and Tucker what was going on—and that they weren’t having any luck over here.

“We could try adding more of the sample,” Maddie suggested. She didn’t want to think of the alternatives, even when she knew—

Vlad shook his head. “I’ve added more than enough.” He pointed to the relay on the computer screen. “The sample is sufficient.”

The sample also hadn’t degraded already, according to the computer, which admittedly had been one of Maddie’s worst fears. After all, if they’d been too late, she wasn’t sure if the machine would be able to lock onto the source. Vlad had said that Danielle was unstable, and if this had pushed her too far—

“Perhaps it’s merely not reading it correctly?”

Vlad looked in Jazz’s direction, a puzzled frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I was beginning to suspect they might not be in the Ghost Zone, either, truth be told. Jack surely would’ve sent word, and you’ve clearly enlisted Sam and Tucker’s help as well. They aren’t incompetent, and I was sure Daniel would have gone to someone for help.” He eased back into his chair, typing a few things into his computer before saying, “My other thought was that Daniel would attempt to remain in town despite the tracking methods we have—such as your Fenton Finder—but I’ve used similar devices to this one in the past to track down particular ghosts and have had no issues with such a short range.”

“Then how do we expand it?”

“As I said, I’ve already expanded it.”

“Not enough.”

“Brilliant as we are together, Maddie dearest, I’m afraid that even the two of us won’t be able to find a way to expand it farther without severely compromising accuracy. We can’t afford to be sent off on a wild goose chase due to a partial match or hundreds of miles off course, not if time truly is of the essence.”

Maddie opened her mouth to argue, but what reason did Vlad have to lie? She and Jack weren’t even sure of the range of the Fenton Booo-merang, for all that Jazz seemed convinced it would be their best bet for tracking down Danny, wherever he was. More to the point, it wasn’t as if Vlad could pull any trickery right in front of her. She could see as well as he could that his prototype wasn’t working, even if they hadn’t figured out why.

“Perhaps we should take it into the Ghost Zone,” she said hesitantly, “to see if it’s able to find him in there?”

“The Ghost Zone is vast. Even with its range, it may not have any more luck than the others.”

“We have to try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll…we’ll go back to the drawing board. Find a way to fix it, make it better.” If they had to take it apart again, they’d best rule out what they could first. Testing it in the Ghost Zone was one step. Vlad could follow it in there even if she and Jazz couldn’t.

Jazz wouldn’t be happy with that idea, of course, but Maddie wasn’t about to ask Vlad to carry one of them, and she hadn’t seen anything in his lab that would hint at an invention like the Fenton Jet Packs. Then again, if Jazz was right about Vlad supplying the Red Huntress with her weaponry, then perhaps he had built her jet sled? There didn’t seem to be another in the lab, not unless it was in pieces in an unmarked box, but—

Maddie’s cellphone started ringing.

She jumped, hardly remembering she’d had it with her in the first place. She hadn’t thought Jack would call her cell phone—surely there wasn’t service in the Ghost Zone—and the number wasn’t Danny’s, however much she’d hoped, but….

“Mom?” Jazz was back at her side. “Who is it?”

Vlad looked up from the computer at that, clearly curious about the answer. “I don’t recognize the number,” Maddie murmured as she pressed a button to answer the phone. The area code was familiar, but with the number of spam calls these days, that hardly meant anything. “Hello?”

A part of her still hoped the voice on the other end of the line would belong to Danny.

A smaller part of her thought that, maybe, the voice would be Danielle’s, that she would’ve simply gotten the number from Danny himself.

The rest of her knew perfectly well that if Danny or Danielle were calling someone in the family instead of one of Danny’s friends, it would be Jazz.

Still, that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from breaking a little more when the voice on the other end of the line didn’t belong to either of them.

(see more fics | next)

#danny phantom #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #dp snippet

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bailey-reaper · 3 years

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How about a drabble of Barok serving as Klint's judicial assistant in his younger years, before he officially studies law to become a prosecutor? I like the idea of him becoming interested in and familiar with law from his brother. "Judicial Assistant van Zieks" has a certain ring to it.

Work Experience

Notes:

Oh that's a lovely idea, anon! I'd imagine that by the time he's promoted to 'Director of Prosecutions', Klint would most likely have been a very senior barrister known as a Q.C. ('Queen's Counsel'); they're also known colloquially as 'silks' because they 'take silk' (i.e. acquire a robe made of silk) upon attaining this lofty rank.

When a barrister becomes a silk/QC, they often only handle the most difficult (and expensive) work, but they will usually have a junior barrister assisting them (i.e. doing all the work, though I doubt Klint would conduct himself like that).

I can very much imagine Klint taking Barok as his junior and allowing himself to be 'led' by the latter. The term 'leading' basically means the barrister in charge of conducting the case where there's more than one involved.

Content Warnings: legal gubbins (that's the technical term btw... it's not); I take liberties with all things van Zieks, as usual...

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

Klint's office was the very best place to study as far as Barok was concerned - the vast table in the centre of the room allowed him to spread his books out while the peaceful calm was greatly conducive to reflective reading. It was as good as, if not superior to, going to the university library. "Barok!" Klint said as he entered his room and shrugged out of his formal scarlet jacket, tossing it haphazardly on a coat rack, "What a pleasant surprise-- drink?" "Good afternoon brother," he looked up and nodded in greeting, "Mm, yes please. How was court?" "Fairly standard stuff," Klint sighed as he took two glasses and poured a measure of whiskey into each. Truth be told it was yet more of the depressing hypocrisy that grew ever-apparent to him day by day, but there was no need to sour a visit from his brother with such things. He set the glass down beside Barok and held up his own in a toasting gesture. Their glasses chimed melodically before both took a sip. Barok coughed a little, still unaccustomed to way whiskey punched the back of his throat when he swallowed it, "I imagine you were splendid, as always." "Oh?" Klint chuckled, his brother truly did worship him. Then, while he leaned against his desk, an idea came to him, "Hmmm! That's a thought..." "Huh?" "How about you take on a little work experience by my side, hm? I'm sure it would be fun to have you as my junior counsel for a while." "What? Really?" Barok looked simultaneously shocked and delighted, "I'd very much like to learn at your side, brother, I imagine there is much you could teach me about court etiquette and procedure!" "Then it's settled! I'll write to your professor and tell him you're to undertake a period of practical study beside me. After all, you're planning to become a prosecutor are you not?" he knew full well his brother intended to follow in his footsteps, which was incredibly flattering-- though he did have his reservations about what such a career might do to his darling brother's character. The younger nodded, "I should very much like to become a prosecutor." "Very good," he set his glass down and sat at his desk, taking a sheet of paper and his quill in hand, "We'll have that letter sent out today!" ──────≪⊰✥⊱≫─────── Barok had been to court many, many times but mostly to observe by way of the public gallery when safe to do so, or from a corner of the courtroom once he started being targeted due to Klint's ever-growing renown as the 'bane of criminals'. This, however, was on an entirely different scale: today he would be assisting with the proceedings -- a participant rather than a spectator. "You look nervous," Klint remarked as he stood beside his younger brother. "What... what do you mean?" "Your eyes," he said, chuckling behind his fist, "They're darting all over the place like a furtive rabbit's" "....O.. Oh..." he took a deep breath and shook his head, "I... didn't sleep much last night, my mind seemed to want to go over the case details again and again." "Mmmm, I had forgotten how it felt to be quite that nervous in court... still, it's good you feel that unsettled sense in the pit of your stomach. One should never be blasé about standing in this sombre hall of justice. It should always create a sense of disquiet, that is how you know you yet hold the essence of what it means to be an officer of the court," Klint took a glass and a decanter from under the bench and filled it with a small measure, "But, here, it doesn't hurt to settle your nerves." "Is that... whiskey?!" Barok uttered. "Yes, go on, for your nerves, little brother." He took a sip as directed, and choked again; still not used to that fiery punch in his throat, "T...thank you." Suddenly there were three loud knocks at the door followed by the court clerk's booming voice: "All persons who have anything to do before my Lords - the Queen's Justices - at the Central Criminal Court, draw near and give your attendance. God Save the Queen!" the clerk bowed to the judge then took a seat in the corner so as to record a transcript of the proceedings.

The Judge sat down, "In the name of her Majesty, Queen Victoria, I declare this court to be in session. God Save the Queen," the middle-aged man, whose hair was starting to fail him, though it was hidden under his white wig, cast his gaze over the persons in attendance, "Lord van Zieks, I see the prosecution has a junior member today." "Correct, my lord," Klint replied with a smile, "This is my younger brother, Barok, he desires to become a prosecutor, so I thought it only proper for him to accompany me on a few excursions so as to get a feel for the thing." "Quite right and very good," the Judge nodded, "I bid you welcome, young man, I hope you will learn much from your older brother, he is a skilled prosecutor and an invaluable asset to this court." "Y... Yes sir!" Barok said, standing straight to attention. Klint chuckled before placing a hand over his heart and bowing, "Thank you, my Lord, you honour me." "Now, Counsel, your opening statement, if you please." "With pleasure, my Lord..." ──────≪⊰✥⊱≫─────── Barok dutifully passed evidence and case notes to his brother as the case progressed, while also taking notes of things that struck him as important in terms of procedure, witness testimony and the general way in which matters progressed. He also made a few notes on Klint's control of the courtroom and general demeanour; the way he eloquently developed his arguments and appealed to the Jury with a seemingly effortless, poetic grace. It was a true masterclass in courtroom conduct and he longed to commit every second of it to his memory so that he might mimic his brother's style in the future. "I already told ya!" snapped the witness in the box, "I ain't never had nothin' to do with the gobshite!" Klint sighed while removing a handsome goblet, fashioned from silver and crystal, from under the bench and filling it with a measure of whiskey, "I'm going to overlook your use of a double negative, no doubt you'd have no sense of what that actually means, and presume that you're trying to deny all knowledge of the accused." "Double wot?" "Never mind all that, " Klint took a sip, startling Barok-- was his brother drinking in court?! The Judge didn't seem remotely bothered by it, in fact no one said a word. Did he do this often?? His brother continued, "You say you don't know that man in the dock." "That's right!" "Are you sure about that?" "W-Wot?! Why'd you keep askin' me that?! If you got somethin' to say about it then say it!" the witness looked flustered and vaguely guilty to Barok's untrained eye. "I'll do better than that," Klint said, setting his goblet down, "I'll show that you're lying to me, to this court and these fine men and women of the jury." "... U..urk..." the witness bit their bottom lip, "Yer lyin'! There ain't no proof to be had!" "I don't play games of bluff, good sir. Like any lawyer worth his salt: when I assert, I go on to prove what I'm saying," he held up a document, "Do you know what this is?" ".... Looks like a bit'o paper..." "It's a contract, signed between you and the accused. A... 'gentlemans' agreement of goods and for services rendered –– you, sir, would receive the stolen property from the accused and his associates, then sell it on for them via your Pawnbrokery!" "W-Whaaaaat?!" the witness recoiled, "W...Where'd you get that?!" "It was well hidden, I'll give you that," Klint replied with a smile, "But not well enough to escape my notice. You're as involved in this intricate criminal fencing enterprise as the accused!" The court descended into a shocked furor... ──────≪⊰✥⊱≫─────── "I think this is a good place to adjourn proceedings for today," the Judge observed after the breakdown of the witness, "Bailiff, have that man arrested and handed over to the Yard so he can answer questions about his involvement in this sordid affair!" The bailiff did as ordered and apprehended the witness.

"Thank you to both Counsel's, and our young junior, for their assistance today. We shall continue again first thing on Monday. Court is adjourned!" the Judge rose, nodding to the courtroom once before leaving.

Klint turned to his little brother and grinned, "Well? How was your first real day in court, brother?" "It... it was amazing!" Barok replied, eyes practically twinkling, "I was so awed by your performance! You truly are an exceptional legal mind and practitioner, brother!" He laughed, "Stop it... you'll make me blush!" "It's true! Though, I must say... I had no idea one could drink in court or kick the prosecutor's bench... those were most flamboyant and striking displays!" "Most people can't," Klint conceded, "But, well, it seems I have a flair for the dramatic. It must run in the blood... Our lord father was a similarly passionate man when it came to matters of court –– even when he occupied the bench as a Law Lord. Many a lawyer would refer to him as 'Good Lord Kicking' behind his back!" he laughed at the thought. "Wow... really?!" "Yes, really!"

#klint van zieks #barok van zieks #request

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despiteherself · 3 years

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King Julien?

THIS IS SO LONG RIP

King Julien my beloved…….

Also sorry this took me so long omgggg

* favorite thing about them

everything <3

okay, so this comes as no surprise to literally anyone who’s heard me talk about kj but his big heart. i absolutely adore that so much of his story is about how his big heart fumbling around saves the day, even when the story is about his own hubris. Whether it was intentional or not ahkj ended up being a powerful story about a kind-hearted party animal with an inherited legacy of violence and mistreatment heal from his own trauma with the love for his people. yes! it was messy and it is a kids show so it had a lot of continuity issues and like…. toilet humour, but underneath it was so tender. kj’s story of wanting to be king for perks, to feeling like he didn’t deserve to be the one true king but managing to unite the entirety of the kingdoms Madagascar under his love as a symbol was so…….. kj’s big heart saves the day <3

even in the movies, where he is classist and bigheaded he still manages to do it? melman is brave because of kj’s empathy for a talking head, and the circus goes back to the Central Park zoo to help the zoosters bc of kj’s love. his line about “it doesn’t matter what you smell like, or what i smell like, it matters what we smell like together.” is what prompts everyone to forgive the lies.

* least favorite thing about them

nothing he’s perfect <3

I don’t know how to feel about season 5 after exiled. I know it must have been hard trying to tie everything up, going back to the joke based continuity and toilet humour after the emotional sucker punch of exiled. it just. feels like it rehashes old plots but makes them more complex and I think if it hadn’t been after exiled I wouldn’t feel so…. Unsure. kj in this, starts off desperately trying to prove himself as king (again) for good reason, but then seems to lose himself in petty ways he out grow and serious things reveled through jokes get left behind to make more jokes and it just feels…… kj grew into being a good leader and i wish it wasn’t forgotten again. This isn’t rlly about him, more the writing, and the plot problem - episodic vs long form story telling is a hard one, but it’s what I dislike. Let kj have growth bc he was given some and it’s hard to see it’s gone when we know it’s possible.

* favorite line

Oh this is hard :/

I like whenever he does his little pep talks. Or when he says he loves his kingdom. Those are fun & nonsensical and yet, an encapsulation of why he’s such a good ruler. he does understand his people, in a way the juliens before him didn’t, because he was never supposed to be one of them, and left to his own devices with his big sensitive heart made a connection that would outlast even the cruelest of julien kings. julien wants to be loved so badly, and he makes a mess of it, but he holds together the cracks of the lemurs before him, hurt by others the way he was and together they build something worthwhile.

“think of it as me sandwich, stuffed with me.

Pretty good right?” Bc that’s one of the funniest scenes

* brOTP

royal quartet <3

kj and literally everyone. i love him being friends and loving towards just about everyone

* OTP

hmmmmmmmmm

kj x his kingdom as a wholistic statement <3 i think married to his kingdom is what’s most satisfying for me. Kj who makes the specific choice to focus on his kingdom instead of personal goals - and despite loving children so much, making the specific choice to end the julien line (it’s reign of terror) with him. Ahhhhhhhh that would be so satisfying narratively.

also, not to bring this up again but i do think it would be beneficial to both their characters of like kj and ted had a idk passionate summer fling and are now each other’s wingmen post divorce. i say again but i barely think I’ve hinted at it so you know, whatever. i just think their dynamic is SO interesting, and the one scene in exiled where Ted saves everyone is just……. ah, perfect. I wish we got a deeper exploration of Ted & Dorothy, and Ted & his rejection by julien at lemur school & losing prom king & his obsessed with being needed/wanted.

I have no issues with any of the pairings that happened lmao, but obv most of them are exes and i think they’re fun that way. Karen, rob, crimson, karl probably, idk, i guess skipper? i don’t think they date bc skipper is homophobic <3

* nOTP

There’s just way too much family symbolism & literally having clover and Maurice ACTUALLY taking his parents place for me to be anything but squicked by kj/either of them/both of them. no shade to anyone who does, but it just makes me feel :////// I also just love their dynamic as friends, and whilst exploring toxicity in relationships can be interesting, i rlly think that if the three of them became more dependent on each other it would just stunt them all. they do better as a unit in relation to everyone in the kingdom.

I didn’t include mort in the family part even tho he pretends to be kj’s son once but he’s included in that. people who say royal trio over royal quartet break my heart, mort is equally important in this dynamic and also. notp thanks

aslo don’t care for pancho :/ sorry pancho lovers <3 it’s just i don’t think he’s half as important as anyone makes him out to be and i don’t think he and kj rlly have that much chemistry, especially not compared to like his interactions with pretty much every single adult lemur. it’s whatever! ppl have fun with it, i just personally don’t see why you’d pick it over literally any of the other side but main-ish characters. i actually think, if anything, kj is more dismissive towards pancho than a lot of characters, especially considering he’s so flirty. and no amount of the Manchurian candidate can make up for that, especially when it was about family again.

ok now that I’ve alienated like 98% of the ahkj fandom it’s okay it’s not like super notp it’s just i don’t care for it <3

* random headcanon

kj starts watching todd’s unboxing videos one day when he’s relaxing, after he’s calmed down about the captain booty butt toy being stolen, like 3am channel surfing and like gets rlly into the concept bc like surprise toys out of box is peak adhd excitement. he wants to start his own channel and in his excitement gets everyone to watch his stuff which doesn’t have the care or knowledge (bc the excitement for kj is the surprise - can relate) that Todd’s has and Todd’s show gets canceled. he’s obv pretty sad bc that was Todd’s only hobby outside of doing what his mum makes him do & he gets rlly upset. eventually, somehow, kj stumbles upon Todd being sad and they have a convo and kj realises that he stole Todd’s hobby & that actually, the hovering, full attention of Tammy is suffocating and not something kj should long for. I rlly want Todd & kj to have an end to their “rivalry”. They make up, kj retires his unboxing channel and promos Todd’s, Todd gets to hang out in the plane as a friend to get away from his family for a while, kj learns the value of space.

* unpopular opinion

again… are there unpopular kj opinions???

i just think he should have had the proper number of rings on his tail. when i look at it I’m like, sir please give him the correct number it hurts me to see like 7 of each colour and i think it ends in a white tip which >:/ which is a silly thing to find annoying

#anonymous #ask #ask meme #long post #king Julien #dot post #ahkj #ohhhh myyyy goddd. me posting this scared like #wowwwwwwww those ships I dislike i so popular in fandom djekosjdkdkslmdofkf guys lads no shade

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday Whelm!

@detectivedamian your birthday gift is a damijon ficlet. enjoy.

For the life of him, Jon couldn’t really understand why Damian liked football. Jon himself had grown up with the game, playing with Clark and Kon. Clark had laughed loud and bright as he tossed the ball around in the farm. Kon had challenged Jon to a high-stakes game that combined four different games using the football in the air. (Jon suspected Kon’s game was secretly a training exercise. The guy had been spending too much time around Tim.) He was on the team in middle school, and he’d been the captain of the high school team for the past three years. The training, the drills, the thrill of the game, the feeling of team: these were things that Jon lived for. Other than fighting, nothing else quite made his blood sing.

But Damian? Jon had never expected Damian to take to it the way he did. Damian had scoffed at most American traditions and values, insulted people to their face, and complained about the school system enough times that Jon had the lecture memorized. (He was ahead in almost every class due to Damian’s passive-aggressive tutoring, though, so he’s not exactly complaining.)

Maybe it was the strategy behind it, the different plays and plans Coach had lined up. Tim was the best at that kind of stuff, Jon knew that firsthand, but most people seemed to forget Damian had been trained in strategy and war games in the league. And “war games” was exactly how Damian seem to take this. Ever since Jon had let Damian watch one of his football practices and Damian had stopped the team in the middle of a play to plot out three different holes in their offense, Damian had practically become an honorary team member. Unless it was calculated, the team hadn’t lost a single game. And Damian was determined to keep it that way.

Tonight, just before the final game of the season, Jon’s team was facing off against Central City. (Which? How did they even get to finals in the first place? Central was known for their all-star track team, spanning generations of Allens and Wests, but football? That was a new one.) Damian had given the coach a particularly loathesome glare, and the other team looked terrified without even starting the game. Sometimes Jon forgot how scary Damian was, but it situations like this, it was useful. They had their game plan mapped out, Damian had given each one of them a talking to, Johansson don’t you dare leave your place, Zizka we’ve been running drills so don’t lose your speed, Williamson stop hesitating, you’re on offense for a reason.

Jon had come up to him cheekily and asked what he needed to do. Damian had raised an eyebrow and said “Don’t suck as much as you usually do, Kent.” His lips were in a half smirk, though, and his tongue curled viciously around Jon’s last name and Jon had to swallow and take a step back.

Regardless, here they were. The big game. Either they won this, and Jon left senior year a happy man, or Damian would never ever let him live it down. There was really only one option here. Jon made eye contact with Damian, who nodded, once. Then, the whistle blew and the game was on.

Things were going good. No, that’s an understatement, things were going great. They ripped apart the opposing team’s strategy like paper, leaving the shredded pieces on the ground as they went through play after successful play. Jon could practically feel the other team’s hopelessness, could taste the sweet, sweet victory in the air. Halftime came and Jon’s team was soaring high. Don’t get overconfident, Damian warned them, but a proud grin was tugging at the edge of his lips.

The third quarter is when it all went wrong. Williamson went down, hard. Jon heard the crack from across the field, and hoped the injury wasn’t too bad as he chased after the ball, desperate to keep it out of enemy hands. It was too late, though, the other team was in possession. He could feel Damian’s furious scowl, see his dad’s worried eyes fixed on the game even as his mom shouted in Central’s general direction. The third quarter ticked by, losing most of the ground they had gained.

The fourth and final quarter came, the team abiding by Damian’s quickly thought out plan, hesitantly regaining their footing. But it was too little, too late. They weren’t going to make it. The clock swallowed up seconds, and Central gained the lead, though Jon’s team clawed and fought their way to make sure it was only by a little. There were thirteen seconds left on the clock, and Central was 5 points ahead. The play was at the far end of the field.

The only way for them to win was for someone to run across most of the length of the field and score a touchdown. And as the ball came hurtling towards Jon, time slowed down, and he contemplated doing just that.

He could make it, he knew he could make it. A touch of superspeed, a hint of strength when pushing the other players out of the way, and they’d win the game. And Jon was only using his own talents, right? But that felt wrong, it felt so wrong. It felt like cheating. Abruptly, Jon remembered all the drills Damian had put him through, for both football and hero-ing, how he had told Jon you can’t always rely on your powers. He remembered the determination in every line of Damian’s body, whether it was in the sidelines of one of Jon’s games or standing back-to-back with Superboy as Robin, facing down impossible odds yet again. Damian had trained him for this. He had trained for this. He could do this.

Jon dropped his invulnerability, tapped out of his strength, tapped out of his superspeed. Time returned to normal. This was it.

The ball flew into Jon’s outstretched hands like it was meant to be there, and the minute it made contact, Jon took off running. Feet pounding the grass, heartbeat thumping in his ears, the bright lights overlooking the fields. Jon ducked and weaved through the other players, pushing himself to go faster, faster. The people in the stands were building up a roar. The clock was ticking down. He just ran and ran and ran until-

Jon crossed the end zone line and slammed the football on the ground with every bit of normal strength he had. The buzzer went off: time was up, the scores were in.

They won the game.

The crowd was bursting up and cheering. Jon could hear his mom’s screams, his dad’s wolf whistles. The team crowded around Jon, yelling and jumping, their faces overflowing with joy as they clustered around him. Coach had the trophy, and he held it above his head, pumping it up and down, whooping his pleasure. He handed it over to Jon, and wow. It felt solid, heavy, almost unreal. Jon held it up so everyone on the team could put their hand around it.

Then, for some reason the crowd around Jon parted. Jon was confused, because there was practically nothing that could separate the team at a time like this. Then he looked up, and understood. Damian stood there, a wild and reckless grin on his face, and Jon’s breath caught. He was wearing Jon’s football jacket, the fabric clinging to his shoulders over his tight black turtleneck and proclaiming a statement as bold as night. He walked over to Jon, confident and sure, and looked up at Jon, pride in his eyes.

“You won.”

“Yeah, we did.” Jon’s voice was breathless.

Damian’s grin widened. “Congratulations.”

And then he was pulling Jon in for a kiss, hard and fierce and unforgiving. Startling for just a second, Jon drew Damian in, surprised but pleased when he came willingly. He kissed back with the same passion that had his feet pounding the ground, the same fervor that had his blood singing all throughout the game, reveling in the feeling of Damian pulling him to the ground, biting his lips, claiming him.

He drew back and gasped in air, wide-eyed and lighter than air, as the whoops and catcalls of the team around him filtered into Jon’s brain.

“I-you, you kissed me.”

“You deserved it.” Something in Damian’s tone let Jon knew that Damian knew. He knew what Jon was thinking on the field, knew he was about to use his powers, and knew that he ultimately decided against it. He knew that Jon put every ounce of his determination to win this game by himself, and Damian was proud.

Yeah, football brought out the best in Jon. And maybe that was why Damian enjoyed it so much.

This was cheesy as FUCK oh my GOD. I have no knowledge of how football works, don’t hold it against me. Once again, happy birthday Whelm! tag list: @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @comicsandhoney @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg @thebatsandbirdsofgotham @astroherogirl @subtleappreciation

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