#you don't get to know whose names or pronouns are whose; only that someone in the system definitely does use them

[thethingything]

I wanna re-do our Pronouns Page card but our current options are to either just do it for my name and pronouns (previously it was Lucy's stuff on there), do the system's collective names and pronouns, or go wild and list everything

[ordowrites]

some arlecchino headcanons

we are about 34 days away from her debut and i'm excited, so i am here, with a fever and nothing to do until i recover so it's time to ramble about this woman who i've been excited for since her debut in winter night's lazzo

cw: some fluff, some not sfw mentions, afab reader but no pronouns used, use of pet names, mdni, minors dni, general warnings for canon typical violence, some mentions of D/s, sort of a sugar relationship, power imbalances, pet play, possessive behaviors. everything is consensual. please ask if something should be tagged i didn't get already

arlecchino is, for the lack of a better word, a kind lover. she isn't inherently cruel nor would she never intentionally raise a hand to you unless you ask very nicely. she is attentive for someone of her stature and position, she knows many things about you although you know very little about her - still, having your likes and dislikes, favorite color, dream wedding, and so on is to her advantage. she touches you as if you may shatter beneath her touch and you're the last person in this world that she wants to corrupt.

while she is kind, she does get condescending sometimes. she likes making the decisions in the relationship and calling the shots, such as where you guys eat, what you guys eat, sometimes what you wear, simpler decisions - although, she also wants a partner who knows what they want and can speak up for themselves. being confident is important, but not egotistical. (after all, she may be calling the shots, but your thoughts are still pretty important to her)

she will pay for everything. oh don't you worry your pretty little head, she's a Harbinger, she can pay. you sit pretty and enjoy your dinner and conversation. she'll gift you things you like, get you necessities should you only ask for them. so long as it brings a smile to your face, she will do it to an extent.

in comparison to others, such as diluc, whose love language is gift giving and he loves showering his partner with expensive gifts no strings attached - arlecchino's can be underhanded and come at a price. not everything comes from the kindness of her heart, and she's more than frank enough to tell you when she wants you on your knees to work for that dress you've been eying. (and of course, you will do so)

she likes to refer to you as pet, precious, and similar names to that. maybe she views you a bit as a pet, what with that collar she presented to you sometime ago? "oh, it's so everyone knows you belong to me. would you rather something more permanent?" (of course, if you stutter out your protests about wearing a collar in public, she'll just smile, cup your face, and tell you how sweet you look). she did also gift you a lovely necklace to wear at all times after your initial shock of the collar. after all, she still does value your comfort. nothing is ever non-consensual with her. after all, she teaches her "children" the importance of consent and valuing their own lives, so she should model such teachings with you.

you have dinner at home, together, at the same time, six days a week. once a week, she will take you out to the fanciest place she can in order to show you off to the public. her arm wrapped around your waist, your dress matches her red lip stick, and she shows you off proudly to the public. everyone knows you're the Harbinger's most beloved one. And she is quick to remind anyone who forgets. (and hold your head up high, goodness sakes', she wants you to be proud of yourself. if she didn't find you worth her attention, you wouldn't be at her side.)

the two of you will also have daily tea and cake, at the same time. always your favorite or whatever you are craving at the time. she loves to spoil you with these sorts of things.

She will never allow you to meet any of the other Harbingers. For your safety, of course. You are but an innocent person in this world, but if she ever does take you to a banquet, her clawed hand will never leave your hip. Her eyes will always be on you should you ever have a need to leave her side, and soft, veiled threats to her colleagues should they dare to even look at you wrong.

Sex with Arlecchino happens whenever it happens, and she's always happy to indulge if you're feeling particularly horny. But she doesn't make it easy for you to find the relief you're chasing. She likes to draw things out, she likes to hear you make noises that make you blush, and see tears prick at your eyes as you struggle to not orgasm without her okay to do so.

She's also not the biggest fan of bondage, but if you're being particularly naughty, she'll tie you up. Or if you ask her, nicely of course. (the reason being is because she likes feeling you touch her, your touch is always so soft and gentle)

However... something has caught her eye recently - a type of bondage hailing from Inazuma. Shibari. Oh yes, she will have you in soft red rope in her office just to look at. That is, if she doesn't have you already half naked and eating her out while she works while desperately humping her shoe because she issued you a challenge and it's been a few weeks since you've last had an orgasm. Really, whichever has her fancy at the time. (she does this because she loves seeing you fucked out and needy and pliant)

she also likes marking you - bright red marks or purple all over your neck where people can see. and she's always disappointed if you try to hide them. ("for shame, do you not wish for people to know who you belong to?")

("look at you, my most perfect pet. i must say, that is a good color on you. now, hold your head up high and don't cower. let everyone see the same thing i see in you.")

[homunculus-argument]

Have you ever had one of those things happen that just straight-up sound like something that'd only go down in a badly written sitcom?

This one time a few years ago, I had nothing to do in the middle of the day so I went out to wander around the city, and encountered one of those christian missionaries of some sort - not mormons, some local finnish-speaking one, probably Jehova's witnesses, I can't recall - who addressed me first. Having only gone out to kill time I figured I'd stop to see what he had to say, this might get interesting.

He started talking about sin, and I told him that I don't think that's real, humans aren't inherently bad creatures that need to be goaded into not doing evil by an outside force. Apparently taken back by my confidence about this, he asked me why I think so. And while I was absolutely not this eloquent about it while talking as I am typing it out now, I explained that if doing good didn't come naturally to people, it wouldn't feel good to do it. There's been studies about that - it makes people feel happy to help others, even when they gain nothing from it, or even at a cost to themselves sometimes.

Doing good things feels good for the same reason as eating, sleeping and having sex feel good - because we're supposed to do it. It doesn't matter to me why that is - either there's a god who made people with inherent goodness to them, or natural selection of the cold uncaring universe saw this behaviour as beneficial for survival. People want to be good to one-another just like migratory birds want to fly south for the winter.

He gave me his best annoyed "alright, fair enough"-shrug and was clearly trying to think of how to disagree with that when we were interrupted. I have no idea how a person that large and entirely indifferent to concepts like subtlety, stealth or an indoor voice even can sneak up on people, but we were both startled when someone I had briefly met appeared out of apparent nowhere, loudly going

HEY AREN'T YOU THAT TRANNY FROM THE PARK

addressing me. I used to go drinking at the park quite often back then, and while I did meet a lot of people that way and my memory is the first thing to disappear when I'm drunk, someone that loud, tall and broad-shouldered, covered in tattoos, with long hair, braided beard and electric blue eyeshadow isn't someone you easily forget. I was, indeed, the tranny from the park and I had been the person who had explained the concept of "nonbinary" to them.

My acquaintance here was somewhere between 30 and 50 and not exactly up to whatever the kids are doing these days, and their reaction to this information was roughly "oh huh so there's a name for the thing I'm doing". As they only spoke finnish, I can't say that I would have been the one to explain the concept of gender neutral pronouns to them, but they had been fascinated to discover that other languages have gendered pronouns in the first place.

Refreshing my memory of the encounter - and apparently unintentionally also recounting it to the missionary who was still silently standing with us - they proceeded to explain that they've never really felt like a man or a woman. And sometimes not really even like a human, but more like an alien who had just been dropped off here from a spaceship - but not like in a psychotic delusions sort of way, but just the vibes, you know? They then proceeded to tell us about some other fascinating epiphanies that they had had while on psychedelics.

As they went on, the christian missionary next to us was drifting backwards so slowly that I don't think I noticed him actually take an individual backwards step, just silently sliding gradually further away from this situation, with apparent mild concern. And while my happenstance acquaintance - whose name I either never heard or couldn't remember hearing - was talking, I noticed I had gotten a text message from a friend, who asked if I'm around and whether I want to come hang out.

So as the nonbinary giant self-appointed alien was finished with their story and took their leave - telling me that they'll probably see me around, and as I was around a lot, I reassured them that they would - I turned to the missionary and told him that while I'd love to carry on with what we were talking about, I actually have people to see now, and bid him good luck with whatever he was trying to do.

It's been like five years between that day and today, and during that time I moved to a different city and back here. I don't think I've seen the nonbinary giant again even once during this time, and wherever they are, I hope they're doing ok and no longer doing any weird drugs. Or if they are, that at least they're having fun.

[crazyyluvr]

Could you do like a Jason Grace x gf!reader where the reader and him get into a small argument so they end up competing in opposite teams during capture the flag, to sort of avoid eachother, but the reader gets injured during the game and jason is super worried, and they make up afterwards? Gosh im sorry if this is too specific, I just thought I'd be cute haha

Stop Being Nice to Me, I'm Supposed to be Mad at You

pairing: jason grace x gf!reader

summary: in which Jason gets in an argument with you before a Capture the Flag game and you end up avoiding each other... until you get injured, and Jason couldn't let the previous argument stop him from checking up on you.

wc: 1.9k

content: argument, she/her pronouns, set in camp jupiter with some made up characters, jason and reader are in different cohorts for plot purposes, reader uses a spear, reader is a cohort leader

note: i’m so sorry that it took me so long to do this anon, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

short oneshot under the cut :: not proofread

"You —" Jason started, but stopped himself when he noticed that his tone was getting too aggressive. "You could have gotten worse injuries, both you and the newbie."

You sighed, rubbing your temples for the nth time that day. "I know, okay? I dealt with the situation before it could escalate."

You were on patrol with a fellow probatio cohort mate the night before, and an enormous warthog suddenly appeared, wanting to ram the entrance to camp.

You, of course, had to cover for your cohort mate's ass by pushing them out of the way to avoid the warthog's tusks. Your arm almost got skewered in the process, but the fight ended in your favor — a fight that consisted of you screaming bloody murder in the warthog's face and pushing the newbie out of the way constantly before they could get murdered by the large animal.

The only wound you got from that fight is a cut on your cheek. It wasn't that bad, but the fact that it was on your cheek (which is full of blood), it caused quite a red waterfall.

The cut was almost healed by now, the white patch of bandage on your cheek just a precaution to fight off infections. But of course, Jason took it upon himself as your boyfriend to worry excessively over your wellbeing.

Speaking of Jason, he wasn't satisfied with your previous answer. "Either way, you shouldn't have compromised your safety like that. You may have killed the monster before it could get worse, but that still doesn't change the fact that you could have died."

"But I didn't, because I dealt with it," you scoffed. One thing you hated was when people treated you as if you couldn't take care of yourself. You've been able to support yourself on your own for a good while before you discovered Camp Jupiter and got claimed by your godly parent.

You appreciated the blonde boy's concern, but that doesn't change the fact that he thought that you were reckless. I mean, yeah, you kind of were, but that's besides the point.

Jason opened his mouth to protest further, but a horn blaring in the distance interrupted him.

"Hey!" Someone called your name, and you were grateful to have an excuse to look away from Jason's intense blue stare. "We have to strategize for Capture the Flag. You're leading us, remember?"

You spared one last glance at Jason, whose expression was clear: we aren't done. You scoffed again, turning back to your cohort mate — Paul, you think his name was — who happened to be the probatio you were on guard with last night.

"Okay, I'll go with you," You responded, jogging away from Jason. You could feel the heat of his glare at the back of your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to care all that much. Capture the Flag was a fairly new game in camp, but that didn't stop it from rising in popularity from how you could be as violent as you want as long as you don't severely hurt anyone.

It was the perfect opportunity for you to let out some steam.

"Did I interrupt something?" Paul asked, worried that he had upset Jason, the son of Jupiter and one of the strongest demigods in camp.

You shook your head. "No, it's fine. Let's just get this show on the road, yeah?"

Paul nodded, the nervousness on his face fading but not entirely as you both jogged towards the assembly of cohorts in the hall.

Reyna, one of the camp's praetors, started the briefing. "Cohorts one and four will go against cohorts two, three, and five."

The people in your cohort — cohort four — groaned at the disadvantage they were given, making Reyna put her hand up to silence them. "We drew lots, so those who got the shorter stick have to utilize everyone they have to turn the odds towards them."

You cracked your knuckles, your fingers itching to get your hands dirty. Your trusty Imperial Gold spear was strapped onto your back, and you were impatiently waiting for the opportunity to bring it out.

Reyna went on with the usual warnings of no killing and maiming, which made you zone out. You felt eyes on the back of your head again, but you ignored them, knowing that it was Jason's doing. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact with him.

"Good luck, and let the games begin," Reyna concluded, making the people around you roar and bang their weapons together.

They all jogged out of the hall. The ten minutes of preparation had begun, and you along with James from the First Cohort led your big group into the building that was constructed the night before just for today's Capture the Flag.

"We're based here, while the other group is based in the forest," James said. "They outnumber us, but we have the higher ground."

"Three teams," you continued. "A group of three at most to get the flag, a big group to distract the other group on their home turf, and a small squad here to guard the flag."

"We're spreading ourselves pretty thin," James noted, sounding worried. "Are you sure about this?"

You nodded. You mulled this over in your head while Reyna was briefing them all on safety precautions a few minutes ago, and you're confident that this is a good strategy. "We put Halley and Taino as part of the people left behind here. You and me will infiltrate with one other person. The rest... cause some mayhem."

"Alright, you heard her! Let's go win this!" James roared, charging out of the building with you by his side, your other teammates' footsteps thundering behind you, cheering as they ran. You all moved as one big group, all of you trained to move coordinately and orderly even in something as messy as war.

Let the game begin, you grinned.

—————

Capture the Flag ended in your team's victory, thanks to you and the probie coming in clutch and swiping the flag while running away from Hannibal the war elephant.

However, one of the children of Vulcan had left an experimental trap that you unknowingly fell into, leading to your only major injury during that game.

Twelve pins sticking into your leg was not how you envisioned this game to end, but hey, at least you won, right?

Paul the probie was the one who escorted you to the infirmary. It seemed he was feeling guilty about your patrol shift the night before and how you kept having to cover his ass and wanted to return the favor somehow.

"I'm fine," you repeated yourself once again to the Apollo kid who looked at your leg in concern. Too much concern in your opinion. "It's just a few pins."

"That were basically shot into your leg," The Apollo kid retorted, shaking their head and sighing. "Those Vulcan kids got some nerve to put an unstable trap in a game. You could have gotten worse injuries if those pins landed anywhere else. If worse came to worse, you wouldn't be able to use your leg again if they hit the wrong spot."

You shrugged. "But they didn't, so let's just be grateful and get them out of my leg, yeah?"

The Apollo kid started the process, with you occasionally groaning in pain as they pulled pin after pin out of your thigh. After the fourth pin, the infirmary doors slammed open, revealing a winded blonde, purple camp shirt slightly tattered after the Capture the Flag game around half an hour ago.

"I — I heard what happened," Jason said, his voice breathy with exhaustion, like he ran all the way there. “Are you okay?”

You observed him blankly before turning your head away slightly to cut the eye contact with him. The annoyance you had felt towards him didn’t quite cool down yet. “I'm fine. Not like there’s needles in my leg or — anything.”

The last word came out strained as the Apollo kid pulled out two needles at the same time. Your body jolted unexpectedly at the sudden pain.

“Grace, keep your girlfriend still, will you?” The Apollo kid retorted, not even bothering to look up from their work to address the son of Jupiter properly. “She’s twitchy.”

Jason took a few more steps towards you, but he hesitated. He knew you were still angry at him, but he wanted to help you. He wanted to do anything to relieve you of the pain you were in right now, no matter how many times you'd say that you were "fine" or that the pain was "bearable."

Jason looked at you, silently asking you for your consent. You sighed, looking away again, but the expression on your face was calmer than how it was before. The blonde boy took it as a sign to continue, gently placing his hands on your shoulders.

Now that there was someone restraining you, the child of Apollo showed no mercy. They started pulling pins out consistently, going as fast and as careful as possible so you don’t bleed out.

“Oh shit,” you winced, a hand instinctively going up to clutch Jason’s wrist tightly as you tried to bear with the pain while making as little noise as possible.

Jason did his job well, keeping his hands firm to prevent you from flinching too hard. His own face was slightly contorted, like he felt your pain too.

Well, maybe he did. Spiritually…?

The last of the damned needles was dropped into the metal container with a clang. “Alright, now I can bandage.”

Even though it was no longer necessary, Jason didn’t let go of you. His hold on you became more gentle, but his hands remained on your shoulders, as yours remained wrapped loosely around his wrist.

Despite your (now lesser) anger towards him, you appreciated his presence. Him just being there was enough for your heartbeat to steady, your breaths to even. That was the kind of effect only he had on you.

“Done,” The Apollo kid exhaled, snipping the bandage. They stood, stretching. “I’m gonna leave you two here, but Grace, don’t let her leave. I’m not discharging her until later.”

Without another word, they slipped away, leaving you alone with Jason.

Jason finally let go of you and slowly sank into the chair beside you, studying you with attentive and concerned eyes. You found yourself missing the warmth from his palms. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Fine. The pain is bearable.”

Jason nodded. He fidgeted with his golden coin, sliding it along his fingers.

When he finally gathered the courage to say what he wanted to say, he looked up at you and held your gaze. “I want to apologize for my behavior earlier today. I don’t doubt your ability to protect yourself, but I just… worry about you.”

You exhaled, smiling slightly at him. The warmth reached your eyes. “I appreciate the concern, and don’t worry about it. I’m just petty sometimes that I hold grudges against the most worthless things.”

“But I love you anyway,” Jason chuckled, genuine love dilating his pupils and stretching his lips to a grin.

You laughed, looking at him softly. Your thigh was throbbing, your head felt funny from a small headache, but your heart soared because of the blonde boy you grew to care for more than you cared for anything and anyone else. “And I love you for loving me anyway.”

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Sorry if someone has asked this already, and I have to admit I’m not completely caught up with ttou yet, but how exactly do space pronouns work? Throughout the story everyone seems to know exactly how to gender everyone else without messing up, and no one is ever telling anyone else their pronouns, at least not “on screen.” Do they all have tattoos or something? Or does everyone just assume based on what someone looks like? Also Aspen is also presumably non(trinary?) and gets correctly they/themed by the freshly woken up crew members in the first scene they meet. Is pronouns worked into their names in the new language somehow? My theory is that it’s an interlingua thing. Ttou is obviously written in English, and therefore requires some sort of pronouns most of the time, but why would the future vocabulary need gendered language? They could easily just have a grammatical system where that’s not necessary. And so then the pronouns that you are writing for people are just part of the translating of Aspens narration to try to work the characters’ gender identities into the language system that we currently use. Or maybe I’m just completely missing something that was explained in the first chapter or something.

'They' is a default pronoun for people of unknown gender, so the chances of someone misgendering Aspen are pretty low. Aspen generally knows people's pronouns right away because they look up crew members in the computer before they wake them and their gender is in their profiles. When Tal wakes unexpectedly, Aspen refers to kem as 'they' in narration (not knowing kes gender) until they look at kes profile. The only person on the ship whose pronouns aren't immediately clockable from gender information is Earl, and we don't see Aspen's first few conversations with or about Earl.

Aspen knows people's pronouns exactly the same way your or I do -- by knowing their gender and making an assumption based on that, or picking them up in conversation with others. It's not some big deal that people need to have a huge awkward conversation over.

[treeofnonsense]

So I'm going to preface this by saying: I am cis as all hell. I'm not any form of trans or nonbinary, I have never been any form of trans or nonbinary, and thus I tend to stay pretty quiet on that front over here. Ain't my place to tell people who know better what to do, and I'm not trying to do that here. However, after having made a lot of friends under the trans umbrella, after being lucky enough to have some of those friends share with me some of their struggles, their joys, their lives, and after noticing a couple of patterns in their journeys... I think there is one message I would like to share that may help some of you to hear, if you'll give me a minute of your time, and I think it may have to come specifically from a cis person.

The message is this: If your cisgender friends are good friends, you being your true self is not a burden to them.

For the people in the back: If your cisgender friends are good friends. You being your true self with gender. Is not a burden to them.

I didn't know my friend in high school was trans until he transitioned socially and I heard his new name. He didn't tell me first because I was raised fundamentalist Christian and probably did not look like a safe person to tell; when I pulled him aside in class so no one else could hear us, told him he could tell me to buzz off if he was uncomfortable, and politely asked for confirmation on pronouns, I remember the surprise and joy on his face. It took me about five minutes of chanting his new name and pronouns in the shower to get it to stick in my brain. That tiny amount of effort was nothing compared to seeing him pull himself out of the depressive funk dysphoria had put him in, of celebrating senior year when he legally changed his name, of drawing him a snowflake dragon for Christmas and hiding the trans flag colors in the shimmer of the ice so it would get past our conservative school's radar. We became closer friends after he came out because I knew him better and he knew he could trust me. He got me my first ace ring. I was not only supporting him, but learning from him, and sharing in his joy.

The genderfluid roommate in college took me a little longer to adapt to, I'll be honest, I was still learning, but hey - it turns out it's not really that hard to check the pronoun pins on a lanyard before you address someone. It's pennies when that person comes along to teach you the wonders of thrift shopping and takes you to meet a drag queen for the first time. I've met so many people online whose identities I do not always intuitively understand, but who I support anyway, and who have made me consider so many new things. It's not a burden to know about my friends' journey when it comes to gender, it's a privilege to know them more deeply and be trusted in that way. It's a new dimension to this person I already love, that's all.

Look, I am not saying that all your cis friends are going to be perfect, that we're not going to fuck up occasionally because we don't know better or we had a bad day, that we understand everything - we're not, we will, and we don't. I am not saying that everyone is a safe person to talk to either - god knows that's not true, unfortunately. But. If your worry about expressing yourself is of being a nuisance, of burdening someone with your problems or needs, of being too much or too out-there or too confusing, consider this: Your friends may not only be willing to learn and help you, they may be happy to. In a true friendship, both people benefit from one person's joy. If you're happy because you're able to be your honest self, they'll be happy too. Suddenly that weird shyness and sadness they saw from you but didn't know the cause of has gone away. Heck, maybe they'll learn from you and start following in your genderfunky footsteps. Or maybe you'll just have a cis friend who texts you celebration emojis when you have a good gender day, or is there when you wake up from surgery, or goes shopping for new outfits with you, or even brings over ice cream when you're having a hard time. And then you both get ice cream. Come on. This is what friends do.

Be safe, of course. Trust your judgment when it comes to sharing information. But if you're simply scared, try to balance out the fear of what you may lose with the thought of what you may also stand to gain. Don't let the anxiety beast turn your identity into a problem. It's not a burden, it's a part of you, and the people who love you will love to meet it.

[xiaq]

It is absolutely wild to me how Republican news outlets and politicians try to sensationalize things that don't even exist. Yet these fabricated issues are having serious disastrous effects on real-life people's health and safety. B was just talking to one of his old "friends" and he was trying to convince us to donate to the campaign of a governor whose platform rests primarily on anti-trans legislation. And B was like...no?? Are you aware of his platform? And this guy says, with absolute confidence, that this governor's platform is about protecting kids. Because it's ok if an adult wants to mutilate their body, but we shouldn't be allowing doctors to surgically change children's bodies. Which is why gender-affirming care should be illegal.

The mental gymnastics. Except he genuinely thought that "gender-affirming care" was synonymous with "surgical intervention." Gender-affirming care for a 10-year-old is therapy and support and letting them wear the clothes and use the pronouns/name they want. Gender-affirming care for a teenager might also include blockers and/or hormone therapy (or not! I've only known one person who started hormones before they turned 18, and I specifically worked with queer kids when I was a professor/teacher). For some people, gender-affirming care is solely external and doesn't involve physical intervention at all. And it is so, extremely, rare for someone to receive surgery as part of gender-affirming care when they are a minor. Yet this is what so many people seem to think gender-affirming care means. Surgery.

This is not an accident. This is targeted and malicious. This is misdirection by people who know better trying to sway the opinions of people who don't. Listen. I don't know what my point is, here. I just needed to vent. I guess it just goes to show that, now more than ever, if you're going to get into a debate with someone, make sure you understand what they mean when they use certain terminology or you're certain to get nowhere. Because this man was so confident he knew what he was talking about until we did a quick vocabulary backtrack. And when confronted with the fact that maybe he hadn't, actually, been fed the truth, he suddenly had a lot less to say. Ugh.

[infiniteimaginings]

Hii! I know ur requests are closed and stuff and I don’t even know if you’re still writing for this but could you do a Ravi ross x reader?? Maybe an enemies to lovers thing? 😭 I was also wondering if it could be set when bunk’d was taking place if that makes sense! If not that’s ok :) Have a nice day or night.(excuse my English not my first language lol)

Lost (Ravi Ross x GN!Reader)

Summary: You get lost with one of the only people at camp you can't stand and somehow it's your fault? Who's leaving the other if a bear comes? Who's taking the last life jacket and leaving the other? Whose dislike of the other is just intense admiration that they don't know how to handle? Pronouns: You/Yours Warnings: They talk about/to each other rudely, in depth about parental issues lol, but other than that none Word Count: 3.4k A/N: Me saying requests are (ever) closed just means I won't respond to them quickly or look at them closely. If it's open it means I can write for them and I know for a fact I'll be able to post it. Don't worry, you can still send stuff in, it's okay.

Camp Kikiwaka was a summer camp placed in the outskirts of Maine where a bunch of kids would either complain due the lack of cell service or would find comfort in one another through competitions. Most everyone at Camp Kikiwaka got along, that was mainly due to the counselors who pushed everyone together almost against their wills. That worked for almost everyone, almost.

You were extremely likable, people wanted you on their teams, in their campsites, at sleepovers, etc. You were a caring and sweet person who people got along with. This meant you were basically friends with everyone. That wasn’t true though, it wasn’t true because someone in the camp absolutely despised every single thing you did.

That person's name was Ravi Ross, someone who people enjoyed the company of. They thought he was intelligent, helpful, resourceful, and interesting as well as fun. He was also someone you decided to name ‘Try Hard Rich Boy’ because he tried way too hard for a camp where the main objective was to have fun. From the nickname alone, it’s clear the sentiment he shared for you was reciprocated.

Both of you understood the lack of bond the two of you had, and neither of you cared. Sure, you had the same friends, and you were friends with his siblings, but that didn’t matter. You tried to keep any sort of conversation short, and it lasted the majority of the time at camp.

You had to go to the Grizzly cabin one day to grab something from Xander for Zuri. The curly haired girl was currently busy on the docks and kindly bribed you to go instead, to which you agreed after much persuading. You took your time and knocked before letting yourself in due to a lack of response, Zuri said the item was in a bag with her name on it, it should’ve just been on one of the dressers. You knew Xander wouldn’t mind, so you shrugged and began your search.

As you looked you heard a bit of a heavy walk so you turned around and were met face to scales with Mrs. Kipling, one of your favorite campers of Camp Kikiwaka. You smiled gently and crouched down to her, gently using your finger to gently rub from her head to her mid-back. Mrs. Kipling let out a small hum of a hiss which you always took as enjoyment since she never did much other than scoot a bit closer to you. 

 You were so caught up with the seven foot long lizard that you didn’t notice one of the Grizzly cabin members walking in. 

The person scoffed and walked forward, “Can I help you?” They asked, the familiar accent filling your ears, causing your eye to lightly twitch in frustration.

You stood up and turned to look Ravi Ross in the eyes with a blank expression, “Nope.” You spoke simply, moving your head to the side and walking to the dresser on Xanders side, quickly snatching the bag and walking out the cabin, closing the door behind you.

Ravi rolled his eyes, not even looking back to where you walked away. He simply tilted his head down to Mrs. Kipling and frowned, “Traitor.” He spoke with a huff, walking towards the bathroom.

He never enjoyed the fact that his closest companion enjoyed your presence at all. He thought his best friend since his childhood would at least be on his side, but every day he is proven wrong.

Short exchanges, dirty looks, sighs of frustration, and that was it. That was your dynamic, which the two of you were fine with. Everyone else on the other hand, absolutely hated it.

All of your friends were sat in the middle of the cafeteria as you were helping a camper put up banners and Ravi was on the other side, clipboard in hand, giving other campers directions to follow.

Emma put her head down on the table, “I’m sick of this.” She groaned, lifting her head so her chin would sit on her forearms.

Xander nodded, rubbing circles into her back as he looked around the table. “There’s gotta be something we can do, right?” He asked, looking between the two sides of the cafeteria. “I mean, they’ve been so rude to each other since camp started.”

“I know!” Zuri interjected, “I’m tired of trying to get them to talk by sending them to do my chores.”

Everyone looked over at Zuri with confusion, Lou especially. “For once, I’m going to ignore that you just said that.” The brown haired girl said, turning to face Xander. “I don’t know how we would fix…” She paused, waving her hands in the two general directions, “that.”

Tiffany gently rocked herself, “I mean, if they were forced to be together, maybe that would help.” She suggested to which the table hummed in agreement.

“I know if Gladys told them to be partners on something, they wouldn't be able to argue it.” Jorge nodded to his own words, crossing his arms on the table, “That woman is scary.” He spoke lowly, staring down as if he was getting some sort of flashback to every horrifying thing their camp owner has ever done.

Xanders eyes brightened up and he stood up suddenly, “I have an idea.” He told everyone before rushing off, leaving the group at the table with no explanation.

Before the end of the day, Xander was walking into the cafeteria with the menacing woman herself. She looked…bored to say the least. 

“Campers!” She yelled out, causing the attention to be drawn to her immediately, which she genuinely enjoyed. She sighed before scratching at her leg that was shown under her cargo shorts, “We’re having a camp activity in a few days, something of the sorts of an ‘adventure quest’.” She told the campers surrounding her, air quotes around ‘adventure quest’. Gladys rolled her neck a bit before continuing, “I need two campers to go out to one of our set up camps about half an hour from here to gatherer the supplies from this list.” She explained, paper list in hand  

No one raised their hands so Xander coughed a bit, before whispering into Gladys’s ear.

The woman rolled her eyes and pointed to you, “You, and…” She trailed off, looking around before her sharp gaze set on Ravi, “you.” She spoke, pushing the list into Ravis chest before walking off, not letting either of you argue with the decision. “And you need to leave today! Supplies will be provided by your counselors!” She yelled out her final demand before her footsteps got quieter by the second.

The cafeteria was silent as they watched you and Ravi Ross glare at each other. Everyone was highly concerned whether either of you would return from this trip since neither of you are very team friendly with one another.

Not another word was passed between anyone as you and Ravi walked out, in silence, to your own cabins. Xander and Lou looked at each other, a bit of worry in their glance but they hoped it would work. You two were responsible enough to at least take care of one another if the time came, right?...Right?

Lou sent you on your way with a backpack full of camping gear just in case it took longer to get to the camping site. It was pretty late in the day so she wanted to be safe rather than sorry. She sent you off with ‘Be safe’, ‘Don’t kill each other’, ‘If you see the cases of sodas we hid there, bring back a few cans.”

When you finally walked out of your cabin, away from Lou’s smothering, you found Ravi getting the exact same treatment from Xander, an equally heavy bag on his back. The sight was honestly kind of funny, Xanders hands gripping Ravis shoulders as he gave him a stern ‘talking to’.

After the warnings ended, Ravi turned to go to your cabin, but noticed you were already ready, grin on your face. 

“What’s so funny?”

Your smile dropped, “Let’s just go.” You spoke, turning to the trail path, Ravi following with no complaints as he wanted to get this over with as quick as possible. The two of you passed by your friends and other campers waving you off and wishing you well, telling you both to be careful, which you both would try to.

Once you got to the path, you were met with a fork in the road almost immediately. Ravi suggested right, near the deeper portion of the forest where you’d be able to find more signs for where the campsite was. You suggested left where you guys were closer to the shore of the lake.

Both of you knew that either direction would lead to the camp site since it was just ahead, it wasn’t in the middle of the forest, but it wasn’t on the beach. 

After a bit of debating, you decided to choose Ravis way. His way was helpful as you saw the arrow signs directing you both to the site. You guys were making good time, the sun hadn’t set and you guys were almost there, you were almost hopeful.

Almost. And that almost was crushed the moment Ravi stopped walking.

You nearly ran into his back before stepping to the side, “Why’d you sto-” Your sentence was interrupted when you saw the large sign practically screaming at them ‘WAY BLOCKED, UNSAFE TRAIL’

Both of you groaned, and looked around for another way.

Ravi huffed, “If we go back without even getting to the camp in the first place, Gladys will have our heads.”

“You don’t think I know that?” You snarled, rolling your eyes. “Let’s just try to find a way around.” You spoke, stepping around to find a different trail that went the same direction, but was longer than the original one.

Walking, walking, and more walking with extremely heavy bags and short patience, wasn’t fun. 

“Why did we have to go this way specifically?” Ravi asked, knowing there were two other paths that could have potentially been better than this one.

“Because it’s easier.” you answered quickly, stepping forward, looking around more, using the lasting sunlight to get as far as you could.

“No, it’s no-”

You quickly turned around to face him, “Im sorry.” You spoke suddenly.

“You’re…sorry?” Ravi asked, clearly confused from his expression and tone of voice.

You nodded, “Yes, I’m sorry that you're such a control freak that you can't have anyone but yourself have their way.” You told him with a tilt of your head, a glare forming on your face.

Ravi gave you a sarcastic laugh before pushing past you, continuing to walk. “If you only have insults to spit out, just be quiet.” He told you without turning around.

You simply rolled your eyes before following him.

It was getting dark, dark enough to the point you guys couldn’t see where you were going and you felt like you were going in circles.

Ravi hit his forehead slightly, “You’re the reason that we’re lost, you don’t even know where this trail leads!” He suddenly groaned out, turning towards you, you thought. You couldn't tell, it was pitch black. 

“We’re in the woods, I think we have bigger problems than ‘who got us lost’.” You started, pulling your bag off your back to pull the tent. “Which is you by the way.”

“How is this my fault?” Ravi asked, doing the same as you, pulling out flashlights so neither of you would mess something up with the excuse of it being nightfall.

“You took over walking in the front, you lead us deeper into the woods.”

“And you didn’t want to speak up?”

You turned and faced him, puffing out your chest and holding up your finger, “If you have nothing but insults to say, just be quiet.” You repeated his words before rolling your eyes and turning back to putting up your tent. 

Ravi simply scoffed and went to get firewood, deciding not to talk to you because he felt as if his head was being constantly twisted past its limit when speaking to you.

Over time, he got the fire started, and pulled out some food to cook for you to choose from. You found a pretty good stone slab to set one of your prepared towels onto so you weren’t just placing food on the forest rocks. You also pulled a few snacks out of your bag, tossing a few to Ravi without a word. He turned to you with furrowed brows, confused by your sudden act but you were turned towards the fire, already beginning to fix up the food you guys had brought along.

You both sat in a tense but a more comfortable silence than either of you were used to.

Ravi broke the silence, looking up at you for a moment before looking back down to the snacks he just opened as he waited for you to be done with cooking. “I still think we could’ve taken another path.”

“And I’m still sure the path I chose is less deadly and still faster even though we’re camping out.” You answered, the light glistening in your eyes. 

There was no response to that, so you left it at that…until you heard rustling.

You looked back and noticed only one tent was set up, yours. Ravi seemed to be having trouble with his and you couldn’t even find it in you to laugh, because it really was late. 

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

“It’s been half an hour-”

“I don’t need your help, okay?”

You blinked at him before taking the food off the fire so you wouldn’t burn it. You stood up, brushing yourself off, “You are so incredibly stubborn, to the point that it’s ridiculous.” You stated, walking to him and helping him put in the rods, ignoring his protests. “You hate asking for help, even when you really need it.” You continued on, snapping at him to move to the other side to which he reluctantly followed. “You think you need to do everything yourself, fix everything yourself, for what?” You asked him, finishing the seemingly simple set up of his tent.

Ravi shook his head, choosing to ignore you, sitting on the side of the campfire. 

“It’s as if you think no one sees how hard you’re working, trust me everyone sees it.” You grumbled, crossing your arms as you walked to the other side of the camp fire, “It’s infuriating how hard you try with something you really don’t need to put that much effort in.”

“What about you? Huh?” Ravi interrupted, tilting his head, stepping closer to you. “You just blank on people.”

“Blank on-?”

“When you believe you failed at something, it’s like you go dark in your head .” Ravi explained, expression hardened. “What’s up with that?” He asked, raising a brow. “You do so well in everything and when you don’t get the results you want, you shut down.” 

You blinked at him and looked him up and down, “Why do you watch me so hard to notice that I get into my head?”

“Why do you observe me to the point you notice how hard I work?”

There was silence from the two of you, just a stare from across a dancing fire. A stare of two campers who believed they were comfortable in each other's hate, that they didn’t notice how much they really knew each other more than anyone.

Ravi seemed to be the person who spoke up more, which was surprising, but at the same time it wasn’t. 

He looked away, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, “I don’t ask for help because my parents weren’t much help.” He spoke, sniffling ever so slightly as a distraction to his far off gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Me and the majority of my siblings are adopted.” He told you, finally turning to look back at you, not expecting your eyes to already be on him. "Since my parents are famous, they have to be gone a lot, so we had nannies.” He began to explain, swallowing harshly, “Those nannies took care of us more than our parents did.”

You furrowed your brows, “So, them sending you to camp…?”

“It's like another nanny situation.” He answered, sighing a bit. “We had nannies as we grew up, and our last nanny was our longest nanny, she was great.” He told you with a small smile, “She was there for years, and honestly was the best person who deserved only great things.” He explained to you fondly to which you listened. “She left so our parents could stay for good, but clearly, that didn’t last that long.”

Your expression formed into something Ravi couldn’t explain, he couldn’t tell if you were sad for him, felt sympathy, but the feeling was comforting since he never really talked to his own siblings about this.

“What I’m trying to say is that there’s a freedom you have when you feel as if you’ve been abandoned.” He swallowed harshly as he tried to explain, “It just kind of sucked because I already felt as if I was abandoned as a child since there was a need for me to be adopted. Going through that twice isn't a good feeling.” Ravi told you, trying to laugh through it. “I don’t ask for help, because I didn’t really get help until our recent nanny, and now that she’s gone, I just don’t have that kind of easy connection to ask anymore.”

You hummed a bit, “I wasn’t necessarily saying you not asking for help is a terribly bad thing.” You told him slowly, tilting your head to the side as you looked away from him. “It’s admirable, you do things on your own, you’re intelligent, I know you’re capable of more than the average person.” You complimented him, to both of your surprise.

Ravi continued to listen, adjusting himself to be more comfortable.

“I was just saying that because it’s worrying.” You answered truthfully. “We keep our conversations short, I know, but I still see you working on millions of projects a day.” You explained, smoothing out your knitted brows, “I’m worried you’re going to drop and that’s when people are going to notice that you’re overworking yourself on things you shouldn’t be overworking yourself on.” You told him, puffing air out of your cheeks.

The boy across the fire nodded a bit at your words, “You weren’t telling me to stop trying so hard because you thought I was irritating, you were saying it because…”

“Camp is where you can relax for a minute, you don’t have to prove yourself in anything that much.” You completed his thought for him. “You are a try hard and it’s annoying, because it’s concerning.”  

“Well, since we’re sharing concerns, why do you shut down?” Ravi asked you, wondering if you’d answer or not.

You chuckled a bit before inhaling deeply, “If things don’t go perfectly for me, I feel as if it was better not trying at all.”

“Why?”

“Because everything I’ve ever done to this point was never good enough unless it was absolutely perfect.”

Ravi hummed a bit, nodding, “Was it because of family?”

You nodded with a bit of a scrunched nose, “It’s hard to let go of what your parents put onto you for your entire life, when they’re not around.” You answered honestly, waving at a few bugs around. “If I don’t get everything perfect, what use will I be to anyone?”

“You’re plenty of use.” Ravi interrupted your words, “You help everyone at camp, even the counselors, even Gladys.” He began to list off, scratching at his neck. “I notice that you get in your head, but now that you’re telling me this… you’re comparing yourself to a standard you’ll never reach.”

“Perfection is reachable, actually, if you try hard enough.”

“Not at camp kikiwaka where the boats are about to fall apart and the food barely looks edible.” He answered with a slightly straight face.

His blank tone and expression caused you to burst out into laughter and nod, “I guess you’re right.”

It was a sudden camp trip where suddenly the two of you felt like you could actually talk to each other. A night of camping where you both realize you had more in common than you actually thought.

A night where neither of you minded that you would be spending extra time with one another to get to the other campsite and back to kikiwaka.

You smiled at Ravi, the food now done as you exchanged stories about your friends and activities you’ve done over the summer. “You know, even though I’m sure we’re lost, I guess I’m glad it’s with you.”

Ravi chuckled and shook his head, rolling his eyes playfully, “Me too.”

[magadauthan]

Ep 16: Fifth Moon

Trying to keep up. Maybe I can keep the @trigun98watchparty to one day behind? Yeah, right. Fifth Moon ends the first arc of the story and next we transition to the not-fully-fleshed-out TriMax portion.

"The greater the tragedy, the greater the emotional effect." You're not wrong, Legato.

--Midvalley has sax appeal lolz

--Meryl's so sad, look at her. She misses him terrible. Milly's worried too, but she's just as worried about Meryl as she is about Vash.

--"Oops, did I say that out loud? No, I don't have a thing for him at all, ah ha ha ha ha"

--Oh Meryl, honey, please be careful.

--The non sequitur with the weird little messenger... can someone please explain it to me? Is there a cultural reference here that a Western audience wouldn't get? Or is this some odd interpretation of the Garden of Gethsemane for Vash?

--WW can't stay away.

--yes, it's bowdlerization... but seriously, how can you get a major city evacuated in like one day? Anyone who's lived through a natural disaster knows how that goes.

--EG Mine anticipates the pandemic! Plus, only Legato gets to be a drama queen.

--Nice lampshading of samurai tropes against spaghetti westerns.

--Rai-Dei brings a sword to a gunfight. Indiana Jones knows how to handle this situation.

--Meryl has crossed the line from worried sick into worried stupid, and Milly knows it. Someone is going to have to be the adult in the room, and it won't be Meryl.

--Western audiences wouldn't pick up on Meryl's shift in pronouns (neither would I except for that excellent discussion) but she's crying out like a child to go to Vash. She's wailing in despair, fighting her best friend because she is desperate to help the man she loves, and Milly has to pick her up and drag her away. Milly knows how to be a good big sister.

--Twisted Christian Science is a good name for a band.

--Vash nukes another city, and presumably all the Plants in it, so what the hell, Knives

--WW doesn't seem terribly sorry to be offing Rai-Dei, especially since he's become more fond of Vash than he'd let on. "this annoying guy, and he beat up on Vash, fuck him"

--Oh, Meryl. Meryl. Trying to hide the tears under bravado, only to be told that she's to stop looking for Vash immediately and she has no further excuse to try in the future. The only reason she has to follow him now is that she loves him - which I'm not sure she's admitted to herself at this point - and it would cost her everything.

--The saddest part of the ep is that the individual people Vash has helped, or whose lives have been touched by his actions, now have to ask themselves which Vash is the real one. Were the kind things he did for them just a ploy? Were they tricked? Is he evil, is he the devil, is he wicked, is he inhuman? (yes on that last one... sort of. depends what you mean by "human.") It may be only Meryl who continues to believe in him wholly at that point. (Even Milly is angry, because Meryl is crying over him, and Meryl doesn't cry.)

Fade to black.

[icallhimjoey]

Hi lovely! (I just realized I don't know your name or pronouns 😅) I hope you're having a great day.

So, I'm feeling a little messy and was wondering if you could write something a lil bit angsty with Joe and reader where one of them is jealous or gets a tiny bit possessive after someone flirted with the other at a party or any place you'd like.

Thank you for your stories, i love them ♥️

hiiiiiiii my pronouns are she/her and idk, call me bestie, or girl, or bitch if you're really excited (but only if you're excited, i wont allow it otherwise) thanks for your request! Wordcount: 2K

---

Last Ones Standing

“Is everything all right?” your question was casual, hoping it wouldn’t sound as if you were scared there was something actually wrong. Logically there shouldn’t be, the party had been great fun, you’d seen and heard Joe laugh throughout most of it. But Joe was distant. Unusually so. 

“Yea. Yea, ‘course it is,” his voice was so flat, it was almost comical to you. Your repressed smile didn’t help the situation at all. 

“Okay... so it’s not. Talk to me.”  

“Everything’s fine,” Joe had his eyebrows raised high, eyes on the set of keys his was swinging around by the keyring around his fingers.  

You had felt it the moment you left the apartment of Joe’s friend and made your way to the lift. You pulled your hair out of your coat and straightened your scarf so it wouldn’t drag over the floor before jogging to Joe to fall into step with him, but when you reached for his hand, he was quick to use it to scratch at his chin, and then he’d slid it into his pocket.  

You didn’t want to read into it. You’d both been drinking. It was late. Tired. But when the lift doors had closed, Joe had sighed deeply.  

“Cool, okay. That’s perfect then. I love it when my boyfriend is fine.”

Joe was absolutely lying to you and you knew it, but you weren’t going to press it further if he didn’t want to spill what was on his mind. So you changed the subject.  

“Ugh, my feet hurt a little... hey, did you hear what happened to-”  

“I saw those eyes.” Joe interrupted you trying to recount the party. You looked at him, his jaw tense and eyes averting you.  

“Eyes? Whose eyes?”  

“Yours.” He nodded up at you, almost challenging you, but then stepped out of the lift immediately when the doors opened, leaving you to follow him like dog. If he was trying to piss you off, whatever he was doing was certainly doing the trick.  

You sighed, groaned almost, annoyed at what Joe was doing.

“I’m sorry for bringing them, I’ll leave them on my bedside table the next time we go to a party together.”  

The clicks of your heels echoed against the tall buildings, the two of you were the only people in the street. It was only a ten to fifteen minute walk to your apartment so you’d decided to just walk there, knowing it would sober you up a bit which should technically help your hangovers the next day. You regretted it now, not looking forward to keeping up with Joe’s quick pace in the shoes you were wearing, trying to talk him out of whatever mood he was in.  

“Not necessary.” Joe said, turning his head to check it was safe to cross the street before doing so. Oh, Joe was mad mad. You couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t reached for your hand when he was about to cross a street with you, even if there weren’t any cars around. 

“I won’t bring my girlfriend next time,” The comment felt like a stab in the chest. 

“Can you please just tell me what the fuck I did wrong so I can apologize for it?” You couldn’t have said a thing more wrong, apparently.

“What do you expect of me?” Joe’s voice was far too loud for this part of London at this time of night. You made big eyes at him that were meant to communicate for him to shut up and lower his voice, but his reaction to your face turned your big eyes into eyes that asked him what the fuck was wrong with him more so in the general sense. Joe looked at you as if you were the one being unreasonable, and you weren’t having it. 

“I expect of you to communicate with me like a normal person!” you hissed. “What do you expect of me?” you shot the question back at him, bent forward slightly at the hip in your arguing. Joe didn’t like it.

“I expect that when I take my girlfriend- my fucking girlfriend to a party of one of my friends that she acts like she’s there as, oh I don’t know, let me think about it- oh, as my girlfriend!”  

Gross. That was way too possessive for your liking. You knew Joe’d been drinking too much, but he was shouting at you with his face way too close to yours. In public too – sure, it was late, but you were out in the streets and anyone walking or driving past could see and hear him shout at you. Absolutely unacceptable.  

You shook your head at him, decided to step around him and kept walking. He was quick to follow. 

“Were you aware that you were absolutely engrossed in conversation for two and a half hours? Two and a half hours?! Come on! I was asked by literally everyone there what was going on with the two of you,”  

“Literally everyone? Okay, Joe.” Your eyes had already shot up at the sky in dismissal before you could stop yourself. 

“Honestly, what the fuck was so important for you to-” 

You stopped walking, turned, and held your hand out that placed itself on Joe’s chest as he walked into it.  

“Did you have fun?” you asked him, brows furrowed at him. Joe thought of a second. “Yes, it was fine, but-” 

“Great. So did I. We went to a party and we both had fun. What’s the issue here exactly?”  

“You had fun without me!” Joe spat at you. 

“Aww poor baby Joey needed my attention, did he?” you mocked him and it was snarky and mean but you felt he deserved it for shouting and spitting at you. 

“Fuck off,” he scoffed, pushing your hand from his chest, and stepping around you to continue the trek home like you’d just done before. 

“You’re an adult, Joe! Stop acting like a fucking teenager,” you called after him before following him at your own pace, not caring about catching up with him.  

Joe was fast. He took maybe fifteen huge steps before turning around and just as quickly marching his way back to you. It made you stop in your tracks.  

“You know what, no. Nope. I’m not going to do this.”  

“Good. Me neither.”  

But then he walked right past you and you watched him walk away in the opposite direction. 

“Where are you going?”  

“Home.”  He’d not get there until at least an hour and a half later if he really was going to walk all the way to his own flat.

“Joey, stop. Stop!” you called, and to your surprise, he listened and stopped, but his legs didn’t stop moving. He paced around the same four pavement tiles for a few seconds, his arms held up high as he held onto his own wrists that rested on his head.  

“He’s going to break up with her.” You revealed why you’d been so busy talking to one of Joe’s friends that night. You were the only other girl besides her in the friend group who’d been involved for years, so it felt completely natural for Joe’s friend to come to you for advice on his predicament.  

“What?” Joe asked on an exhale, shellshocked by the news. 

“You’ve all been making jokes about when he’s going to propose or knock her up… but he wants to break up.” You had promised him you wouldn’t tell anyone to at least give him time to figure things out for himself. They’d been together since secondary school – this was a huge decision. You knew Joe was too good of a friend to not say anything about it to him if you’d tell him, especially if the whole ordeal was going to take a few days, or even weeks. So, your plan really had been to keep it to yourself.

“He’s going to dump her?” Joe started taking smalls steps back over to you. He absolutely couldn’t believe what he was hearing. From this group of friends, she and you were the only girlfriends that had lasted as long as you had. If Joe’s friend was really going to break up with his girlfriend, it’d leave you as the last girlfriend from way back when and Joe hadn’t expected it. He always thought everyone would stay together, like he always intended to do with you. But, as Joe learned over time, including this revelation tonight, that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Was I supposed to just pat him on the back and wish him luck?” you asked Joe, arms held out wide in a huge shrug.

“Of course not,” Joe seemed annoyed by the way you suggested that, because obviously that wasn't what you should’ve done.  

Joe stopped in front of you, and you tried to make eye contact, but Joe rested his gaze on your shoulder. Then he brushed a piece of hair from it, but held onto it and let his fingers play with it, slowly twirling the lock in his hands. “Why does he… why is he going to-”  

“There’s 2,5 hours’ worth of reasons,” you joked, making Joe wince at the way he’d held that over your head earlier. “But it comes down to the fact that he just doesn’t think he can spend the rest of his life with her, you know?”  

Joe nodded a little, his anger for you already forgotten. It had completely been replaced with worry and empathy for his friend. And for his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, too.  

“He’s honestly heartbroken,” you said, explaining why you had chosen to sit and listen to Joe’s friend all night. It made you feel good that you could be of service; be a listening ear, give a word of advice and just be kind to one of Joe’s friends that trusted you enough with information he didn’t feel like sharing with anyone else just yet.  

“I should call him,” Joe went to reach for his phone, but you stopped him by grabbing hold of his wrist.  

“That’s exactly what you shouldn’t do. I’ve been sworn to secrecy. He can’t know that you know.”  

Joe looked at you, slightly bewildered. He realized that you could’ve easily told him straight away to completely avoid the fight you’d just had. It would’ve prevented Joe from screaming at you in the street. But you hadn’t told him because you’d promised his friend you wouldn’t. You were trustworthy like that. Joe plummeted into heavy guilt and his squeezed his eyes shut as he groaned at himself for being an awful boyfriend to an amazing girlfriend.  

“I’m the worst,” he started, taking hold of both of your hands and brought them up to his mouth to press his lips against them. His apologetic puppy-dog eyes looked over them, and there was no way you could stay angry at him when he looked at you like that. As Joe softened, so did you, and you understood how Joe must’ve felt, eyeing his girlfriend from across the room engrossed in a deep, serious conversation with another man for most of the evening. Especially if people had really come up to him to ask him about what the deal was. You had checked in with Joe a couple times, looked over to see him laugh and banter with others, and you’d felt like he’d been fine without you. And he had been! But he would’ve liked it so much better if you had joined him for more of the evening.

“Me too,” you laughed. “I think it’s why we work so well.” You lent in and Joe met you halfway for a quick kiss.

“I’m sorry.” Joe said, kissing you again.

“I’m sorry too.” You replied, accepting every kiss you could get out of him.

“So… do we know anyone we can set him up with?” Joe joked; eyes narrowed, gaze aimed over the top of your head, as if he was thinking it over deeply.

“Oh my God, stop,” you laughed. “They’ve not broken up yet!”

Joe put his arm around your neck and turned you around, pulling you along with him, back on track to your apartment.

“Did you at least try to talk him out of it?” Joe asked, now falling into the chat you had wanted to have earlier, recounting the party with you.

“Why did you think it took me so fucking long?”

Joe curled you into him more and kissed your forehead. “Last ones standing, hey?”

“Last ones standing.”

---

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[lassieposting]

I really liked your theories about the prototype and catnip and would like to hear your thoughts about some other stuff if that's okay with you. I'm sorry if it's not organised

who do you think we play as ? at first I thought it was one of the 3 most mentioned characters like Stella or Rich but poppy refers to the player by they (do you think one of those characters uses those pronouns or they used ot to keep the mc a mystery?)

also the most confusing thing by far for me is in the dream sequence we have the gulit hunts you and the radio messages but what do you think "happy and fun why was it done" it's so out of place compared to the others

Also the "get up " radio do you think it's the same as the death messages?

Also why do you think the prototype showed up at the hallucination when we weren't present at the at the hour of joy how did we know about any of this

Also is just me or is ollie after final fight call sound so passive aggressive 😅?

Aaaaaa thank you Nonnie! I'm glad you enjoy my unhinged rambling ❤

So I do actually have thoughts on some of these!

who do you think we play as ? at first I thought it was one of the 3 most mentioned characters like Stella or Rich but poppy refers to the player by they (do you think one of those characters uses those pronouns or they used ot to keep the mc a mystery?)

So like, I don't think we have enough information yet to fully discern who the protagonist is, but based purely on the details we do have so far, I'm tentatively inclined to side with MatPat on this one: I think the most likely candidate at this point is the unnamed Head of Security, owner of the executive slide with the missing name in Chapter 2.

We know that Playtime did take steps to conceal what they were doing from their Average Joe workforce. The instructional posters directly order employees to stay out of the Innovation Wing unless they have authorization. Marcas Brickley's tape indicates that he witnessed PJ Pug-A-Pillar moving around through the gap in the Innovation Wing gate, but he has no idea what the "monster" was, and he's disturbed and distressed by having seen it. The workers in the lobby in the Hour of Joy tape don't seem to have realised that Huggy Wuggy was not a statue. Poppy recalls workers panicking and asking, "What are those things?"

The correspondence between Playtime and the contracted construction company directly states that the secret labs they're building are strictly need-to-know, only to be discussed with those with authorization at Playtime and the building company.

Mommy Long Legs recognises us. Given that the average production-line worker was not aware of her existence, that means we are someone who was high-ranking enough to know about and be directly involved with the Bigger Bodies Initiative.

The Head of Security would absolutely have a good reason to be wracked with guilt. If that's us, keeping the Prototype contained, and the Bigger Bodies creatures compliant and harmless, was our responsibility, and we failed. We knew how dangerous the experiments could be - Huggy Wuggy killed several security staff during his escape attempt, after all, people whose lives were ours to safeguard, people whose families we would have had to break the news to - but we still failed to put sufficient measures in place to prevent a mass uprising (it's implied we as the player character are not fully aware of what happened at the factory, but we know that something went horribly wrong enough for all our coworkers to vanish from the face of the earth). It's entirely fair for us to feel like every single human life lost in the Hour of Joy is on our head.

Rich is an interesting possibility, but while he clearly doesn't like working for Playtime and suspects something is Off about the place - he brings up that the workers aren't allowed to talk to the orphans, and that the orphans are deprived of sunlight in the underground Playcare - he doesn't seem to be actively complicit in Playtime's atrocities. He's a regular day-job worker, not a high-ranking exec, and I don't think he has any clue just how evil his workplace really is. My suspicion is that Rich's audios exist to make a point to the player that good people also worked at Playtime, who didn't know about the Bigger Bodies initiative, and who were slaughtered regardless during the Hour of Joy. Rich exists to provide a face (or, at least, a voice) to the people who were killed who didn't deserve it.

also the most confusing thing by far for me is in the dream sequence we have the gulit hunts you and the radio messages but what do you think "happy and fun why was it done" it's so out of place compared to the others

So personally, I'm inclined to think that this is possibly CatNap, now a young adult, trying to rationalise what the Hour of Joy was meant to achieve versus what it did achieve. Because in the end, it didn't actually do shit. The experiments are still trapped in the factory. Cruelty is still ongoing, only now it's toys hunting toys rather than humans experimenting on children. CatNap is old enough to remember the glee and relief and catharsis brought on by the Hour of Joy, by being free, by being safe, by being reassured by the Prototype that it was all over. And then the gradual, sinking realisation that they're all trapped, every one of them, with a dwindling food supply and no hope of ever going back to their former lives. I think he's asking himself what the point was, when it didn't actually achieve anything long-term.

Also the "get up " radio do you think it's the same as the death messages?

Short answer: Possibly.

That's not Prototype's voice. We've heard him talk in his tape and in Project Playtime - he has a very deep, almost demonic growly voice. Honestly, the get up almost sounds more like Harley Sawyer, the doctor. But we also know Prototype is a vocal mimic, so that very well could be him talking to us, using one of his many imitable voices.

Since the hallucination is guided by CatNap, and CatNap has had a telepathic connection with Prototype, I actually have a few theories on what this could be.

It is Harley Sawyer. We know he essentially tortured the experiments post-transformation, Prototype in particular. This could be a memory CatNap has seen in Prototype's mind of one of those sessions - making a point to the player that the experiments were subjected to horrific abuse and an uprising was their only option.

It's us. Again, if we're the Head of Security, that could be us snapping at an experiment, suggesting we were somewhat callous and not particularly invested in their welfare. Which would make Prototype's Get Up death screens a deliberate mockery - turning our own words back on us.

It's Prototype, same as the death screens, and he's just using someone else's voice. You may have read my theory that Prototype was military, and if this is him, that comes through here; he's a stubborn, hard-headed determinator who has very little patience for us failing to make ourselves useful. He needs us. Get up. We can die later.

As a side note on this section, the "DON'T MOVE. DON'T MOVE AN INCH." voice? I have a fond headcanon that that's us. That's our voice. That's CatNap's - Theo's - final memory before he completely lost consciousness when he was electrocuted: it's us and our security staff cornering Prototype at gunpoint when he brought Theo back for medical attention. That's the moment he was recaptured - Theo's last memory of being human.

Also why do you think the prototype showed up at the hallucination when we weren't present at the at the hour of joy how did we know about any of this

Because it's a hallucination. We're not seeing what actually happened. We're seeing a representation of the protagonist's mind making sense of everything they've learned.

If we are the Head of Security, we know about the Prototype. Keeping his ass contained and making sure he couldn't hurt anyone would've been our primary job. Because we're a human and part of Playtime's executive board, we would have seen him as an evil monster who's violent for no reason, and we would have been given access to the shrink's reports on him - we'd know he's fiercely intelligent, we'd know he's stealthy, we'd know anything that would be relevant to us keeping the facility workers safe. But I think the protagonist underestimated him - a wholesale rebellion prompted by his mind control ability never crossed our mind. And here, I think the protagonist is realising for the very first time just how intelligent he is, just how much influence he has, and that he masterminded the toys' rebellion. We're realising it all comes back to the Prototype. And we're setting that knowledge in the wider context we now have of just how torturous the experiments' treatment and situations were while Playtime was functional.

However, it could also be to do with CatNap, since he's the one guiding the hallucination - Prototype's hand reaches down from on high to smite us, in line with CatNap's religious zeal. It could be CatNap trying to scare us off by showing us the Hour of Joy in a glorious light; his hero saving all the experiments. Fear him, lest ye be smoten, and all that.

Also is just me or is ollie after final fight call sound so passive aggressive 😅?

There is definitely a Vibe about that interaction, a distinct tone that he doesn't have the rest of the time. I'm undecided how I'd read that tone - on one hand, it sounds almost resigned, as though we've made our choice as to whose side we're on and the Prototype considers this us deciding we're his enemy, but on the other...that doesn't match up with my suspicions about his ultimate goal.

It could, of course, also be resigned as in grief. One tired old soldier to another tired old soldier: he knows we didn't really have any other choice than to try to kill CatNap, since CatNap was determined to kill us, and he had no choice but to follow through because all the doctors who could have tended to CatNap are dead, but he's hurting and angry and bitter about it all the same.

Anyway I hope you enjoy these ideas!

[acorpsecalledcorva]

There is one aspect of being a system that matched being trans for me, to a T (ha..ha..)

And that's realising that no one could stop me from being them. I don't need someone to let me, or tell me I'm allowed to be this way. I could just..be. I could accept what I am and do the things that I wanted or needed to do with that

Like a cat whose brought into a new home, cowering in the safety of the cage I've been placed inside, slowly sniffing at the open bars, dipping my toe beans onto the carpet to make sure the floor isn't covered in cucumbers, and accepting that the only thing keeping me inside my cage is me.

And to my poor traumatised mind this was still terrifying, because any moment now I'm gonna get caught and hit with a broom or sprayed in the face with water for ever daring to think I have agency. It would be my fault if I did, I know the rules

1) Only be what others expect you to be

2) Shut the fuck up and never complain

3) jhffyjbdsghitfbjiesvswtikvfehhddbye (this rule will never be explained to you but you WILL be punished harshly for breaking it. See rule 2)

When I realised that I could just take HRT if I wanted to, on my terms, and be in full control of my dosing and regimen. I could change my name and dress how I want and use whatever pronouns I want.

When I realised that I could actually listen to the voices in my head, get to know the parts of myself I'd kept hidden and let them come forward to experience the world. I could go by more than one name and use multiple pronouns.

Both of these felt like faking. Like I was doing it on purpose. And that's because not repressing required active effort, I had to make a decision to do this, and making decisions for myself wasn't allowed. Now the cats out of the cage though, good luck trying to shove it back inside.

Systemscringe and fakeclaimers and staunch anti-endos aren't mad that you exist, they're mad that you let yourself out of your cage, that you're visible, that you take up space for yourself. "A REAL system doesn't talk about their experiences publicly. A REAL system doesn't feel proud of who they are. A REAL system stays hidden and tries to blend in at all costs. A REAL system doesn't break Rule 3"

Fuck that noise. Stay safe. Stay vigilant. But let your freak flag fly my pretty kitties 😻

[homunculus-argument]

I think George R. R. Martin brushed past something similar in concept in ASoIaF, with a few characters referring to themselves in ways like saying "a man has no name" to say "I have no name", and later on in some interview saying that's actually a thing somewhere in the setting, but I think it would be fun to have a worldbuilding thing of a people whose language straight-up doesn't have personal pronouns, or where the line between pronouns and simply nouns is so blurred that technically speaking you could say that the amount of words you could use as pronouns is infinite.

Like in finnish, lacking gendered pronouns, people occasionally refer to someone who isn't present as "the/that girl/boy/man/woman" for clarity. There's a specific word ("tytötellä/tytöttely") for the thing where adult women are referred to as "girls", and if I recall right, the varying Japanese first person pronouns depend on one's gender and status in whatever situation they are in, so you can draw a lot of conclusions about a character by whether they say "I am" as watashi wa or boku wa in the same external context.

But what if you took this kind of a thing and wrote a language where there are no pronouns? A language that does not have words for "I", "you", "he/she/they", or even "it", but where whatever word you choose to use to refer to yourself or other people, and whom you are addressing is only distinguished by a prefix or suffix. So there is no "neutral" way of saying "I want to see you", but sapphic poetry is full of sentences like "a woman(myself) wants to see a woman(you, whom I address now)". And you cannot say a thing without showing how you see yourself and others.

It's an observable part of growing up to notice when a kid stops referring to himself as "a boy" and starts using "a man", someone raising into a new status takes a moment of adjustment to learn how to refer to themselves at work as "the supervisor", or someone revealing their past by slipping into an old form of address by saying "a soldier" when they should have said "a passenger" on a train.

Many people go through their whole lives not really thinking about it, going from referring to themselves as "a child" (there is no common use of "baby" as first person, as babies naturally don't know how to talk yet, so as soon as a child starts talking in sentences, they'll just use their name or the word for "child"), and move on through age, gender, and social role words through their life arc, but some people do get creative with it, such as making a pregnancy announcement by unexpectedly referring to themselves as "a mother", or someone who royally screwed up sending a text

"A disaster(1st person) is coming home, hoping that a wife(2nd person) can forgive."

[mike-and-michael-tournament]

Have you noticed that a staggering amount of characters in various pieces of media are named some variation of Mike or Michael? Do you know multiple Mikes from various fandoms who are named Michael? Do you want them to fight to the death for your entertainment???

Well, you're in luck! Welcome to the Mike and Michael Tournament: Where the mightiest, Mikiest Michael will win!

This blog is run by someone who is ironically NOT named Mike! No, my name is actually Indigo, my main is @indigos-shits-and-giggles, and my pronouns are he/they/zae. But enough about me, let's talk about rules for submissions!

RULES FOR SUBMISSIONS (Last updated 18/08/2023)

This one's a given, but the characters you're submitting must be named some variation of Mike or Michael

If a character's full name is Michael, they are eligible for submission. So, Mickey Mouse, whose full name is Michael Theodore Mouse, can be submitted!

No real life Mikes or Michaels are allowed to be submitted. Look, I just don't want Michael Jackson fighting against Michael Distortion, for example.

Also, please don't submit any OCs. I just don't want your Mikes to get demolished by Michaels from massive fandoms, you know?

Please only submit one character at a time. The form should be open for multiple responses, so you're free to submit as many characters separately as you like!

That being said, please don't submit the same character over and over.

Submitting multiple characters from the same piece of media is not only allowed but ENCOURAGED. I'll probably only limit it to 3 Mikes or Michaels per piece of media, but you're still very much encouraged to submit all the Michaels you can think of.

Submissions will close on August 25!

Characters from the following fandoms are not allowed to be submitted

Harry Potter

South Park

MCYT

Real life

These characters are already in the tournament and do not need to be submitted

Michael Mell from Be More Chill

Michael Distortion from the Magnus Archives

Michael from the Good Place

SUBMIT CHARACTERS HERE

The concept was heavily inspired by @john-bracket, I hope you don't mind me essentially plagiarizing your idea, I am so sorry.

Also, obligatory "tagging other tournaments": @tournamentdirectory @character-of-all-time @bestfictionaldivorce (hi Blue) @adhdvsautismbracket @silliestsillybracket

[sukimas]

Hi! I do, in fact, have you blocked on your actual blog and your name hidden on Tumblr's blacklist. (Same with Marissa, by the way.)

This would obviously be harassment even if that wasn't the case, though. I made a post on my on blog about someone who I felt was stepping over the line, cutting out the URL, and I get seven paragraphs in my inbox.

I think that both of you are huge assholes, and your cruel vagueposting about a friend I've had for seven years didn't help with that assessment either a month ago. I saw an image referencing the two of you a few days ago which I couldn't blacklist my way around, so I ended up scrolling the archive of Marissa's blog on and off this week to see if it was still acting as immature as always.

(I don't know if it told you this, but I told it that I would unblock it after the incident a month ago if and when it matured as a person. It evidently has not done that!)

Please consider how horrible it is to have former acquaintances, not friends, who joke about performing the action that caused you to block them in the first place. "It's just a joke lol" doesn't help when it isn't something appropriate to joke about. I do not think it would be appropriate, for instance, to "joke" about showing up to someone's front door if they have told you in no uncertain terms they don't want you to contact them again.

This is the same category of behavior that I saw it exhibiting towards a friend of mine in public. Making two blogs to block evade and beg for someone's friendship back, leaving a reply with 13 "please"s, and then posting about how you feel like everyone abandons you is not appropriate behavior, no matter how mentally ill you are.

To be honest, it feels like the only reason you contacted me was because you have built me up in your head as someone who is incapable of disliking others on its own terms. You have given me the impression that you think the only reason I would come to dislike someone is if someone has been whispering in my ear about it, instead of the obvious immature behavior I've observed for months. You have come to my inbox solely to try and drive a wedge between me and the person whose name is retracted in this message, not in order to improve my relationship with Marissa or to improve its life.

Do you have any idea how cruel that is? Do you think that starting a whisper campaign about someone across the site is appropriate just because you say not to answer it publicly? On the other hand, do you think that people are just going to lie there while you act as if they have no agency in their own actions? Come on now. If it's immature to scroll someone's archive, fucking call me immature about it. Don't make up some way that it's the fault of someone who you have a tumor in your head telling you is the Devil.

I'm obviously redacting both the name and pronouns of the person you tried to drag through the mud in my inbox, because it's not my place to talk about it. This is in contrast to things that are publicly available on tumblr dot com, which most certainly are my place to talk about. Like the screenshotted post.

Of course, I'm playing by your rules of following instructions to the letter and not answering this publicly. I'm simply screenshotting it and posting it.

[spookiesmausoleum]

❛ 𝐈 𝐀𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ❜

Sentence starters from quotes from the movie in question! Remember to specify for multi-muse blogs and change pronouns as needed.

"I have heard myself say that a house with a death in it can never again be bought or sold by the living. It can only be borrowed from the ghosts that have stayed behind."

"The memories of their own deaths are faces on the wrong side of wet windows, smeared by rain. Impossible to properly see."

"For those who have stayed, their prison is their never seeing. And left all alone, this is how they rot."

"Of her books, I have read fewer than nine pages of only a single one...and all the while suppressing a very bad taste. I am not even sure of the title."

"I can be sure of only a very few things. The pretty thing you are looking at is me. Of this I am sure."

"It has always been that wearing white reassures the sick that I can never be touched, even as darkness folds in on them from every side, closing like a claw."

"You had so much to say in those first years. When you lived here with me. Enough to fill a book. And then... nothing."

"You turned your back. You turned your back, and you turned your back so many times... that soon your feet were facing the wrong way altogether."

"I did nothing but sit and listen. I made no noises. I welcomed no visitors. And here, now, you've come back. But only to hurt me, only to show yourself, but not to let me see."

"You poor, pretty things whose prettiness holds only one guarantee. Learn to see yourself as the rest of the world does, and you'll keep. But left alone, with only your own eyes looking back at you, and even the prettiest things rot. You fall apart like flowers."

"Couldn't sleep. The first night in a place always weirds me out, you know."

"Why would you say that to me right now, in the middle of the night when I'm here all alone?"

"I can't imagine what I'd say if he did. I mean, what does a person say? "Remember that time we almost but then didn't get married? 'Cause I do.""

"On my very first night in the house. A death. But I cannot see it. Not yet. But I can feel it shifting its weight from bare foot to bare foot."

"So that's where you're hiding. They told me there wasn't one of you, and I don't mind telling you, I was a little worried."

"Because time spent in a house with a death in it passes more quickly, you know. Eleven months. Passing like the night."

"This is how you rot."

"It was fine when I first moved in, but now I think it's gotten much worse in the past few weeks."

"Possibly a mold of some kind. Likely there is some plumbing behind the wall, a pipe that runs up to the bathroom."

"You say you haven't seen it anywhere else?"

"It's just that a confusion like that is usually with the memory of someone significant."

"Heavens to Betsy, no, I haven't. No, um, I scare too easily."

"Well, there is a not-very-good movie, if you prefer."

"That would be much, much worse. I'd likely run down to the road screaming. And who'd look after [name]?"

"The pretty thing you are looking at now is me."

"I left the world just as I came into it. I am wearing nothing but blood."

"I am as white as a sail. I tell this often to myself. I tell myself that nothing gets on me. But it does me little good. The words pour right through. I am too full of holes."

"Grow up, you dumb old scaredy-cat. It's just a bunch of silly ol' make-believe typed words on paper."

"And even if I was fiendishly tempted, I have refrained from pressing the subject with her."

"Though it seems safe to assume that, as endings go, [Name]'s was not an especially pretty one."

"Quite dead but not quite buried. Carelessly concealed in a grave too shallow to be rightly called a grave at all. Better to call it a... hiding place."

"The walls and windows are as thin as bones. A person could walk right through them. Just up and leave this old house."

"I haven't really looked. I... I kind of hate the sight of it."

"I can sometimes see her struggle with the shape of it, more as if trying to remember a song she once heard, and not as she might remember an event."

"How does one forget something as essential as that? How does one forget a death?"

"Maybe it is the body that remembers. And without the body, there is nothing to hold to."

"We make our own ghosts by looking, but pretending not to see...and then forgetting ourselves altogether."

"It is a terrible thing to look at oneself and to all the while see nothing. Surely this is how we make our own ghosts. We make them out of ourselves."