#to live for but like... at least it would be most of my issues solved! plus i didn’t kill myself whdn someone else died but IG he didn’t

[birinboom]

The Luck-Bringing Cat

Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader; a shy former imperial concubine

The Apothecary Diaries-esque AU (I am kinda-sorta stealing this plotline from ep. 3), arranged marriage, budding romance, domestic fluff, pet names (JY calls Reader my dear, my love), Reader is also referred to as ‘my lady’ 🌿 3.162 words

Jing Yuan, a famed general and childhood friend of the emperor, has yet to take a wife. The emperor decides to solve this by giving one of his least favorite concubines to his best friend. Even though Jing Yuan is against this practice, he can't help but fall head over heels in love once he meets you.

Thank you so much to @a11eya for beta-reading this for me!

Only one man had managed to stay at the emperor’s side through most of his life. Jing Yuan, the son of imperial scholars, made friends with the crown prince early in their lives, and they quickly became inseparable. As they aged, Jing Yuan became an asset to the newly crowned emperor; a seasoned warrior, an accomplished general, a brilliant strategist, and one of the few people who dared oppose the monarch when needed. 

The emperor loved him like a brother. And it worried him that Jing Yuan never seemed interested in taking a wife. The general was far from blind to the longing gazes of the women of the court, he accepted their offers on occasion but he never seemed to want more than one or two nights with any woman. The emperor did not see anything wrong with this as he himself split his time more or less equally between his favorite concubines. But any man who was less fortunate than the emperor should surely want something more stable, especially a man who was slowly getting through his best age.

When Jing Yuan was pressed about why he did not want to marry, he stated with a lazy smile that he had neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But the emperor saw the slight downturn of the corners of the general’s lips. He saw through the facade of his best and oldest friend. 

I have neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But I desperately wish I did.

The emperor thought deeply about this issue. Then he remembered someone in the inner court. A concubine who had fallen from his favor at their first meeting. He had never spent time with you after that. Why, he had barely thought about you in years. Still, you were a beautiful woman, well-educated, and, from what he had been told, quite quick-witted. You would make a good gift for his best friend.

Now he just needed to convince Jing Yuan that he would not take no for an answer.

Jing Yuan was still unable to fully understand how everything had come to this. He could not fathom why the emperor suddenly wanted to give him one of the imperial concubines as a wife. Giving an unfavored concubine to a newly appointed officer as a reward was far from an uncommon practice, Jing Yuan was well aware of that. But he had never expected it to happen to him, not after so many years in service of the emperor. He had been lucky to manage arranging a meeting with you before the wedding. 

This practice seemed so wholly unfair in his mind. Unfair to you and any other concubines affected by the custom. You had already been given as a gift to one man, now you were being given to another, neither of whom you had chosen for yourself. Jing Yuan knew there was little he could do about the situation, but he did not feel right accepting another human being as a gift.   

He continued towards the palace gardens which had been chosen as the meeting place, still in deep speculation about whether he had any chance of changing the emperor’s mind. 

Turning a corner, he was torn out of his thoughts when he came upon a small gathering of women, all of them wearing identical robes. One held a folded-up parasol. They were all calling out to someone in voices too hushed for Jing Yuan to discern any words. 

Ladies-in-waiting, he thought, paying them little mind. Then, his eyes fell on you.

The emperor had shown him a painting of you, commissioned shortly before you had begun your journey to the palace. Even if some years had passed since then, Jing Yuan still instantly recognized you.

You stood at the top of a small bridge crossing one of the many creeks in the garden, your face tilted up towards a nearby tree. The setting autumn sun fell upon you at an angle that made your skin and hair glow. Tearing his gaze away from you, Jing Yuan looked towards the tree as well, his trained ears picking up the song of finches. For a moment he wondered if it might be the same flock that visited the small garden of his own residence. Turning his eyes back to you, he watched as you lifted a hand, holding it up towards the tree. A finch took off from a branch and landed on one of your outstretched fingers.

Until now your face had been mostly devoid of emotion, eyes fixed on the tree. But when the finch landed on your hand, looking calmly at you with one black eye, your features softened, a fond smile gracing your face like the sun appearing from behind rain clouds. 

Jing Yuan watched you lift the bird closer to your face, whispering to it, your other hand coming up to gently scratch the top of its head. He unconsciously raised a hand to his lips in an attempt to hide the smile blooming there. If this was how you behaved with one of his beloved finches (and he was certain at this point that the bird was indeed from the flock he possessively thought of as his), if you acted so kind and loving towards the smallest of creatures with no prompting, then marrying you could quite possibly be one of the best things to ever happen to him. The thought of having you gifted to him still felt wrong, but… perhaps he did not need to dread it as much as he had at first.

Stepping forward, he cleared his throat, trying his best to school his features into a pleasant, if slightly detached, expression. 

You gasped, raising your arm to hide your face behind your long sleeve. The finch took off, frightened by your sudden movement, and the rest of the flock followed it. The flapping of their wings filled the air, drowning out your greeting as you and your ladies-in-waiting bowed to him.

Jing Yuan felt another smile tug at his lips. He managed to hide it behind his hair as he returned your bow.

Your ladies-in-waiting quickly moved to one side of the walkway, letting him pass. He looked at you as he ascended the bridge. The way you peeked shyly at him over your still-raised sleeve made his heart clench. He sent you what he hoped was a pleasant smile, and nodded towards the path on the opposite side.

“Shall we, my lady?”

The two of you strolled along the garden path for a while, Jing Yuan filling the air with what idle conversation he could think of, and you giving brief, shy answers.

Then, he heard the flap of wings and felt the touch of tiny claws digging into his hair, brushing against his scalp. Soon, he felt a small tug as the finch began to preen him. He could barely help but chuckle when another finch landed on his shoulder. He felt your gaze on him, then your eyes moved to the bird on his far shoulder.

“Oh!” you exhaled.

Raising his opposite hand, he gently encouraged the bird to hop onto one of his fingers, then moved the hand -with bird- closer to you.

“I have worked quite hard on taming them over the years,” he said. “The most recent brood is the tamest yet; they are the only ones so far to actively seek my presence. Though I suspect they only come to me in hopes of food. Would you like to hold it again?”

You looked away, your sleeve rising once more to hide your face. “Again…” you said, sounding very put on the spot.

Jing Yuan tried to quell his laughter. “I must admit that I was watching you for a moment before making my presence known. What I saw was very… endearing.” 

You were silent for a while, then you peeked at him over the top of your sleeve. “May I be frank with you, General?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Staying quiet for a few seconds, you then drew in a deep breath. “I was rather nervous about this meeting. I have heard quite a few rumors about you, about your excellence at anything you do. And I was worried that I might not be able to live up to the expectations of the august general. But… You handle these birds with such tenderness and care. They trust you. Maybe they can trust me too, in time.”

Looking off to the side, you finally lowered your sleeve, clasping your hands in front of you. “I am very fond of small animals. My family owned a couple of tame nightingales when I was a child; I used to love falling asleep while listening to their singing.”

He felt another smile tug at his lips. He too had pleasant memories of falling asleep to the sound of bird song as a child. Though in his case it had been the wild birds outside his windows lulling him to sleep. Sharing such a similar memory with you only made him feel delighted.

Briefly peeking at him, as if to judge his reaction to your words, you then continued, “I have always yearned for a cat too, but my parents would not allow it because of our birds. And I never mustered up the courage to request permission to keep a cat after I arrived at the inner court. Though I doubt the emperor would have indulged me.” You sighed ruefully. “I suppose even now, since birds are favored once again, a pet cat will be impossible. The birds will be enough.”

Jing Yuan looked at you for a moment, stroking his chin. “A cat is a pleasant idea. As the saying goes, ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Though if I had my way I should like a lion instead!” When he saw your eyes widen, your mouth starting to open in surprise, he could not stop himself from laughing once more. “I jest, I merely jest! A housecat will suffice! Perhaps we can teach it to leave the birds in peace, or keep it indoors at all times.”

The thought of keeping a cat locked inside, though he doubted it was truly achievable, brought his thoughts back to the way you had been hidden away in the inner court for years. His smile faltered. Would it be right for him to mention his hesitation? Would it assuage you to know that he was far from satisfied with how the situation was handled?

“If I may be so bold, my lady… You were not the only one who had a certain level of apprehension about this meeting.”

You shrank back a little, shoulders slumping. “I… see.”

Jing Yuan saw you raise your hand again, he could only assume to hide your face once more. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he reached out to take your hand in his.

“Please, do not misunderstand me, my dear! It is not because of you, it is the entire situation. I do not much like being given another person as a gift. And I find it wholly unfair to you to be given away once again.” 

He had so much more to say on this subject, so many points to make about how the former concubines nearly always came out as the losers in these circumstances. And yet he felt his mind go blank. He brushed his thumb over the back of your hand in an attempt to gather his thoughts. It had the opposite effect. Your hand was softer and more delicate than he could have ever imagined; so different from his own strong, calloused hands. It took every last shred of self control to not raise it to his lips. 

Releasing your hand with great reluctance, he forced himself to finish his thoughts. “I am loath to receive a wife under such circumstances, even if she is one I should have quite liked to court of my own volition, had I been allowed to. But in the end it is His Majesty’s decision. Even so, I can promise you this, my dear: No matter what may come, I will always do my utmost to ensure that we are both happy with this union.”

You grasped the hand he had held with your free hand, rubbing the skin, your head bowed enough that he could not see your expression.

“I-I…”

Then you raised your head again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I must admit, I am quite relieved that you feel that way. That you understand the situation from my point of view too.”

Jing Yuan returned your smile. “As much as I am against this entire circumstance, I must admit… the more I get to know you, my dear, the more I am looking forward to you becoming my wife.”

The two of you talked for a while longer, then Jing Yuan escorted you and your ladies-in-waiting back to the inner court. Seeing the gate leading to the inner court left him with a sense of melancholy he could not quite place. Perhaps he had already grown so accustomed to your presence that the thought of being without you left him empty. It made him look forward to your wedding day even more.

One early morning, some six months later, Jing Yuan was found crouched over a rosebush in the small garden of his residence, pruning shears in hand. It was something he refused to give up, no matter how many people told him it was below his rank to tend to his own garden. Gardening was one of the few things that truly cleared his mind, one of the few still moments of the day that allowed him to relax. And today, he needed it.

He had already spent several hours lying awake, tossing and turning, his mind whirring, until finally giving up on sleep once he heard the first birds singing outside. Rolling over, he pressed a kiss against your bare shoulder, then left the bed to start his day.

The air outside was cold enough that his breath created little puffs of mist, the remnants of frost biting his cheeks. He paid it little mind; it helped clear his head. And so, he crouched over the few bushes that needed pruning this early in spring, settling into a calming rhythm as the world around him slowly grew from a milky gray to pink and orange.

His rhythm was disturbed as something brushed up against his knee. Looking down, he spotted the white kitten he had presented to you on your wedding day, just a few days before the new year began. You had been infatuated with the cat (as had he, as were both of you even now), and you had aptly named it Snowmoon in honor of the full moon hanging in the sky, casting lambent light over the snow-covered ground of the garden outside your windows.

The memory of that night still made him smile.

Snowmoon raised itself on its hind legs, the little bell on its collar jingling. It propped its front paws against his knee, and chirped imploringly. Jing Yuan could only assume that he had been so engrossed in his gardening that the sound of the bell had gone unnoticed.

How did you get out? he wondered as he picked up the kitten, holding it up in front of him. 

The kitten returned his gaze evenly with its brilliantly blue eyes and began to purr. Cradling it to his chest, he stood, intending to put the cat back inside. It had yet to learn that the birds of the garden were off-limits. And the birds had yet to learn what the sound of the bell signified.

But as he stood, he caught sight of another figure in the morning light. You were bundled up in several layers of clothing, seemingly ready to spend a while outside.

Jing Yuan frowned. “What are you doing out of bed, my love?” he asked. “It is still so early.”

You looked away, trying to hide the shy smile forming on your lips. You were still not used to the terms of endearment which he favored.

“I wanted to lend you a hand,” you said.

He appreciated the sentiment. But he found it difficult to imagine you crouching in the dirt like he had been. 

“There is no need, my dear, I am almost finished.”

Your mouth set in a stubborn line. “Then I will help with the last of it.”

The firmness in your voice made his heart flutter. He enjoyed all the work you put into getting to know him better. And he made sure to return it tenfold.

“Very well, my love. Let me just put this little rascal back inside.”

As he came outside once again, he found you crouched over the rosebush he had been working on, your long sleeves almost trailing in the dirt.

That will not do.

Jing Yuan pulled out the long ribbon holding his hair as he moved closer. Crouching behind you, he deftly wound it first underneath one sleeve, across your back, then underneath the other sleeve, tying it at your shoulder. His actions left your arms bare, sleeves far out of harm’s way. 

You shivered in the cold air, goosebumps forming on your newly exposed skin. 

Jing Yuan rubbed your arms, trying to get some warmth into your body. “You are still free to go inside.”

You huffed. “I will not.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Handing you the pruning shears, he showed you where to prune, guiding your hands. The two of you chatted idly about the roses for a while, when he expected them to bloom and what colors he had planted. Then the topic moved to the future as a whole.

“Tell me, my love,” Jing Yuan said, wrapping his arms around you, “I know you have only been with me for a few short months, but how do you like it so far?” 

You leaned back against him, nestling further into his embrace.

“I enjoy it so very much. I appreciate the freedom I have, compared to the inner court. And…” You turned enough to meet his gaze, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “I have grown quite fond of the master of this house.”

He felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Do I need to be jealous of this man?”

“Perhaps,” you said, a smile lingering on your own mouth. “He has been very kind to me.”

“I suppose I shall have to be even kinder, then,” he said, before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

Maybe there really was something to the saying of ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Jing Yuan was certainly feeling very fortunate at that moment.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Birin 💖

[arolesbianism]

Ok no one asked but I've been tempted to make Jackie and Olivia stalien designs since I've been working on some new icons for the eternal gales stalien kiddos and it's been making me also think abt how disastrous it would be if they were in the same stalien society that the main cast are from because dear god would they either die instantly or make things so much worse. Even if they did get lucky enough to be able to be remotely near a position to found a stalien version of gravitas, no way in hell they'd be able to get far enough to even begin their own morally corrupt downfall before one of the other big companies forcibly assimilated gravitas into their own corporations and do the same shit but way WAY worse. Even if Jackie Was in a position to eventually climb the ladder enough to get to a more ceo position shed probably end up painting a target on her back way before she could get there, as her and Olivia's whole infinite power research would be very much unwanted by most of the ceo elders. Oh and Olivia would be fucked even beyond that because she's a biologist lol so at best she's going to be forced to drop every last one of her morals and barely scrape by

[left-reminders]

(Below are broad vibes for each of the numbers. They are not meant to represent every opinion one could have within those parameters. Some aspects of the description may apply to you while others won't. If you picked a number with a description that doesn't match your perspective, let us know what your actual perspective is in a reblog comment! Comments in general are nice too, of course 👍)

(You also might notice a bias in favor of 5; or at least a far deeper description of what it would entail when compared against the other four. This is partly just because I wanted to soapbox, but I hope it doesn't detract. I genuinely want to hear the perspectives of the 1s, 2s, and 3s, if you're out there and don't appreciate my potential oversimplification!)

1 — It does not factor in at all. Much of the discourse around green politics is a liberal distraction and/or a roadblock holding us back from organizing for socialism. Economic development and human concerns will always matter more. Capitalism was a necessary/justifiable component in the march of history towards socialism, even if it did have certain negative impacts on the environment. The ideal society looks like Star Trek or fully-automated luxury communism (FALC) — one where we overcome "the state of nature" and become masters of our own fate.

2 — It doesn't factor in much, even if I may recognize the reality of climate change and/or the need for environmental protections. We can solve the biggest climate problems with advancements in green technology or perhaps expanding resource frontiers into outer space. In general, other social issues take priority when building socialism.

3 — I care about combating climate change and solving ecological problems, but I find other issues to be more important in my life and I will leave most discussion of it to people more knowledgeable on the subject. The world could be doing far better on these issues and changes are needed, but most of the modern civilizational infrastructure should remain unchanged (albeit organized under a socialist mode of production).

4 — It is very important to my politics. We can balance socialistic technological development with the dire needs of a planet in crisis. Certain human activities and production methods will have to be curbed or eliminated entirely if we are to find this balance (fossil fuels, widget production, private jets, etc), while others will have to be uplifted (renewable energy, public transportation, shared living, etc). Modern civilization is ultimately redeemable, but it needs to undergo a radical transformation.

5 — It is among the most important factors in my politics. I take influence from eco-socialism, social ecology, degrowth, post-civ, anti-civ, deep ecology, or any number of other political perspectives which are ecologically-focused. Locally-organized economies; drastic reductions in working hours and energy throughput; rewilding of the land; emphasis on non-consumptive forms of leisure; an end to consumerism, growth-based economic metrics, and imperial conceptions of "development"; agroecology and polyculture as core methods for obtaining food; and a vast deconstruction of much of the civilizational edifice are all pieces to this puzzle and are required if we are going to have a habitable planet for the generations to come. The ideal society looks like a Miyazaki film, that yogurt commercial, or lightly-automated comfortable ecological socialism (LACES) — one where we "don't seek to become larger within socialism, but rather more realized" (Joel Kovel).

[sgiandubh]

OMG! I can practically see her pulling at her pearls in indignation and fury! I wonder how many wet dreams he rejected her to result in this anger 🙃🙄😜 https://www.tumblr.com/maximumwobblerbanditdonut/747779411400671232/public-intoxication-sh-was-invited-to-the-landcon?source=share

Dear Pearl Clutching Anon,

This woman is the worst mythomaniac and the most pathetic know-it-all of the entire fandom. Mark me: probably a sock account of one of the Mordor sopranos, who'd like to play it cool otherwise. She is an impostor, pretending to be a Scot. But her grammar and spelling recurrent mistakes point to anything else but an English native speaker.

Prized and praised as she is by the dim-witted, she is living proof of the fact that you cannot reasonably and endlessly pretend to be an expert in hair implants, cocktails/bartending, audiovisual production, copyright, alcohol sales and pretty much everything in between. To me, she is at her most pathetic when she pretends to analyze the legal intricacies of the French regulations applicable to public alcohol tasting events.

What happened, in fact, at the Landcon 6 whisky tasting?

Ok. So, this was announced by the French organizers on March 5th and presented as a limited audience event, priced at 350 euros.

This idiot's comment is absolutely priceless:

She would be surprised to find out that, unlike the US, there has never been any Prohibition decreed in France (Hell would have frozen). Even more interestingly, the only venues where French law specifically prohibits alcohol tastings and sales are enumerated very clearly in regulations far above her intellectual abilities:

The main idea is that you cannot sell/organize alcohol tastings in public health venues (hospitals, clinics, etc), rehabilitation clinics (d'oh!) - both for alcohol and drug addictions -, schools, youth summer camps, sports arenas, swimming pools or any other public or private sports venues.

(Source: French Public Health Code, https://www.dalloz.fr/documentation/Document?id=CODE_CSPU_ARTI_D3335-1&scrll=CSPU022225&FromId=CODES_SECS_CSPU_TALPHA)

To these limitations, the French national professional organizations add, as best practice, the following: churches, cemeteries, prisons, military barracks, railway/public transport facilities (including depots).

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la dégustation/Tasting Legal Guide - https://www.syndicat-cotesdurhone.com/upload/article/file/202103guidejuridiquedeladegustation-60658bb9468b4.pdf)

To my knowledge, Landcon's venue was neither a cemetery, nor a church (the latter could be, however discussed: wee & lame joke, btw). And for that poor woman's information, you would not need an exemption, but a permit, or licence. In current French law, there are four such sale permits, ranked from I (soft drinks, such as Orangina) to IV (all drinks, including spirits). The fabled Licence IV (also the name of a beloved 90s French kitschy music group, LOL) is now impossible to obtain and if you want to have one, you have to buy the venue (cafe, nightclub, bar, bistro, restaurant or buvette) that had it issued first, many moons ago.

That problem solved, we would have to further analyze the type of event hosted by the Landcon. Was it a tasting or a sale, according to French regulations?

If it was a tasting, no licence is needed. If it was a sale, you might need a temporary licence, granted by the Mayor, provided you have notified them at least 3 months before the event. These are also famously hard to get and very sparingly granted, too.

Because tastings are an exception, they are strictly defined by French regulations as 'free alcohol consumption' and their regulations are excruciatingly detailed. Procedures and limitations vary according to the type of event: sports, tourism promotion, markets and fairs, public gatherings or cultural events (which is the one that seemed the closest to our situation). But a cultural event-cum-tasting would have to be completely free of charge (no paying access tickets), in order to be exempt from any legal obligation. This was not the case, as we know there was a rather steep, 350 euros fee, to be able to attend it:

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la dégustation/Tasting Legal Guide - https://www.syndicat-cotesdurhone.com/upload/article/file/202103guidejuridiquedeladegustation-60658bb9468b4.pdf)

That new activity was certainly not a tasting, as defined by French law. An amateur could then conclude, that S's event was, in fact, a disguised sale and that he is either a sinister fool or a filthy conman.

The trouble is, French legislation tolerates one single, overruling exception to everything I wrote above: sale by the producer of said alcohol. It is to be found (or rather interpreted - and it has been so by myself AND the French professional organizations), in the Code Général des Impôts/ French Tax Code:

To avoid a tedious legal translation, the idea is that if you do not sell your own produced booze, you are automatically considered as a stockist/trader and as such, subject to alcohol sales' regulations. If the Landcon organizers would have sold/promoted Laphroaig, for example, they would have needed the permit. But hosting a paying tasting event organized by SRH, promoting SRH's whisky and which profits entirely belonged to SRH is a sale by the producer, as defined by French law, not needing a permit:

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la vente/Sales Legal Guide - https://fgvb.fr/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Vin-et-Societe-Guide-juridique-de-la-vente-19042021.pdf)

So: even if the tasting event was, in fact, a sale, French law allows a producer to sell his own alcohol, for promotion purposes as a side event, with no further need to obtain a permit. And this is exactly what their legal team rightfully advised them to do and completely what I would advised them to do, too.

That woman is so often and in so many ways completely wrong, that she is absolutely ridiculous. She (and also her other Big Friend) should perhaps stop pretending to be whatever they are not. Infantilizing, bullying and snarling at people does not help with their credibility.

Such women are genuine Frauds and absolutely despicable. People spend years fucking their eyesight in law school and we do not joke about interpreting and reading legalese. Ever. But to see idiots pretending to know just because they fucking used Google for ten minutes is just infuriating: it took me two hours to find the exception and another two to write this comment.

I hope this long, tedious answer was helpful, Anon.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Crowley, I saw a huge rat in the mirror in my bedroom.”

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens

“A huge rat, you say?!” Crowley plants his hands on his hips, his tone turning indignant. “Preposterous! Night Raven College boasts the most hygienic and pest-free living spaces for our students! Surely you speak in jest?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know what else you tell you. I saw what I saw, and what I saw was a rodent half my size staring back at me.”

“Goodness, half your size?!” Lips pursed into a frown, he turned away and started mumbling to himself. “A mutant rat skittering around in the floorboards of Ramshackle dorm means there’s potential for an entire infestation of mutant rats… They’d destroy the building from the inside out and spread all manner of disease!“

“Uh, headmaster? So can you help me out or what? Like… call an exterminator or something?”

“Perish the thought!! We cannot, under any circumstances, contact outside help!!” Crowley cried, slamming a hand down on his desk. “What would happen if this got out to the public? Oooh, I don’t even want to imagine it!!”

“Then can you at least send a teacher or someone to extract it out of my mirror? There must be a spell for that.”

“Certainly not!! While I have the it most respect for my instructors, I could not take a scolding from my colleagues about poorly managing our facilities! It undermines my authority as caretaker to the school grounds—for alas, no matter how perfect I may be, pests such as these can slip through the cracks. This information is to stay between us, Prefect. Is that understood?”

It took all of your strength to not roll your eyes at him. “How are you going to solve this then?”

“A wonderful question. The answer is closer than you’d think!” Crowley grinned, and that set off an avalanche of despair in your gut. It was never good when he was chipper in response to a problem. “You can capture and evict the rat yourself!”

“HUH?!” Your jaw dropped. “How do you expect us to do THAT?”

“Grim-kun is your familiar, yes? He possess very feline-like qualities. With the right prodding, he could be convinced to return to his baser instincts and prowl Ramshackle for this ‘huge rat’ of yours and any potential nests.”

“The rat is as big as Grim is,” you protested.

“Grim-kun could take it in a fight!!l Crowley insisted dismissively. “He’s a student of Night Raven College! They never know when to quit.”

“You’re joking. Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“I am not.” He paused, as though reconsidering. “Ah, but the ‘capture and release’ method still does not resolve the issue. There is always a possibility of the rodents returning… Very well then! Prefect, you and Grim-kun have my blessings to consume them.”

“You want us to do what?!” You balked in horror, your stomach twisting into knots.

“Did I stutter? Consume them. Eat them. Gorge yourselves silly.” Crowley clarified. Your queasiness intensified with each word he dropped. “Hmm? Why do you look positively ill?”

“Because that’s so gross!!”

He cocks his head to one side. “Is it really so strange? I myself find rat meat to be a delicacy, and since you so often request more pocket money for groceries… This kills two birds with one stone! You are receiving free food from this ordeal.”

Crowley laughs to himself, seemingly oblivious to your distress. Either that, or he was doing a most excellent job of ignoring it.

“Fufufu, how magnanimous of me!”

[eldritcmor]

More incorrect quotes

Gaz: *over coms* Cornfield cornfield cornfield. Storm getting yeeted into the sky. Cornfield cornfield. Hey look! More cornfield!

--

Price: Has anyone seen Storm, recently?

Soap: has anyone seen the microwave recently?

*Distant explosion*

Ghost: Found them.

--

*Storm dancing around the kitchen in a shark onesie with death metal blaring from their phone*

Gaz: *filming around the corner* and here we see Dad's I mean Price's favorite child

--

*Storm and Soap are sparring*

Storm: oh come on, my father could at least throw a punch when he hit me. What the fuck is this shit?

Soap: *stopping immediately* your father what?!

--

Storm: *petting the moss between an eldritch forest gods antlers* it's so soooft.

The god: *rumbling in contentment*

Ghost: how in the fuck?

--

Storm: *pointing at soap* daddy issues make you a people pleaser. *Then to ghost* mommy issues make you well a sociopath or a psychopath. Take your pick buddy.

Ghost: thanks.

Gaz: wait what does that make you?

Storm: *proudly* absolutely fucked up

--

Storm: shit fucking ass crackers!

Gaz: what did you lose?

Storm: my will to live. Also have you seen my pen?

Gaz: The one that lights up?

Storm: yup.

--

*Ghost carrying Storm over his shoulder, wrapped in a blanket like a very disgruntled sack of potatoes*

Angel (thank you @kawasama): why?

Ghost: cause otherwise we would have had to use sedatives.

Storm: *angry hissing*

--

Storm: *sniping to the beat of Yung gravy's oops* my ex be on some hoe shit~

Gaz: *in concern* you good?

Storm: *grinning as the target's head pops* just peachy baby.

--

Storm: *dangling upside down from the claws of a 20ft tall creature made of teeth and shadows* No! Bad night god! Put me down!

The rest of TF-141: *getting ready to piss off a eldritch creature with bullets*

Night god: *pouting as it sets Storm down*

Storm: good job! *Praising and cooing to said creature* now go find the pretty bastard. *Holds up a picture of Graves*

Night god: *sniffs and takes off*

TF-141: *concerned and scared* what did you do?

Storm: solved a problem.

--

Storm: *being hugged by soap*

Soap: aw, who's getting used to human contact.

Storm: *angry hissing noises as they try to escape*

--

Storm: *being carried over Ghost's shoulder.*

Soap: *being dragged by storm by his tactical vest*

Gaz: *being dragged by soap also by his tactical vest*

Price: oh great, it's the will fuck shit up train. In level order no less.

--

Storm: *fresh out of a cold shower with a large sunburn on their back*

Soap: *Slaps the sunburn as a greeting* Ay storm!

Storm: Shit ass you sheep fucking pile of discarded cowshit.

Soap: well no need to be rude.

--

Storm: *riding on König's shoulders*

Price: hey, kid. Whatcha got there?

Storm: A sad friend, can we keep him?

--

Storm: *in a massive cuddle pile of their siblings(not by blood. found family), dozing happily while on leave*

Front door: *Creaks open*

Storm: *Sitting bolt right up, letting out the most heinous death rattle in warning*

TF-141: *was invited here, as they are in the states and didn't wanna be base bound* •-•

Storm: *waking up* shit!

--

Price: *leading a mission brief on next target*

Laswell: *walking in, carrying storm at arms length* I think this one is yours, price.

--

Storm: *chilling on the couch, jamming to music*

Ghost: *wandering by and just scoops them up like a sack of potatoes*

Storm: ope, I've been scooped. Hi ghost!

[fmet]

Reading the most recent Mad Dog arc as the antithesis to Chuseok and Sports Festival arc is sooooo crazy it’s so crazy and it makes me want to pull my hair out. So much has improved between them since those few months in part from the distance and alienation that Chuseok arc warranted but ultimately they’re still unable to honestly connect with each other, only now because of opposite reasons. Their spatial closeness and false amicability during Chuseok being what led to them blowing up in the first place: they both wanted to get along so well that they behaved in ways hostile to the others nature: Eunyung misleading/lying about his job, knowing Haejoon’s issues with paranoia, being bullied, and just in trusting Eunyung specifically; and Haejoon putting Eunyung on a moral pedestal knowing that Eunyung would take the standards he set for redemption personally. It was their mutual rejection of each other under the visage of getting along and “improving their relationship” that obstructed them from actually having spent Chuseok together and becoming the family that they had either lost or been excluded from prior.

In Mad Dog, in contrast, so much of their time is spent openly worrying for, advocating for, and seeking each other out. It's an impulsive and honest effort to bring the other closer, not because they have to if they want to get along, but because they're concerned for each other. Haejoon spending hours calling Eunyung to warn him about those forgot-their-name asswipes; Haejoon walking him "home" (even if the way he proposed it was a little odd lol) and Eunyung doing the same in 215; both of them keeping track of where the other is, which culminates in Eunyung being there to call an ambulance for Haejoon, in a situation where otherwise he could have very likely died. And the most striking change about all of this behavior is it’s being in accommodation to each of their characters “imperfections”. Haejoon doesn’t get mad at Eunyung for forgetting to mention he isn’t with his parents any more, Eunyung doesn’t lambaste Haejoon for his ability, or inability, to read people, and actually takes his perspective on their situation to heart. Both of them have adopted traits of the other that they had once found unbearable: In Haejoon, we can see Eunyung’s verbiage, and in Eunyung, a revitalized desire to improve: both are inspired by each other to tailor and limit how they use their strength.

They both clearly admire one another so much and are now at the point that they can openly express this, but at least in Eunyung’s case, his admiration doesn’t invite further contact. The desire for companionship was once so stifling living in the same dorm and bowing under the warped expectations of each other, but now that their influence has actually begun to make marked improvements on their lives, it’s physical distance that’s keeping them apart. Now, that they’re both in the headspace to admire each other, their life outcomes are steering in polar opposite directions, with neither being fully capable of actualizing this without detriment to their individual progress. It makes me really anxious to think about future chapters and how WaNan will handle this new(er) obstacle between them, especially given it’s not something that can be solved purely with further character development. Eunyung and Haejoon knowing each other undoubtedly changed their lives but it’s suspended whether that “knowing” will last as long as said lives, iykwim.

[athenaistired]

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐞 //

ʜɪ! ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ! ᴡᴏᴡ! ᴡᴀꜱ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ! ᴛʙʜ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ ᴀꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟꜱ, ɪ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ.

word count: 2538

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀɴᴄɪᴀʟ ᴅᴇʙᴛ, ꜰɪɴᴀɴᴄɪᴀʟ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ, ꜰɪɴᴀɴᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇʟʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ, ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ, ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴛ

— 𝑴𝑨𝑫𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 !1!

You met Childe in the most bizarre way one could imagine. Just in the beginning of your rising fame, the redheaded man knocked on the door of your very well-hidden house in the heights of Liyue mountains demanding the money which you had borrowed from the Northland bank. You were at least a few million Mora in debt, and you knew that very well, but didn’t think that’d come for you this soon — all money was going into your management team, on your tours, on the best performance equipment, and on the highest quality outfits for each one of your public appearances. You had no clue how he had tracked you down, but clearly that was a mistake on your part.

“Who would have guessed that this is where you choose to live?” The man grinned with a slightly sadistic smile; he was looking down at you like you were a lower life form than him.

You didn’t let his loud and proud ego phase you. Instead, you shined with your picture-perfect smile and adjusted your voice to the same tune that you used whenever interacting with anyone outside your close circle. No, who were you kidding. You had no close circle. You’ve abandoned everything for your dream. You ran away from your family, you changed your looks, you faked your identity, you even swapped your birth name to the one which pleased your ears more — you were a walking, living fake doll. People loved that about you (your wallet, however, didn’t love it very much).

“Oh, my! How did such a handsome man managed to find me this far away in the unknown? Do you happen to be one of my stalkers?” You waved one of your hands while showing off your long, golden nails. Your other palm rested against your cheek, “Well, congratulations! I guess I’ll have no choice but to move away again!”

“Too bad that you won’t be moving anywhere else anytime soon.” The man cocked his head to the side while pulling out a long list out of his inner pocket. You knitted your eyebrows; acting completely clueless, “Usually, I don’t show up to collect money from people who don’t require physical force, but you know what our personal investigation had concluded?”

“Mm?” You puffed out your cheeks and leaned against the doorframe.

“You borrowed at least 5.9 million Mora from the bank yourself, completely destroying your credit score. And when the bank had declined you any more credit, you went to your most loyal fans and convinced them into borrowing money in your stead. If we were to count up the total of how much money had went missing due to your charades.. It’d be estimated around 25 million Mora. And that’s with counting the percentages.” As he finished, Childe looked up at you to see you ‘panicking’.

“T-there must be a mistake! I would never do such a thing to my own fans.. I love them more than anything in this world.” You scrunched up your face until salty droplets began to form at the edges of your beautiful silver eyes, “P-please don’t hurt me.. I’ll give it all back next month..”

The man got taken aback by the sudden tearful breakdown. He expected to be met with some evil manipulative witch, but instead got this circus of crocodile tears. But he was no idiot. He knew that you wouldn’t give the money back next month. You would take off and run away, or would convince another one of your fans to take the fall. And the bank would only continue to suffer from the insane amounts of credit being borrowed left and right. He had to solve this issue - now and today.

“Stop with this nonsense.” He cut you off shortly, and you froze while wondering if the man had already seen through your act, “We’ll make a deal.”

“W-what is it..?” Your throat was beginning to hurt from raising it so high. You wanted to appear fragile and sad; so that he’d feel bad for you and leave you be. These tactics always worked on your idiotic fans, but they did not seem to phase the man before you.

“All the money that you will make from now on — will go straight to me. I’ll pay for your equipment and outfits. Whatever it is. But you’ll pay me back the money with hard work. The amount you’ve stacked up will probably take at least half of your lifetime to pay off. If not more..”

You were getting involved with some serious life-changing shit. You felt your stomach tense up in a knot.

“Are you saying that you want to be my manager or something?” You giggled like a clueless idiot.

“No. You’ll sign this contract—“

The man pulled out a pre-written paper out of his bag.

So, he had seen this all coming.

“—and from now on everything you’ll ever be or ever achieve will be under my name. You’ll be a mascot for which people will pay crazy money to see, but you’ll have no freedom of your own. All you’ll ever be is just a famous pretty face, and my extra income.”

Your fake expression finally fell. There was no point in playing pretend games anymore. Seeing how serious you suddenly got; the man smirked with amusement. He made you crack under pressure and reveal your true self. He was in control of the situation, and you had nowhere to run.

“You’re not joking, huh..” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s what happens when you get yourself involved with wrong people. Don’t worry, of course. I’ll send off a big percentage to the bank until all your debts are done.” You wanted to smash his face in. Cocky, selfish bastards was the type you’ve despised the most.

“How charming. What happens if I run away and you’ll never see me again?” You challenged him back, to which a dark shade coated his eyes. He was lifeless and cruel inside — just like you.

“I will find you.”

The pause was short, but felt like a lifetime.

“And you will die.”

You got the chills.

He was no joke. He could easily end you in one blow if he so desired, but instead he was playing the long game. He wanted for you to become nothing but his puppet. You couldn’t help but also feel excitement creep up your back all the way towards the roots of your brain. They say that famous people sell their soul to the Devil to get where they do. Was this the evil by your door awaiting to collect your life in exchange for the crowd’s love and fame?

“You’re not asking me, are you? That’s the only way I can escape our meeting tonight alive.” You stated, to which he nodded with a pleased smile.

“I see you’ve got brains after all!”

And that was how the two of you met.

Your life would change forever, and never be the same again. Now, you had your own mastermind controlling every move and breath you took. He knew where you were going and for how long, he knew everything you ate and drank, he knew what you wore and what you would wear tomorrow. You had no desires, no wishes, no freedom. Everything was under his whim, and there was no opportunity of escape.

All for the price of fame.

-

“Y/N, it is your time to get up.”

You quickly opened your eyes and looked around. You’ve been awake for a while now, but you knew that you weren’t allow to leave the room until one of Childe’s assistants would come in to wake you.

It had been 3 years, 4 months, and 12 days since you’ve been financially imprisoned by the Harbinger. Meanwhile, today the world celebrated your 3rd year anniversary with your soon-to-be-husband. For his presence to appear natural, on the 4th month of the contract he had announced to everyone that the two of you were together. Every single fan and worker of his thought the same. If only they knew.. If only they knew..

“Master Childe had requested for your breakfast today to be a detoxing tea with mint salad.” Your eyes widened in surprise. Usually, breakfast meant you would go hungry all the way until dinner.

Ever since you moved into his house in Liyue, he had set many rules for you. Those included what you eat, which supplements you take, how much you drink, and even how much makeup you use. He wanted for your diet and looks to be perfect, so you reach the highest success. No acne, no breakouts, no greasy hair, no dark circles — none of that was allowed. You had to look like you were not a real person, but a painting. Someone’s imagination. An angel that had come down from the skies of Celestia.

“And a salad too? How generous.” You snorted with sarcasm, and stared down at the miserable small bowl of the green leaves with mint spices sprinkled on top.

“Master Childe had expressed his concerns over your drastic weight loss in the last 3 weeks. You’ll be seen by the general practitioner, nutritionist and dietician who came all the way from Sumeru to see you.” You rose your brows, but let it stay as subtle as you could.

“Understood.” You nodded, and proceeded to eat your breakfast, “Prepare me a bath, Chan’er.”

“Of course, Y/N.” The woman bowed to you before exiting the room to run you a bath.

The moment she was outside, you felt your heart rate pick up its pace and your stomach twisting in a knot. It worked.. It worked!

For the past weeks, you’ve done everything in your power to make yourself sick, so that you would get to see the doctor alone. It was crucial for it to be today — because Childe was far away in Fontaine dealing with some personal business. Even if he were to hear that you ran away, you’d have an advantage of at least a week to run away as far as possible and seek shelter in Mondstat. You knew that you could make it. No. You had to make it!

You had to be patient. No one could suspect anything. No one could know anything.

You took a bath, combed your hair, put on a silk robe as you applied finest makeup and shades. Later, the maids came in to show you your outfit and style your hairstyle for the day. In the end, you came out gorgeous. Y/N from 3 years ago wouldn’t believe that the person staring back at them was the same Y/N. The price for beauty was happiness. The price for fame was freedom. The price for surviving, was giving up on living.

“You’re gorgeous as always, Y/N!” One of the girls in the room cooed at you.

“Master Childe was so lucky to have found you.” Another maid chimed in, and all you could do was give the two of them a petite smirk. Well, he was lucky, meanwhile for you, it was the worst day of your life.

“None of that. It is truly a blessing to have Master Childe be a part of me and my future.” It was a curse. “I couldn’t be happier.” You have never been this miserable.

“True love does exist after all!” The third one — you also liked to call her ‘the romantic’ — couldn’t get over of how ‘sweet’ and ‘doting’ your relationship with Childe was.

True love, huh..

Such thing does not exist after all.

-

“My name is Dr. Amal, it is a true pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” The doctor shook your hand and you politely greeted him while taking a seat.

“Thank you for making the time to come and see me.. This is a bit awkward, my fiancé can be such a worry-head.” You fake-laughed, but the other male easily bought into it.

“Master Childe had notified me that you lost quite some weight.” The doctor looked at a document (most likely a letter to him from the Harbinger), “So, let’s talk about that. How have you been eating?”

“Oh, I love eating. I always have 3 balanced meals and a snack. And don’t even get me started on the sweet tooth of mine!” You blushed. The doctor looked you up and down, and furrowed his brows.

“Is that so?”

The conversation went back and forth. Dr. Amal would throw a question at you, and you would easily dodge it with an easy smile and pre-practiced answers. Eventually, you noticed that the doctor quickly came to a dead-end. Now, was the moment for show-time.

“Although.. There has been something going on with me. I’ve been feeling touch which hadn’t been around me. I hear voices which aren’t present! The smells which aren’t being spread.. Doctor..” The more you spoke; the more your bottom lip trembled, and your hands shook in ‘terror’.

“May I be going mad?” In that moment — on queue — you broke down in tears with your face buried in your palms, “I’m afraid my fiancé were to leave me had he known he’s with a mad person! Doctor, whatever should I do?” Dr. Amal blinked at you in worry and confusion, “I love my fiancé more than life itself, I couldn’t live were he to leave me!” The doctor reached forward to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. You sniffed up and locked your eyes with him.

“This.. Is not my expertise, Y/N, but I know the doctor who could help. He’s originally from Inazuma, but right now he’s visiting Lisa the Librarian in Mondstat. He’s on a journey to learn more, but I’m certain he’d make time for you. I’ll send him the letter.”

Your palms hid away the maniacal grin on your face.

“Doctor, I have no clue how to thank you!” You stood up to hug the man. Dr. Amal quickly pulled you off himself.

“Y/N, there’s only so much I can do, and as a doctor I am obliged to help you. So, no need to thank me.”

“No, Doctor! Thank you! Thank you! I shall be thankful to you until the end of time!” You bowed to him over and over again, until taking a seat back at your chair, “But.. Doctor, you mustn’t tell my fiancé! He’ll beat the madness out of me!”

“M-master Childe beats you?”

“No, no! But sometimes, I’ve seen him raise his hand at maids, assistants and workers. I wouldn’t wanna disappoint him, Doctor, so please do not tell him! Say that I went into intensive treatment for a viral infection. Say that I mustn’t see anyone for weeks if not months! Help me, Doctor. You’re the only one who can..”

You started crying again to play as much of the pity party as you could. The man gritted his teeth and lowered his head.

“Alright, Y/N. I’ll help you. Plus, patient confidentiality means that I can’t disclose information to anyone, which includes your fiancé too.”

Your plan was officially in action.

[sadesluvr]

Parting Gift

You love Mike, but he's jaded.

Mike Schmidt x GN! Reader

A/N: Something for my FNAF fans! I’ve been watching too much HBO and wanted to write angst, so this fic features a realistic Mike Schmidt. This features hints of Vanessa x Mike, but also his emotional problems in general. We love him, but I don’t think its controversial to say that being in a relationship with him would be difficult... 

Please read my other Mike works if this isn’t your kind of thing! 

Set post movie. 

Word count: 1.6K 

Tags: ANGST / SMUT / Gender Neutral Reader / Reader is human as has weird emotions / Breakups / Hints of jealousy + rage / Hints of fluff / Bittersweet stuff, really 

You never went inside. 

As a detective, you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. You’d been to hospitals thousands of times; speaking to suspects, injured colleagues or even to address the dreaded ‘call’, and yet the thought of watching Mike and Abby leave handmade cards at Vanessa “Shelly’s” bedside made you violently ill.  

You knew everything that had gone down at the defunct Freddy Fazbear’s, and it had plagued you to no end. Though Abby and Mike’s relationship had certainly turned for the better, you were angry, frustrated at the fact that he’d been hurt, not only from being physically punted across the room, but the fact he’d had to stare his brother’s killer in the eye, virtually powerless to it all. Even more so, you were pissed that Vanessa had become a factor in your lives. 

You’d only been dating Mike for just under a year, meeting him in a rather cliched manner at a donut stand in the mall. An exchange of numbers turned into casual check-ins, which soon evolved into a relationship – or at least parts of one. It was no secret that Mike was guarded; letting you in, but not too close enough to get overly attached. At first, it felt like you were made for each other – you felt a similar way about you line of work, and how you operated with people because of it – but closer towards those crucial few months of the new year it had begun to grow tedious. 

You weren’t expecting a whirlwind, all-consuming romance, but it certainly wasn’t supposed to feel like this; with days of missed calls, unexplained outbursts and erectile dysfunction making being with him feel like a chore. Some days, you wondered why you’d even bothered asking for his number. Most days, you wondered why he’d responded at all. 

Deep down, you knew none of this was his fault. He'd been fighting to survive since he was a teenager, and it was only inevitable that he’d develop issues. Being a detective meant you were all the more receptive to them, understanding the nuances of why people became the way that they were, and it was painfully clear to you why Mike had changed since the incident. 

He and Vanessa were both conjoined, victims of William Afton in their own ways, yet both bound by blood. You’d been there when he’d stopped on the way home to visit her, listening from the outside as you supervised Abby. Why couldn’t you all go in? It wasn’t as if it were a particularly gory scene; it merely looked like she was sleeping. Why had he made you all wait? 

“Vanessa, I don’t know if… you can hear any of this, but, um… I’m having a hard time just processing everything that happened. 

But you were there for me and Abby when it mattered the most. 

And I don’t think that either of us would be here today if it weren’t for you. 

So… So get better. And we’ll be here when you wake up.” 

The words were as clear as day. Hadn’t you been there for them? Tried to give Abby a sense of a stable life? Tried to help with bills? Offering to send him to counselling? Why had it taken a near fatal murder attempt for Mike to wake up? 

Now, with all the fallout, you were all left with far more questions than answers…and this time you didn’t have the energy to try and solve them. 

“Abby’s sleeping,” you announced, poking your head through the door. Mike was rummaging around his room, trying to prepare himself for work in the morning – a menial task for some, but strangely methodical to him in the moment. He didn’t answer. 

“Abby’s sleeping,” you repeated, and he perked up, a flustered smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“Oh...” he said, clearing his throat. “Thanks. I guess I lost track of time…” 

“Yeah.” you mumbled, leaning against the doorframe, clearly waiting for something…you just didn’t know what. 

“Thanks —“ he said after a moment of silence, his soft brown eyes gazing into your own. You could see him nervously gnawing on the inside of of his cheek. “—For helping. I really do appreciate it. I’m not trying to seem like a douche, there’s just been a lot on my mind recently.” 

“I’m not surprised,” you hummed, strolling into the room. “But it’s been bugging you for a while now. Don’t you want to…you know…talk to someone?” 

Mike paused and cocked his head. 

“Like a therapist?” 

“That would be a good option,” you hummed, trying not to dance around the subject. “Or you can speak to me. I won’t even psychoanalyse you, I could just listen, y’know?” 

He bit his lip again, this time glancing down at the floor before back at you. You couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking, but he was certainly showing signs of restraint. Restraint. It seemed to be the defining word in your relationship.  

“…I don’t think you’d understand.” 

“Oh, but Vanessa would, right?” 

He flinched at your raised voice, and glanced nervously down the hall. 

“That’s not what I meant —“ 

“Then what do you mean, Mike?” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You met her a month ago, whilst I’ve known you for a year! You’ve never once given me as much grace as you have her. Ever!” 

“I had a lot on my plate, okay? It wasn’t easy.” 

“I know that! But I was there for you. I watched you pick up those prescriptions, I tried to be a role model to Abby, to help take the load off all those payments, and I got nothing!” you yelled. “I wasn’t asking for a mile, but you didn’t even give me an inch.” 

Mike didn’t respond, instead he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the stray strands away from his face before he rubbed his eyes. 

“How is it that you can mend every relationship you have except the one you willingly chose to be in?” You said, voice wavering as you watched him sink into the bed. It was his natural response; life was crushing and had done so many times, but his lack of fight was extremely telling. He could stand off with a serial killer and haunted animatronics, but not muster a few words to  reassure his partner? 

He was just too complicated for you to understand. 

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, shaking his head absentmindedly before looking up at you. “Maybe I didn’t think this through…” 

You knew what that meant, and even though you’d been anticipating it – even manifesting it yourself – it didn’t make the blow any easier. Sighing, you steadied your week knees by sitting on the bed next to Mike, grasping at the bedsheets as you stared blankly around the room. For once, it felt like you were both in the same page. 

“I love you,” he said, breaking the tension. You glanced at him, taking in the fact that his eyes were welling with tears and jaw clenched, and you could tell that he meant it. “I really did, y’know? I tried.” 

You nodded, rubbing at your cheeks anxiously before kissing him. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t mind, losing yourself in the way he drew you into his body with you hands, clinging onto you as he made a desperate plea to attempt to reach out to you for a final time.  

Before you knew it, you back was against the mattress, and Mike was on-top of you, hurriedly pulling down his sweatpants before doing the same to you. As your lower torso lay exposed, he pressed a kiss to your stomach, making his way around your belly button and down towards your privates. Shutting your eyes, you wondered what your relationship could’ve been if every time felt like this; electric and passionate…with intent. 

Once he’d slipped his boxers to the side, you gave his erect cock a few languid strokes before inserting him into you, letting out a broken moan as he adjusted to being inside of you. Mike’s eyes fluttered shut as he sighed, and you remembered just how beautiful he looked in his (rare) moments of bliss.  

He stabilised himself on his forearms as he watched you, rolling his hips as he explored your hole, searching for that all-important sweet spot. The room may have been dimly lit; the darkness of night encroaching upon the walls, but he could see you all too clearly. It pained him that he hadn’t before – no, he had, but he didn’t know how to express it – and wondered just how much different things would’ve been had he not met Vanessa, hell, had he not attacked that man that fateful day. He knew some things had changed for the better, some for the worst, and some that only time would tell – and he had a sneaking suspicion that you fell into the latter. 

His mind was hell, but it felt like heaven to be inside you.  

Leaning down, he placed a sloppy kiss to your lips before moving to your neck, groaning as you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. 

“Mike...” you moaned. “You’re so good to me...” 

‘For me’ was left unuttered.  

“Please...” you begged; your words almost inaudible over the creaking of his bedframe, and his heavy thighs slapping against your own as he rutted into you. “Cum for me. I need it...” 

Mike nodded, damp strands of his fringe glued to his forehead as he pushed into you a final time, his legs trembling as he came. It was unfathomable that in the heat of his pleasure – the best orgasm you’d had together – he wanted to cry. Breathlessly, you held him as he rode off his high, so tightly that you thought you might’ve pierced his skin, before you spoke your final words into the night. 

“I love you too...” you whispered. “I’m sorry...for everything.” 

You were gone before sunrise.  

[lillified]

What’s your thoughts about gender in Transformers specifically because I really love your take on the characters

that’s a good question! I’ve given a few different answers about this in the past, and I guess the simple answer would be I want people to interpret it in whatever way is most meaningful to them. The long answer is it’s complicated!

personally I believe that human gender dichotomy is entirely arbitrary. gender doesn’t preclude a set of behaviors or characteristics, but it affects how people treat you, and, in many cases, how you’re taught to view yourself.

One of my biggest pet peeves with how gender is handled in stuff like Transformers, where you’re dealing with things like sci fi or fantasy non-humans, is how literal and inherent it often is. Because we as people are writing from the perspective of a society where gender is taught as an immutable social framework, a lot of our art reflects this. However, when the issue of gender being arbitrary is brought up, instead of acknowledging its presence as an oversight, or an intentional thematic parallel, the go-to response is usually to codify it into canonical rule.

An example in Transformers would be how “female” Transformers were made into a subclass or subspecies to justify why they existed and why there were so few of them. Though you can argue from that as a technically sound retcon, this obviously does not solve the real life issue of why those creative decisions actually happened. It’s a fantasy excuse to justify a disinterest in engaging with “women” characters (while obviously the transformers are not human women, if it quacks like a duck, yknow?)

there have been other explanations of robot gender in the past, but I’ve never really been a fan of any of them, personally. The one I can think of that is most recent is the explanation that the gender dichotomy came about from the transformers learning about gender binary from other alien species (which they effectively colonized). While I personally think this is a step up, both as a writing decision and from a thematic perspective, my main issue with this is that this explanation says the “male” transformers are the essential “default.” The girls have all opted in/transitioned into their gender (which I think is cool, and should be something that happens more in transformers!). that being said, though, I fundamentally disagree with the idea that masculine and genderless should be inherently synonymous.

Femininity or girlhood (which are not inherently the same either, but I digress) being seen and portrayed as secondary is, surprisingly enough, not a very feminist or gender-abolitionist friendly idea! Of course this isn’t the biggest issue facing the women of the world, but I think it is essentialist in its own way, and is a fine example of the tricky nature of deconstructing gender in something that is fundamentally tied to it. On a side tangent, it also pretty much completely eliminates transmasculine representation, which I feel is unfortunate when having a gender binary in the first place only really serves to symbolize the range of human expression. Point being it’s imperfect and while I’m not claiming to have the perfect solution to this problem, I want to at least open the doors a little more for other people, potentially.

In my work I choose to make the genders as close to human as possible because ultimately they are humanoid robots, and I think if you are going to account for anthropocentric bias at all it wouldn’t hurt for there to be more representation overall. The robots are inherently sexless and their gender is inherently arbitrary, like humans (it is also partially the result of cultural imposition, also like humans), and though they lack many of the issues of a gendered society, it affects them and their social lives in a way people can probably relate to. “Man” and “woman” aren’t the only genders that exist, either, and, like humans, there are a range of different identities they can freely transition between.

I’d honestly rather not care too much about the specifics of why. There are reasons, purely social/societal ones, but I think that’s less important than the fact that they experience the consequences. I want people to be able to see themselves a little where they have not been allowed to previously where “humanoid” aliens and creatures have been concerned. If you exist, a robot can have your gender, I promise :)

Anyway, that was a very long winded response! I hope this answered your question, at least somewhat. Thanks again for submitting!

[kindlingkeen]

I think something that annoys me the most about quite a few Joker Dies/Jason Comes Home fics is that they think that as soon as the Joker is dead, Jason will stop killing. Like, doesn't matter if he's the one to kill the Joker or not, as long as the Clown dies, that's it, problem solved, Jason can go home with no issue because obviously he has no more reason to kill!

and it always has me ???????????????? the Joker is not the reason Jason kills? the Joker dying takes out a massive threat to the citizens of Gotham and I don't doubt it would make Jason personally feel better just in general, but there are still horrible, horrible people around and doing things that Jason believes means they don't deserve to keep living? Just because the Clown's dead doesn't mean all the other issues Jason deals with as the Red Hood are going to disappear wtf

Anon, I’m so sorry it too me forever to answer this ask!! Tumblr disappeared it from my inbox after I read it initially, and then it just reappeared this morning! I hope you’re still around to see this.

That narrative has me going ???????? right along with you. I don’t understand it. I’ve thought about it a lot and the best I can come up with is that sometimes authors are more interested in telling a story about Jason reintegrating with the family than they are in being true to Jason’s character. Because when you think about everything Jason’s been through, his motivations and perspective, the choices he’s made, it’s actually really hard to make him play happy house with the bats and keep his character authentic. If you’re out there in the void reading this and feel differently, reblog or leave a comment with your thoughts, I’d really like to hear them.

As I see it, here are two pieces to your ask: 1) Joker dying. 2) Jason killing.

First, Joker. Honestly, imo, focusing on the Joker dying completely misses the point. Canonically, if Jason really wanted Joker dead above all else, he could have killed him in Lost Days. He could have shot him in the face the first time he saw him in UtRH. It’s not about Joker. It’s about Bruce. Bruce’s choices, Bruce’s actions, Bruce’s feelings (or lack thereof). Taking it one step further, I actually think that deep down there’s a part of Jason that doesn’t want the Joker dead. Because once he is, that’s it. The possibility of Bruce making things right (right in Jason’s eyes, at least) is gone forever.

Second, Jason killing. I think Jason kills because, at his core, his priority is victims. He’s willing to take that final step because he sees it as necessary for existing victims and to prevent future victims in the making. I think it’s possible to put Jay in a scenario where he chooses not to kill for other reasons. But it’s not something he’s ever going to repent for, it’s not a ‘suddenly seeing the light’ sort of situation. I think these two panels from Detective Comics #975 are a good example of that. Although I take issue with the ‘I still have enough respect for this place’ line.

So, yeah, those are some of my thoughts on Jason, the Joker, and the Red Hood’s lethality. I’m still getting the hang of these meta rambles. Hopefully that was coherent enough, lol.

Thanks so much for the ask, anon! I really enjoyed thinking this through! 💙

[bunnydongsik]

man, I get confused when I see headcanons and such about Dongsik being like a guide for Joowon on "how to be a person", and supporting him with his mental health and such and being this stable experienced, calm mentor figure.

I'm not saying that Dongsik is not going to be supporting Joowon, but the only stable thing about that man is his love.

I think that when it comes to supporting the other's mental health, Joowon is going to be doing the heavy lifting.

Like, in series, Joowon is basically "okay", when judging the stability of someone's mental health, the foundational, immediate appraisal includes things like "sleep", "hygiene", "food intake", "emotional stability", and "ability to take care of one's home".

The most glaring problem with Joowon is that he has very little support - this issue is resolved during the show, although Joowon has to learn that it has in fact been solved, which is probably a bit difficult to get used to.

Dongsik on the other hand shows worrying behaviour in basically everything that I just listed, and although he has people who love him, he doesn't let them help him (although he has hopefully become a bit better about this in the end)

We see that Dongsik can't sleep, and while I don't think he stops showering he definitely shows very little care with his clothing (until he finds Yuyeon, notably) and particularly lets himself go regarding hair and shaving after Minjeung dies. He has a lot of experience with not eating, and he seems to maybe rely a little bit too heavily on instant noodles for an adult with a fulltime job and - well, we have all seen his house.

I don't think I have to describe just how emotionally unstable he is in the show, in one interview I saw it described as "flying from one extreme to the other". He also decribes himself as "ruined" and "a total wreck" - definitely leading the mind to more than just mild depression.

He also clearly doesn't value himself. When we see him give away his shoes and holdan umbrella over another person's head in the pouring rain - that is an excellent showcase of his selflessness and kindness, but a harsher light shines on this scene when we learn that he did that for 12 hours. in autumn. That is not healthy behaviour - at least call someone to bring you another umbrella and pair of shoes?? or someone else can come and hold the goddamn umbrella. We also see him help Bang Juseon's family - even though he is treated so harshly. And he still tries to stay cheerful and he certainly doesn't complain. And he still buys the new lock? and presumeably puts it up.

And later on, when the restaurant lady throws salt on him - which is apparently a ritual done to "ward of evil" - he says something like "ma'am, why would you waste your precious salt on someone like me?" Dongsik, please value yourself, just a little.

that isn't to say that he doesn't have good or bad periods - the show really makes a point of how important it is to share a meal with those you love, and we do see him cleanshaven and with a haircut at the end.

But Dongsik has been living like that for 20 years, it is not just going to go away, and there is definitely a reason that the director suggested that Dongsik should commit suicide - but in the end it was agreed that it would be a stronger and more responsible ending to show the power of love and how it can help someone through the tough times.

So my point here is that Dongsik is just, insanely traumatised, even in the beginning of the show, and then it just.... piles on. like it is wild - by the time he found Yuyeon in the fucking wall, I said out loud to myself, "Isn't this a bit much?", and then it kept going even more lol.

And that trauma has shaped him as a person, and I still hold the belief that Dongsik lacks many of the experiences that you expect from a 40 year old man - no one can convince me that he has ever been in a relationship, or that he has a lot of sexual experience.

Furthermore, I see a lot of people say that Joowon has arrested development, but I would acutally argue that there is a stronger case for that with Dongsik. Joowon is emotionally closed off and doesn't seem to realise how lonely he is or how sheltered, but other than that he is fully functional.

Severe trauma is known to fuck with the brain, also regarding developement, and I think Dongsik was hit hard. I am going to copy and paste a little from another post I wrote, so forgive me if you have already read this:

"He has a lot of scenes where he just seems weirdly young, a stand out example to me, is when he's crying as he interrogates Nam Sangbae, while Sangbae praises him for working hard - and then the way he wipes his tears.

Also interesting that between Joowon and Dongsik, it is Dongsik who has a prominent father figure in his life - who picks him up from the police station (Dongsik even complaining to him that he is not a kid), making sure he eats and just generally taking care of him, as seen in the period after Sangyeob's death."

I want to add emphasis on the role that Sangbae plays in Dongsik's life - Only Dongsik's behaviour towards Minjeung (described as being a mother and half a father), comes close to the way Sangbae acts towards Dongsik. Even though he should be fully capable of taking care of himself at his age.

According to the script book, Sangbae's very last thoughts are about Dongsik and how he would have to "break down alone"- and he refers to him as "pitiful" and essentially tries to grab onto Joowon's hand because he knows his death will break Dongsik, and not necessarily because he really wants to live.

And on that note, I find it fascinating how much Joowon slides into the role that Sangbae left behind - not entirely of course, Joowon doesn't take on an authority role. But he does take on a caretaker role.

Sangbae laments the fact that Dongsik will have to break down alone because he, Sangbae, will be dead- but that isn't true, because Joowon holds him in his lap while he cries. and when Dongsik goes to the lake house, it is Joowon who picks him up and tells him to keep moving - mirrored by Sangbae going to Dongsik's house when Sangyeob died and telling him he had to live on.

Sangbae and Joowon really mirror each other regarding their role in Dongsik's life - Sangbae also lampshades this himself when he tells Joowon to stop pursuing Dongsik as a suspect and potentially ruin an innocent person's life - because that is exactly what Sangbae did. And after they individually finish tormenting Dongsik and realise their mistake, they decide that they will do anything for him - partly out of guilt, partly out of love.

But one major difference between Sangbae and Joowon is that Joowon didn't need someone to kick him in the butt to start moving - he does that on his own, without any prompting (also to the detriment of Sangbae, because Joowon at this point is still an idiot who thinks he is too good for help, and is too busy antagonising Dongsik instead of working with him)

I also think that this is the thematic reason for Joowon surviving and overcoming and growing to be a better person, while Sangbae has to die. Too little too late, he had 20 years to do something about the obvious corruption, Joowon had like, 2 months.

This once again meandered a looot and touched on a lot of different themes, but that is simply because it is all connected in my brain.

The main point is that Dongsik is not some emotionally healthy, stable and experienced mentor whom Joowon can look to for guidance - he is in fact severely fucked up. More so than Joowon, I would argue, partly because Dongsik simply went through a lot, but also because I think that Joowon is more resilient.

Joowon isn't so much in need of someone to help him function, as he is of someone who will always, always love him, completely and selflessly and unconditionally, who will serve as an "anchor" that he can always return to, and who will shown him patience when he messes up instead of throwing him away. And Dongsik is the perfect candidate for that, perhaps even partly because of his trauma.

I think that Dongsik is always going to be a bit off and maybe need a bit of extra support, and I think Joowon will always be haunted by guilt and by the shadows of his parents - but by their powers combined of Dongsik being made of love and forgiveness, and Joowon being a devoted, obsessive little freak about that old man, they will make it anyway and thrive.

Thank you for reading if you made it this far!

[donnerpartyofone]

I'm sure @staff has kind of a lot on their plate right now but while I'm thinking of it, this would be nice to have:

Add a Fandom community label. Or a dedicated universal tag, or a box you can check during post creation, or just anything that has the ultimate effect of allowing users to filter fan content.

This could at-least-slightly ameliorate problems with the search.

I have come into acceptance of the fact that fixing the notoriously dysfunctional search, even on individual blogs, is just way, way, way out of scope for some reason. Tumblr must know that a functional search would radically increase engagement, so I assume that the persistence of this glaring problem means that there is simply no way to fix it. I tell myself that "search" really just means "give me a handful of related suggestions" and not "show me every instance of X". I am learning to live with this.

What compounds this issue is that there is no way to separate fan content from content directly related to your search terms.

EXAMPLE: I search for a popular movie, and the results are so overburdened with people's personal stories and drawings that it's impossible for me to find anything actually related to the film. I give up quickly and Tumblr loses engagement from both me and the people who post screencaps/gifs/music/production info/etc.

EXAMPLE: I'm searching for something--anything--but my commonplace search term happens to be related to a very specific fandom. Perhaps I have never even heard of this fandom. But after scrolling through yards and yards of fan fiction, I have to give up, and Tumblr loses engagement from me and also whoever is posting about the actual thing I wanted.

OTHER NEGATIVE EFFECTS:

1. I stopped tracking ALL tags because they were constantly serving me fan content. I haven't bothered with tags for years because of this.

2. I blocked tons of innocent users because I couldn't avoid seeing their fan content; in order to stop seeing it, I have to sacrifice our entire ability to interact. I'm not alone there, sometimes I even see a note about this in someone's header ("Sorry you're blocked, it's probably because Tumblr won't stop showing me your fan art").

All of these scenarios happen to me and other users all the time and we have been vocally complaining about this. And I know Tumblr has rebranded itself as the fandom app in recent years, but I would say that even a fandom person still wants to see i.e. actual movie & TV show stuff and not just other people's drawings and stories.

So basically Tumblr has two big, related problems: Search doesn't really work AND is clogged with fan content that drowns out everything else.

BUT what if we could just have ONE problem? What if the search had a toggle that includes or excludes fan content. Then even if the search only gives me limited results, I can improve those results by making sure they are ONLY related directly to the thing I want. This would make the Tumblr search instantly, hugely more useful and I would do way more with it, way more often.

Maybe it could even work both ways, like I can choose to ONLY see fan content for a given search term, fandom folks would probably have a use for that. But the main thing for me is that even if search functionality is unfixably limited, I could refine the limited results and get only the most relevant stuff by excluding one common piece of metadata. Problem not-solved, but significantly reduced!

[slasherscream]

I loooveee your Until Dawn stuff!!! I'd love to hear more about Until Dawn yanderes and a darling who doesn't have good self care habits/forgets to take care of themself ❤️

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER WHO DOESN'T TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days.

- Josh never makes you feel bad about how hard it is for you to take care of yourself. Suffering from mental health issues of his own, he knows how difficult day to day living can be. While the way you treat yourself does worry him, he chooses to focus on fixing the problem by taking care of you himself. Making sure you eat. Going on walks with you so you're not always inside the house. Running you a bath. Every cheerful "thank you" that you give him over the smallest of actions makes him feel like he's finally found his purpose in life: you.

- Sam is a diligent and disciplined person overall and these traits easily extend to taking care of you. Once she's in your life, there is no more "forgetting" about self-care. At first she'll just try and remind you. Gentle pushes here and there. If this doesn't work, she'll simply take over. You've made it clear that you're not dependable when it comes to caring for the one thing Sam is most passionate about, so now she'll do the job for you. It's in your best interest to let yourself be taken care of. Sam never gives up.

- Chris worships you too much to question your judgement on anything. Who is he to tell you how to live your life? He's lucky you allow him to breathe the same air as you, frankly. Still, he hates the way you treat yourself. You're everything that's wonderful and perfect in the world but you neglect all your daily needs. You don't eat. You miss sleep! You overwork yourself. It's enough to drive him to the brink of madness. He solves this problem by waiting on you hand and foot. You may not care about yourself, but Chris is your doting servant. There'll be no more need to bother yourself with the petty aspects of daily living. Chris will worry about everything for you!

- Hannah is your loyal lost puppy. She adores you and hates that you don't care about yourself at all. She views you not taking care of yourself as a cry for help. For her help! You're just testing her, to see if she's paying attention, to see if she cares. She doesn't know why you won't just ask her to take care of you. She'd do anything for you if you asked. But maybe you doubt her devotion to you. You won't doubt it for long though, once Hannah has figured you out. She'll prove just how much she adores you. There won't be a doubt left in your mind.

- Emily is angered by the way you treat yourself. As if you're nothing. The fact that you're hers should be enough reason to take care of yourself alone. Still, you seem to relish self-neglect and abuse. She takes care of you, but lets you know the entire time that you should be doing it yourself. Not because she's unwilling to do it, or dislikes doing it, but because she worries. What would happen if she wasn't around? How far would this habit of neglect go? With the spiteful way she speaks, you'd never guess it was love fueling her actions and not irritation.

- Mike as a person can be separated into two distinct people: Mike before you and Mike after you. He's a much better person after he becomes obsessed with you. You bring out the selfless caretaker in him. In a lot of ways, he thinks you're helpless. Truly, you may not even be all that bad at caring for yourself. But Mike worships you in his own way: you deserve the best and anything less being provided for you irritates him. It's unlikely you'll ever meet Mike's standards when it comes to self-care. That's no real issue though, Mike will happily do it for you. In fact, he insists. Make it easier on yourself and let him pamper you. At least this way being taken care of is still "your" choice.

- Beth, despite being the youngest Washington sibling, is truly the most responsible. Taking care of others is nothing foreign to her. She'll rise easily to the occasion of being your caretaker, but will never make you feel as if you're a burden. She takes care of you quietly. Sometimes it'll be easy to forget she's doing it at all. That's the way Beth cares for everyone. For you, she'd go to the moon and back without so much as a grunt.

- Jessica is a little at a loss. She's used to people taking care of her, not the other way around. Still, she loves you and you worry her. So she tries to step up and be mature for once in her life. She'll actually communicate with you, unlike the other yanderes. She wants to know what you think you need help with. That's where she'll start, with instructions. From there she'll branch out into helping you fix the other aspects of self-care that you neglect. This is new territory for Jessica, but for you she'd learn to do handstands on water if you needed her to do it.

- Matt has been dutifully helping you with self-care long before he was your boyfriend. The only thing that's changed is that he was more afraid to push you when he was just your friend. Now, as your boyfriend, he's a little more brave when it comes to doing what needs to be done. "I really think you should eat just a little more, honey." / "Could we go to bed? It's pretty late... you have class in the morning." / "You just got home from work, let me do that." / The longer you're together the braver he'll be about taking care of you. While he wants you to be happy, he knows deep down that you being healthy is more important. So even if it irritates you, even if you snap at him sometimes, he'll push himself to take care of you. For a people pleaser like Matt, it's a big step.

[thenightfolknetwork]

(a friend wrote this, and didn’t get the chance so submit it, so I’m putting it in for her!)

Let me just start by saying that I didn't mean to blow up all of my colleagues. It just sort of happened. One minute I'm in a meeting, getting increasingly more frustrated with the idiots prattling on around me, next I was standing up and yelling at them while ignoring the start of my magic boiling in my stomach, next I was standing in a pile of rubble with red mist fading into the sky. Like I said, it just sort of happened.

The arresting officer, however, didn't exactly see it that way. Neither did the jury, or judge, or either lawyer. I got in a lot of trouble for that whole... incident. Like, a lot of trouble. Like, a major fine, and some jail time and my girlfriend testifying in court that I'd been unstable to begin with kind of trouble.

At the very least, the psychiatrist (the only halfway useful witness that the idiot public defense managed to find) was able to verify that given the level of magic that I'd been using for my old job, I had most likely been verifiably out of my mind when the explosion occurred. So rather than several lifetimes worth of prison, I just got a very special lock on my magic that blocked any of my abilities to use it.

That was... a big transition, to put it mildly. Before this, I'd been something of a prodigy with my magic, and I loved using it. Like, more than I loved that girlfriend. So suddenly not being able to, and having to find a job without it, and the whole thing resulting in me no longer having any living friends...

Yeah, that took a while to come back from, even just emotionally. But I did. I made friends. I found a job, which I didn't love, but I liked. I even started dating again. But then one day, me and my friends were kind of messing around with some things (a couple of them have magic, so "messing around" can get messy in a number of ways), and to be honest, I'm not totally sure what we did, but the lock on my magic came undone.

My friends, I'm pretty sure, just think that I'm manifesting it late. It's rare, but it happens. I never told them about what happened at my last job. I still don’t really want to.

But with suddenly being able to use my magic again… don’t tell the judge, but looking back, there were absolutely signs that my magic was starting to spiral out of control. The thing at the office just happened to be the first one with major casualties. And already, some of those sorts of signs are coming back.

I love my new friends, and my new life. But I also love my magic. I don’t want to hurt my friends, but I can’t figure out a plan that doesn’t end with them or my magic gone again. And I barely made it through losing my magic the first time. I don’t think I will again.

Can you please give me some advice? Should I tell them, so at least they have time to run away? Should I turn myself in, since there is no way that using my magic again is legal? Or do I just keep using my magic and hope for the best? I really don’t know what to do here, but I could use some help.

First things first, reader – I want to be very clear that I am not a legal professional, so please do not take anything I say here as serious legal advice. Especially if it sounds like I'm advising you to do something illegal. Which I would never do. Of course.

With that out of the way, I can say that I'm not especially surprised this magical lock of yours has failed. Studies have shown time and again that such measures are not a sustainable solution to the issue of emotionally triggered thaumaturgic flares. Not only can these devices fail, as you've experienced, they also do nothing to solve the actual causes of these flares.

A far more sustainable solution to your problem is a combined approach of cognitive behavioural therapy and acute thaumaturgic discipline training. Together, these can help you manage both the emotional side of your problem, by helping you recognise and handle stressful situations before your magic is activated, and help you keep control of your magic even in the throes of emotional distress.

I strongly recommend you seek out a therapist with experience in thaumaturgic discipline. NHS waiting lists for this kind of care are appallingly long, so if possible, you might consider paying for private care instead. Consider it a very worthwhile investment in your future health and happiness.

I hear your concern that you can feel signs that your magic is already starting to slip out of your control. Have you considered the use of thaumaturgically resistant materials?

Court-ordered magical locks are designed to suppress any and all magical activity on the most profound layer of existence. This is, in my opinion, a little like dropping a nuclear bomb on one's garden in order to stop slugs eating your cabbages. A more measured response would be to experiment with silver jewellery, salt-water swimming, or rosemary balm. Hopefully, these will dampen your magical abilities, and give you a little breathing space within which to work on the underlying issues at play.

You've done extremely well to get through the pain and trauma of this previous incident and build a new life for yourself. I have every faith that, with a little hard work and perseverance, you will be able to get through this as well. Good luck, reader.

[theonlyren]

Ryme City Gengar

This is Kati

She's my Gengar partner.

DISCLAIMER: The following is my account of how I came to own my Gengar, Kati. It is a true story, however, I have falsified names and omitted the direct address of relevant parties in this story for their “protection.” Please do not seek these people out or harass them. They are not worth your time or energy. This is not a happy tale, especially if you like Ghost-types, are a Hex Maniac, or have a shred of common decency. Now, without further ado.

Consider the Gastly.

Gastly is one of the most well-documented, well-known, common ghost types across the regions. It’s in Oak’s original Pokedex and even shows up in Laventon’s old field journals. Its body is 95% gas, and it’s one of the lightest known pokemon in the world, to the point where a stiff wind will make the thing vanish (it’ll re-materialize later just fine, though). The remaining 5% of it is somewhat less clear. It could be argued that this 5% is undoubtedly what gives the Pokemon its Ghost typing. Some believe it is the souls of those its gas has killed, others believe it’s the ghostly essence of graveyard grievances, or forlorn memories of departed people or places.

All Kati remembers is waking up in front of the grave of a girl named Catherine.

I was backpacking through Galar at the time, I had the clothes on my back, the spares in my pack, some few thousand Pokedollars, basic Pokemon care and healing supplies, a phone, and my Eevee and Zorua, Vivi and Aka, respectively. I was looking for a place to crash for the night and wound up at a village in the southern edge of the region. Extremely quaint, very lovely, and I ran into the residents of a very old chateau, whose family had lived there for generations. They were trust fund kids, basically. The husband, who we’ll call John Doe, lived in the estate with his wife, Jane, his parents - his father being the local (and, if you’ve been following my Chatotter, a certain) reverend - and his grandparents. I met John and Jane at the town's only pub, and they were utter sweethearts; to this day, I still wish them well and the best for them. Upon telling them I was the son of Pokemon Rangers, and an Arceist, they asked if I could help them with an issue they’ve been having at the chapel.

Now, to a normal person, this probably would’ve set off every red flag in the universe. Supposedly rich family is inquiring about an outsider for “help”? Boi they’re about to steal your Pokemon and lock you in the basement. Turns out, something being locked in the basement was the issue. I initially declined, but then John made an offer to pay me a… moderately life changing amount of Pokedollars, provided I could solve the issue, which- er, piqued my curiosity enough to at least humor the couple. I figured I had Aka with me, and if things become sketchy he could use a clever illusion to help bail me outta there.

This village I went to was absurdly secluded, they hardly ever received tourists or travelers. The local authorities were in the back-pocket of John’s parents, which he was quick to explain as he led me to the estate. Once we arrived, he played me off as a guest of his wife’s side of the family, and I was introduced to this man’s elders.

I know the saying goes to respect your elders, but one look at this man’s family told me everything I needed to know about why John trusted an outsider with this. These were the most miserable, leery-eyed, snobbish, conservative-ass, “only polite because I have to be” motherfuckers I have ever had the discomfort of meeting and breaking bread with. The bread was the only good thing about their dinner as well, come to think of it, with unseasoned vegetables, beans, and… ok, the shepherd’s pie was alright, but still.

Later that night, John led me out as if to politely escort me off, but detoured around the back of the mansion to the village’s church, where we went through a cellar entrance.

And that’s where I would meet Kati for the first time.

As he opened the door, I saw paper talismans on the interior side. Cleanse tags. Prayer tags. The like. They dotted the stairwell down, to a locked door, which my escort unlocked to reveal a room, lined - wall-to-wall - with tags. And sitting, suspended in a cage, also laced with these tags, was a Gastly.

Cleanse Tags have long been a staple item for the traveling trainer, useful in helping ward off unwanted wild encounters, if a little uncomfortable for most pokemon to hold. A ghost type can handle holding one for the sake of their trainer.

An entire basement lined with them is torture of the highest order. Especially for a ghost.

This Gastly was well and truly trapped. Being locked in stasis inside a Pokeball would’ve been a kinder fate. Everywhere in this room that she could look, she saw searing wards and condemning reminders that told her in no uncertain terms that she was an unwelcome monster. She could not escape this place, the talismans well and truly suppressed any and all ghost energy she could even try and muster. No phasing, no vanishing, no shrinking or morphing, nothing.

John wanted her freed.

I was quick to agree.

It was clear the man was wrestling with the idea of freeing her for a while, and, when I pressed him about why the poor thing was locked away in the first place, he explained that the Gastly had been locked down here for generations, his late great-(great?)-grandfather had apparently caught the thing at the local graveyard, “communing with Giratina,” if you believe such malarky. So his family took it upon themselves to “catch” the ghost and seal her away in their church to cleanse or contain the sin within her, to the point where it’s become an obsession for the family, and they’ve never known peace since. So it was, she remained down there for something to the effect of over eighty years. 

At least three generations of Does is apparently what it took before one realized “hmm, maybe this Gastly down here is fine???”

So of course because things had to be dramatic, we heard the upper cellar door open the moment I tore enough tags off the cage to get the Gastly out. John told me to get my Zorua out and hide as he’d go distract whoever it was. I did so and told Aka to blend us into the wall. John went up, tried to tell his father the Gastly had escaped, and when he angrily came down to verify, well.

The Gastly didn’t like seeing the old man’s face.

She gassed my face to break free and immediately went for the old-timer. The illusion broke and I now had an angered reverend cursing my name, breaking every rule of engagement, since “the next coming of Giratina” was on the line as he threw his entire fuckin’ team at me. A “prize” furfrou, a machop, and a houndour. 

Trying to remember the fight as best I can, Vivi was strong enough to take out the Houndour, but the Machop made quick work of Aka. My new Gastly friend managed to poison the Machop in turn, but a bite from the Houndour nearly took her out instantly. Vivi weakened the Furfrou and Machop with a quick Swift, but, well, at the time my two team members were both weak to fighting, so the Machop was quick to take him out as well.

It was at that point I discovered the Gastly knew will-o-wisp as it cursed the Machop with its flames, taking it out, and I had an idea.

It was time to run from a trainer battle.

I kicked the Houndour in the face (sorry pup!) and told Gastly to set the remaining tags on fire. With the ones I had already desecrated, she had strength enough to set the room ablaze, which freaked out the reverend father and his pokemon enough that I was able to throw an empty pokeball at the Gastly to “catch” her, lob her out of the cellar as she struggled to break out, and get the absolute hell out of there.

John was waiting in a car outside. An extra broken-and-lobbed pokeball later to get the Gastly away from the reverend, we were driving from the estate and I had a very angry Gastly I was trying to calm down in the backseat of a speeding vehicle. It took a while, but she calmed down when it became clear we were tearing her away from that awful place.

John dropped me off at a graveyard, presumably (and, I would later find, purposefully) the best spot he thought to release the Gastly, - cliche, I know, - he wired me the money, and sped off. The Gastly tore itself free from me, and hovered at one particular grave. It was an old headstone, weathered and faint, but I could just barely make out the name “Catherine” on it. I sat near her as she stared at it. And we stayed there for a while; long time. Appropriately, I think we left at about midnight, when I offered her one more Pokeball and the chance to travel with me, safely, and see the world she was locked away from. Gave her the name “Kati” then and there, both as a shortening of her old name, and because it translates to “Pure.”

We beat feet from that village and never looked back. 

My backpacking journey was a lot more comfortable after that, I’ll say that much. Dude gave me bank.

But, here we are, me and the reverend, locked in something of an awkward stalemate where if either of us try and report what happened, we have to inadvertently confess to crimes we ourselves committed. Pokémon Abuse for the Does. And uh, Arson and Pokémon A&B for me. Trainer Disengagement too, but that’s a misdemeanor more ‘n anything. The fact that both of us have a decent amount of influence, should things get legal, doesn’t help either. Haven’t been back in or extradited to Galar since, and it’s basically been something like a 10 year cold case, so I’m not too concerned about this actually biting me in the ass, but the Reverend Father Doe sure is getting spicy with me on Chatotter.

He can rot for all I care.

Kati’s mine.

And she can burn through any holy tag you throw at her, now.