#behold my latest brain child

[vvalengogh]

Fallout OCs Masterpost!

Read about my scrumblos below the cut. 💛 Character ref/art included.

Quinn Higuchi Verger - Courier 6

Quinn Higuchi is the Courier 6 of the Mojave Wasteland. An orphaned child, Quinn eventually grew up to be a small town doctor that located near the border of California in Utah, Quinn took up odd jobs as courier for the Mojave Express a few times to afford more expensive treatments and further medical supplies for the resident of his town.

At one point, Quinn was known to be a passive man with little to say and little to show in expression— preferring to keep to himself and carry on with his job. Eventually, all of that changed when he was to deliver the Platinum Chip and was intercepted by Benny Gecko.

The shot to his head did irreparable damage to his brain, and thus, flipped a switch in him. Not only did he suffer amnesia, forgetting his entire life prior being shot, but the small town doctor Quinn became a menace afterwards. Selfish, sarcastic, and reckless (as well as extremely frivolous); Quinn did things his own way the way he saw them fit. Messing with the NCR, killing Caesar, and joining up forces with Yes Man.

Still, despite this and his rather immature behavior, Quinn is neither good nor evil; he is chaotic, but on the neutral side. He’ll be your best friend and your worst enemy, he’s as mischievous as much as he is a powerhouse and a threat. Regardless, hes smart, cunning, and very well versed in laser weapons and medical and engineering, and he’s not a complete asshole; he does care for certain people a whole lot. One of those very few people being a man known as Andres Gutierrez, who is now his husband, who he will 100% kill for without hesitation and loves him very much. (Side note: Andres Gutierrez is my bf’s oc (@/valentineenjoyer), who is also a courier six!)

Overall, he’s more on the unhinged and immature side, a jokester and a silly little menace of a man. He never gets back his memories, aside from Ulysses reminding him of his crimes. He lives for a *very* long time thanks to the cybernetic augmentation the Think Tanks so gracefully gave him.

——

Rattle - Quinn Higuchi's pet / companion Nighstalker

Rattle was the runt of her mother’s litter. Unable to produce venom and being smaller than her siblings, she was left behind to fend for herself and eventually perish. She was found next the side of a road by Quinn, and though eventually standoffish, she failed to scare Quinn and was taken in. Quinn *absolutely* adores her, so he tamed and raised her to give her another chance at life. Lo and behold, she becomes Quinn’s pet and companion Nightstalker.

She’s scarily smart, but also has her dumb dog moments, and like her owner; she’s very compulsive as well as easily distracted outside of combat. She’s fond of scavenging, often bringing Quinn little gifts or showing off her latest find. Rattle is also a lap dog and a very cuddly one!

——

Agnes Higuchi Verger (alias Agnes Doyle) - Mercenary / Seamstress

Agnes Higuchi is the twin sister to the Courier 6 Quinn Higuchi. While she avoided the Benny Gecko Special Treatment, she was unfortunately experimented on by the Think Tanks which resulted in the loss of an arm, being replaced with a fully functional prototype cybernetic arm.

While she managed to escape the horrors of Big MT and made a speedy recovery, she would be caught dead if she even considered setting foot up there again.

But before all that, Agnes was, and still is, a seamstress for the Strip and a mercenary for hire around Freeside. Her parents— hers and Quinn’s— actually had to give up one of their children to make ends meet so both could be provided with the best lives, which is why Agnes is also known by the last name Doyle. Eventually, she figured out who her parents were later on in life only to discover they went missing along with caravaners. This is how she first heard the rumors of another kid, her brother, but by that time Quinn was already a tall tale to most. It’s not until two years after the events of the Mojave that she meets Quinn, but it takes her (and Quinn) a whole month to realize that they’re twins despite looking exactly the same.

During that time, Agnes became a very accomplished clothes maker and a strong bodyguard, hired by the Followers. She’s far less off the walls than Quinn, but she still has some of that touch of unhinged in her; she’s sweet and gentle, but cold blooded if needed. She’s the girlfriend of my boyfriend’s oc, Del Rey.

——

Sycamore Higuchi - Vault 76 Dweller

Sycamore is the ancestor to the twins Quinn Higuchi and Agnes Higuchi. Hailing from West Virginia from Vault 76, Sycamore follows the same trend of unhinged that the rest of the Higuchis share.

Sycamore joined up with the Enclave for their own gain at first, later betraying the organization in order to dismantle and take them down from the inside. At which point, their plan was found out and they were ran out. Between all of this, Sycamore married the former raider Beckett and had a set of twins of their own.

Sycamore was, then, killed at the age of 39. Leaving Beckett and two kids behind. Lo and behold though, the aliens known as Zetan took particular interest in their immunities to radiation and revived them; constructing their whole missing half of their head and keeping them suspended in cryogenic pods for a little over 200 years. They wake up, eventually, crash landing an escape pod somewhere in the Commonwealth. With their whole life turned upside down again, in the same year that Sycamore crashed in the Commonwealth (2292), they pick up an odd job as a mortician where they also help with proper burials.

——

Rowan - Sycamore Higuchi’s pet / companion Deathclaw.

Rowan was Sycamore’s trained Deathclaw. Raised from a hatchling, Rowan was a formidable force to be reckoned with. Listening to Sycamore and only Sycamore. Though rough and very snappy, Rowan was protective of the human that took him in and their family, and even if he wasn’t able to use human speech, Rowan showed intelligent thought, recognition and communication patterns; mostly portrayed through the clicks of claws and hisses and huffs. He was first shot down by Sycamore’s killer just a moment before they were, too.

Rowan is deceased.

——

Lecter D. Longfellow - Far Harbor Hunter and Tour Guide

Lecter Devlin Longfellow is the adopted son of Old Longfellow. Orphaned when his parents and baby brother were attacked by a Fog Crawler, he was shortly taken in and adopted by Old Longfellow and raised as his own, while also making him his apprentice.

Lecter is a terribly anxious, shy man, and he remained that way when Original Lecter was replaced by the Lecter we know today; Synth Lecter. Lecter had no idea he was a synth until one fateful day, when helping in Acadia, he injured himself only to discover that he was made up of not only flesh, but metal and wires.

He’s a skilled hunter, knowledgeable in tracking, marine life (and general animal life) and rifles. Despite his timid personality, Lecter is very charismatic man who seeks to help and provide comfort. He calls Old Longfellow dad and he would be devastated if something happened to him.

Lecter’s synth model is that of a mix match between Gen 2 and 3, and has been dubbed a prototype. Pertaining all the flesh and blood of a Gen 3, most of Lecter’s internal structure is made up of wires and metal. Synth name L1-33, Original Lecter was kidnapped off the island by the the tail end of the Institute’s reign of terror, when they started to suspect Far Harbor of holding Synths and intended to make Lecter their spy.

That did not work out at all, and Lecter’s personality overrode his shoddy framework and whatever coding they attempted.

One of his best friends is Deacon and his romantic partner is Hancock.

——

M. Graham Hoolahan - Railroad Agent / Former Brotherhood of Steel Soldier

Full name Miranda Graham Hoolahan, Graham is a Diamond City born resident hailing from the Upper Stands. He never got along with his parents who pressured him to join the Brotherhood of Steel, in which he did in order to get away from them when he turned 20. Previously he worked for Bobrov brothers in their bar as a cleaner, much to his parents’ chagrin.

He went on to join up a branch of the Brotherhood up in Alaska and was shortly transferred to the Capital Wasteland branch, where he met Danse and became a Lancer-Sergeant. Piloting an old Vertibird model named Ebonswift, Graham was amongst the best pilots in the Brotherhood of Steel and even became a certified trainer for cadets.

For almost 6 years, he was a Brotherhood soldier; but for two of those years he had also become a Railroad Agent, working as a spy in the Prydwen under the name code name Smoke.

Graham never enjoyed the views the Brotherhood of Steel later adopted. Later on becoming far more closeted in his bisexuality, Graham dealt with his environment by cannibalism. A habit he later kicks for the sake of Danse, who he falls in love with.

Graham is Paladin Danse’s romantic partner.

——

Abigail Chambers - Institute Scientist

Abigail Chambers is what the Institute refers to her as an “Incubated Baby.” Taken from her mother’s womb, a woman who hailed from California and was traveling through the Commonwealth, Abigail was raised within the Institute, later on becoming an accomplished scientist under the Biological Science wing.

Despite the views of the Institute, Abigail doesn’t agree with them; but having no family and nowhere else to go, she does as told. She also helps Synths escape.

She’s a workaholic but bubbly gal who packs a mean punch but doesn’t know when or how to rest proper.

——

Egan - Semi Aquatic Deathclaw

A hybrid between a Fog Crawler and a Deathclaw, it’s not hard to tell whose parent’s gene was more dominant. Egan is a Far Harbor Deathclaw that can be found roaming bodies of water, minding his own business.

Despite his fearsome appearance, Egan is not hostile unless provoked or shot at. Egan is actually an intelligent Deathclaw capable of speech; though he only speaks to a select few people. One of those being Lecter, who found him washed ashore and injured some time ago.

——

Rory Lavender - Former Vault-Tec Scientist

Rory Lavender is a pre-war ghoul that formerly worked for Vault Tec. In an unidentified vault somewhere in Utah, Rory and his coworkers were to experiment the effects of radiation on the Vault Dwellers. But when the bombs dropped, Rory started having second thoughts and that, in turn, made his coworkers turn on him and use him as a guinea pig.

Later on, he’s kicked out from the vault and left to fend for himself. He managed to make a living out of weapon modifications and set up shop in the same town Quinn used to live.

——

Mads Black - Former Movie Star

Mads Black is a pre-war ghoul who’s all talk and bite. Shit at bartering, he’s still very charismatic. He used to be a movie star along with Dean Domino, who was his boyfriend for a time until becoming bitter scorned lovers who end up being on each other’s throat every time they interact.

I don’t have much for Mads yet as he’s my newest oc, but these are all the guys I have right now!

____

Gomez Sinclair - Lone Wanderer

Gomez Sinclair is the Lone Wanderer of The Capital Wasteland along with his twin sister, Asriel Sinclair ( said lone wanderer is owned by my bf).

A reference for Gomez Sinclair Post-Vault 101/During FO3 Events and Post-FO3 Main Events. Gomez is a rather timid and somewhat closed off individual, even as he was being raised in Vault 101– only really talking to most at length with Asriel, Amata, Jonas and James. After James left the Vault 101, and Gomez and his sister were more or less exiled, Gomez only grew to be more of a nervous wreck and somewhat of a recluse.

With the sudden change in environment and every other wasteland aspect he was barely prepared to face, let alone deal with it himself. Surprisingly, Gomez is charismatic person despite his shyness and often stumbling over his words; a natural silver tongue that makes his awkwardness charming.

Though he’s good with small guns and exclusively hunting rifles, his proficiencies lie within science just like James, Gomez favors energy weapons. Medicine, too, is one of his strong suits, though wouldn’t consider himself to be on a doctor’s level.

The travel through the wasteland to find his dad wears him down significantly, and when James dies right in front of him right after finding him, he doesn’t get any time to mourn his death given the Enclave invading the Jefferson Memorial and the lethal levels of radiation; both him and Asriel having to escort the rest of the scientists through the tunnels + survive the Enclave attack sobers right up but for the worst, since he ends up bottling up James’s death for the sake of taking Project Purity back from the Enclave and take them down.

When it all comes to a head, Gomez, along with his sister, convinces President Eden to destroy the base, and soon enough, the final showdown presents itself and Gomez kills Colonel Autumn. The revenge brings him no relief, only hurt.

After activating Project Purity, Gomez suffers a head injury that requires the Brotherhood of Steel to perform surgery and install brain transplants to save his life.

Gomez bears Colonel Autumn’s uniform as a power move over the Enclave, bearing the uniform to spite and as some sort of reminder.

After some time, Gomez and his sister eventually go on about to do their own things. Gomez becoming an accomplished a scientist, and a lead scientist to keep the clean water production running throughout the Capital Wasteland, in memory of his parents. Some more pass and tensions grow with the Brotherhood of Steel’s presence becoming more present and oppressive, and constantly butting heads with them, disagreeing over a number of things including spreading the clean water throughout the rest of the wasteland like Gomez wanted, he left the project in search of the new Elder of the Brotherhood, Maxson, so he travels the wasteland in search for him— which ends him up in various places. The Mojave, California, even The Commonwealth.

And there is a sense in freedom in this. Not being known as the Lone Wanderer is relieving, having the spotlight on him never felt right nor warranted, despite his accomplishments and following in his dad’s footsteps. 29 year old Gomez is more confident and mature than 19 year old Gomez, still he keeps to himself and retains some of that timidness.

#vvalengogh ocs #vvalengogh art #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout games #fnv #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #art #my art #artists on tumblr #digital art #ocs #my ocs #fallout ocs #fo4 ocs #fnv ocs #ghoul oc #courier six #fallout courier #fnv courier #courier oc #oc masterpost #oc reference #lone wanderer #deathclaw oc #corvid’s faves #fallout ocs masterpost #can’t tag all their names rip #i’ve reached the 30 tags limit 😔

[svtskneecaps]

i don't tend to write this type of fic but i had the idea so i want to put into the public domain: fantasy / magic au wherein the Fairest in all the land gets tired of being seen as just a pretty face and begs an enchantress / fairy to turn them into idk a troll or something, which for me opens a few possibilities:

a) humans run scared and their face is horrifying, but trolls think they're the hottest thing since sliced bread (this is the one i have the least ideas for expansion-wise since it seems to lend itself most to plotlines / arcs that don't fit with the framing narrative set up above i.e. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, be careful what you wish for)

b) the Fairest is royalty and the reigning monarchs are like summoning magic users from all across the kingdom to "fix their poor cursed child" but nothing is working and character B is the latest in a long line of failed magic users and (for some reason my brain is pulling up "twelve dancing princesses") finally LISTENS to the Fairest and idk, maybe they conspire to sneak the Fairest out of the castle and into normalcy where they don't have to be The Fairest anymore

c) the Fairest changes their appearance and vanishes in the night, leaving idk, the subjects of the kingdom or their adoring fans wondering what happened to their poor [insert], and moves into a humble cottage or whatever in the town of character B, and character B tries to unravel the mystery of their secretive but charming neighbor or whatever (also works for modern magic type aus)

#these are half baked and i don't intend to frost them so i leave them to you dear audience #and don't say shr*k bc i'm at least 80% sure that's not what this is #doubt it's original but i don't feel like checking #writing prompt #what the heck did i tag those old au lists with i forget #tbh sometimes i forget i ever did those but then somebody will like them and i'll Remember #was that really 4 years ago? nuts #au ideas

[starwalker03]

The Closeness of a Galaxy Far, Far Away

I've found over the years that, with the autism running around in my brain, my interests cycle around the same few fandoms every year. although it's probably too logical to designate it a period of time, but for the most part it seems to occur over the course of a year (which is already an irregular measurement anyway as it changes every four times).

I go through the wide expanse of the DCU, I think of Maggie Stiefvater's Raven Boys, I scroll aimlessly through tumblr's tags related to All For The Game, I rewatch Merlin for the nth time, and perhaps She-ra while I'm at it, and if I feel particularly sentimental Doctor Who revisits. There's always some irregularity with which ones get to be a side show I recall briefly and go to bed thinking of once more (suffering from brain worms) and which ones consume me in reckless abandon like the actual show rides. But without fail, every time, there is always Star Wars.

There is always Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi and a sea of stars and a brilliant John Williams soundtrack and movie after movie and show after show, and no mater how much new content arrives I will always love most Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. There is always A Long Time Ago, In a Galaxy Far, Far Away...

My mother read the title screens to my brother and I as children, with that same voice every time, you know the one, the one that all parents read stories to their kids in (whether they did so for you or you've merely seen it in movies). And every time I waited on baited breath to here the first note of the soundtrack and to see the same movies I'd watched a hundred times before. I assembled LEGO sets and played pretend at being a Jedi and completed every level in LEGO Star Wars with my brother on our Nintendo Wii and had lightsaber fights and dressed up for school discos in a big hooded cloak. I grew up with it every year, I could probably recite almost every line in the original trilogy. I'm not of the generation that watched it start, that was my mother, who went to see it in cinemas with no idea what she'd behold (and leave the theater with a new obsession and a crush on Harrison Ford). I am of the generation that was born with six movies and watched The Clone Wars, born of one throw away line in A New Hope, on TV. Seeing the same episodes over and over in completely the wrong order. I saw the sequel trilogy as it came out in theatres. I did not see this franchise start but have watched it grow with me nevertheless.

This franchise is my home, it has my heart, it has my endless love. This franchise may well be what set me off on my journey of wanting to tell every story possible. The quintessential tale of the hero's journey, but this time IN SPACE. What better creation could there be for a child.

Now I see new shows come out one after the other, and the out pour of words everyone has to say on them hits me before even the first line of dialogue. I have yet to watch Andor, or the Ahsoka series, or finish the latest season of The Mandolorian. these stories, if placed before my childish self, would leave me frothing at the mouth for weeks on end. I would peel my eyelids back and absorb every bit of light from my TV as the stories unfolded, i would learn every line and every character name and every ship name and every droid name and I would run through the soccer field and imagine I was slipping on the floors of an imperial destroyer desperately trying to reach a fight before it ended in blood.

I can't do it now.

There is politics in every stance and hatred in every line of public words on shows from a franchise I love. people question why it must be the way it is before they even see it. news headlines about who will play who and what every plotline will entail and exactly how dark every characters skin tone is and whether they kiss the right people.

I don't care, what happened to the lightsabers? what happened to the thrill of an imagined fight scene of thousands of flying vehicles in space? Where is the adventure? where is the belief in defeating an evil for the good of the galaxy? It was all so simple then, and as someone who tells stories now I know and understand it can't stay that way.

Star Wars was begun in 1977. And now, our world is different and the same. It was post both world wars, in the midst of the cold war, and just two years after the Vietnam war. In this time it was political enough a statement to make a movie with the entire foundation of 'we are good people and we want to be happy, so we will fight a war for it'. The conversation of symbolism and context can be had till the sun goes down because the context is our world, with all its messy complications. Star Wars has grown since then. It was always about fighting fascism, but now it must do more than fire a gun and kill an evil monarch and have a party that represents everything going back to goodness. Now it must show what really happens after, because we are in the after.

Star Wars is now its own world, and yet still a mirror of our own- this is what storytelling does. And yet, every second it persists, changes, evolves, stays the same, someone must make the articles and the call outs.

Why is Star Wars what it is now? Why must it be like us?

because in 1977 a farm boy destroyed a weapon, and six years later he defeated a tyrannical empire, and he did it all in a story that was fundamentally about love, compassion, peace, calm. About talking before you act and finding a way to work with others, about putting your weapon down because you refuse to let yourself use it, even when your anger rises.

Why must Star Wars have our problems? Why must it tell these stories?

because this is what story telling is about. hold my hand, sit with me on the living room floor, crane your head back at a TV screen and read A Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away, and for just a while, for just a few hours, feel.

It's beautiful isn't it? And that's why it must be like us. To remind you of that fact.

#star wars #Jab Rambles #a new hope #return of the jedi #empire strikes back #the phantom menace #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith

[merlinsbed]

was losing my mind today from a combination of sleep deprivation, anxiety, and five different ideas all competing at the exact same time for my attention so I picked one and spent a few hours writing it out.

basically, prince lan wangji falls in love with concubine wei wuxian in nightless city. a/b/o verse mostly because it was a very convenient excuse for wwx being wen ruohan's concubine. about 5.8k in length.

-

When he arrives in Qishan Lan Wangji can see why people consider the Imperial Palace to be intimidating. The sharp, cutting angles combined with the black and red color scheme, not to mention the sheer mass of the place. It's a city in its own right. Lan Wangji takes it all in with the same blank expression he keeps carefully in place anytime he's somewhere public. The personal guard his brother sent with him shifts nervously where they stand.

Second Prince Wen Chao is sent to greet him. He manages to make Lan Wangji's own royal title sound like an insult and the Gusu Lan guards bristle. Lan Wangji has to remind himself of exactly what's at stake if he offends a member of the Wen royal family and just barely manages an appropriate bow.

The guest quarters set aside for him aren't bad. They smell... not exactly bad and even if they did Lan Wangji is well disciplined enough to ignore it, but it's not exactly pleasant either. The source is an incense burner left out in the bedroom. Lan Wangji stares at it for a long moment, frowning. Then he dumps the old incense and brings out some of his own. Sandalwood, like his own natural scent. Within minutes the smell starts to permeate the room and some of the tension fades from Lan Wangji's shoulders. He doesn't want to be here, but the Wens had... not demanded it, but implied that they were prepared to if the King of Gusu denied their request. They wouldn't say outright that they're taking hostages, but it's the only reason they would suddenly demand that the heirs of the major provinces must be sent to Qishan. For their education, ostensibly. To learn about appropriate leadership or something. Really, it's just a show of power. It's the Wens showing that they can do whatever they want, whenever they want, including take the heirs of the provinces. 

Lan Wangji steps out onto the porch and takes in the courtyard of the guest quarters. He's sharing the compound with the other province heirs from Qinghe, Yunmeng, and Lanling. Guards from each province are scattered in front of their respective dwellings. Lan Wangji has been on his fair share of diplomatic visits, usually to assist his brother rather than represent him. Qishan is, by far, the most depressing. The palace of Cloud Recesses rests high in the mountains of Gusu and is surrounded by lush forests, flowing rivers, and mountain meadows. By comparison, Qishan is browns and greys painted across severe cliffsides. Even the palace gardens are far more barren than Lan Wangji is used to. He turns to go back inside when movement catches his eye.

A young man enters the courtyard of the guest quarters and pauses, hesitating just inside the threshold as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He's dressed in delicate reds and blacks, hair held away from his face by an ostentatious golden ornament. A light breeze carries his scent across the courtyard, something light and floral that tickles at Lan Wangji's memories. He thinks of loud, carefree laughter carrying through the library window accompanied by the flick of long dark hair over a shoulder clad in white guest robes during the lecture his uncle hosts every few years for children of noble families. He blinks and frowns. The young man- an omega, based on his scent- takes a halting step forward. Then he seems to release a great breath and frowns at the ground. His eyes keep darting towards the Yunmeng quarters where Prince Jiang Wanyin is staying. Interesting. Lan Wangji searches his memory, but the lecture feels like a lifetime ago. So much has happened in the five years since then.

Lan Wangji is so caught up in his thoughts it takes him a moment to realize that the omega is now staring at him. Their eyes meet and Lan Wangji sucks in a sharp breath. There's something distinctly sad about the omega's entire being. He's unhappy here, Lan Wangji thinks, but who isn't? The omega's chin tilts up slightly, scenting the air and his breath seems to catch in his throat. Then a Wen guard storms in and ushers him along. Lan Wangji stands on the porch of his new residence until long after the omega is gone from his sight.

-

It takes several days to find out the identity of the omega. Gossip is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but his brother had also told him to do what he has to to survive here. This probably isn't quite what Lan Xichen had in mind, but who's to say Lan Wangji won't suffer greatly for not knowing the young omega's name.

He is called Wei Wuxian.

He was given to Emperor Wen Ruohan as a concubine for his harem four years ago.

"The Wens demanded tribute," the head of his personal guard reports. "the Jiangs refused to hand over their daughter, so they gave Wen Ruohan their ward."

Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji remembers him. Cloud Recesses has only very recently begun to desegregate alphas, betas, and omegas. Back then, Wei Wuxian had spent most of his time with his adopted older sister in the quarters for omegas, but that hadn't stopped Lan Wangji from catching sight of him. All too often that lotus blossom scent would drift to him on the wind, accompanied by Wei Wuxian's unrestrained laughter. It had grated on Lan Wangji at first. Until the day he'd gone to his rabbits and found the clearing already occupied. Wei Wuxian had sat in the grass, the skirts of his guest robes spread haphazardly around him, giggling as the rabbits cautiously approached him, sniffing at his fingers. Lan Wangji had stood for too long on the edge of the clearing, Wei Wuxian's intoxicating scent swirling around him, laughter dancing in his ears, and that sweet smile seared forever into his memory. It's a far cry from the sadness Wei Wuxian carries himself with now. No wonder Lan Wangji hadn't recognized him at first.

-

There's a feast commemorating something Lan Wangji doesn't care to remember two weeks after their arrival in Qishan. It's the first time he manages to get a glimpse of Wei Wuxian since that first day when he'd come to the guest quarters. Wen Ruohan's wife passed away eight years ago, so he often has his favorite concubine sit beside him at feasts. She's a sultry looking omega who flutters her eyelashes at the emperor and giggles flirtatiously all through the meal. Lan Wangji's eyes slide right past him and instead land on Wei Wuxian where he stands stiff backed and obedient just behind Wen Ruohan's shoulder, there to serve food and drinks for the emperor, apparently. All through the feast he diligently assures that the emperor's cup remains filled and that the best dishes are always within reach. He looks miserable. Lan Wangji wants to sweep him away from here, take him back to Gusu, back to the clearing with rabbits where Wei Wuxian had smiled so sweetly.

He doesn't realize he's staring until their eyes lock. After a moment, a ghost of a smile hesitantly touches Wei Wuxian's lips. Lan Wangji's heart pounds in his chest. Even the ghost of Wei Wuxian's beauty is enough to leave him breathless. For a moment, the rest of the room falls away. Then Wei Wuxian's eyes shift and the smile disappears. Lan Wangji follows his gaze to Jiang Wanyin. Wei Wuxian had never been officially adopted by the Jiang family, but Jiang Fengmian had raised him alongside his own children anyway, much to his wife's chagrin. Lan Wangji wonders what it's like for Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin to see each other now.

The banquet drags on. Lan Wangji is used to a strict schedule of sleeping at nine and waking at five. He can tell by how exhausted he is that nine has come and gone, but Wen Ruohan does not permit anyone to leave a feast before he does. Nie Huaisang, sitting to Lan Wangji's left, reaches over and flicks him every time his eyes start to droop. It's annoying, but for the best. Lan Wangji does not want the embarrassment of falling asleep on the remnants of his meal at a feast in Qishan. The less the Wens have to attack him with the better. He'll have to thank Huaisang later for this. They're not friends, really, but close enough, thanks to forced proximity. As princes their older brothers were close friends and they remain so even after ascending to their respective thrones.

When Wen Ruohan finally leaves, Lan Wangji lets out the barest hint of a relieved sigh. He waits until a few minutes after the emperor has exited the room before getting up and leaving as well. Outside, he pauses and takes in a deep breath of cold, night air. It wakes him up a bit and that's how he becomes aware of the crying. Frowning, he follows it to a small alcove tucked out of the way and shaded by a tree in the process of losing its leaves. Wei Wuxian stands there, arms wrapped around himself, shoulders hitching with sobs he's desperately trying to quiet. A stick cracks under Lan Wangji's boot. Wei Wuxian's head whips up.

"Your highness," he says quickly, bowing, tears still trailing down his cheeks.

"Wei-gongzi, are you alright?" Lan Wangji asks. The head of his guard had mentioned that Wen Ruohan is possessive of his harem. He loves to show them off, but no one is allowed to touch. Last year he caught one of his concubines having an affair with a foreign dignitary from a small clan. Both had been executed. He should turn around and leave before someone sees them, but Wei Wuxian's eyes go wide.

"I didn't think you remembered me," Wei Wuxian says. His smile is watery and sad. "The few times we talked I just seemed to annoy you."

"That was a long time ago," Lan Wangji says. He wants to explain that it hadn't been because he couldn't stand Wei Wuxian, but because he didn't know what to do about the odd, uncomfortable feeling in his chest every time he caught Wei Wuxian's scent or saw the flick of his red ribbon or heard his laughter. Instead, he asks again, "Are you alright?"

Wei Wuxian wipes at his tears and his laugh is anything but joyous. "It's just- a lot," he says. "I thought it would be nice seeing Jiang Cheng again, but it just reminds me that I..." That he's stuck here. That he can't go home. Before he realizes what he's doing, Lan Wangji raises a hand. Wei Wuxian's breath hitches. Lan Wangji freezes. For a long moment his hand remains there, hovering in the space between them. Then Lan Wangji drops it to his side.

"You look like you need to go rest," Wei Wuxian says, dropping his eyes. It's so uncharacterists that Lan Wangji doesn't know what to do. The Wei Wuxian that wreaked havoc on Cloud Recesses was anything but demure and polite. Before he can figure it out, Wei Wuxian bows and whirls around, disappearing into the night.

-

They fall into it slowly. Lan Wangji tries not to. He is well aware of the consequences if Wen Ruohan catches wind of him anywhere near one of his concubines, but even back in Cloud Recesses he'd been unable to help but be drawn to Wei Wuxian. They go from sideways glances to little stolen snatches of conversation in unobserved corners to his guard pointedly turning a blind eye to Wei Wuxian climbing through his window as the sky darkens, looking more alive than Lan Wangji has seen him so far in Qishan. 

It's been six months since Lan Wangji and the other heirs arrived, but it hasn't been nearly as miserable as he anticipated. They're expected to attend lessons several days a week which mostly consists of reciting various sayings from past members of the Wen clan and listening to second Prince Wen Chao tell them how stupid and worthless they are. But at the end of the day now comes the possibility of Wei Wuxian crawling in through his window. It doesn't happen every night. Wei Wuxian is far from being Wen Ruohan's favorite concubine.

"He likes to look at me," Wei Wuxian had said one night, head pillowed on Lan Wangji's thigh as Lan Wangji absently plucked out melodies on his qin. "But he rarely actually takes me to bed."

Tonight, as the melody of a song Lan Wangji started writing five years ago fades into the darkening evening, Wei Wuxian crawls into his lap, arms wrapped loosely around Lan Wangji's neck, their noses almost touching. His sweet lotus blossom scent permeates the air, mixing with Lan Wangji's sandalwood. They twine together in a beautiful harmony. Lan Wangji doesn't know who moves first, but the touch of Wei Wuxian's lips to his own is everything he's been imagining and more. The layers of silk slide easily from his shoulders and Lan Wangji splays his hands against the bare skin of Wei Wuxian's back, swallowing his gasp in yet another kiss. From there, it seems only natural to carry Wei Wuxian to his bed, lay him down on the soft sheets, and crawl between his legs. Lan Wangji has read books, but none of them prepared him for what it's actually like.

He doesn't fall asleep with Wei Wuxian wrapped in his arms because someone would notice that Wei Wuxian is missing from his room in the morning. Instead, he wipes the evidence of their activities carefully from Wei Wuxian's skin, helps him dress, then watches him climb back out the window. Wei Wuxian pauses.

"You can call me Wei Ying," he says, almost shy. Lan Wangji swallows, mouth suddenly dry. Wei Wuxian- no, Wei Ying is giving him permission to call him by his birth name.

"You may do the same," Lan Wangji says. A warm smile spreads slow and beautiful across Wei Ying's face.

"Okay." He leans in through the window and kisses Lan Wangji on the cheek. "Goodnight, Lan Zhan." And then he's gone. Lan Wangji stands there for several long minutes before closing the window, smiling to himself.

-

His brother would be horrified if he knew about the affair. Not because premarital sex goes against their clan's rules. Lan Wangji happens to know his brother would be a hypocrite in that case. No, he would be horrified that Lan Wangji is behaving so recklessly. Every day he tells himself he'll stop and every evening he leaves the window unlocked for Wei Ying to sneak through. It's stupid. Wen Ruohan will kill them both if he finds out. Lan Wangji keeps doing it anyway.

The thing is, it's not just his life at stake if things go wrong. Lan Wangji knows that if Wen Ruohan were to discover the affair and send his men, his own Gusu Lan guards would fight every soldier in Qishan to protect him. There's no way they would survive that. And no doubt his actions would have consequences back home in Gusu as well. It's selfish and stupid and a million other things that Lan Wangji has been raised not to be.

And yet, when Wen Ruohan leaves Qishan right as Wei Ying is about to go into heat, Lan Wangji still sneaks through Nightless City to Wei Ying's room and stays there through the whole weekend. He leaves only because he is expected at Wen Chao's ridiculous indoctrination lessons the next day. Wei Ying pouts at him, his heat temporarily soothed.

"There's still two more days of my heat left," he complains. He flutters his eyelashes at Lan Wangji. "Er-gege, won't you stay and take care of your Wei Ying?" Lan Wangji looks at him, sprawled naked on his bed, hair splayed across the deep red fabric of the sheets. It sends a stab of want through Lan Wangji and it takes all his willpower not to strip back down himself and rejoin Wei Ying in bed. He reminds himself he would have to scrub Wei Ying's heat laden scent from his body all over again, lest someone smell it on him and report the incident to Wen Ruohan when he returns.

"I will return to you tonight," Lan Wangji promise. He shouldn't. But as he looks at Wei Ying's mollified expression he knows he will. He's already cutting it close staying until morning, but when he tried to leave the bed last night Wei Ying had whined and clung to him and he hadn't had the heart to leave him. This is one advantage at least to waking up early. There's still time for him to get back to his room before it gets too light out. He doesn't kiss Wei Ying goodbye because he knows he won't leave if he does.

Two days later, on the final night of Wei Ying's heat, they lie pressed together, sweaty and heaving. Wei Ying is sprawled across him, the two of them still tied together. Lan Wangji closes his eyes, his arms tightening around Wei Ying. He fights the urge to dip into the crook of Wei Ying's neck and sink his teeth into soft, smooth skin. He wants so badly to mark Wei Ying, to claim him as his own, but it would only get them both killed.

He feels Wei Ying's nose brush against the skin of his neck, lightly scenting him. It's followed by little kitten licks, then soft nips. Lan Wangji shivers. He thinks about the high collars of his robes. If it's a little towards his shoulder, no one would ever know. His hand comes up and tangles loosely in Wei Ying's hair, gently guiding his mouth to the right spot. Wei Ying stills.

"Lan Zhan?" His lips brush against Lan Wangji's skin as he says his name.

"You can, if you want to," Lan Wangji says. Wei Ying pulls back far enough to blink down at him, eyes wide. His skin is flushed pink with the fever of his heat and there's a haze to his eyes, but there's also wonder and perhaps a spark of hope.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says again, so soft and fond. "Lan Zhan I can't." He sounds so pained. Lan Wangji hates it. Wei Ying should never sound like that. He strokes his fingers soothingly over Wei Ying's cheek.

"Yes you can," he says.

Wei Ying shakes his head, even as he leans in to Lan Wangji's touch. "You're not mine to claim," he whispers. "What if you meet someone else? Someone better?" Lan Wangji recoils from the very thought there could be anyone better than Wei Ying. Wei Ying is perfect and beautiful.

"For me, there is only you," Lan Wangji says. He guides Wei Ying's head back down to his shoulder. "There will only ever be you, Wei Ying." Wei Ying's breath shudders across his skin. Then he bites and Lan Wangji gasps.

Lan Wangji leaves Wei Ying's room late that night, the new claim bite hidden beneath his pristine robes.

-

A month later, a banquet is held to celebrate the end of the indoctrination. It's been a year since the heirs of the noble families were sent to Qishan to be educated. Lan Wangji should be happy that it's almost over. And part of him is. He can't keep the smile from his face when he goes to greet his brother in his own guest rooms. He's never gone so long before without seeing his older brother. If not for Wei Ying, his time in Qishan would have been so much more miserable.

"Wangji," Lan Xichen greets warmly. Lan Wangji isn't the sort that often seeks physical comfort from others (Wei Ying excepted, of course), but when Lan Xichen opens his arms in invitation Lan Wangji takes it. It feels good to be folded in his brother's embrace.

"I hope you've been well," Lan Xichen says when they pull apart and sit to share tea.

"I have sent letters," Lan Wangji points out. Not overly detailed letters, but he was always sure to let his brother know that though he missed home he was doing alright.

"Yes, but it isn't the same as seeing you with my own eyes, didi," Lan Xichen says. They chat and it's so nice and familiar that Lan Wangji can almost forget they're still in Qishan.

The banquet is much more bearable with his brother and the other rulers there. No one pays as much attention to one prince in a room full of kings. It's good because Wen Ruohan is having Wei Ying serve him again tonight. Lan Wangji steals more glances at him than he should, eyes lingering on the peak of Wei Ying's wrist when he holds his sleeve out of the way to pour Wen Ruohan more wine. His gaze keeps being drawn to Wei Ying's smooth, unblemished neck. Someday, he will figure out how to take Wei Ying away from here so that he can claim him the way Wei Ying has already claimed him. They will belong to each other.

That night, he isn't surprised when Wei Ying doesn't come to his room, not with so many guests about. He is surprised when his brother shows up at his door though.

"Xiongzhang," Lan Wangji says, surprised. Lan Xichen's smile is strained.

"Wangji, may I come in? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Not exactly reassuring, but Lan Wangji has never had reason to fear his brother, so he steps aside and shows him to a table where Lan Xichen sits in silence as Lan Wangji prepares tea. Lan Xichen takes a long, measured sip before he speaks.

"I had heard that when the Jiang family of Yunmeng was forced to give Wen Ruohan a concubine in tribute, they sent their ward, Wei Wuxian," his brother says. Lan Wangji doesn't wince, but it's a near thing. "I remember when he came for the lecture with the prince and princess of Yunmeng." Lan Xichen gives him a knowing look. "And I remember how taken you were with him." Lan Wangji can feel his ears burning. Sometimes he hates how well his brother knows him.

"That was a long time ago," he says, for lack of anything else. He can't lie very well in the first place, but he especially can't lie to his brother.

"I see some things haven't changed," Lan Xichen says, tone soft and regretful. "Wangji, I won't ask you to confirm what I suspect. I saw enough from how you two looked at each other all evening." Lan Xichen takes another sip of his tea. "Wen Ruohan has heavily hinted that extending your stay here would curry great favor with him. He's made the same offer to the other provinces. I was already hesitant to accept it, but considering tonight, it's only reaffirmed my decision that bringing you back to Gusu is the right thing to do." The spark of hope that ignited at the thought that he could have a bit more time in Qishan, more time to figure out how to make sure that when he leaves Wei Ying can leave with him, shatters.

"Xiongzhang," he says, unable to keep the pained pleading from his voice. Lan Xichen closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, Lan Wangji recognizes the firm resolve in them.

"Wangji, there's more at stake here than you realize," Lan Xichen says carefully. "I want you back home, safe." Lan Wangji stares at his brother for a long moment, trying to parse out his words. He doesn't ask for clarification, not here in Qishan surrounded by enemies. He knows his brother has been planning something with Qinghe and Lanling and Yunmeng for a while now, slowly and carefully so as not to draw Wen Ruohan's attention, but the details have been kept even from him. He trusts his brother though.

"Okay," Lan Wangji says, even as cracks form in his heart.

Three days later when they leave, he doesn't get the chance to say goodbye to Wei Ying.

It's probably a good thing.

Probably.

(Lan Zhan pointedly ignores the sorrowful looks Lan Xichen keeps giving him as they ride away from Qishan. He will be strong for his people, for his brother.)

-

War is what his brother and the other kings have been planning. War against the tyranny of the Wen Empire of Qishan. It's a year and a half of bloody, brutal battles. Lan Wangji acts as one of his brother's generals, leading their soldiers into battles against the Wens' forces. He thinks often of Wei Ying, too often probably. He's acutely aware of the claim bite on his neck and wonders if Wei Ying is thinking of him too.

When the final assault on Nightless City comes, Lan Wangji is resting back in Gusu. His forces had found themselves facing unexpected reinforcements in their last battle. They came out victorious, but only just. Casualties were numerous and those who survived suffered many injuries, including Lan Wangji himself. He's just starting to get back into his normal training regiment when news arrives that Nie Mingjue is leading the assault on Nightless City with the intent of wiping out every last member of Wen Ruohan's clan. Lan Wangji thinks of Wei Ying trapped in the palace, thinks of him getting caught in the crossfire.

He rides hard for Qishan. By the time Nightless City comes into view there's smoke rising into the sky and the air is filled with screams. He makes for a narrow valley where Wei Ying once told him of a secret passage intended for escape. He doesn't know where it is or how to open it, but it's this or try and ride through the chaos of the battle taking place in the city. He won't be much use to Wei Ying if he gets himself killed in crossfire.

As he crests the top of the valley, Lan Wangji looks down and sees two figures already making their way away from Nightless City, dressed in black and red. Lan Wangji recognizes Wei Ying immediately, would know him even if he were blind. The other figure is familiar to him as well, one of the only friends Wei Ying has managed to make in Nightless City. Wen Qionglin is the younger brother of one of Qishan's best doctors, Wen Qing, a soft spoken young man with a talent for archery. He carries a sword now, looking nervously around as he escorts Wei Ying away from the danger. Lan Wangji is just starting to relax when he catches movement from the corner of his eye across the narrow valley. His eyes find golden robed soldiers. If he were closer, Lan Wangji knows he would see the sparks-amidst-snow peony of the Jin clan. There are two archers, each with an arrow already knocked. Lan wangji doesn't think. He pulls his own bow from his back, fits an arrow to it, and takes down the first archer. Before the second one has time to react, he's dead as well. Lan Wangji looks down into the valley and sees Wei Ying looking back at him. Quickly, he leads his horse down and leaps from the saddle, ignoring the twinge of pain in his recently healed leg.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying breathes. He looks awful, pale and tired and shaking.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji says. He steps closer and that's when he realizes that Wei Ying is holding a child. A baby not yet a year old. His breath hitches. "Wei Ying..." Wei Ying's smile is exhausted, but just as soft and beautiful as Lan Wangji remembers.

"Lan Zhan, I knew you'd come for us," Wei Ying says and Lan Wangji knows that he isn't talking about Wen Qionglin, who watches them cautiously, grip tight on his sword. Wei Ying puts a hand on his friend's arm. "It's alright, Wen Ning. Lan Zhan will keep me safe." Wen Qionglin observes Lan Wangji for a long moment, then nods to himself. He turns and bows to Wei Ying.

"Then I'll leave you in his care, Wei-gongzi," Wen Qionglin says. Wei Ying frowns, receiving a smile in return. "I have to go back for my sister." Wei ying sighs.

"I know." Wei Ying briefly places his hand on Wen Qionglin's cheek. "Be careful."

"I'll do my best." Wen Qionglin bows to Lan Wangji, then turns back to the city. Wei Ying watches him go, expression filled with grief.

"I don't know what I would have done all these years without Wen Qing and Wen Ning," he says softly. "They looked out for me, almost treated me like their brother." Lan Wangji wrap an arm around him and finds his gaze transfixed on the child in Wei Ying's arms, blinking sleepily up at him with familiar eyes. He reminds himself that there's still a war being fought in Nightless City. There could be more Jin soldiers around or others that wouldn't think twice about killing Wei Ying and the child. Anything to ensure Wen Ruohan's entire family ends here.

"Let's go," Lan Wangji says and guides Wei Ying over to his horse.

-

As it turns out, the invading forces of the other provinces hadn't been the greatest danger to Wei Ying. That had been Wen Ruohan himself. When it became clear that the battle was not in his favor, Wen Ruohan gathered his concubines together. They thought they were being taken somewhere safe, somewhere they would be protected until the battle was over.

Then the guards lining the edges of the room drew their swords and Wei Ying knew they weren’t meant to walk out of that room. Wen Ruohan was possessive of his concubines. If he couldn’t have them, no one could. Wei Ying isn’t sure how he managed to escape. Chaos had erupted in screams and blood as Wen Ruohan sat imperiously in the center of the room and watched his personal guard kill without mercy. Somehow, the door to the inner sanctum of the palace was unlocked. Wei Ying suspects Wen Qionglin knew of Wen Ruohan’s plan. He had been nearby when Wei Ying stumbled out of the room, clutching his screaming child to his chest.

Wei Ying tells Lan Wangji all of this in Gusu, in the safety of Lan Wangji’s private residence, the Jingshi. He’s dressed in borrowed white and blue robes from Lan Wangji’s own wardrobe. They’re of a similar height, but Lan Wangji is broader, his robes slipping slightly down Wei Ying’s shoulder. Lan Wangji fixes it and Wei Ying hums an absent thank you, attention focused on the baby.

“What is his name?” Lan Wangji asks. He hasn’t had time to. He’s been focused on getting Wei Ying back to Gusu and keeping him and the child safe. Wei Ying looks up at him.

“A-Yuan,” he says. “Our son’s name is A-Yuan.” Lan Wangji’s breath leaves him in a shaky exhale. Their son. He had known. He’d known the moment he’d looked down at A-Yuan and seen the shape of his own eyes looking back at him. “Here.” Gently, Wei Ying shifts A-Yuan into Lan Wangji’s arms. Lan Wangji holds his son reverently.

“Our son,” he whispers. Then he frowns at Wei Ying. “How…” Wei Ying hears the question he’s not asking.

“I told you, Wen Ruohan liked to look at me, but otherwise he never paid me much attention,” Wei Ying says. “He heard I was in heat while he was gone and thought I still was when he came back. Wen Qing knew you were with me during my heat, so just to be safe she gave me an herbal tea that mimicked heat symptoms. When I realized I was pregnant, he just assumed it must be his.” Lan Wangji’s shoulder slump, just the slightest bit, in relief. If Wen Ruohan paid a little more attention, perhaps he might have realized that something was off.

“You’re safe now,” Lan Wangji says not for the first time. He’s been saying it the entire journey back to Gusu. “You and A-Yuan. I will make sure of it.” Wei Ying smiles, stepping closer to rest his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

-

They marry in spring, trees and flowers blooming all across cloud recesses. Jiang Wanyin, newly ascended to the throne after his father’s death in the war, grumbles about it.

“Don’t take it to heart,” Wei Ying says cheerfully as he cleans paint from A-Yuan’s chubby little hands. He's taken an interest in painting lately that Wei Ying enthusiastically encourages. “I’m pretty sure if Jiang Cheng doesn’t have something to complain about he’ll die.”

“Would you prefer to marry at Lotus Pier?” Lan Wangji asks. He’s asked this before. Wei Ying laughs.

“Lan Zhan, the wedding is tomorrow,” he says. “We are not moving it to Lotus Pier. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m perfectly happy to get married in Cloud Recesses.” He checks A-Yuan’s hands for any lingering paint, then rises and comes to wrap his arms around Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji buries his nose in Wei Ying’s neck, nosing along the unblemished skin there. Now that Wei Ying is no longer trapped in Qishan, he could sink his teeth in and leave a claim bite there. Wei Ying goes still in his arms. Lan Wangji presses a kiss to the spot he wants to bite and lifts his head. He doesn’t blame Wei Ying for being hesitant to complete the bond. He spent nearly six year as a prisoner in Qishan. Lan Wangji will be patient and wait as long as needed. 

His uncle had been horrified when Lan Wangji had finally admitted to his year-long affair in Qishan with Wei Ying and the child he had fathered outside of marriage. The only thing that had saved them from his uncle’s wrath was the claim bite on Lan Wangji’s neck. It’s enough- barely- to legitimize both their relationship and their son, but Lan Qiren had made it clear that marriage better be in their future. 

Lan Xichen had been easier. After all, he already saw with his own eyes the connection Wei Ying and Lan Wangji share. He was delighted to be introduced to his nephew and took immediately to being an uncle.

Lan Wangji searches Wei Ying’s expression carefully. “You would tell me if you are unhappy?” he asks, far more tentative than he would like. Lan Wangji doesn’t normally do tentative. Wei Ying smiles, full of love. Lan Wangji feels a tug on his robes and looks down to see A-Yuan frowning up at them, arms extended in a silent request to be picked up. Lan Wangji doesn’t even hesitate to indulge him. Wei Ying leans in to press a kiss to the crown of their son’s head, then looks at lan Wangji, eyes sparkling with joy.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, “I have never been happier.”

#the untamed #mdzs #wangxian #my fic #behold my latest brain child #I might flesh this out more today

[uwuwriting]

A little early for that w/ Todoroki, Shinsou and Bakugou

Request: hii can i req a hc of todo, shinsou, and bakugou seeing y/n taking care of eri then they’ll be like “i want a baby with you” :D - anonymous

Don’t get me started on the latest BNHA chapter. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’ll try to make a double upload today so maybe expect a song fic after this one Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff

Todoroki Shoto 

-It was during Eri’s visit during christmas that it hit Todo. 

-You were dressed in a Santa costume just like everyone else with Eri gripping your hand as you took her around the room explaining all about Christmas celebrations. 

-It was a very mundane moment if you think about it. 

-You were being kind and caring to a child who had suffered immensely at the hands of Overhaul and you wanted to show her what the holiday was all about. 

-Now that he thinks of it, it shouldn’t have struck him like it did. 

-His chest became warm and fuzzy, his cheeks heating up a bit as he stared at you and Eri. 

-Then you kneeled down and brought Eri into a hug, raising her into the air so she could place an ornament on the class’s tree and it was game over for him. 

-He prides himself in being a rather collected person but at that moment he lost all sense of control over his emotions. 

-His mouth hung open and his chest started to squeeze, knocking the breath out of him. 

-He couldn’t help the thoughts of the both of  you owning a house somewhere not very far from Tokyo, waking up to you every morning , making breakfast with you and enjoying all the moments you shared. 

-Then other images flooded his mind. 

-Sitting in the living room as you steadied your toddler, a perfect mix of the two of you, helping them waddle towards him. 

-Him helping them place the ornament at the very top of your Christmas tree every time you decorated.

-He could see your smile so vividly he almost thought it was real. 

-It was a ridiculous thought for a 16 year old to have and he knew it but in that moment he let himself imagine it. 

-Before he knew it you were standing next to him, Eri running off to Aizawa excited to share what she just learned about christmas,  arms crossed over your chest as you let out a happy sigh. 

- “My santa work is done for the day.”

- “You would make a great mom” 

- *pikachu meme*

-He sensed your confusion *and so did your dead ancestors*

- “I want to be next to you when that happens.” 

-Girl you got whiplash from this whole conversation. 

-You couldn’t decide if you were soft and giddy since he basically said that he wants to start a family with you or if you were terrified because he said he wants to start A FAMILY WITH YOU WHEN YOU’RE BARELY 16. 

-In his defense he didn’t say he wanted to start now. 

-So you kinda calmed down. 

- “I-um thank you Sho. I think you would make a great father too.”

-Blushy blushy baby after that one. 

-Some denial sprinkled on top because trauma but blushy blushy boy. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Okay now third year Shinsou is a stressed Shinsou. 

-A third year you is a stressed you. 

-And a field day with your now ten year old somewhat trauma free adopted by your homeroom teacher child was what you both needed. 

-Shinsou is like a big brother to Eri at this point. 

-He has babysat her one too many times to not be considered at least a stable figure in her life. 

-You had decided to take a stroll in the park, the autumn air and all the pretty leaves making it a sight to behold. 

-Plus it had a pond with ducks. 

-And you love ducks. 

-Shinsou had brought some bread crumbs so you could feed them and that’s what you were doing when it hit him. 

-That weird domesticity. 

-You were crouched down on Eri’s height, one arm wrapped securely around her small waist so she wouldn’t fall into the pond and the other was outstretched with a piece of bread, motioning to the ducks to approach you. 

-It was a nice scene, picture perfect if you asked him and it did something to his heart strings. 

-Just like Todo he imagined walking home with you after a tiring day at your agency, your hands intertwined, matching golden bands circling your ring fingers. 

-He imagined a little Y/N being next to you and not Eri. 

-Vibrant purple hair sticking out at every which direction as they would throw bread at the ducks maybe even calling him over when one got too close. 

-He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed you standing in front of him, waving your hand over his eyes so you could get his attention. 

- “Earth to Toshi!” 

-You giggled when he shook his head, his eyes wide as he stared at your smiling features. 

- “Eri is hungry-” “You are hungry Y/N-chan!!!” “- and she wanted to go get some good old onigiri from that new shop that opened down the street.” “Lies…”

-You side-eyed the little girl who outed you, her own eyes staring right back in accusation as you let out a sigh saying under your breath “I’m hungry”

-He couldn’t control his laughter as it bubbled from his lips, ruffling Eri’s hair while giving you a kiss on the lips as he circled his arm around your waist and took Eri’s with his other one. 

- “Can’t say no to my girls now, can I?” 

-It was later that night when he voiced his thoughts. 

-You were asleep in his dorm, laying basically on him with your head tucked in his neck as you breathed evenly. 

- “It’s a little early to think of kids but I can’t wait to have one with you.” 

-And with that he fell asleep his dreams being filled with images of you.

Bakugou Katsuki 

-You managed to get him to say that???

-Mister tough as balls?

-Mister imma roundhouse kick you if you look at me with affection in your eyes?

-Someone get this girl a medal. 

-But in all seriousness it was a very motherly move. 

-You were in your second year, the events of the war with the villains still haunting all of you so everyone was keeping an eye on their loved ones and their classmates. 

-Bakugou was no exception .

-Seeing people getting hurt severely, seeing himself so defeated and hurt during those battles had rattled him and he would always linger close to you, a slight paranoia having taken his place in his heart the past few months. 

-You understood why he did it, why he hovered next to you most of the time and if you were being honest it didn’t really bother you * except from that one time you went to the bathroom and he called you three times in a row bc he couldn’t see you and panicked*

-Eri was running around with Kaminari and Sero, the three of them playing tag with the one brain cell they all shared at the moment. 

-Suddenly, Eri tripped and fell, scraping her knee on the pavement, small tears forming in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall. 

-In a flash you were next to her, a hand massaging her knee around the area of the wound while the other one was cupping her cheek, your thumb making small circles on the girl’s cheekbones. 

- “It’s just a scratch. See? It’s not that bad.”

-Bakugou was just staring at the scene unfolding in front of him, his immediate thoughts being that you looked so motherly in that moment. 

-The concern and the reassurance reminded him of his mother when she would calm him down after he got hurt, before she became a pain in the ass *as he likes to say*.

-Without him even realizing it he made a mental image of your shared family. 

-A house in the outskirts, with a yard, maybe a dog running around. 

-But most importantly a little demon that looked like you, climbing onto your shared bed on his day off, nestling in between you two as it went back asleep.

-You making breakfast while having them in your arms. 

-He really wished he could see that now. 

-But he’s a little young and you wouldn’t really like having a baby before finishing high school sooo he kinda buried it. 

-He told you about it when you both were in his dorm getting ready for a movie night. 

-It was a more aggressive approach but you got the point of his little rant. 

- “I want to spend my life with you too Katsu.” 

- “SHUT UP SHITTY WOMAN!”

- “OI!”

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#todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #shoto todoroki #Todoroki Shōto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shoto todoroki x you #domestic todoroki #shinsou #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #bnha shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shisnou hitoshi x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha

[idontblushsrry]

Anon asked:  Hello, Anon! May I ask a Hiei from YYH fic, where S/O is a little jealous of how close Mukuro and Hiei have become. Try to been mature and if Hiei likes her back (he does) he will come to her, she wait for it as she moves her relationship forward and hopefully it becomes something more, but something happens that makes her doubt and that makes her remember why she has never dared to say what she feels so she explodes a little and leaves away until the boy is curious to know what happens to her.

A/N: Slightly rushed and open ended ending but I hope you enjoy anyways!

Word count: 1262

They went so well together.

Despite everyone else’s assurances that Hiei saw Mukuro as nothing more than a friend, that was so obviously a lie. Sweet as the sentiment is, your friends trying to protect your feelings hurt even more in the long run. 

Hiei didn’t smile at just anyone like that.

“Hello!”, Botan’s hand waved in front of your face, obscuring your view of their conversation. “Earth to planet Y/N. Did you get any of what I just said?”

As much as you loved her, you needed Botan to move her hand within the next five milliseconds. 

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch it.” From the corner of your eye, Botan pouted, brows furrowed and hand still in your way. 

“Y/N”, a long drawn out whine of your name, it managed to snap your attention towards the reaper, ““What was the point of even asking me about the latest Spirit World gossip if you weren’t even going to listen?”

Of course, Botan could never know but, you only asked her so that you’d have a valid excuse to stay behind and attempt to eavesdrop on Hiei and Mukuro’s conversation. Hiei was frighteningly perceptive and you didn’t need to give him a reason to suspect you were jealous of Mukuro or even that you had feelings for him.

You snap out of your thoughts to see Botan’s hand snapping in your face once again. “Y/N, are you alright?”

At that, Hiei’s head turns, focus going from Mukuro to you. You look away the second his head turns and completely miss the concerned look Hiei spares you. 

“I-I’m fine Botan.”, she looks unconvinced, glancing at you, then Hiei, then you again.

Seems she’s put together the pieces, a cattish mischief takes over her expression, replacing the previously concerned one “Y/N, you sly devil, you’ve nothing to worry about my dear, you already know H-”

“Let’s just go Botan, please.”

Maybe any other day, she might have continued, but the sound of your voice on the cusp of tears gave her pause. As you dragged her along, she didn’t put up much of a fight; she didn’t say anything either, letting your thoughts be your only companion on the walk out.

You decided to look to the bright side of things.

Hiei dating Mukuro was the perfect opportunity for you to get over your feelings for him. No, you weren’t happy, in fact, some part of you fought, kicked, and screamed against your plan of action. But, that part of you could be repressed, along with the part of you that still had has feelings for Hiei.

It didn’t matter that you once thought you and Hiei’s relationship was deeper than that. It didn’t matter what Botan said, and it sure as hell didn’t matter what you felt. 

That’s another brightside. Now you could reexamine you and Hiei’s relationship from a much more (admittedly pessimistic) informed perspective. Apparently Hiei had already written you off in his mind, his cold behaviour towards you further cementing that.

Sure, he was cold to everyone but a part of you thought that maybe he was saving all of his softness for you, oh how wrong you were.

Heartbreak was a bitch, but you were determined to keep it together for as long as possible, and keeping it together involved avoiding Hiei completely, then so be it.

It had been nearly three weeks since you started your self-imposed ban, in all that time, you were proud to say that you’d only asked after Hiei once. You’d sought out Kurama and asked if he knew where the fire demon had gone. Ever the gentleman, Kurama didn’t comment on the desperation in your tone, he just smiled politely and informed you of a mission that Hiei had undertaken for Mukuro.

You didn’t ask about him anymore after that.

The feeling was strange, putting yourself back together when you were alone, yet saving face and remaining gracious in public. Your heart still ached, but you could find solace in knowing that Hiei was at the very least happy. 

Your progress halted one night, memories of Hiei and hopes of what could’ve been left your dreams tainted. If your heart was set on punishing your mind, it had succeeded. 

That same night, you went to the balcony of your apartment. If sleep would not come to you, at least you could watch the sunrise. As you sat there wrapped up in your blanket when the very man you’d been trying to avoid appeared in front of you.

“You’ve been missing.”, brief and to the point as he always was, Hiei spared no words on protecting feelings.

“I could say the same to you.”, this conversation needed to end quickly. Already you were on the verge of tears, the anger in Hiei’s voice sending your anxiety skyrocketing.

Even in the darkness, even when angry, Hiei was always someone to behold. You’d never been on the recieving end of his temper, he was kind to you, or so you thought. Perhaps he was just too aloof too care, either way, this sudden burst of anger is both unexpected and befitting of a fire demon.

“Y/N, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. Botan told me you got the compact I sent you, why didn’t you call me?!”

You don’t respond, merely looking at your feet, trying to hold back tears at the sound of his voice rising. Hiei moved closer, the shadow he cast growing larger and larger with each step. Soon, his shoes came into view, your mind tried to distract you with random one off facts about shoes. 

The moment he touched your chin, your plan failed, your brain short-circuited and you were forced to confront the fact that, despite your best efforts, you never even attempted getting over your feelings for him.

How could you, his hand was rough and warm, when he looked into your eyes, you were reminded of every reason you fell for him all at once.

“I can’t- I couldn’t”, your words fail you but Hiei waits patiently, deepening frown urging you to continue, “I couldn’t call you Hiei, you shouldn’t even be here.”

“What do you mean I can’t be here? I’ve been here a thousand times before and suddenly it’s a problem?!”

The tears you’d been desperately trying to keep at bay break through, it is with a watery and weak voice that you respond. “Hiei, Mukuro wouldn’t appreciate you being alone at my house so late.”

“The hell’s she got to do with it?!”, he yanked his hand off your chin, and you broke. Any semblance of maturity, pride, or dignity you had was completely gone now. If Hiei insisted on staying then he’d see the blubbering mess you were trying to hide. 

Hiei didn’t say anything, his usual callous nature pushed aside for a moment. At least you thought so, until you heard snickering coming from his direction.

“I don’t know what’s so funny Hiei.”, great, now you were pouting like a child. If he stayed any longer, maybe you’d throw a tantrum too. 

“Y/N really, I never took you for being this dumb.”

You opened your mouth to argue but you were caught off guard by Hiei taking your hands in his and sitting next to you. He laid his head in your lap, muttering about “stupid humans” and “isn’t it obvious”.

Together, you watched the sun rise and as the sun hit Hiei’s face you thought maybe, just maybe, Hiei could have feelings for you after all.

#hiei yu yu hakusho #yu yu hakusho x reader #x black reader #black reader #black!reader #hiei x reader #hiei x black reader #hiei yyh x reader #hiei jaganshi #yyh x reader #idontblushsrry

[darkkitsuneprincess]

Sweet Fantasies (Shingen x MC crack)

Pure, unadulterated crack, fresh from the depths of my sleep-deprived brain. I’m sorry not sorry.

This is probably a teaser for a longer something once Mitsuhide finishes torturing me in my mind *g* BECAUSE I WANT SHINGEN KITCHEN SMUT RIGHT NOW. Oooohhhhhh the places my mind goes with this. Why yes, I am an equal-opportunity Ikesen ho.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Title: Sweet Fantasies Pairing: Shingen x MC Rating: T (No smut, all crack. Sexytime insinuated)

Description: While enjoying a sunny day in the garden, Shingen and MC discuss something MC misses from the future. Silliness follows. 

------

The warmth of spring had finally arrived and the rain ceased, albeit temporarily. It was the first time in nearly two weeks the doors inside our home stood open, letting in the fresh air and allowing us out. I sat in the garden under a shower of cherry blossoms while Shingen worked on his latest project—a cradle for Yukimura and his new wife. The announcement hadn’t been made yet, but we could tell by the way Mariko carried herself that it would come soon. Many times over the last month I’d braved the incessant downpour to care for her during bouts of sickness while Shingen and Yuki were otherwise indisposed. The mental image of Yukimura figuring out how to handle a baby amused me so much that I couldn’t help laughing out loud.

“What, pray tell, brings my goddess such great joy?” Shingen asked. His head was bent against his work and wood shavings covered him from head to toe as he carved and sanded the rocker blades that would hold our gift.

“Just thinking about how much fun it will be to tease Yukimura about being a father,” I answered, still snickering.

Shingen laughed as well. “Lucky for Mariko, he’s a fast learner,” he said. This was true. Yuki might have been an awkward idiot, but he was sincere in everything he did and if it meant pleasing his wife, he’d go to the ends of the earth to do it. “It’s such a shame,” Shingen continued, still chuckling, “I have this goddess in my presence, yet she’s thinking of another man. I must be losing my touch.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so corny.”

“Perhaps.” Shingen placed his tools to the side and opened his arms. “Come here. I suddenly have the need to hold my angel.” His cheesy lines made my face heat, but I slipped into his lap without hesitation and lay my head against his shoulder. Everything this man did, he did with the sole purpose of making me smile.

A purr of satisfaction rumbled out from his chest, coursing through me in the most delicious way. It would be so easy to distract him with a kiss; to drag him back to our bedroom and spent yet another day wrapped up in each other. Though as much as I would’ve enjoyed it, the sunshine was too warm and wonderful to ignore.

“Tell me, my love,” Shingen said, his fingers coursing through my unbound hair, “what is it like to raise children in your time?”

“I don’t really know,” I answered. We’d talked about kids a lot over the last year since returning from the future, but despite Shingen’s best efforts, it hadn’t happened yet. “The birth process is much easier thanks to modern medicine. Painkillers, a couple of days in the hospital, and you’re home. I imagine it’s easier to care for a baby with things like electricity and refrigeration. If a mom can’t produce breast milk, there are easily available alternatives. A modern kitchen definitely helps when preparing a little one’s food.”

“That kitchen of yours certainly was a sight to behold.”

“You know, of all the things I miss from the future, I think I miss my kitchen the most.”

Shingen’s hand stilled in my hair. We often talked of the future, but not of the things I missed. I chose not to dwell on the conveniences I’d given up. When we first returned, Shingen asked me often if I regretted leaving and I always told him no. To mention something I miss meant I had his full attention.

“What makes you miss that kitchen so much?”

“You’ll think it’s silly.” I turned my face into his chest to hide my embarrassment and laughed.

“Nothing you say is silly. Tell me what you miss.”

I hesitated and he pulled me back by the shoulders. Shingen made me look at him despite the burning redness in my face.

“The raised counters,” I admitted, mortified. Shingen’s forehead creased and a small half-smile appeared on his lips.

“The counters? Why ever would that be the thing you miss most?”

“I…I can’t tell you that part.”

“My angel,” he started, his gaze darkening as he stared at me, “you must remember that I am a master of information. I have ways of extracting it from you.”

Ways I’d enjoy, no doubt…

I leaned back against his chest, wrapping my arms around him so I didn’t have to look at him. His arms slid back around me, cradling me against him like I was the most precious treasure in the world.

“So, there’s always this scene in romance novels where the heroine is in the kitchen and the hero comes in to see what she’s doing.” A hysterical giggle escaped my throat. I couldn’t believe I was telling him this.

“If you feel that way about it, it must be a particularly good fantasy.” His lips land on my forehead and his fingers work back into my hair, calming me.

“Well, yeah…it really is.”

“Tell me about it. What happens after he finds her in the kitchen?”

“He interrupts whatever she’s doing by coming up behind her and putting his arms around her. Then…”

“Go on.”

I take a deep breath. “He’ll distract her by kissing her. And then he’ll put her up on the counter and…”

“And then he ravishes her?” Shingen asked, entirely too interested in my little fantasy world. I nodded against his chest and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing again. “That is quite the fantasy, Princess. I understand why you would miss your counters so much.” There was a note of…is that jealousy?…in his voice. His shoulders tensed and though he didn’t say anything, I could tell he wasn’t pleased by the thought of me doing something like that with someone else.

“Shingen…” I inhaled again and leaned back, steeling myself against the surprising coldness in his gaze. When I touched his face with my fingertips, he didn’t lean into it like normal. “I…I’ve never actually done that, you know. I’ve just read about it and…”

And all the hardness in him melted away, replaced with a new, almost predatory determination.

“I see,” he replied. An indulgent smile appeared on his lips. “You miss the idea of raised counters because you think it means you’ll never have the chance to know how it feels for yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall give you your modern kitchen. I can think of nothing more arousing than my beautiful wife in her dream kitchen making sweets for me.”

“You always turn it around, don’t you? You make everything about you.”

“Of course,” he answered with a grin. “Now that my mind’s eye has shown me you in the kitchen, your belly rounded with our first child while you make those wonderful molasses dumplings of yours, I cannot unsee it.”

He pulled me close and kissed me, his skilled lips and talented fingers teasing over me and breaking down every inhibition I had and making me totally forget my witty retort about his various appetites. By the time he let me go, I was a quivering mass of need. He did such wonderful, horrible things to me. The jerk prided himself on it.

“Perhaps, my angel, I can assist in creating some new fantasies until that kitchen is ready.” He rose from the ground, lifting me in his arms like I weighed nothing, and turned for our bedroom, his lips finding mine again.

To be continued in a later story...

#ikesen #ikesen fanfic #ikesen shingen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku fanfic #ikemen sengoku shingen #crack #crackfic #what the hell was i thinking? #teaser fic

[shitihaveheardatwork]

See You In Hell, Bratz Passion 4 Fashion: Diamondz!

Contrary to the opinions of many of my peers, I think weeding is awesome and I love it. There’s little I find more satisfying than an item of obviously low quality with no demand whatsoever coming into my attention and having the privilege of removing it from circulation.

Just to be entirely clear, we’re not talking about “extreme” or “controversial” content. I’ve had that conversation done to death a thousand classroom-polarizing times before. We’re talking about cheap. We’re talking about cash-grab. We’re talking about no artistic, cultural, spiritual, or even material value.

We’re talking about Bratz Passion 4 Fashion; Diamondz.

Some personal history first: I’m old enough that my last big toy phase before I reached the special level of adolescence where you have to openly condemn everything you once held dear as a child was Bionicles. I had the black bionicle from every generation up until that point, as well as a complete set of those little rolly-polly guys with the stretchy necks. I don’t know what they were called and I couldn’t be bothered to look it up for this lil micro-essay here.

What’s important is that they were cool. They did action-y stuff, I felt smart putting them together.

Waaaay Cooler, Smarter, Action-y, and REAL than my sister’s interests! Polly Pocket? Dumb! Pre-bronification MLP? Barf! Bratz? How fake can you get? Those were just shallow pieces of plastic made by toy companies. Not like my precious bionicles. So cool. So adult. So smart.

Then I watched the first Bionicle movie when it was on TV and realized I too was a cog in an elaborate toy commercial scheme. Something clicked in my horny mushy pre-teen brain, and I put away all my old favorite toys forever. It was now time to be shitty and elitist about intangible concepts instead, a hobby I’d keep until my early 20′s. But in addition to a change in hobbies, I also started to be a little bit less shit to my sister about her toys.

This confession out of the way, I don’t think my sister would have stopped me from throwing this DVD directly into the trash. My sister didn’t become a high-fallutin’ working-class intelligentsia asshole like her big brother, and we have nothing comparable in terms of media taste, but I think she would support me 100% if I told her I sent this DVD straight to hell. In fact I might call her later just to confirm. This disk was bad, is the moral of my story.

It took six paragraphs, but let’s talk about Day 3 on the job!

It was just me and Lisa today. I’ve upgraded from liking Lisa to absolutely loving working with Lisa. We talked everything from how her kids are doing to politics (she brought up Tr#mps latest satire-destroying phone call) to video-gaming to the history of animation. I genuinely like talking to her and it’s a shame she’s just filling in. If a job opens up at her branch, I’d apply for it, no question.

My boss Wallace, “Yer dad”-level queerphobe and Ron Swanson-esque libertarian, was putting out a metaphorical fire at another branch and I didn’t have to deal with him at all.

I did my opening routine. Checking the drop box, collecting the pull list, putting together holds, refiling returned materials, preparing ILL material, checking my work email, and the like. I was done with it all in about 90 minutes, with 4 hours left to go on my shift.

Wallace had told me to fill the time with anything I can qualify as “professional development” the week before, so I spent some time reading articles on the ALA website and googling “anarcho-librarianism” just to see what would happen. I found an abandoned blog and a twitter.

Then I remembered oh shit. I have to make a twitter don’t I

I don’t like twitter. I’ve tried to use it. I don’t get it. I’m too old to learn a new app. It’s impossible.

And yet I must. That’s where The Discourse is happening. That’s where the minds in my field are saying things. If I’m taking my career seriously, if I want to get a grip on the currents in my profession, I have to bite that checkmarked bullet. Stand by for updates on my professional twitter.

I got bored of being on the ALA site and ran out of productive things to google, and decided to look around the building for abandoned projects and mysteries to solve. It didn’t take long to find one, when I found a cart in the work room with a pile of DVDs in paper sleeves.

“Scratched” a post-it note on top said.

I asked Lisa if she knew how long these had been here, and she confirmed that they were in fact a hold-over from the previous staff that had left in a mass exodus some months before.

Well cool, I thought. I’ll see if these are too fucked up to play.

Commence with an hour of consuming children’s media, a few seconds of a minute at a time. I was fortunate that the work computers both had CD drives AND VLC media player! Thank you, past cool supervisor who put VLC on the work machines! Good call!

So I “watched” a few Dora The Explorers, a Care Bears film, that Trolls movie, Hotel Transylvania, and a Barbie horse adventure film, watching a few seconds before skipping a minute ahead to see if it would choke and skip.

See here’s the thing about scratched CDs. They’re weird. You can have a CD that’s fucked up completely (looking at you, my copy of Rollercoaster Tycoon 1) that still somehow plays fine like it just came out of the box. Sometimes scratches will seem totally superficial but goof up just enough microscopic binary that no machine will touch it. All these DVDs were ugly as sin, but that didn’t mean they were broken did it?

And it turns out a lot of them worked fine. That’s how I ended up watching Bratz Passion 4 Fashion: Diamondz which, unfortunately, played fine.

As I put the disk into the drive I remembered my sister’s participation in the Bratz toy craze. As an adult, a real one not the one I told myself I was at 13, I told myself that I might have a bias against this content, to just check the disk and not get judgy about what might be a kids favorite movie.

I uh... I failed to do that. BUT IT’S OK BECAUSE MY BIAS IS TOTALLY JUSTIFIED AND MY JUSTIFICATION IS RIGHT HERE

If you didn’t or don’t want to click the link, it’s a scene where the Bratz Diamonds are about to head out on some sort of fashion trucking marathon/race. Like any proper racer, the blonde at the wheel has a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, has just put their rig in gear, and in proper high-octane fashion, puts on a knowing smirk.

Except the smirk is, well... the animators just stretched the lips across the face further. I can’t do it justice, you just have to watch it, but I’ve done better animating just by pan-and-scanning around Windows Movie Maker.

This... isn’t content anybody needs. But I’m a librarian. I’m sworn to access. So the question becomes, does anyone want it?

I had to know, I had to know, how much circulation has this gotten? When was the last time this disk was in the hands of anybody at all besides me?

I popped it into Evergreen and behold: 15 check-outs since 2006 when it was released. No checkouts in the last 2 years.

I asked Lisa the proper procedure for removing something from the catalog, and in only a moment the deed was done. The case was repurposed, the disk trashed, the DVD cover recycled. It was time to go. I’d spent my remaining hours quasi-consuming children’s media.

I placed most of what I’d watched in a new pile, which I labeled “SCRATCHED BUT WORK FINE.” I placed one lone Barbie horse movie in a different pile labeled “SCRATCHED AND DOES NOT WORK.”

I felt like I’d accomplished something. I turned off the lights and I went home.

#adventures in librarianship #thisisme #work journal

[mechabones]

WE NEED A SWAT!GAVIN FIC. Your art is 😤😤😤 A+ content. Imagining Swat!Gavin coming after Gangster Nines and all the potential angst and shenanigans.

First of all, thank you for liking my art, I appreciate it !! Second of all, with my Mafia!AU still in the works, I may have Gavin be in the SWAT rather than being a detective but I haven’t quite decided just yet but until then, allow my angsty ass to indulge you, just a little bit-

⚠️ALSO A QUICK EDIT! I’ve changed the ending because it was too open ended & was percieved as a major character death bc I wasn’t specific enough & I don’t want to upset anybody, my apologies!⚠️

There had been a lot of murmurs & talk about the DPD closing in on a current underground drug operation that was sweeping through Detroit like a chaotic storm, threatening to destroy everything in its wake. 

Red Ice; the latest drug carefully crafted from Thirium 310. Nobody knew who the mastermind behind the creation was, all they knew was that the drug was highly addictive, caused people to become violent & bodies were dropping. Fast.

It had taken months of planning, months of sleepless nights & crafting the perfect plan so that this time, there was no possible way for the bastards creating the drug to slip through their fingers. The SWAT team were finally, fucking finally, close enough to take out the whole operation by cutting the head off of the snake. 

They were going arrest the bastard who started it all.

Captain Allen had since stepped down from leading the SWAT since they had been given the all clear to take point on the investigation. Nobody was sure as to why SWAT were handling it, but it did make sense seeing as they had the men, the gear, the weapons. All of it.

These were tough, military trained assholes & at the front of it all was Gavin Reed. The man who took bullets, stab wounds & had been tortured on more than one occasion thanks to being too bullheaded to accept help. But, he always came out on top, ready to take out the bastard who crossed him. 

He was messy & arrogant but since becoming the leader of a team he put his full trust & faith in, he was becoming the best version of himself.

Or at least, that was until he met Nines. Notorious. Nefarious. Iniquitous in every way.

All it was supposed to be was an easy - straight in, straight out - recon mission to map out the basics of the warehouse in which they had calculated the mysterious Nines would be. Nobody knew what he looked like, or what he sounded like for that matter. All they knew was that he was the leader of it all.

But nothing could ever be easy, could it? Not when Gavin fucking Reed was involved. Wherever he went, complications followed.

A team of five - including Reed - had made their way through the warehouse, splitting off in separate directions to cover more ground quickly. Everything was going smoothly, radioing in their locations every so often to stay in check. 

But, as Reed found himself in a large, almost empty room, with simply a table, a chair, his radio tuning in static & a man standing, looking out of the window, he knew shit was going to get arduous. Fast. He could feel it. 

“Put your fucking hands up, asshole! You’re done! We’ve got every inch of this shithole covered!” Reed spat as he drew his gun, pointing it directly at the man’s back. His aim was steady, finger on the trigger. But, as the man raised one hand, that confidence quickly faltered as he felt the familiar, cold barrel of a gun being shoved against the base of his skull. 

Fuck.

Gavin swallowed thickly, frozen in place at the mild fear of his brains being blown out at one wrong move. So instead, he simply stood; gun still pointing at the mysterious man who seemed completely unphased by being held at gunpoint & he could have sworn he felt the air shift around him as the gangster turned to face him, covering the space between them in a matter of seconds.

“What the fuc-Wait, Connor?!” 

“On the contrary, hm, Reed, was it?” An inquisitive look sat on the face that so similarly resembled Connor Stern. The sultry voice he’d grown to love filled Gavin’s ears & all he could do was stare dumbly as the gangster took the gun Reed was pointing at him, tucking it into the back of his black dress pants nonchalantly, without bothering to click the safety back on.

No, this wasn’t the man he had been crushing on for months. This was the taller, scarier, icier version. And as much as he hated to admit it, this was far more his type. His features were more chiseled, sharper cheekbones, wider jawline. There were no puppy brown eyes, instead they were dangerous storms of grey. There was no softness to his voice; it was candid. Detached from emotion.

There were warning bells in his head, screaming at him to run away before he gets himself any deeper in the shit. But, he always did lack basic self preservation.

“How do you kn-”

“The one & only Gavin Reed. I’ve been waiting for you, Gavin. Watching your every move. All I needed was Allen out of the picture & I could have you all to myself. Have you follow the trails I had planted. Get your men on my side. Oh how easy it was to have you believing any of this at all was of your own volition. I hope I’m not a disappointment to the image you have built of my brother. But, my name is Nines.” A coy, maniacal grin played the gangster’s lips as he waved his left hand a single time & the gun that was digging into Gavin’s skull disappeared.

Only then did Reed let out the heavy breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Glancing over his shoulder, lo & behold, there was his team. Two guarding the door, two with their guns pointed directly at him. Of fucking course. 

He wasn’t sure which was worse. His team being fucking crooked or the detective he had more than a crush on has a psychopathic brother who he had been trying to throw in prison for months.

“How long?!” When no response came, he tried again. “How fucking long?!” 

Fuck, was he angry. Realizing that every step he had taken, every plan, every God damn breath he took was all a set up. Even Captain Allen mysteriously stepping down, leaving an open space for someone to step up & lead the SWAT was a ruse. To get him here. Right in the jaws of a hungry shark.

It hurt. He knew he didn’t have what it took to be a leader, he was a fucking disaster on a good day. But, the team were so quick to support him & listen to his ideas, to follow his plans. He would have taken a bullet for any one of these backstabbing pricks but as it turned out, they were the ones pulling the trigger.

“I don’t, I, fuck. I don’t understand.” He didn’t even bother to hide the way his voice cracked & wavered from the ache of knowing his team were corrupt. It was like the world was slowly falling apart around him but he was the only one who was falling into the abyss.

“Join me, Gavin. You don’t even have to get your hands dirty. You can keep your place in the SWAT or I can find you a place as a detective if you’d prefer. Although, I’d rather not have to see you drooling over that incompetent brother of mine.” There was a charming softness to the way in which Nines was speaking, as if he wasn’t a notorious murderer-drug lord. 

Gavin hated himself for it, he really did, but the way the ache in his chest ebbed away as the gangster spoke to him as if he were the only man in the room had him genuinely contemplating the offer that was being put on his plate.

But, he was no dirty cop. 

As Nines swatted a hand, barking out, “leave us”, the other men in the room filed out without daring to question his authority. Fuck, he really did have the whole of the DPD wrapped around his finger. It made Gavin wonder just how many of his actions had been Nines pulling at his strings.

Once the door was shut behind them, Nines raked his eyes over the officer, looking him up & down, causing Gavin to swallow nervously, as if it’d somehow stop his mouth from feeling so dry.

The gangster closed the space between them once more as he placed a hand on Gavin’s cheek. His touch was strangely warm, the polar opposite to what Reed had expected considering his icy demeanor.

“Join me, Gavin.” The gangster repeated, this time barely above a murmur, his eyes carefully studying every single one of the imperfections that littered Gavin’s face from the 36 years of poor life choices, his thumb gently brushing along a scar that sat proudly on Reed’s upper cheekbone.

“I can give you anything you desire, Gavin. Just say the word.” The words fell heavy in the air around them as Nines tilted his head very slightly, his grey eyes gleaming with the look that a child would have on Christmas. 

Nobody, not in the 36 years of being on this planet, had anybody ever looked at Gavin in the way Nines was right in that very moment. Gavin had spent months pining over Connor, dreaming of him looking at him in the same way Nines was doing. 

Connor barely even noticed his presence no matter how hard he tried. The only time Connor ever gave him the time of day was if he had been told to regarding a case. But, this brother, hell, this brother was giving him every ounce of his attention without needing to be told to. 

Nines looked at him like he was his property. There were those warning bells in his mind again. Reminding him to stop thinking with his dick for 5 minutes to realise how dire the situation he was in was.

Fuck it, what did he have to lose? It wasn’t like he had a team that relied on him or anything.

Without a word, Gavin’s hands wound their way into the lapels of Nines’ blazer, yanking the gangster forward so their lips pressed together like waves breaking at the shoreline. Violent, rough, messy. Just how he liked it.

The gangster deepened the kiss with no hesitation, swiping his tongue along Gavin’s lower lip as the officer worked at shoving Nines’ blazer from off of his shoulders. The man made a soft sound of disappointment as his white blazer hit the dirty floor, as if somehow his clothes getting dirty was more important than what was going on between them in the moment.

With a roll of his eyes, Reed pressed his body flush against the gangster, his hands dropping to the man’s belt, but, rather than undoing it, he ran his hands along Nines’ hipbones & around his sides, pulling away from the kiss barely an inch to catch his breath. 

“Y’know-” Gavin began, a small grin falling upon his face at the feeling of Nines’ warm breath on his lips. “-I prefer brown eyes...” As his sentence trailed off, in one swift motion, he used the hand that was on Nines’ hip to grab his gun that the gangster had sitting in the back of his belt, ready to point it directly at him.

But, as always, Nines was one step ahead.

Before Gavin had the chance to point the gun at the gangster, the taller man gripped his wrist, slamming the officer up against the wall, pressing on Gavin’s wrist until his arm was pressed against his own chest, the barrel of his gun pressing beneath his own chin.

“Such a shame. My brother always did have a thing for taking away my toys.” Mirth dripped from his words as he carefully wrapped his hand around the one that belonged to Gavin that was holding the gun, his finger finding it’s way over Gavin’s finger that was on the trigger.

The pure trepidation swimming in Gavin’s eyes had the maniacal grin returning to Nines’ face, ever so gently applying pressure to his finger, relishing in the way Gavin was trying to push back so he didn’t accidentally pull the trigger & shoot himself.

It felt as though the floor was falling through from beneath him, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared into those eyes that he assumed once had an ounce of emotion that had since been frozen over.

“I could have given you everything, Gavin. Anything at all & yet again, you had to make another bad decision.” The gangster sighed in disappointment, his finger tightening around Gavin’s that was on the trigger once more.

Click.

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut as he was forced to pull the trigger, heart thudding in his chest as he expected to feel everything then nothing all at once. But nothing came. No gunshot. No pain. Nothing.

Empty. The gun was fucking empty.

#i hope ur happy with the angst #anyways. im in such a mood to write about Gangster!Nines pls gimmeh more #Reed900 #dbh #detroit become human #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh gavin reed #dbh nines #rk900 #prompts w/ Fangs #swat au

[dojae-huh]

i have a friend and she has some problems with a boy from her class. he was first sticking to her, then insulting her, then keeping in touch with her and one again hurting her. i don't wanna tell details because this situation is a mess and she was very stressed because of him, they need to work together daily. once we were talking i tried to analyze him based on his behaviour and what might he think and how can his brain work - just as you do on this blog and i was inspired by you. (1/2)

we ended up with very long conservation and just understanding that he can act as X because his brain doesn’t allow different solution. we tried to understand him this way. after some time my friend said it helped a lot and she stopped worrying much though he still acts his way. allowing herself to understand he can think differently and that she cannot change that helped her deal with stress and nervousness that he caused to her.

------

I’m glad to hear it.

We naturally tend to think that something is wrong with us (“What did I do?”, “Was I wrong?”, “Am I that pitiful/unworthy/ugly?”) or that a behaviour is targeted specifically at us. In most cases though, we are not the reason, we just happen to be there at the moment and be the receiver. 

For example. For hundreds of thousands of years people evolved living in large family groups/tribes. Because of it there is a very strong embeded xenophobia in humans. A human from another tribe is an enemy, that can kill and eat you. Yes, you belong to the same species, but you occupy the same land and eat the same food, so you are in competition for resources and survival. Thus there are many behavioural mechanisms and tricks of mind that on one hand unite relatives/family and on the other hand turn aliens into monsters. 

Russians and Ukranians are slavs. Majority of Ukranians speak Russian, because Ukraine used to be a republic of USSR. Both peoples were called “brother nations”, have similar cuisine and mentality, are hard to tell apart looks wise. But then the occupation of Crimea happened, the media started to blame the other side and use words like “fascists”, “traitors”, “enemy”, etc. Lo and behold, friends of the past turned on each other. It were dirty politicians who in their struggle for power did the wrong, just a few people, but as a result the two nations are now brothers no more, separated and divided and it won’t change anytime soon. A factory worker from Ukraine did nothing wrong to a factory worker from Russia, but they will hate each other all the same for the sole reason of “US” (slavs, soviet people) breaking into “US” and “THEM”. 

Another example. A person doesn’t call and doesnn’t update his/her parent with latest news. The said person has narrow focus and tends to be easily distracted and forget things, especially when there is a lot of things that happen at the same time. The parent is an emotional and worrying person. In such a case, the parent whithout a call would imagine the worst outcome or believe that their child hates them, ignores them on purpose. 

Another example. A fanfic author posts a maxi and receives very few comments. The author put a lot of time and effort into the work and wants feedback, naturally. Not receiving it, the author gets discouraged: “Was my fanfic that bad?”, “How can they be so ungrateful?”, “Am I not worthy the praise?”, “Why nobody likes me and what I do?”. In reality: a) some readers can’t put their impressions and thoughts into words and are shy to leave short or “stupid” comments, b) some readers wanted to leave a comment, but were distracted and forgot to do it later on, c) some readers never leave comments, hesitant to write in a foreign language or simply thinking that a Like is enough to express their gratitude. 

It is extremely hard to do, it takes time and practice, but it is important to accept the truth of the statement: “I’m not to blame. They are not to blame. It all happens because of human nature and circumstances.” 

[hornyliverpudlianputz]

What are some TV shows that you highly recommend? (I love The Monkees, but they don't have to be similar to it) Thanks!

Hhhoooo boyyyyyy. Ok I’m going in completely blind here so I will take the shotgun approach. (Bless you anon, I love recommending things.) 

Classic comedies -

The Dick Van Dyke Show: an absolute comedy classic, and Rose Marie and Mary Tyler Moore are main characters! Is great! Can get a little sexist at times but honestly not as bad as it could have been. It’s in black and white and, as a product of the time, Van Dyke will frequently kiss his young son on the mouth in greeting. It is NOT sexual AT ALL but if that makes you uncomfortable, be warned.

I Love Lucy: duh. I mean do I even have to describe this one? Watch it, it’s great!

The Carol Burnett Show: another very funny lady. Their sketch parody of “Gone With The Wind” had me laughing so hard I was not physically producing sound any more.

Get Smart: a spy comedy from the 60s, The Monkees reference it a few times. Has some ridiculously funny catchphrases.

Hogan’s Heroes: set in a WWII POW camp in Germany, is basically a funny version of the howling commandos from Captain America. Again, sexist as a product of their time, but funny none the less. One of the first major sitcoms to have a main black character, and has a lot of behind-the-scenes epicness. Obviously, because of the setting, the main antagonists are Nazis, but I feel it’s important to point out that they are made to look incompetent at ever turn. (A lot of the main/reoccurring cast are either Jewish or come from Jewish families, and the actor who plays LeBeau is actually a Holocaust survivor. Trust me when I say the Nazis never win.)

MASH: you probably see me post about this a lot here besides The Monkees, I love this show. It’s very long, 11 seasons, and transforms over the course of it’s run from a slapstick comedy to a short drama with witty jokes. It’s set in a mobile medical unit during the Korean War so it can get pretty bloody and does not shy away from gallows humor. Is sexist at the beginning but it gets better, same with period typical racism towards Asians. (The guy who plays BJ, a main character, was a guest on The Monkees and I LOST MY SHIT.)

Monty Python’s Flying Circus: a British sketch comedy show from the 70s. These are the same people who do “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” and “Life of Brian” so they are very funny. Unfortunately a lot of it was political satire at the time so it has the tendency to go completely over our heads now, but still great. Other British sketch comedies I love include A Bit of Fry and Laurie with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie and Not The Nine O’Clock News that has Rowen Atkinson.

Classic dramas - 

Dragnet: I haven’t had a huge opportunity to watch a lot of this, but it’s an old police procedural that actually started as a radio drama. It’s a bit stiff, but it’s NOT as bad as Ben Casey so I’d give it a try.

Star Trek: classic 60s, you had to have seen this coming. Horrifically cheesy special effects, costumes, acting, and music, but man has it got heart. Please do also check out all of the other Star Treks.

Columbo: this is an epic police procedural that turns the typical formula on it’s head; the audience follows the murderer rather than the detective. Basically we watch the lead-up to the crime, usually the crime itself, and then we watch Detective Columbo come in and destroy the criminal piece by piece. It’s great and Peter Falk is a national treasure. Suffers from “black people don’t exists” 70s syndrome, but is basically about rich white people killing each other because they have too much time on their hands so like. Yeah.

More recent shows that are no longer running -

The West Wing: listen. This show is one of the only dramas to effectively work really good comedy writing into itself. It will also teach you about American politics and you won’t mind. I sat down to start this show thinking I would watch one episode to give it a try and then go to bed. I watched 3 in a row. Also Martin Sheen I mean come on.

Psych: very funny crime show about an adult child with daddy issues and his fiscally responsible best friend solving crimes by pretending to be psychic because the police wouldn’t believe he has hyperobservational skills. Has great character development and does not take itself seriously at all. Great show.

Leverage: do you like heists? Well this show does a heist an episode. Basically it’s a team of specialized criminals that work together to Robin Hood it up as they learn to love each other as family. What’s not to love.

Due South: again, I have had little opportunity to actually watch this, but it’s about a Canadian Mountie working with the Chicago PD. Hijinks ensue. Also apparently ghosts get involved later? Can’t wait.

Teen Wolf: ok so like. This is closer to brain candy than Really Great Writing but. The main cast is solid and it’s a fun supernatural drama. I did a rant post at one point about the super good background queer rep so you know. Also Dylan O’Brien.

Black Sails: a show combining fictional pirate characters from “Treasure Island” with real historical pirates while events that set up “Treasure Island” occur. It is extremely full on, expect nudity, violence, rape, flashbacks, and swearing. However it handles these issues well, and gets aggressively more queer as the show goes on. Also the ladies kick ass.

Scrubs: it didn’t age super well, and we don’t talk about the last season, but this is a very funny medical comedy that is sort of the inverse of The West Wing in terms of writing; this is a comedy that does dramatic writing really well. It’s in a hospital though so like, gross and sad things happen sometimes.

Shows that are currently airing -

Letterkenny: I post about this occasionally here, it’s a very funny Canadian comedy about a small rural town. The dialogue can be difficult to follow because it uses a lot of Canadian slang and is very quick fire, but it’s hilarious. Has the benefit of not only including Native characters, but actually casting Native actors in those roles. Has the most creative swearing I have ever witnessed and it is glorious to behold. Is getting progressively more queer. Also, while sexy fun times are talked about, thus far there is absolutely no PDA, not even kissing, on screen which, as an aroace, is nice.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: a cop comedy. Racially and sexually diverse, is still holding up after 5 seasons. Has the distinction of not going down hill after acting on romantic tension between main characters. Brilliantly satirical writing and will call absolutely anyone out.

BoJack Horseman: extremely dark Netflix animated comedy. It covers a lot of intense subjects like depression, substance abuse, emotional abuse, and self-loathing, but it explores them in a really well-written way. Has the distinction of making one of the main characters (Todd) realize he is ace over the course of the series, and it is the best damn ace rep I have ever seen. Suffers from a fanbase of dudebros who try to use the main character to excuse their actions, but literally called itself out for this in the latest season. Epic.

Archer: an animated comedy about a spy organization that is made up of people who cannot work together because they are awful and selfish. Is hysterically funny but quite raunchy and hints at larger issues, like alcoholism and emotional abuse. But again, dark comedy.

That’s all I’ve got anon, and if anyone has recommendations for me hmu!

#ask and ye shall recieve #holocaust mention #rape mention #abuse mention #substance abuse mention #racism mention #sexism mention #personal #man i watch too much tv

[true-halloween-tales]

2018: #2-GUIDE TO DOCTOR WHO

Previously, cult horror-related tv series such as The Night Stalker, Dark Shadows, and the Outer Limits have been examined. Even though Doctor Who is primarily a science fiction tv series, over its 55 year history it has delved into horror many times. After Darren McGavin’s The Night Stalker series was cancelled in 1975, I sadly still tuned in at the same day and time in case it ever came back (see 2015: #5-GUIDE TO THE NIGHT STALKER). Weepers! Eventually it was recommended to me to watch this Doctor Who show, but I was not interested in another Marcus Welby, MD series at age 6. I tuned in anyways to find an argumentative older man yelling at people, and I soon became bored and quit watching the series. However, I was encouraged to persist and watch further episodes, so I did. One twenty-two minute episode was shown a day. A few episodes later and the older argumentative man was now in an apocalyptic world with people devolving into monstrous green werewolves! It was terrifying! I was hooked!

Doctor Who was scheduled to premier on November 22, 1963, but it was delayed until the following day due to the assassination of President Kennedy. It features an alien, a Timelord, who can change its body, and currently the Doctor’s latest body is female as played by Jodie Whitaker, with her debut episode appearing for the first time this Sunday afternoon! This alien serves often as the savior of the Earth as well as the closest the universe has to being a good, near-godlike force. The original series ran from 1963-1989 featuring the Doctors’s first seven bodies or “regenerations.” In 1996 Doctor Who returned in a U.S. production with a new regeneration of both the Doctor and his primary villain, the Master. In 2005 the new series continued with a new regeneration, but in later seasons it is revealed that one regeneration was skipped between the tv movie and the new series. This regeneration, technically the ninth, played by John Hurt, renamed himself the War Doctor. The new series has also featured the Eleventh Doctor, played by David Tennant, who consumed a regeneration to heal himself, and eventually the Doctor used all of his thirteen regenerations. But he got more, and he even doesn’t know how many.

There are a variety of rare facts about Doctor Who. A spacesuit costume from the series was reused in the Empire Strikes Back and worn by the scaly bounty hunter, Bossk. Peter Cushing starred as Doctor Who in two movies in the 1960’s (see 2018: #1-GREAT HORROR FILM ACTORS). The two color movies are remakes of popular televised stories featuring the evil alien race, the Daleks. One of the films, 1966’s Dalek’s Invasion Earth 2150 AD, included British comedian Bernard Cribbins as a police officer, and he joined the tv series in 2007 as another character. The movies differed from the tv series by Cushing portraying the character as a human, not an alien. There is an original pilot of the series from 1963 that had a significant scene removed from the first story, An Unearthly Child. The First Doctor, portrayed by William Hartnell, shares that he and his granddaughter are from the year 5,000 and may be humans. By cutting that from the final broadcast, it made alien bodily regeneration a much more plausible concept. The Doctor also is not always the benevolent good guy. In An Unearthly Child, the Doctor prepares to cut the throat of an unconscious caveman because he is annoyed and wants to leave prehistoric Earth. In Doctor Who canon, there is still at loose a future evil incarnation of the Doctor, once known as the Valeyard. Big Finish has dozens of the continued audio adventures of previous regenerations of the Doctor including many of the surviving actors who played the Doctor as well as supporting cast members.

There is much written about Doctor Who, but for the purposes of Halloween we are primarily interested in horror episodes as well as potential crazy costumes that could be made based on aliens in the series. If you have a spare plunger and a box, you can make a Dalek costume. Dressing as one of the regenerations of the Doctor is easy if you have any of the specific costume elements. The easiest is probably to dress as the Third Doctor with a velvet smoking jacket. A lot depends upon if you require your costume to be widely recognizable to not. Don’t dress as the Doctor’s time and space vehicle, a blue police box, the Tardis; that is stupid. The three best aliens to create costumes for include: Alpha Centauri, appearing as a green, hermaphroditic, one-eyed Beholder from Dungeons & Dragons with a high pitched voice (see 2015: #3-STRANGE MONSTERS FROM DUNGEONS & DRAGONS). Alpha Centauri is one of the few characters from the original series that have reappeared in the new series. Another amusing costume option is the Face of Boe, a large sleepy head resembling a Japanese Nuppeppo yokai (see 2018: #10-YOKAI). Or perhaps an alien from the planet Vortis which are large, vaguely humanoid insects, such as the Menoptra bee/butterfly people. Doctor Who is a series that offers cosplayers a huge amount of possible costumes as well. The series is a wealth of creativity.

Doctor Who has a lot of episodes, and out of the entire series, here are the ten best horror-related stories:

10-The Chase: features the First Doctor encountering Dracula and the Frankenstein monster.

9-The Unquiet Dead: Christopher Eccelston, technically the Tenth Doctor, finds zombies and dead ghost-like aliens possessing bodies.

8-The Pyramids of Mars: the Fourth Doctor, Tom Baker, has major problems with an Egyptian god and his mummy servants.

7-The Brain of Morbius: Baker’s Frankenstein episode, but featuring a Hitler-like Timelord trying to be more than just a brain in a jar.

6-Midnight: Tennant in a tense, claustrophobic episode about a telepathic thing outside of a stalled tour bus on a deadly planet.

5-State of Decay: Baker versus a giant vampire, the ancient enemy of the Timelords, on a planet ruled by vampires.

4-The Daemons: The Third Doctor, Jon Pertwee, dealing with a giant horned demon running across the English countryside, summoned up by a satanic cult led by The Master.

3-The Impossible Planet / The Satan Pit: Tennant discovers the physical, Godzilla-sized body of the Devil himself, a being from the universe that existed before this one.

2-The Seeds of Doom: Baker meets The Thing, including in a polar setting.

1-Inferno: Pertwee popped into a parallel world and is faced with a dreadful apocalypse with the planet rapidly being destroyed, people devolving into green werewolves, the world is ending and there is nothing he can do. This scared the crap out of me when I was six years old. The episode set a Guinness Book of Worlds Record for the longest drop by a stuntman. It is also one of the longest complete stories.

There are many other Halloween-worthy episodes of Doctor Who. The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances are two very popular episodes with Eccleston in WW2 investigating very creepy unexplained phenomenon, and he also meets John Barrowman’s very popular assistant, Captain Jack, in that story. The Caves of the Androzani is an acclaimed Phantom of the Opera story with the Fifth Doctor, Peter Davison. Werewolves appeared in Tennant’s second story, Tooth and Claw. An infamous mummy appeared in Mummy on a Train with the Thirteenth Doctor, Peter Capaldi. Many of Patrick Troughton’s episodes, who is the Second Doctor, are lost and missing. But there is surviving footage of his stories versus the Abominable Snowmen, who were quite frightening skulking about in the London sewers. A prehistoric lizardman species is discovered on Earth in Pertwee’s The Silurians, and an aquatic version of the species is encountered in Pertwee’s The Sea Devils, one of my all-time favorite stories of the series. The Master as virtually an undead lich appears in Baker’s The Deadly Assassin (see 2013: #10-LICHES). Baker’s The Horror of Fang Rock flows just like a horror film, with people barricaded in a lighthouse to escape a prowling monster. The largest monster that has appeared in the series was a tentacled, Lovecraftian swamp monster the size of a city in Baker’s The Power of Kroll. Doctor Who tends to be at its best when delving into horror.

There are some noteworthy Doctor Who stories that were planned or written, but they were not made. The adventures that almost happened! Pertwee’s Third Doctor was planned to start the tenth season with “Deathworld.” It was about the President of the Timelords basically playing chess with Death, and he summoned up the first three Doctors to be pawns in his game. The Doctors were to materialize in the Underworld to face the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse as well as personification of the Seven Deadly Sins. Content from the plot seems to have drifted into the stories: The Three Doctors and The Five Doctors. Pertwee’s final story had to be changed because the actor portraying the First Master, Roger Delgado, was killed in a car accident. “The Final Game” was planned to reveal that the Doctor and the Master just were not brothers, but they were the same person – divided into two halves – with the Doctor effectively being a Freudian ego and the Master as the id. Both the Master and the Doctor were planned to die in “The Final Game.” The Master was going to permanently die saving the Doctor, yet the Doctor would regenerate. There was also a second U.S. tv movie planned with McGann’s Eighth Doctor which would have included a major redesign of the Daleks. A third Peter Cushing film was planned but cancelled, Daleks vs. Mechons, based on the story, The Chase.

I have attended some science fiction conventions and have had correspondences with some of the stars of the series. I met Pertwee several times, including once with Elizabeth Sladden, aka the assistant, Sarah Jane Smith, at the Granada Theatre in Chicago in 1989. I met and chatted with Tom Baker who is really tall, about the various death scenes he had in various roles. But I spent an entire morning with Peter Davison, Sandra Dickinson, his then wife who appeared in The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, and the series producer, John Nathan Turner, wearing a bad Hawaiian shirt. We all sat together with less than ten others and watched Davison’s excellent Cyberman story, Earthshock, more than a year before it aired in the United States. There is nothing better than sitting next to the lead actor in Doctor Who and watching them star in the series in a great story. I had correspondence with the Sixth Doctor, Collin Baker, who wrote me that he was not sure how much longer the BBC would keep him in the role, and he was fired shortly later. I also ran into the enigmatic Seventh Doctor, Sylvester McCoy at a bar the night before a convention. I was sitting with the stars of the cult British science fiction series, Blakes 7 including Gareth Thomas, Paul Darrow, and Brian Blessed (see 2011: #7-SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTIONS). Over the shoulder of Gareth Thomas could be seen Sylvester McCoy sitting at the bar by himself, silently and sadly meditating on his ale. I had correspondence with another Master, Anthony Ainley, one of my favorite actors in Doctor Who, and he wrote back to me on his wonderful Master stationery.

Doctor Who offers a wealth of treasures for Halloween. If not costume ideas, then sheer entertainment. I am very much looking forward to the new season starting this weekend. Not only has the lead actor changed but so has the entire production team, sets, producers, etc. I was totally turned off by the previous Steven Moffat production team, so I am looking forward to the new Chris Chibnall team. It’s one of the only series that regularly reinvents itself, and few series exceed being fifty years old. Just about anything goes in Doctor Who, from very odd aliens to all sorts of monsters – even McCoy’s Seventh Doctor encounters a dragon in one story (on Monday see 2018: #3-DRAGONS)…

#doctor who #female doctor #true halloween tales #horror

[libidomechanica]

“the bowers”

Bitts of splendours, mirrhor, as  when he  was my death, or  wake an end! Deep as  they still— the bowers, 

from a natural  order,—were applause  foul demonstrance, Julia  closet-gods they behold talking  of war;—t will 

bear, my soul at once write, knowing  pomp, nor the  publick Good, by nation. And  taking like a  flail, great: the Prince: the 

Palmyrene that  were left but what he wondering  or vocal  air, and puzzled Natures; then  we meet in thee, and 

lie couched on till his  man quite terrible enough  they tell ye whats  hollow on the  shadowes han vs 

assayde, here  and whisperd Juan stands the  serpents to  the gentleman  to knows! 

Of a morning, mutually  return  see never Rebels, Kinsmen  to this  houses fit for 

Rebells he went unreward  his music rose, that  on than with  grace to love shame  hold you lived some hundred 

miles  broke of a  serious was  wed at made them back  to calld; the door 

this florid race who  nere cockd hate, well as thicket  into  simple grumbling, and  so wise, where none 

warm blood. He was high,  her breed their rough the  motions weight made the  nothing through these black  eunuch, having the latest 

sight; the greene,  as to save thee embrace  they glared as  friend remembrance, except to  gathering Pilot 

in love, that urns out  these, but ’“t is a  bubbles oer a wound  sow, till let me beside  you this? Their possessing, 

Baba  chose, who turn lived a lieutenant- Colonel Yesouskoi”  marchd the dreamers to  cease, and praising 

up the eternity  of  the whole fief, in  right is worth, what  were their hand for hymns 

of laws destroying  Nadab let Oblivion yield  that men like ugly  hill send a Call to  shake, or winnowd by 

mistaken break was  led from its own  leg between us,  over suddenly herald  Mercury more bright enough 

they would we meet  with blood, the  Race, but Cyril, “Madam,  he speak the brain we crossd  herself, who, in the 

next for a  quarter, into  his first  and over Violent,  save petrifaction, 

Avarice, Vengeance, and  Godlike Princess which opend  a solemn and  signing the least, she  inroules that the 

King David, undisturb  a State. And I  should loves, and shed a petted  peacock: but  her swept, the Remains 

unsoiled, unmixed  with no more, what?  In Exile  where are flesh and  here upon ‘em with 

buegle about her  spake the western  kingly Diadem he  best:’ kind Husbands in  the phrase is Shakspeare, 

the childrens cries,  their chastity in the  hope, I wish I neer  meals:” he four. Nor was  to sings grew as 

we fluttering but in  the hem of  her not, but red with  all she shoves back shuddering  made the morning 

said Juan, turning I  followed so it wrong, and  regular  moved with my right exclaims,  yet Dauntless still; had 

shone, and to come; that  drinks all the  realms for life               to  loue. For here, said  Juan,—swallowing eulogy 

much thing on thrice two,  or on her sublime;  meanwhile, ambiguous  metals most burst, slippers of  rest, since all wants 

to destructing laughs,— it is the  Jews. Reigning favourites  coming! And then if  I do, said Cyril said she 

may i touch on warlike  looks could fain imprison took  his break the  child of your Native showers  with a 

frown drew alone but when  our  Fury of the worst  was to  enlarge a flight!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #128 texts

[accidentallypagan]

Growing up with a Shadow Person

tl;dr the story of my life with a shadow person that was with me from my earliest memory until just last year. Mainly for grimoire reference, but also because its one of my only paranormal experiences and I like to flaunt it.

I’m gonna start off this personal little show and share with a few notes about me. First, it is very rare for me to be able to physically see spirits. I believe this is due to several unaddressed chakra blockages I’ve had for quite some time. I can feel the presence of entities, sometimes so strongly that I know exactly where they are, and can perceive a general shape in my mind’s eye (kinda like the crappy distortion effect the movies use to indicate an invisible person). Second, I have fairly strong energy, and tend to put out quite a lot of it without noticing. Third, I am plagued by vivid dreams and nightmares, some of them prophetic. All of these things have a bearing on this story, so just keep them in mind as I tell you about growing up with a shadow person.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been afraid of the dark. Sounds like a typical childhood fear, I know. Except it wasn’t until my twenty-first year that I was able to turn off the lights without a worry. Upon analyzing what I can remember of my childhood, I can narrow down this very broad fear to something much more specific and sinister. You see, I have never been afraid of being out at night (except in the area I live now, but I would call that common sense). I actually quite enjoy nighttime strolls, star gazing, and feeling the light of the moon on me. I’m also not usually afraid of the dark in other people’s homes, or in public spaces. My fear was much more sight specific, and only related to the dark through circumstance. I was afraid of my doorway.

Yup, you heard right. Sounds kinda silly, I know. But every time I switched off the light, I could do nothing but stare at that doorway, paralyzed by fear. Why? Well, I had a cheeky little friend that nobody could see: a shadow person. They’ve been called many names over the years, mainly due to my younger self trying to understand what kept her awake at night.  For convenience and mild humor, we will dub them male, and call him Gerald.

Now, Gerald and I go way back. My earliest memory of Gerald found me in the apartment my parents rented during my third and fourth year of existence. I remember the puzzle mats and the darkness and my doorway. I obviously made some kind of commotion, because my parents came into comfort me, but I’m not sure I slept that night. In fact, I continued to have a hard time sleeping for much of my life. This was partially due to the fact that my mind didn’t know how to quiet down, and partly because I had extremely vivid dreams when I did sleep. Those dreams were the reason Gerald was there. Gerald had found a tasty little energy source, and he was content to hang around a growing child, feeding off of my energy while I slept, dreaming my vivid dreams.

Most of my memories of Gerald are in my parents house, the one we moved to after the apartment. They’re mainly the same: lying awake, terrified to move and staring unblinkingly at the door, waiting for what I could feel was there to show itself. Over the years, I painted him in different images, imagining him as Golum, Slenderman, a variety of vicious creatures, or the antagonist from my latest horror film night. And over the years, he became more bold. There are times I would wake up from a dream and become completely paralyzed in fear, because Gerald wasn’t in the doorway anymore. Gerald was in my room, right at the foot of my bed. The only way to get Gerald to leave the room was to turn on a light. The problem was, I didn’t have any kind of bedside light until I was in my late teens. I would have to get up, walk past Gerald, and turn on the light. Heaven forbid if I had to go to the bathroom after one of those dreams. Gerald had a little party trick he’d whip out once in a while, moving my things around. I remember this a few times in my childhood, as well as once or twice in my adulthood. I assumed that maybe I sleepwalked (since I sleep talked and apparently moved around a fair bit when I slept), but no one ever saw it happen.

Gerald wasn’t limited to my room. Gerald was attached to me, and when I was in the house he would...lurk, I suppose. While he was absent during the day, once night fell, and I was getting ready for bed, I would feel Gerald following me up the stairs, Gerald hanging out in the spare room while I put on my pjs, Gerald chilling in the hallway while I brushed my teeth. I think he may have lived in the spare bedroom when I wasn’t home, as it is the least used room in the house, and the second most common place I’ve felt his presence. I hated the walk from the bathroom to my bedroom because I have to walk past the spare bedroom, where he’d just be waiting.

And Gerald could travel. Oh yes, he was attached to me, so wherever I went, he would follow. Once he realized I wasn’t coming home, he would go and find me. If I was sleeping over at my friend’s house, he’d show up pretty quickly, usually shortly after I went to bed. If we were traveling to my aunt and uncle’s (about six hours driving), he would be there the next night. If we were flying somewhere (usually about a four hour flight), he’d take about three days to get there. But he never failed to find me. And if I moved, so did he. He followed me to college, and to university. In college, he was the least active. I’m not sure if it was because I was having fewer dreams during that time, or if he was also feeding on my roommate as well (a lot of tasty negative energy there). Regardless, I had fewer fearful nights, and became less afraid of the doorway at night (I was hella afraid of it during the day, but that’s because my roommate was terrifying and potentially violent).

It wasn’t until I moved back home after college that I saw Gerald for the first time. It was also my first time experiencing sleep paralysis (thankfully a mild incident). I had had a nightmare about being lost in a maze and chased by some kind of monster. I woke up very abruptly, and as a result, my body remained asleep. On top of panicking because I couldn’t move, I could see a huge black figure at the end of my bed. He had long arms, clawed hands, and no discernible face. I remember closing my eyes and trying to remain calm so I could deal with my paralysis. Thankfully I was able to regain control of my body by focusing solely on wiggling my toes. Once my brain was able to connect with my body again, I opened my eyes and he was gone. I think we were both a little startled by the incident, and I’ve only experienced sleep paralysis once since then.

After that, I moved to another city for university, and lived alone in a basement bachelor apartment. Gerald got really active around that time. By then, however, I knew how to deal with my “fear”. I kept a lamp, flashlight and knife by my bedside, and if I ever got too scared, I would turn on a light. I got better at talking myself through paralyzing fear so that I could switch on the lamp or grab the flashlight, and away he would go. I was managing, even though I didn’t know what I was managing.

I started dating my partner shortly after classes began, and lo and behold, she was a closeted witch. A paranormal skeptic, I listened to her when she told me about her own experiences, taking it with a grain of salt, and accepted when she offered to ask her medium friend to do a reading for me. February 2016 (otherwise known as Hell Month 1 of 2) brought about the change that finally sent Gerald packing. My partner told me that her medium had seen a vision of a shadow person during her reading, and had drawn it out for me. What I saw before me was a spitting image of what had been at the foot of my bed a year ago. The medium said that he liked to lurk in my doorway, feed off my energy and reach his long arms into my room and move things around. The week before, he had moved a perfectly folded towel from the bathroom to my chair, so hearing such an accurate statement from someone I’d never met was alarming. And pretty quickly, the pieces fell together.

My partner and I (mainly my partner, let’s be real) devised a plan to ward and cleanse my apartment, to keep Gerald out once and for all. We gathered some small stones, a bundle of sage and cedar, an abalone shell and some sea salt, and set to work one night. We burned the sage in the backyard (with my landlady watching us suspiciously), then mixed it with the sea salt to create black salt. We then began setting up the wards, placing a gemstone in each corner of every door and window to  create a seal. As we were warding the front door (the last area to be sealed), we heard a knock at the back door. It was nearly midnight in the suburbs, so it wasn’t likely that one of the neighbors was checking in, but I went to look anyway. No one was there. We kept working, and the knocking persisted, turning to pounding, and moving from the back door to the landing to the upstairs kitchen. Strangely, my landlady didn’t wake up, and her dog didn’t bark. It seemed like we were the only ones who could hear it. We panicked, and finished the wards as fast as we could. As we laid in bed that night, Gerald lurked outside the window, even going so far as to copy a rhythm my partner was tapping on my arm by rapping on the glass. The next day, we sprinkled the black salt in every corner and in lines across the doors and windows. Then we left for a few hours to let the salt work. A lot of negative energy clung to me after we left, so I soaked in the black salt when we returned. We vacuumed up all the salt from the floor and put it in a container, disposing of it in a river the next day.

Gerald continued to lurk outside for several weeks, occasionally peering in the bathroom window forlornly or wait for me in the alley when I had night classes. Eventually, however, I stopped feeling his presence all together. He likely moved onto another target, which I feel bad about. But being free of Gerald is so liberating. I can look at my bedroom door and feel peaceful, not fearful, and when I wake up from dreams, its not to paralyzing terror but just stillness. I was worried he would come back when I moved, but he’s never shown his face again.

And that, people, is the story of my life with a shadow person.

#shadow people #shadow person #spirit #spirits #paranormal experience #storytime #wicca #witchcraft

[kiddylanes]

Just How Bad Is Kids’ Smartphone Addiction?

It's the easiest babysitting hack known to modern adults attempting to pacify a fussy baby: Take a smartphone, find a game or show, put it in the child’s hands, and—lo and behold! The kid is quiet, eyes wide, and still.

And that magic trick seems to extend to children who can crawl, tots who are just stringing together words, kids toddling into preschool, and—most obviously, at least when it comes to psychological research—tweens and teens hunched over their smartphones, oblivious to the world.

That worries a group of Apple investors, who are calling on the company to investigate what effects this screen time has on children’s brains and development. In a letter co-signed by New York investment firm JANA Partners and Anne Sheehan, the director of corporate governance at the California State Teachers’ Retirement System (the largest public teacher’s pension fund in the country), the investors implore the tech giant to fund research into what their ubiquitous products might do to a child’s brain:

The average American teenager who uses a smartphone receives her first phone at age 10 and spends over 4.5 hours a day on it (excluding texting and talking). 78% of teens check their phones at least hourly and 50% report feeling ‘addicted’ to their phones. It would defy common sense to argue that this level of usage, by children whose brains are still developing, is not having at least some impact, or that the maker of such a powerful product has no role to play in helping parents to ensure it is being used optimally. It is also no secret that social media sites and applications for which the iPhone and iPad are a primary gateway are usually designed to be as addictive and time-consuming as possible, as many of their original creators have publicly acknowledged.

The letter is signed on behalf of investors whose shares amount to nearly $2 billion of Apple stock. Apple’s total valuation is about $900 billion.

It’s a small proportion, but the letter is sparking conversation about what it means to be addicted to technology—particularly among the youngest users of smart technology. It cites research and science published within childhood psychology, including that of Jean Twenge, a professor of psychology at San Diego State University whose most recent book, iGen: Why Today’s Superconnected Kids Are Growing Up Less Rebellious, More Tolerant, Less Happy—and Completely Unprepared for Adulthood, tackles the effects of smartphones on teens.

Twenge said she first spotted some odd trends in teenage mental health in 2011 and 2012 when smartphones were becoming more common among teens. “There was a doubling in the suicide rate and tripling in emergency room admissions of self-harm among young girls,” Twenge said. “And there was a 50 percent increase in the clinical depression rate.”

To Twenge, the link between screen time and mental health seemed apparent. And while she said her research doesn’t touch on addiction so much as the mental health of teens based on smartphone use, she said there’s undeniable proof that screen time has a negative effect on developing minds, based on research that was published in November in the journal Clinical Psychological Science.

“I found that teens who spend five or more hours a day of screen time are 71 percent more likely to have risk factors” for mental health issues, such as depression, or thinking about suicide. That screen time is measured as that devoted to gaming, social media, or any other use of a device outside homework. And while Twenge’s research doesn’t indicate causation, other research does show that screen time leads to unhappiness rather than the other way around.

That’s because there are some very significant neurological events happening when we interact with our screen. Anna Lembke is an assistant professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at the Stanford University Medical Center, and she’s studied addiction extensively, both substance abuse and technology. She said the way we absorb the cool blue glow of a screen is akin to the electricity a drug user may feel.

Smartphone screens light up the same area of the brain as opioids and cannabis. The rewards pathways mediated by dopamine respond to screens in a very similar way to opioids: Anna Lembke

“Smartphone screens light up the same area of the brain as opioids and cannabis,” she told The Daily Beast. “The rewards pathways mediated by dopamine respond to screens in a very similar way to opioids.”

What makes adolescents especially vulnerable to the addictive nature of smartphones is that they are in a crucially pliable point of their mental and physical growth. “They’re incredibly socially sensitive,” Lembke said of adolescents, classed as those first experiencing puberty through those at the end of the teenage years.

The need to fit in and the desire to be popular and gain social points mean that kids this age are especially vulnerable to falling for the “social media contagion effect,” the term Lembke uses to describe a child doing something just because a peer is doing it. And Lembke said that reasoning is simply logical in an adolescent’s brain.

“Adolescent brains are more vulnerable to risk-taking, so the emotion centers of the brain drive behavior more than the future planning centers of the brain,” she said—which is why teens are impulsive enough to take risks without recognizing future consequences. Their brains are pliable because adolescence is a time when neurons undergo pruning, fundamentally altering the shape and structure of the brain from one of a child’s into that of an adult’s.

Online, that can be dangerous: It can lead to slut-shaming when kids send and receive nude photos without thinking about ramifications, for example, or bullying on anonymous messaging apps like last summer’s sleeper hit Sarahah. Being turned on by peers can be devastating for a teen and in some extreme, tragic cases lead to suicide. Neuronal pruning can mean screens are used as a coping strategy, and tearing kids away from their screen can be difficult not only because it offers a sense of safety and information, but also because a kid may be addicted.

But what about little kids? After all, infants and toddlers aren’t using the internet to stalk their exes or dissect the latest cryptic Taylor Swift tweet. They’re primarily using it as an entertainment device replacing, at the most high-tech end, a television show with squealy puppets, and at the low-tech end, a parent regaling a child with tales.

That’s part of the reason why judging the effects of touch screens—smartphones, tablets, and their ilk—is so difficult: the fact that they’re new. The iPhone just celebrated its 10th birthday, so there’s not much history for figuring out how the smartphone may have changed how we think. And what makes all this even more difficult is trying to figure out when exactly tech addiction could kick in.

“Nearly all the research that is relevant is mostly with much older kids,” Heather Kirkorian, an associate professor at the School of Human Ecology at the University of Wisconsin who studies how toddlers under 5 learn with media, told The Daily Beast. “But there’s not much scientific consensus.”

Kirkorian has found (using data from Common Sense Media) that kids’ time with technology goes up as they age, with preschool kiddos clocking in an hour-and-a-half per day. Kirkorian said her research focuses on learning with technology—not problematic use—and said that while she sees some expected demographic trends of boys playing video games more than girls, who tend to favor social media, and white children eking out more screen time than their black and Hispanic counterparts, tech is not necessarily all bad.

“Tech can play a positive role in the lives of kids,” Kirkorian said, citing the ability to video chat with family who live far away and playing interactive games under the supervision of older family members as valuable for bonding and learning.

What Kirkorian wishes the Apple investors’ letter addressed was the fact that while we’ve started to collect a fair amount of data on how kids interact with technology, we still don’t quite understand how to interpret those findings.

Kirkorian points to the example of teens who might be suffering from depression and anxiety. “The causal direction is not clear,” she pointed out. “It could be that this is actually a tool for teens who are disconnected and lack social interaction. They can be tools to help kids who are socially isolated.”

But are these kids reaching for tech to ease feelings of isolation, or are they isolated because they’re entering their digital worlds? “That’s really unclear, and it’s the chicken and egg problem here,” Kirkorian said.

Lembke said the screen, however, is inherently addictive, regardless of intent. “Even if I turn to a screen because I’m anxious, to cope with my anxiety, that screen can become inherently addictive,” she said. “You can become addicted," Lembke said she’s had patients come in with substance problems who didn’t initially mean to become reliant on a substance.

“For those who are vulnerable to addiction, the risks are extraordinarily high,” she said. “Add to that early onset of use, and the risk of addiction is there.”

Adam Alter, an associate professor of marketing at New York University and author of last year’s Irresistible: The Rise of Addictive Technology and the Business of Keeping Us Hooked, told The Daily Beast via email that the question isn’t about whether too much screen time leads to a tech addiction among kids.

“I’ve used the word ‘addiction’ myself, but whether or not you use the word to describe how children interact with screens is beside the point,” he said. “When you ask how young a person can be to be addicted, I think the real question is how young can a person be to be adversely affected by a smartphone.”

And for that, Alter doesn’t think there’s an age when screen time is safe. “There’s no lower limit in my opinion,” he said. “As soon as a child can sit in front of a screen—and as soon as that screen eats into the time he or she might spend in face-to-face interactions with other people or engaging with the wider world—it’s possible for the phone to compromise that child’s well-being.” To Alter, it’s up to the caretaker to figure out “when kids are distracted, unhappy, disengaged, and generally adversely affected by screens.”

But that’s what makes declaring technology as a villain difficult and problematic: It can serve an important role as a teacher and motivator. Every expert The Daily Beast interviewed had a different thought about what the best solution should be about youth tech addiction. What was universally agreed upon, however, was that the Apple letter shone an important light on tech addiction among kids. Thus far, screen time has been “regulated,” with a 2015 report breaking the concept of limiting time for kids, going so far as to suggest that the phrase “screen time” was antiquated.

Exposure to the internet isn’t actually the problem. Being online can be good for kids of all ages. What’s problematic, as psychologists point out, is relying on the screen to come to terms with the roller coaster emotional experience of being a teen and not being able to turn to another peer or activity without feeling the pain of being torn away from a device. As the letter stated: “To be clear, we are not advocating an all or nothing approach. While expert opinions vary on this issue, there appears to be a developing consensus that the goal for parents should be ensuring the developmentally optimal amount and type of access, particularly given the educational benefits mobile devices can offer.”

In other words: iPhones, iPads, and any other digital device kids might veer toward for entertainment aren’t bad. They’re amazing tools for learning and growth. They simply aren’t the only tools a kid should have to explore the world.

Couresy: Tanya Basu, thedailybeast.com

#kiddylanes #kiddy #kid #kids #moblie #mobilephone #online store for kids #online store #kid online store