#then this post wil be even longer

[shirkers2018dirsanditan]

speaking of film controversies and the fact that i was thinking about the jihad rehab shit again, it all reminds me that muslim female filmmakers of color maïmouna doucouré (director of cuties) and minhal baig (director of hala) were both accused of trafficking in islamophobic stereotypes for being even mildly critical of their own culture and religion. minhal baig was accused of laziness and islamophobia for writing a narrative around a young woman deciding to stop wearing hijab after being in a taboo and interracial relationship behind her parents’ back. and i don’t need to rehash every horrific thing that happened to maïmouna doucouré, but lost in the ruckus were the callous accusations of islamophobia against a filmmaker who was literally representing elements of her own upbringing in the film. writing for CAIR on medium (while also accusing doucouré of pedophilia), edward ahmad mitchell said this:

For me and other Muslims, this storyline sounds familiar, for it represents how anti-Muslim bigots typically think of the Muslim community — especially immigrant Muslim communities. Polygamist fathers, abused mothers, oppressed young girls, religious zealotry.

Because we have seen this story on the big screen and small screen many times before, we also know how the story unfolds.

Praying and wearing hijab supposedly represent symbols of oppression, so the oppressed must find liberation by disregarding prayer and casting off their Islamic clothing. For anti-Muslim bigots, the less you pray and the less clothing you wear, the more liberated and civilized you are.

doucouré is the child of senegalese immigrants and literally grew up in a polygamous family. and mitchell even acknowledges this, but still accuses her of bigotry and even complains that she equally condemns religious conservatism and secular sexualization.

this section in his article is particularly striking:

If you have any doubt about the film’s potential to reinforce negative stereotypes about Muslims and African immigrants, consider Cuties’ most vocal supporters.

According to Time, “Doucouré…has the support of the French government, who have expressed their wish to use Cuties as an educational tool for teachers, and have invited her to be part of a working group to combat the hyper sexualization of children in society.”

This is no surprise. The French government is openly hostile to Islam and Muslim immigrants. So is a large segment of France’s population. A film about a Muslim immigrant who liberates herself from her devoutly religious family fits perfectly into French stereotypes and expectations of Muslims.

Indeed, Doucouré should ask herself why French and American film studios were willing to fund, distribute and elevate her script over the many other positive stories that could be told about Muslims and immigrants in France. Other filmmakers who find Hollywood success with scripts about Muslims who disregard their faith traditions should ask themselves the same question.

(emphasis mine)

that is exactly the kind of criticism jihad rehab got. like exactly to a T, from the initial criticism that got it censored, to the later open letter from 5 former guantanamo detainees.

doucouré was also accused of, essentially, white feminism in filia, by natalya vince:

The fact that it is a young, Franco-Senegalese female director who has made a film which reproduces stereotypical representations of Black and Muslim women and girls in France makes it even more important to underline that Mignonnes is the product of something much bigger than its director. That is to say, it is the product of a structurally racist and sexist French film industry which ultimately decides what kind of stories get out there and which don’t see the light of day and which has an unenviable track record in putting women and girls in exploitative situations on set. Mignonnes is a deeply reactionary film, whose uncritical hypersexualised representation of 11-year-old girls is the dangerous but logical result of a half-digested message about individual empowerment and agency which fails to engage in structural power imbalances of age, sex, race and class.

vince also accuses her not only of being a stooge for the french government (because her film received funding from them, which is completely normal for small indie films. plenty of films by britons of color are partially financed by the british government’s film programs), but she also accuses her of exploiting the young actresses in the film, and cites the fact that there was one child psychologist on set, even contrasting it with the fact that there were two dog handlers. she claims that doucouré cared more about the dogs (twice as much she says!) than the children; it never occurs to her that a dog handler and a child psychologist have very different roles on a set, that dog handlers are not employed for the dog’s benefit, and that perhaps a small indie film could not afford to employ several fucking psychological professionals.

i’m going to stop because this post got way longer than i intended but my point is. people pretend when they advocate for censorship of white women’s works or are unfair in their treatment of films by or about white women that it is only about anti-racism. but you would be a fool to pretend like you don’t notice that women of color are subjected to the exact same sexist bullshit and often with more extreme backlash. other women of color subjected to this kind of shit: misha green, lena waithe, chloe zhao, and the list goes on. chloe zhao at least avoided a backlash that derailed the success of her film (nomadland), but her marvel movie had the worst showing of the 2022 releases (it was bad but they’re all bad). misha green’s show was unceremoniously cancelled (again) and lena waithe still enjoys success in television, but queen & slim was derailed by the backlash.

#and so on #there are other women its just past 1am and i don’t feel like doing anymore research/remembering #then this post wil be even longer

[gacha-incels]

“Arknights/Limbus Company/etc is obviously very political, why are these incels playing it?” Here’s a longer answer if you’re interested.

If you haven’t been watching gacha communities for the past decade this might be confusing to you, but these guys see the games as just apolitical stories with a majority or all-female cast being there to titillate the male viewer. They are for his consumption. It’s why in both eastern and western “gacha game” communities you can see them talking about how these games are better for having “beautiful” anime women versus the hideous hags of western media. I’ve seen so many people asking “how are incels playing a game with so many strong female characters?” They see them not as “strong female” characters but rather “eyecandy made for me”. tbh when it comes down to it I wouldn’t call any of the designs in these games absolutely groundbreaking for the anime genre they’re aiming for. Arknights even follows the standard “fully animal faced-guy” and the female equivalent “small featured anime animal girl with some fur”. This doesn’t mean the designs are bad or you’re foolish for enjoying them of course, there are a lot of fun ones. Anyway, you can see the same sentiment in the majority of anime communities as well. Like do you think that stereotype of an anime nerd who “loves 2D women but hates 3D women” means he’s a feminist because the 2D girl is still female?

To be frank, after some of the actions taken by these companies (ex. the firing of women for posting anything vaguely feminist) can you honestly say an “apolitical game with anime babes” is not the way the games are often enjoyed? The company Yostar who publishes Arknights in Korea literally wrote a statement saying the game is apolitical and calling feminism a dividing force. If the publisher can say something so flippantly like this just to appease their incel fanbase, how can the game be making any meaningful, hardline progressive political statements? I am of course not saying this renders any positive message you get from these games moot nor am I saying it’s impossible for the writers to be passionate about their work, I’m just relaying the thoughts of the incels/“gacha gamers” playing them because there seems to be confusion. What I’m writing here doesn’t mean the worst interpretation of these games are their defining interpretations. I’m trying to explain how the games that many people see as being antithetical to incel beliefs can have these same men as high-spending fans.

Gacha games are unique in the world of consumer media in their extremely close and constant relationship with the consumer. You have to not only love each character’s design (and sometimes story) but also be willing to drop serious gambling money to “buy” them every single month. It’s like merchandizing on steroids. I think the term “whale” has been watered down since younger kids have started playing, but these people spend thousands per patch. Over the years I’ve heard about multiple games like this being sustained by just a couple of high spenders. In 2018 there was even a western news article about a man who had spent $70k+ on FGO. The publisher can’t rock the boat too much to displease the consumer too many times without risking EoS. Every character design and story of a gacha game is affected by this FIRST while any artistic intent comes second.

A Korean woman who had lost her job due to similar “feminist hunting” tactics wrote an article describing the way these incel men think. I posted it here and part of it summarized: the men that play these games see themselves as buying and “owning” the female characters in gacha games, who are often dressed and presented to them in a highly sexualized manner and will obey their commands. In the same way they “own” these 2D women, they also want to own the thoughts of the real live female illustrators who work on the games. Therefore, if these women have expressed ideas that the male gamers find upsetting, they will be angry she doesn’t conform to what they want like the servile 2D girl and do everything to get her fired (this is where she mentions Limbus Company as the most recent example of this happening).

You can argue for some of these games, maybe the girls aren’t dressed super provocatively and give (you) shit instead of being a simpering doll, but in the end it’s not like they can physically walk away or stop speaking to you. For the “waifu” hunter guy it’s just a different type of anime girl to collect.

The stories in these games are generally not what gets targeted as much by incels. In gacha “gamer” communities, especially the Korean incel ones, their main concerns are: how revealing are the summer swimsuits? How many women work for the company designing characters? and related, Are the male characters designed for women or for men and do they “look gay”? If you search through this blog, you can see them directly speaking about these things in regards to their hatred of Genshin Impact and Star Rail. All of these have also been encapsulated in the original Limbus Company incel attack: they hated that the summer female character looked more “clothed” (wearing a skintight suit instead of a bikini) than the male summer character. They thought the collar necklace and open shirt on the male summer character meant he was “a slave” for the female viewers, so obviously it was designed by a woman. When they learned a man designed and illustrated those characters, they searched to find a female illustrator who worked in the game and went after her instead. These guys WERE FANS that played the game beforehand and didn’t think anything in the story was upsetting enough to attack the company about. They were familiar enough with the works of Project Moon to name their little group after an antagonizing force in one of PM’s previous (non-gacha) videogames. And Project Moon saw them as such a significant part of their gacha fanbase that they wrote an immediate apology and fired the artist. How do these actions in reality inform their fiction and the interpretation of it? Getting this out of the way, they were NOT in any danger, the “fans” were not clamoring to get in their offices or camping outside, they were let in and calmly had a meeting with some employees at the office. You can still find photos of them goofing around, the ridiculous write up they brought with them and a transcript of the conversation. This was not a “guy shows up at Mihoyo’s offices with a knife” situation. In the end it was a financial and moral loss for the studio with many new and longtime fans completely dropping the games and Limbus Company taking one of the biggest financial and D/MAU drops for a gacha I’ve ever seen. You can read more regarding the ramifications of this here, this post is already pretty long for this website anyway.

Again I’m not writing this to shame anyone who plays these games, loves their characters or enjoys their stories. I don’t really care either way, and I obviously find the genre interesting or else I wouldn’t have been monitoring it and the fans for a decade. I just want to shine a light on the thoughts of the more “incel” gamers that play some of these games since I have seen a lot of genuine confusion as to why they would play them. In the future my aim is to write a more in-depth post about these issues, their history and the way antifeminists think.

#Arknights #yostar #hypergryph #project moon #limbus company #Genshin impact #long post #korean incel #incel ideology #gacha #fate grand order #fgo

[phoenixyfriend]

How to Call Your Reps About Gaza

I make a lot of posts telling you to call your reps! Anyway, here's the overall shape of how to argue to them.

Disclaimer: I am not in politics. I do not have experience as a staffer. I am just someone who cares a lot about where things are going, and wants to help. Also, this is specific to the US, because that's where I'm based. Hopefully, people with expertise can add more suggestions on.

Find your elected officials.

My Ko-fi: this took me two days to write up, so uh. If you've got a few dollars, send them my way so I can keep doing this sort of thing, and maybe move out of my parents' house sooner.

General tips:

Be polite, or at least civil. Do not swear or shout at whoever answers the phone. This will quite possibly get your number blocked. Fifty civil calls over the course of several months will do more than one where you shout. You can be frosty, you can say you are disappointed, you can say you find the actions of your reps to be reprehensible or morally bankrupt, sure. But keep calm and aim criticism at the rep, not the staffer.

Keep it short. The staffers who answer call centers are busy. They usually start trying to hurry me off after about two minutes. I've yet to manage a call longer than four or five minutes. Pick one or two topics for the day, and focus on those. Cycle through them every time you call. Stick to just one from day to day if it's a large, ongoing issue like Gaza.

Plan for voicemail. I get voicemail more often than not. My House rep usually has a staffer free, but the Senators are almost always voicemail. This will give you a minute and a half max. Be ready to get your point squeezed into that.

Only call your representatives. The important, powerful word here is "constituent." You will be ignored or even counted against if you are from a different district or state. The first thing you start with is your name and address. A staffer will ask for the information they need. On voicemail, leave your full name, your city and state, and zip code before you go into your message. Do not lie, either. They look these things up in the system when you call. I'm not sure how--I think maybe they have access to a database of registered voters--but every time I call, they ask for my last name and address and at some point say, 'oh, yep, I've got you right here,' which indicates a database of some sort.

Research at least a little bit about their opinions. If they already agree with you, then it's much easier to leave a quick "I support you and want you to know that" to combat anyone who's arguing from the other side. If they don't, then you're best off finding out what specific issue they have so you can know the best kind of comment to leave.

Look up specific bills or arguments. I get daily emails from GovTrack about bills that are on this week's docket or have been voted on in the past day. IDK about anyone else, but being able to say that I disagree specifically with HR 815 or something makes me feel powerful, and possibly like I will be taken more seriously. Sometimes you can start with articles like this one, which include links to specific bills on the official congress website.

Email after if you can. Reportedly less effective, and takes longer, but you are more likely to get a written (canned) response, and it reinforces whatever you called about.

Basic structure of a call, at least as I've been doing it:

"Hi, my name is ____ ____, and I am a constituent from [city, state], [zip]. I am calling to express my opinion on [topic]. I am concerned about [short argument with a clear impact on the topic]. I ask that you support [measure or fellow congress member]/vote [yay/nay on specific legislature]. Thank you for your time, and I hope you keep my opinion in mind."

For this post, the topic can be stated as the war in Gaza, military funding for Israel, or unrest in the Middle East, depending on which you think your elected official will respond to best. That said, the structure should work for whatever your call is about.

Arguments to use against your elected official... or your on-the-fence cousin:

I'll be honest, some of these are not going to do much against your representative. They know the arguments, and have been going over them with each other for months. You just need to have one locked and loaded that they consider relevant instead of a nonstarter, in order to back up your opinion as 'founded' instead of 'nonsense, can be swayed with a good marketing campaign.'

I'll include explanations if I don't think something is self-evident (or needs more evidence to tell your cousin), but in most of them I'll provide some suggested verbiage that you can tweak as needed, and for a few of them, that's really enough.

THESE ARE FOR THE TOPIC OF CONCERN, ONLY. You still need to end each one with "I ask that the [official] votes to [action]" at the end. Give them something actionable (example from Feb. 13th). My go-tos right now:

Both chambers: Reinstate funding for UNRWA

Both chambers: Place mandatory restrictions on any aid to Israel, with contractual threats to cut funding if Netanyahu and his government continue to disregard civilian life

Senate: Put support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed (S.R. 504) (Tabled by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate)

House: Put support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

House: Put support behind H.R. 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine.

What Not to Say

"There is no threat to Israel." I've talked about this elsewhere, but the short version is that this will be basically laughed out as you not knowing what you're talking about.

Anything generically antisemitic. (I mean, it might work on some of the white supremacists, but do you really want to encourage that thinking? No, so don't do it.)

Facts that you "heard somewhere" but cannot find a reliable source for. If it's being reported by the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC, it's probably trustworthy by government standards. If it's not a super common statistic, cite the journal you got it from by name. Remember, you aren't arguing to tumblr mutuals. You are arguing to your elected official or your 'I don't really pay attention' cousin. When it comes to this, big name news sources are better.

Unrealistic demands for complete isolationism, permanently abandoning Israel to its own devices, supporting Hamas, etc. Again, you will not be taken seriously. Pick an argument they might actually listen to, and use it to press them towards a possible solution. You want them to believe that if they adjust their position, they will be doing the will of most of their constituents, and thus more likely to get reelected.

The Ethics Argument

Third-party reporting has stated that that nearly 29,000 Gazans are dead since Oct. 7th, as of 2/18/24. The vast majority of those are civilians, and over half are children. Palestinians in Gaza are facing an acute hunger crisis threatening to become a full-blown famine.

The International Court of Justice has found that there is credible reason to believe that the state of Israel is committing a genocide against the Palestinians of Gaza.

This does not mean that every single Israeli is complicit. It does mean that the government, particularly Netanyahu and his associates, has been reprimanded by a large, diverse coalition of countries, and has consistently refused to listen to that court since.

This argument will possibly work on your cousin. Less likely to work on your elected official. They already know the numbers. I just wanted to get it out of the way first.

The Re-Election Argument: Michigan vs New York

Meanwhile, this is possibly the most effective. Again, this is not an argument of ethics. This is an argument of "how can I make my elected official do what I want." We do not use only the purest moral argument. We use what works.

What to say to your elected official: Michigan, as a swing state, was won by democrats on the power of the Arab-American vote in the 2020 election. We (either party) are at risk of losing Michigan due to the current Congressional approach to the Gaza conflict, as that demographic is now polling as likely to abstain from voting entirely. The risk of losing several congressional districts due to the Jewish vote is a real one, but the risk of losing the the executive branch is greater, especially after what we saw with Suozzi. Supporting Palestine might lose us parts of New York, but supporting Israel will lose us Michigan.

Explanation: Something that has been taking up a lot of time and space in the election coverage is the situation in Michigan, and more recently, there has been attention paid to the special election of New York's third district, AKA the "who gets to replace disgraced George Santos" competition.

Michigan is traditionally a swing state. While 2.1% doesn't sound like a lot, that is some 211k-278k people (depending on your source), and while not all of them can vote... Michigan was won by about 154k. Arab-Americans are not the only relevant demographic, but they sure are an important one, and they are vocally opposed to the situation. Approval has dropped from 59% to 17%. From that same article:

As Axios notes, Biden won Michigan in 2020 by 154,000 votes, but there are at least 278,000 Arab Americans in Michigan. Biden took Arizona, a state with an Arab American population of 60,000, by only 10,500 votes. In Georgia, Biden prevailed with a margin of 11,800 voters, in a state that has an Arab American population of 57,000.

Democrats cannot afford to lose these states. Pressure your congresspeople about that, especially if you live in one of those states. I assume most Arab-Americans in said states are already calling every day; the rest of you can join in.

Meanwhile, most Jews (considered the most pro-Israel demographic by strategists) in America are concentrated in a very small number of electoral districts. Of the twenty most-Jewish, ten are in New York, which is why I put it up in the section header.

One of those districts was won by a Republican in 2022: George Santos, New York's third congressional district. Following his scandals and ousting, the seat was up for a special election, and the two candidates were Tom Suozzi, a democrat who held the seat previously (he decided to run for governor, and lost), and Mazi Pilip, a Nassau county legislator who was of Ethiopian Jewish background and had been in the IDF. She ran on a campaign that leaned strongly pro-Israel and anti-immigration, and when Suozzi won, she interrupted his victory speech to accuse him of supporting a genocide against Israel due to his rather centrist, rather milquetoast stance on the conflict during his election campaign.

Now, Suozzi's win probably had more to do with Pilip being anti-choice than her pro-Israel arguments, but he still won.

Democrats can better risk possibly losing a few seats in NY than definitely losing three swing states.

"But I don't want Dems to win their districts after what they've been--" Nope. Listen to me. Surveys indicate that Republicans are on average more pro-Israel, because Trump and Netanyahu are buddy-buddy, and we do not have a viable third option.

Also, again, this is about convincing Dems to be better. "If you do not vote to put restrictions on funding to Israel, I will not vote for you in November" is a lot more powerful than "I will not vote for you either way, because of what you've been doing, but you should do what I say anyway."

The Re-Election Argument: Risk of Escalation

So, that thing I said about Trump and Netanyahu?

Yeah, so, while Biden is giving Israel military aid while cautioning them to slow down and be careful, Trump is... complicated, but suffice to say he's much closer to Netanyahu on a personal level than Biden is. Biden's relation with Netanyahu is reportedly pretty frosty, while Trump's is based on relations through the Kushners.

Just from wikipedia:

Netanyahu made his closeness to Donald Trump, a personal friend since the 1980s, central to his political appeal in Israel from 2016.[21] During Trump's presidency, the United States recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords, a series of normalization agreements between Israel and various Arab states.

Trump's been more all-over-the-place recently, badmouthing Netanyahu for being what Trump perceives as a loser, which complicates understanding what his approach is. It's kind of incoherent right now.

Given Trump's general history of being pro-Israel, though, and the attempts by House Republicans to push through a bill of unconditional funding for Israel. It failed, but notable is that the more recent bill passed in part because it was paired with aid for Ukraine and Taiwan (something Dems are much more invested in having happen).

What to say to your elected official: If Trump is reelected due to his current appearance of being more critical of Netanyahu, there is evidence from his presidency to indicate that he will support Israel much less critically if elected. While he claims to want to settle the Middle East, it seems incredibly likely that he will worsen the situation for Palestinians, and ramp up retaliatory strikes to groups like the Houthis in a manner that will impact non-military parties, igniting tensions that are already tenuous.

The Disrespect/Wild Card Argument

This particular argument is best used against the Very Patriotic Politicians who are more concerned with the US's image and Being The Alpha Nation than with other things. Basically, this might work on Republicans.

This isn't really something I believe in, as a matter of foreign policy, buuuut it might work on your rep, so. Consider it!

What to say to your elected official: With Israel's recent actions in ignoring Biden, blocking US-sent aid like those flour trucks that got stopped at the Rafah border because they'd be distributed by UNWA, and generally Disrespecting The USA and Being Unpredictable is not only making the US look bad for being unable to wrangle a smaller country, but also making it so we are less able to wrangle other countries in the future, because Israel cannot be predicted and might set someone off.

The Europe and Reputation Argument

What to say to your elected official: The United States is losing credibility as a world power known for its military and ability to manage international disputes on behalf of the UN, because it is seemingly unable to influence Israel, and losing credibility as an upstanding moral state that is not doing foreign coups and banana republics anymore, as it appears to be tacitly supporting Israel's ICJ-labelled genocide, which is a really bad look with the other Western Powers.

I'm not entirely sure who this might work on, but there's gotta be at least a few politicians who are really concerned about America's image, more than about actually doing the right thing. Figure out if your politician is one of them.

If necessary, you can bring up how Trump is threatening to pull US support for NATO if Russia attacks someone.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Iran-backed Militias

What to say to your elected official: I'm concerned that the continued support of Israel, and thus the funding of their actions in Gaza, will increase the instability of Iran-backed militias, as we have already seen with the Houthis and Hezbollah. Entire Muslim-majority nations are showing increased displeasure not only with Israel, but with the US by extension. We cannot afford another war in the Middle East when we haven't yet pulled all our troops from the last one, not with the recent and recurring economic recessions. Any situation would also very likely be complicated or inflamed by the growing tensions among Eritrea, Djibouti, and Ethiopia regarding Red Sea access as well.

Use this on the ones that claim to be pro-military or pro-veteran. See what they said about HR 815 before the foreign military funding amendment was added.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Egypt

What to say to your elected official: Egypt's government has been unstable since the Arab Spring, and even now the military government is incredibly unpopular. With that existing instability, the addition of economic strain from the reduced usage of the Suez canal, the international disputes occurring because they're the main throughway for aid into Gaza, and the threat of a sudden influx of nearly one and a half million Palestinian refugees should Israel continue to push south... Egypt is looking at a possible near-collapse as we've seen in nearby nations suffering similar instabilities.

Explanation: It took several years for Egypt to really start recovering from the revolts in 2013, and it has applied for four IMF loans in recent years. The current government is unpopular to such a degree that they are looking to build an entire new capital from scratch in the middle of the desert so that they're less open to the risk of civilian uprisings; one of the primary causes for civilian dissatisfaction is economic issues.

Due to Houthi attacks at the Bab al-Mandab Strait, traffic through the Suez canal is down massively, and since the canal "represents almost 5% of the GNP and 10% of GDP and is one of Egypt’s most important sources of hard currency." (src) Various sources are reporting that trade through the canal is down 40-50%, which is putting more strain on the already unstable economic and political situation.

Finally, Egypt's population is about 110 million, but the governorate that shares a border with Israel and Gaza, North Sinai, has a population of barely 500,000. A push of one and a half million starving, injured people will, very suddenly, nearly quadruple the population of the governorate, and require extreme aid response from Egypt's government to keep alive and prevent a larger crisis in North Sinai and neighboring governorates.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Normalized Relations

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned that Israel's continued attack on Gaza is jeopardizing any chance of normalized relations with the Arab states in the future. American has put a lot of work into trying to get these various countries to normalize with Israel, and our funding of the current attacks on Gaza are sabotaging all that effort.

This one can be combined with the Iran-Backed Militias argument: Israel, in pursuit of revenge against Hamas, is setting itself up to be in more danger long-term, rather than less.

The International Trade Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned about how the war in Gaza is impacting international trade and shipping costs. With the Suez Canal down to half its usual capacity and the Panama Canal raising costs and dropping capacity in response to the water restrictions, along with rising fuel costs in Europe and Asia, global trade is incredibly strained. We are being relegated to the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn, and the Malacca strait for much of intercontinental trade, and the macroeconomic projections are looking very bad for America.

The Domestic Economics Argument

What to say to your elected official: Many of the plans for Israeli military funding cause damage to other parts of the budget. For instance, a recent plan put forward by the Republicans of the House suggested IRS cuts in order to move that money, a plan which would impact the US budget negatively in the long term; we need those 14 billion being spent domestically, not supporting an overreaction/possible genocide in Gaza.

Explanation: In general, pick something receiving budget cuts that your congressperson will care about. I care about IRS funding, and saw it mentioned as a target in an article, so that's what I've got in my suggested verbiage up there.

The fewer people that are working for the IRS, the more they focus on auditing poor people (simple, easy taxes) and the less they can effectively audit rich people (complicated, time-consuming taxes), which means rich people are more likely to get away with evading millions or even billions in taxation. So yeah, you want more funding in the IRS if you are poor. They are already auditing you. You want them to audit the big guys.

The Russia and China Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am worried that the current focus on funding Israel without restriction is causing us to lose sight of the international threat posed by Russia and China. Russia is actively invading Ukraine, which continues to put massive strain on the European economy with regards to oil prices, especially with the Suez situation, and China has been testing missiles near Taiwan, and thus testing US responsiveness to those threats, for months now. We cannot afford to support an internationally unpopular war if we want to remain ready for Russia and China.

This is less likely to work on Republicans, since Trump is friendly with Russia, but hey, give it a shot if they're one of the ones who aren't fully in his camp.

EDIT 2/22/24: I'm a bit unsure of this tactic, but I'm putting it out there with hopes that someone with more political experience can offer feedback:

"Congress, and the US government in general, has promised to sanction Russia for the alleged assassination of one man within a week of the suspicious death, after five months of refusing to enact even slight consequences on Israel for the deaths of nearly thirty thousand, half of which are children. This is ethically questionable at best, but for the interests of elected officials, it is a very bad look. The mismatch shows a massive bias by the American government in regards to Israel's ongoing mass murder, with over two million facing famine as a result of Israel's aid blocking, and America's reputation on the world stage, as well as individual politicians' reputations domestically with constituents, is plummeting."

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

Finally, my ko-fi again. I spent a long time on this and I'd like to move out of my parents' house sooner rather than later. If you appreciate my time and effort, please feel free to donate a couple bucks.

#current events #palestine #israel #gaza #death tw #activism #united states #free palestine #politics #benjamin netanyahu #pro palestine #israeli propaganda #propaganda #phoenix politics #international politics #domestic politics #egypt #russia #china #donald trump #michigan #new york #tom suozzi #mazi pilip

[shubblelive]

— INVITATION

summary : after a long day of work, wilbur is desperate to curl up and spend time with his favourite girl. only problem is you’re not speaking to him.

genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending

warnings : light swearing, mentions of food/eating, wilbur being mean

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called a girl

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where the reader is an overall bubbly, energetic person and wilbur just suddenly lashes out at her one day, and she apologizes and goes home, and wilbur tries to call her and apologize and everything in the end it’s just fluff and apologies<33 tyy

word count : 2.1k

note : hi anon!! i hope you enjoy this fic, it’s a bit longer than i expected but i’m very very happy with it <3 also you referred to reader using she/her so i used those pronouns in the fic i hope that’s alright <333

you were wearing his favourite jumper. it was yours - he’d swear on it - but you were adamant that it belonged to him. it had, originally, as most of your jumpers were, been his. but he’d given it to you months ago, and you were still promising that you were going to return it one day. he hoped you didn’t.

you’d been stealing his clothes for as long as you two had been together, for the last four years he had bought every single shirt, jumper, jacket, with the knowledge that you would steal it. it made sense, in your earliest days, when the two of you were long distance. you’d arrive at his flat for a week with a half-packed suitcase, and you’d leave with nearly a drawer full of his sweaters. but even now that you lived ten minutes away, you still had a habit of nabbing his sweaters. he didn’t mind in the slightest, and most of the time he would offer up suggestions for articles of clothing you could take. you guys had been together for nearly five years, it felt weird for him to be territorial on his clothes, especially because you’d return them whenever he asked, the scent of your perfume mingling on the fabric. he absolutely loved seeing you so happy, and if you stealing a shirt or two did that then he was more than willing to comply.

or at least, he was usually. now, he was running late for a stream and he couldn’t find his grey jumper. he’d been tearing his bedroom apart piece by piece in an attempt to find it so he didn’t have to walk through the rain in just a t-shirt. he sighed and sat down on his bed, remembering that he gave it to you when he went over to your apartment earlier in the week. it had been five days since he’d seen you in person, and it was driving him crazy. he had planned to spend the night at your place after his stream though, and that was pulling him through. it was fine, he took a few deep breaths and went to go and find a jacket to wear, already pulling up twitter to post the stream would be ten or so minutes late. he remembered to tweet out about his late stream, but he hadn’t remembered to text you to tell you that he would be late coming over. you’d organised for seven, which gave him nearly three hours of streaming time, and he assured you that he wouldn’t be going for that long. he ended up jumping on a call with some other people while he played, though, and that completely distracted him. leaving the office at eight, he had his phone on speaker as he tried to order an uber and call you at the same time. he was exhausted, and of course he wanted to see you and spend time with his favourite girl, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to reach your house without falling asleep, and being more social sounded like torture.

his jacket was rough against his arms, and he remembered suddenly about the jumper. your call timed out and he finished ordering the uber for his own flat, moving to text you and tell you he didn’t feel up to hanging out.

he opened your message history, and was hit with a message from you from half-past six, over an hour and a half ago. hi wil, you’d opened with, and he softened, knowing his annoyance didn’t really mean anything. my neighbours are being really loud, so do you mind if we meet at your place? can’t wait to see you. there was another two, each sent half an hour apart, a second one apologising for messaging while he was streaming, and a third saying, hi i let myself in i hope that’s okay. are you almost home? your most recent message was nearing forty-five minutes ago, and he cursed under his breath, cancelling the uber knowing it would be faster for him to walk than wait.

he reached his apartment out of breath and cold, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into bed. he still got to see you, and hopefully your smile would be enough to rid himself of any residual annoyance he held towards you.

he dropped his guitar case on the floor in the living room, calling out your name. “lovely? you still here?”

he heard a crash from the kitchen and took his coat off, slinging it over the arm of the couch. “hang on!”

he had a headache, and he massaged his temple as he made his way into the kitchen. you brightened the second he arrived, all but running into his arms. “hi, darling,” he needed alone time. he loved you, of course he loved. you were one of the most important people in his entire life, he absolutely adored you. but right now, he craved being by himself. you were here though, so he wasn’t going to make that your problem.

“hi, wil! sorry about the mess!” you smiled up at him. “i thought i’d make food? are you hungry?”

he shook his head. “no, you’re alright. want any help?” this time it was you who shook your head, and he kissed your temple before going to sit down on the couch, closing his eyes. you’d eat, and then you guys would be able to go to bed, and when he woke up in the morning you would be there, and he’d get to take you out for breakfast and spend the entire day with you. he just needed rest.

there was something you needed, and it was on the top shelf. you didn’t want to bother wilbur, he’d just got home, you could do it yourself. wilbur was much taller than you, so to get to his top shelf you would have to climb up on the counter. you’d be alright, you didn’t need to stand up or anything, just kneeling on the bench would be fine. you got up there with ease, but wilbur came through the doorway right as you started reaching. “what are you doing?” he’d been too loud, he knew that instantly, you jumped, and he had to rush forward and stop you from falling off the counter. “what on earth are you on the counter for?”

“i was trying to reach the bowl,” you said quietly. he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“why didn’t you come get me?”

he helped you down. “i’m sorry, wil. didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. he felt a flash of annoyance, and then kicked himself for it. you were never a bother, not even when he was exhausted.

“you should have asked for help.” he said simply. “do you need anything else?”

you smiled up at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it. “do you wanna watch a movie? i’ve been hearing good things about this one new one, here let me-”

“stop,” he breathed out. “i’m exhausted, and i just want to be alone, and you’re here, in my kitchen crashing around and almost hurting yourself! i can’t do this right now?”

your smile ebbed, and you took a step back. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“because i didn’t want to upset you,” he sighed out, running a hand through his hair. “i just can’t do this tonight,”

“you invited me-”

“you invited yourself!” he wasn’t yelling, no, he had enough patience to not be yelling at you, but his voice was raised. “i didn’t invite you over to my house into my kitchen, to wear my sweaters.”

you’d been together for half a decade. neither of you needed an invitation, you both knew that. wilbur had given you a key because he wanted you to let yourself in whenever you needed. he’d spent entire days in your flat without you there while you were away. this had never been an issue before, and he made sure you knew that.

you stood still for a moment before reaching down and pulling off the jumper of his he’d been looking for, leaving you in a black long sleeved shirt underneath. you tossed it to him. “because you never thought to call me and let me know you’d be late. by over an hour.” you were quiet, quieter than you usually were. your voice was loud, and bright and he revelled in it, soaking up every little comment you made, every “i love you,” every giggle, he adored it.

“because not everything i do has to do with you,” he was verging on cruel, and he knew it. “i had a long day at work, and i just want to be alone, but you’re here. so i have to cater to you.”

you didn’t reply, just brushing past him, with a soft “sorry” as your arm brushed his. you grabbed your stuff and left in silence, deciding on walking home.

he rested his forehead against the closest surface - the fridge - and swore under his breath. he was still holding your jumper, and he brought it up to his face, burying his nose in it. it smelled like lavender.

he fished his phone out to call you as he retook his place on the couch, cheek still pressing into the jumper. it was soft. he loved it. he loved you. he was such an asshole.

he called. you ignored him. he called again, three times. four times over the half an hour until he knew you were home and he knew you were ignoring him. his headache had increased, and all he wanted was for you to be resting in his lap, drinking you in while you watched your movie. he opened his phone again, not to call you this time, but instead to order an uber for your place. god, they were probably making so much money off him tonight but if he had to walk the entire way to your house, he’d collapse of exhaustion. he was there within fifteen minutes, thankfully this driver not getting him lost, and he payed with one hand as he bounded up the stairs with the other. he brought out his keys on autopilot and then remembered what he’d said, putting them down to knock on your door instead.

“darling!” this time he was yelling. he didn’t care though, he needed you to hear him. it took three more times knocking and five more yelled pet names before you opened the door. your eyes were red, and you had changed into softer clothes, these ones all belonging to you. “i’m so sorry,” the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “i’m sorry i got angry, i’ve been so tired recently and that’s not your fault nor your problem, but i took it out on you and you don’t deserve that, lovely.”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. he took a step closer to you hesitantly, and when you didn’t step back he wrapped his arms around you.

“you’re never a bother,” he said, voice pouring with affection to make up for his thoughts betraying him earlier. “i love you more than anything. i’m sorry i didn’t show you that tonight,”

“i’m sorry for going in without you telling me,” you said.

he shook his head vehemently. “i gave you a key, lovely. i gave you a key because any space with you is better than one without.” he took your face in his hands and made you look at him as he spoke, trying to get you to absorb every word he was saying. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and i can’t do that if you can’t get into my house.”

you looked like you were about to start crying again, and he kissed you gently. “i’m sorry,”

“don’t be sorry,” he assured you. “just let me in? i want to watch a movie with you.” your smile came back, if only slightly, and he knew he was making progress. you brightened up every room you were in, and even if you were a little loud, and too bubbly, and you stole his sweaters, he wouldn’t want you to be any different. he kissed you again, slowly and gently and when he pulled back your eyes were sparkling. “lovely?” you hummed to show you were listening. “when we get a place together, promise you won’t climb on the counters?”

“i don’t know if i can commit to that,” you said, laughing softly. “but i’ll see what i can do.”

#wilbuh #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot angst

[lcvejoy]

speak now

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw!: alcohol, throwing up, angst? hurt/comfort. kinda makes no sense; not proofread.

word count: 1,336

a/n: i hate this but i rlly just wanted to post bc i miss it. more stuff coming! this is just to get me back into the groove of writing and sharing lol. clearlyyyy i write too much angst im sorry i just thrive in it. ill write more fluff! expect more!

wilbur is lying on the vinyl kitchen flooring when he calls.

he’s wine drunk and crying like an overtired toddler. wails of grief and laboured breaths, clutching his phone with one hand and gripping his hair with the other. the cold surface of the floor giving him some relief for his overheated body.

“hey, you’ve reached y/n! i must be super busy, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you when i can!” he’s heard that voicemail hundreds of times this week. he loves hearing your voice, even if only through a phone speaker.

“baby?” he sniffles, wiping his snot on his sleeve, “hey darling, hey y/n.”

a shaky breath, “listen i-“ he looks at at the ceiling, silently cursing himself, “i need you to tell me where you are, okay?” he catches a sob before it escapes, trying to display strength. “we’re all so worried about you. i-i’m so worried about you.” he’s dizzy, the room is spinning now. he reaches his hand out to lay flat against the floor in an attempt to steady himself.

“just call me. or text one of us. anyone. w-we just want to know you’re okay.” wilbur can no longer hide his misery. his voice is wobbly and it cracks at the beginning of each sentence.

“i love you, y/n. i-i love you so much it hurts.” he begins to feel the bile rise in his throat, “come home, okay?” he hangs up. he gets up from the floor on shaky legs, stumbling his way to the bathroom, and lets out of the contents of his stomach. he’s coughing and spitting, hugging the toilet and resting his head on the side of the seat.

he flushes the toilet and scoots back to lay his back against the opposite wall. he leans his head back, closing his eyes, before crumbling again. loud sobs, fat tears, hiccups and laboured breaths. the pain and grief hits him like a train.

there was an argument between you two the night you left. he hasn’t seen you since, and nobody has heard from you. your phone, however, has remained on - proven by the fact that wilbur has been able to leave you voicemails and each of his texts deliver. both, however, go unanswered and unread.

he is riddled with guilt - his brain playing every possible scenario. hurt, kidnapped, murdered, lost, alone. although, his hopeful side prays you’re at your parents house and you just don’t want to talk to anyone.

he picks up his phone and calls again. he leaves more voicemails. he does this for hours until he’s sober with a pounding headache and a broken heart.

until, finally, “wilbur, please stop calling.”

you answer. he’s frozen, sitting up from his leant over position quickly.

“y/n?” he’s convinced he’s hallucinating, that this isn’t real, that you didn’t actually pick up your phone.

“i’m fine, wil. i’m safe. please stop calling and go to sleep.” you seem annoyed, your voice is heavy with exhaustion; like he’s woken you up multiple times with his constant calls.

“w-where are you?” he’s frantic.

“i’m safe.” you respond, sternly.

“stop calling, wil.” it comes out like a warning.

“are you going to come back?” he asks, the emotions bubbling in his gut, “please, y/n. please come home.”

he hears you sigh. he holds his breath as he waits for your answer.

“i’m sorry i worried you” you began, “i just needed some space. i’m coming home in a couple days.”

wilbur falls apart with relief. he cries without the pain and grief present.

“we will talk more about it when i come back. just-“ you pause.

“just give me some space, okay? get some sleep.” you speak gently.

he nods, wiping the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“i love you” he sobs.

“i love you, too” you whisper. you hang up, and wilbur cries more.

two days later, wilbur hears keys jingling at his front door as he sits on the couch. he rises to his feet so quickly that he stumbles slightly, nearly tripping. he watches the lock switch, the door handle twist, and the door begin to slowly swing open. he’s frozen as he watches, wide-eyed.

you walk in, a small bag in hand. you haven’t yet noticed wilbur’s presence as you lock the door and remove your shoes, setting your bag down on the floor next to you.

finally, you look up. you freeze upon meeting wil’s eyes. you both stand there - staring in each others eyes, mouth slightly agape, feet planted in place.

wilbur’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. he gulps, feeling the emotions rise to his eyes.

“hi wil” you break the silence with a small whisper.

his lip quivers, a tear falls down his cheek.

“hi” his voice cracks as he whispers back.

there’s a beat of silence as you both remain solid in your places. wilbur is silently crying, staring at you. you can feel your eyes welling with tears as you speak again; “i’m sorry i left” you begin, “i just needed some space. i should’ve told you where i was going. that was incredibly selfish of me.” you look down, your fingers anxiously playing with the hem of your shirt. you swallow before beginning again, “it killed me to not talk to you, but we both needed time apart.” you look up to meet wilbur’s eyes again. he has tears steadily streaming down his cheeks, his mouth is slightly open. you are finally taking in just how broken he looks; his hair is a mess, he has dark eye bags as if he hasn’t slept since the night you left, his skin is pale and dry. you feel like the shittiest human being on earth for having caused him this pain. you quickly wipe the tear that falls from your eye.

wilbur gulps again before speaking in a hushed voice and broken tone; “i never want to go that long wondering if you’re okay again. w-wondering if i’ll ever see you again. i-“ a choked sob leaves his lips. he breathes deeply before continuing, “i was s-so scared that the only time i would ever hear your voice again was through your voicemail message.”

you can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks as he speaks. you nod as you look down.

“i’m so sorry” you crumble, both of you letting out soft sobs and hitches of sharp breaths.

“let me hold you” wilbur speaks up, “please, l-let me hold you.”

all you can do is nod. the words won’t form. so you do; you nod as he quickly steps forward.

and as he reaches you, he pulls you into him. his hands wrap themselves around your middle as his head buries into your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull your face into his chest, breathing him in. you can feel his hot tears on your skin and his body jump as he lets out quiet sobs.

you stand there, in the living room of your shared apartment, holding each other and crying together for an unmeasurable amount of time. until eventually, the sobbing subsides and all that is heard is sniffles.

wilbur pulls away from the hug and instead, brings his hands to your face and rests his forehead against yours. you hold his forearms and close your eyes. you missed this - you missed being close to him, feeling him, smelling him. you missed him.

he missed you equally as much.

“never again” he whispers, as his thumbs begin moving against your cheeks.

“never again” you repeat in an equally quiet voice.

you both smile slightly. wilbur moves his head up to leave a long, lingering kiss on your forehead before returning his forehead to yours.

a silent vow of forgiveness, a silent vow of “i’m sorry.”

and yet, there is a quiet but heard vow of a promise to never let this happen again.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fic #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt #wilbur x you #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot angst

[lxmelle]

Geto was loved even in death.

Wouldn’t it be nice if he were judged by his intentions in the afterlife - wherever that was? He had suffered living with the love he had. We see through the eyes of those left behind, that the ill deeds didn’t define him, as strange as that may be to us as readers in the real human world we live in. Geto’s influence and loving nature were far reaching; Gege certainly made him so treasured by many even after his death. If Gojo was touched by his caring influence, this was also Geto’s will he passed onto his students.

NOT spoiler-free as I’ll be referring to the recent chapter, 255.

I wrote this the other day:

And honestly it’s long enough; here’s part 2.

Is it obvious I’m suffering from brainrot? All my drafts from jjk brainrot are rivalling my thesis/dissertation from way back (lol)

Here is more under the cut:

I’m really moved by the reasons for why Miguel and Larue have decided to join in the risky fight against Sukuna.

It’s very obvious that Miguel is reluctant at first. He says he he’d rather terrible curses arrive at his shores than to fight with Sukuna, adding that he doesn’t see himself having any ties with Japan any longer.

We can deduce that this was part of Gojo’s plan for the possibility that he dies/loses, and I had a post about this saved in my drafts - but I guess I never got around to finishing it. Basically, in sum, he will achieve giving Geto a cremation (avenging him) and gets to show off to his students (which he does enjoy) by going all out (soo satisfying), and in the worst case scenario, he loses but gets to go all out, weakens Sukuna (for the rest to handle), and idk if he really is that romantic (so it’s really stsg headcanon fantasising) he will die on the same day as Geto.

The Opening theme is rather beautiful in that it interprets Gojo having the words, “we’ll meet again” stuck in his throat, which he doesn’t say. But I’m a bit weird and tend to separate anime from manga. But it’s worth noting that here.

I digress. Back to Miguel and Larue who have moved to speak privately without Yuta.

In a previous post I wondered aloud about what Yuta knew about Geto from others aside from being villainous and I guess this implies he doesn’t know much, since he wasn’t close to Miguel enough to sit around to chat with them. It makes sense.

Miguel and Larue both agree they followed Geto in jjk 0 because they wanted to see him become King. What does this even mean, really? Gege, you’re missing stuff out again!

Nevertheless, we understand how reluctant Miguel was. He enquires that Larue intends to do, clarifying: is it for revenge or to take Geto’s body back?

And it seems like their main motivation for putting their lives on the line... is to honour Geto’s memory. Like a traditional ritual one makes for the dead (customary in Japan on death anniversaries - not limited to the year, but also number of days).

It’s incredibly moving how much they love him. This is actually what led Miguel to reconsider. We see him go silent as he thinks “...” before he reaches a moment of clarity/a decision.

Tbh I have issues with interpreting his statement in between the two panels (re: hell) in Japanese - it doesn’t directly indicate if he is referring to the former part of the conversation (whether he thinks Geto is in hell), or the latter (he thinks the battle will be hell). The phrasing goes like this: “no matter how I think about it: it’s hell.” - I’m not a native speaker so it’s difficult for me to be certain which is right. But the consensus is as translated above. Larue thinks Geto is in heaven, Miguel thinks it’s hell, and we see the airport scene where presumably Haibara and Riko with Kuroi have been there for over a decade. lol. Who knows!

So the bottom line is… regardless of where they think Geto ends up in the afterlife, Miguel is willing to give Geto a send off that’ll even reach hell. Or, despite it going to be hellish, he will do it. It also seems so heartwarming how they still emphasise family and friendship in wanting to fight together - perhaps things we can surmise had meant something to Geto.

They will fight Sukuna because it is for Geto. Geto was so loved that they would risk themselves - not for a title, not for revenge, but out of … love. Again. That’s pretty damn loving. Can we imagine what Geto did and was to them, for them to experience such loyalty and reverence?

Sadly, it goes without saying that Geto’s body being used as a vessel and puppet by Kenjaku has possibly evoked an emotional response by those who cared for him - namely Mimiko and Nanako, and also Gojo. Arguably, even if it were a death without his body being hijacked, Gojo did refuse to cremate his body or have it processed “by the book” of jjk high through Shoko. If that’s not out of a form of love (or “consideration” as Kenjaku put it), I don’t know what is.

The twins went against what Geto wanted for them (to carry out his will) to fight against immensely power beings in hopes they could bring him home. Those were their reasons to fight. Gojo scheduled 24th December - this was after he teleported to Kenjaku immediately upon unsealing so he could bury Geto. We saw Larue and Miguel’s. Toshihisa is alleged to be quite weak, and despite potentially being considered a son to Geto (if his life situation did mimic that of the twins’ - source: jjk character book), he opts to follow the inherited will as prescribed by Geto.

It’s all love. Geto was loved, I’m telling you. I want to shout if off the rooftops because that man just looked so darned sad and deranged after he lost it.

So. Continuing where I left off: Everyone thus far has had a reason to go into battle with Sukuna. I wonder what / who will actually reach him? I hope it’s Yuji ... and that Megumi will react again at some point. They have their own themes relating to love and purpose. I’ll leave them to someone else more familiar with their characters to write about!

And now I’m going offside quite a bit, but it’s still of relevance to Geto and the theme of love that seems to surround him. Way back to jjk 0 and Hidden inventory.

I wanted to just bring this into the picture as well now that I’m already writing a post on that topic, but please feel free to stop if you’re bored now.

So. Jjk 0!

There were direct parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto. This was also confirmed by the director when discussing their vision for the movie. The light novel also drew a link between Geto and Yuta where they were described as being too sincere for this world.

There is a direct theme of love - the type, is open to interpretation.

Kenjaku also makes reference to this in the Shibuya arc. So to me, it remains relevant. Love in its many forms is somewhere in what Gege wishes to convey thematically.

Within jjk 0, Geto seemed to pursue power but this was also a symbolism where power = love. It is twisted. In light of recent events, we know that the pursuit of power leads to the dilution and even absence of love. Love that gives birth to power becomes cursed. So it seems.

As we know, Yuta bound his lover to himself to gain power.

If only he had Rika (metaphor for love: Gojo) he probably wouldn’t have had to skulk around the shadows consuming curses which he hated doing. Geto was lamenting on the past in the above panels. He probably was determined to carry on, as he vouched to give it all he got (Haibara’s last words to him echoing here).

A flashback to the past:

Geto doesn’t do things in half-measures. To avoid hypocrisy, and I headcanon that it was a merciful killing to protect them from him, he kills his parents. To die by his hands than to be used as a pawn to get to him. For them to see the horrors their son could be capable of. It is so very wrong, and we can see the twisted nature of his love in this interpretation.

And Gojo delivers the ultimate blow that leads to Geto reflecting - depicted by the mysterious ellipses “…..” (gege really likes the reader to work hard huh) - insinuating it is impossible for Geto, so don’t even bother trying. The blossoming possibility of discourse was nipped, as the strength differential was implied - you’re the strongest now, whereas it used to be “we”. There was no more place for Geto; it was probably a misunderstanding. Gojo was protecting everyone in his own way, and the only way he knew how.

For power, Gojo was a source - but Geto couldn’t do that in Shinjuku, nor earlier in the arc, when Gojo himself was on the brink of insanity and deferred to Geto about annihilating humans as he held Riko’s dead body. Geto in the scene above acknowledges their different paths they needed to take - Gojo had a place as part of the elite at the school - Geto was already facing an execution order.

And after hearing Gojo’s condescending tone in an emotionally-fuelled attempt to reach out to him. He turns away to protect his friend from himself, and himself from his friend. Anyway, I touched on this in my previous post. Geto feels they had fought and didn’t deserve a place next to Gojo. But deep inside, even his body remembers the sound of Gojo’s voice, reacting to it when called despite his soul no longer being there.

sigh. Moving on... back to jjk 0:

After witnessing the bonds through willingness to sacrifice and the love between these students, Geto was really moved. Gojo trusted Geto retained his sense of humanity / love / idealism - even if it would lead to him sacrificing himself.

He was finding it difficult anyway:

He could always empathise with love. I suspect he tried his best, but the binding vow for Yuta’s life was also just the cherry on top to make Rika super saiyan.

Kenjaku knew Geto probably could’ve won though, had he been more selfish.

Geto conceded without a fight with Gojo. Maybe it was a matter of trust in that they both knew his living on borrowed time. As the light novel insinuated, this was the only way it could ever end. And Gojo would have to carry the curse that was Geto. This seems... so cruel.

He did his best. He perhaps always wanted the love but set it free.

He did so many things for others in spite of himself, in sacrificing himself, in staining himself with blood drenched hands.

Avenging Riko by killing Sonoda. Note how manipulative “humans” are by using Jujutsu rules against them.

He embraces a life of smoke and daggers. Living in lies and half truths in order to live, survive, and find justice in a wicked world.

Watch me closely, I’ll protect you, I’ll avenge you, this is how you protect yourself.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

I’m not saying he was right or justifiable. His character is just tragic. The system had set him and others to fail.

The worm foreshadows Geto’s maternal nature. Calling him “okaasan”. I mean, this very worm had a binding vow with Toji. And now it calls for a new owner? I’m not sure if Gege had anything else in mind with this... is the womb protrusion domain Geto’s? But that’s tied to a sorcerer’s soul…. Anyway, I digress again. (Sorry). Geto did have a martyr complex and was written captivatingly well by Gege. The extra touches where how he has been perceived by others and the effect he has (and continues to have) on those we see.

And I just want to leave this heartbreaking thing here:

Source from twitter/now X:

Wouldn’t it be so sweet for Geto to get one (love declaration) at the end of his life, regardless of the way you perceive Gojo and Geto’s relationship?

Wouldn’t it be nice for him if he could know that his family who he instructed to flee had all loved him, adored him, and would honour his sacrifice in differing ways...

Instead, a form of love meant his body was desecrated and used by Kenjaku. His girls were killed, and his full potential was not quite realised at all.

If only things were different.

Gojo should have kept him in his basement!

But at least, I think, Gege is giving Geto some love even after his death.

For that I’m thankful.

And thanks for reading if you made it this far with my rambling!

If you want something more light hearted I have a fluffy fic up on AO3 (it isn’t great but i enjoyed writing it to fantasise about what happens at the airport) and if you want more angst and pain, please browse my tags (lol).

#jjk chapter 255 #just my interpretation #satosugu #stsg #jjk analysis #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk meta #geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jujutsu Kaisen meta #suguru geto #Geto meta #Geto analysis #Geto Suguru analysis #jjk 0 #jjk character analysis #jujutsu kaisen character analysis #Geto theories #jjk theories

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 15

I can't believe we're at 15 already :O

MASTAPOST

Danny looked at Damian. Damian looked at Danny. They looked at the smoldering remains of the Atlantean barracks, the scores of soldiers whose feet were frozen to the floor or to each other, bearing incredibly precise scorch marks from the wrist ray (maybe he should take confiscate that soon). They looked at the retreating soldiers, some of whom were openly sobbing. Danny looked at the helmet Damian acquired from their poor Atlantean victims, and the bow and arrow strapped over his chest. He looked at the overflowing satchels full of plant-based food they had plundered from the town. The unluckiest of them sported Damian-shaped bite marks on their exposed skin, a very painful reminder to not enter the kid’s personal space.

“You said we were just gonna get a map.”

Damian crossed his arms and honest-to-god pouted. Or scowled. It was a scowly pout. “It was not my fault you lost control over your powers.”

Danny’s face went blank. “Who was the one who demanded to see the seahorses and stick around even after we got what we needed?”

And you know what? Danny could honestly admit the seahorses were pretty cute. Was it worth risking their lives? Probably not, even if with Danny’s powers, there wasn’t much risk to them at all. It was the principle of the thing.

Damian at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Is it truly my fault if I wish to admire our planet’s marine biodiversity up close?”

“Yes, Damian. Absolutely.”

“It matters not. Besides, the Atlanteans deserve what happened to them.”

Now that excuse wiped the deadpan off Danny’s face, leaving him in open-mouthed disbelief.

Damian continued. “We have done nothing to them, and yet they regard our mere presence with fear, and take up arms despite there being no hostility from us.”

Danny looked back to smoldering ruins. Granted, it was just a barracks and a few watchtowers, but still. The Atlanteans fear of them was starting to feel a little justified. Did the first settlement Damian raided yesterday suffer a similar fate?

He ran his hands down his face. Scratch the bloodthirsty theory. He was beginning to think Damian intentionally got them caught to have an excuse to wreck the Atlanteans. Then there were the weapons. One look at Damian’s satisfied face as he looked over the destruction practically confirmed it.

Man, kids really were menaces, weren’t they? Maybe he should’ve thought more carefully before agreeing to travel thousands of miles alone with this chaos kid. Was it the siren instincts? Youngblood was similarly unhinged. Maybe it just released his inhibitions.

His distress must have been visible, because Damian tutted once his silence went on too long. “I was being merciful to them. With my skills, I could have easily gut them like the fish I very reluctantly eat, but no longer have to thanks to having plundered their food stores.”

“You know what? I’m not gonna even try to unpack all of that. That’s a job for my sister.” The elder siren patted his shoulders. “Get on, we’ve got places to go.”

Damian beamed as he swam around Danny and latched on, head held high. And honestly? Danny would be an absolute hypocrite if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy whooping the high and mighty bigots a new one.

“Hey B.”

Bruce could hear the strain on Tim’s voice. Even now, the boy was clacking away at the Batcomputer. He probably hadn’t taken more than a five-minute break.

“Tim.” Bruce said. He considered his next words. He was never one for talking much. It had become difficult to emote strongly after that night in Crime Alley.

“Still hacking into the GiW, and going over missing person cases. Haven’t found anything. I’ll post you when I do.” Tim said, all in work mode. Bruce sighed.

“Thank you, Tim, but I know it’s getting late at home. When was your last break?”

Tim didn’t say anything, but Bruce could practically hear the pout.

“I know you’re worried. I am too, but the Batcave will still be there in the morning.”

Tim hummed, still defiant to the last. “We’re losing valuable time. I can handle it. I handled Damian’s… everything. This is nothing. I’ve only been awake for sixteen hours.”

And wasn’t that half the issue.

Bruce took a deep breath. Countless hours of miming with Alfred, and talking to cardboard cutouts of his children.

“I’ve been worrying, Tim.” Just calmly. Just ease into the words. Don’t freak Tim out or scare him away.

“All you ever do is worry, and now it’s Damian so you’re worried even more.”

“I’m…” The lump in his throat grew. It felt like breaking glass to push through. “I’m worried about you.”

Silence on the line.

Bruce continued, stumbling into dark. “H-How are you feeling right now?”

A chair scraped on the other end., followed by retreating footsteps. “Nope. Nope. Not doing this.”

Bruce’s stress hiked. “Wait, Tim!”

The footsteps stopped, although Tim remained silent. Words, words, words, words. What did his manual say about this kind of situation?

“Thank you. I know you and Damian haven’t been on the best terms. But it… It’s…”

Bruce rapidly flipped through his manual, before deciding on the right word, before Tim could get away. “It’s… I’m proud of you. I always have been. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

The footsteps resumed, twice as fast as before. Bruce could barely make out muttering about coffee hallucinations. That was good, was it? Bruce looked over his checklist over and over again. Surely he hadn’t missed something?

Maybe he needed to review his notes before talking to Dick…

Arthur Curry, better known to the world as Aquaman, regarded the messaged sent to the palace from the Pacific frontier. The kingdom had benefitted immensely once the zeta system and advancements in instant communication allowed for him to easily communicate with every corner of the country in seconds.

The contents were worrying. Very worrying, in fact. He would almost have dismissed it as impossible, if he weren’t keenly aware of how much damage a clever enough child could do. Memories of the various Robins’ exploits around the Watchtower flashed through his mind, giving him goosebumps.

Never again.

It was a luxury which appeared unable to be afforded to him, as an attendant entered the room and handed him a second message, bound in twine and seaweed. Arthur thanked her, and opened the letter.

Another raid by the same child, this time accompanied by a young teenager. A young teenage siren. The local barracks destroyed, several watchtowers toppled, and food stores plundered. The two sirens fled soon after. About thirty injured personnel, but no casualties, and no civilian injuries either, thank goodness.

It was one of the strangest raids parties he’d ever seen. Usually siren pods descended on vulnerable border towns like a landslide, bringing dozens or hundreds of warriors charging through the countryside, pillaging farmland and razing whole buildings to the seafloor. Arthur transitioned to the archives to continue his research, pulling thousand-year-old records from their carefully preserved cases. His earliest predecessors had seen countless deaths to these war parties, before the Atlantean military was formalised and modernised.

The raids also occasionally took hostages. Sometimes adults or the elderly. Usually children. Arthur’s heart ached at his most vulnerable subjects being stripped away from their families. Those hostages taken were often never seen again, even as Atlantean forces made repeated incursions into siren territory to search for them. They would always be repelled back before finding any.

But one pattern was always clear with the raiders. Although those barbarians took Atlantean children for whatever sick purposes, they never brought their own children to fight. Some of his people believed they didn’t even have children, that they spawned spontaneously as fully formed spirits of destruction and rage.

It looked like those theories were untrue. But what circumstances could produce such a strange result? The first report only described a single siren child, who looked to be about five years old or so by Atlantean standards. The second report confirmed the reappearance of that child, now in tandem with a teenager who still appeared very young. Were they brothers? The reports stated the older one had translucent white and black skin, almost like glass, to the point where even his internal organs were faintly transparent. The younger siren sported a dark green coat, and golden fins and highlights. Neither before or after they struck did the soldiers ever catch a glimpse of an adult.

Could they be orphans? Arthur’s heart panged. Even if they were technically his enemies, he hated the fact that children were the victims of this continued conflict. Despite attempts to work out a peace treaty between his kingdom and the sirens, it could never work out. Atlantis was one kingdom with one king, but the siren pods spent as much time squabbling between themselves as with Atlantis.

Outside of their age and lack of supervision, the children also sported another deviation: Their choice in weaponry. While the capital invested in preferred to traditional weapons, favoring especially polearms like the spear, trident and javelin. Siren war bands in the past favored the bow and arrow, using their superior speed to outmanoeuvre and outrange Atlantean soldiers. Many men and women were lost to their feigned retreat tactics, to the point where every new recruit had to be drilled again and again to never pursue ‘retreating’ sirens.

The elder of the two raiders fought with only his magic, firing icy beams and throwing spears of ice. This was where the duo was most similar to typical siren warriors, contrasting against the disciplined and measured sorcery taught to Aqualad and others his age.

What was alarming was how the younger boy fought. He slashed at one poor soldier who got too close with a sword in his first attack. Mauled six others with his teeth in the second. At ranged he wielded a strange contraption on his wrist, capable of rapidly firing concussive energy beams that let him suppress and disrupt soldiers triple his size.

The sirens were never interested in technological development in the same way as the Atlanteans did, and never had they possessed a weapon even close to as advanced as the one sported by the tiny child.

Arthur’s eyes furrowed. Could it be that some third party was supplying Atlantis’ enemies? How long before another army gathered, before the kingdom faced another existential threat like Pariah Dark had once posed?

Arthur’s Justice League communicator vibrated. The king of Atlantis picked up the call.

“Arthur.” It was Bruce. “This is urgent.”

“What do you need?”

“What information has your kingdom got on sirens?”

“What a coincidence, because I’ve just received two new reports from the Pacific frontier…”

“… As for this Phantom character, the culprit of the attack seems to match your description perfectly.”

Bruce furrowed his eyes. He marked the location where Phantom had last struck. The boy was heading south, along the California Current. For what reason? Was he migrating according to his needs as a species, or was he searching for another haunt? Was he going further south or would he turn west once he neared the equator and follow the current there?

Six months of stalking a human town, fighting off other sirens, only to abandon it once the GiW came out in force, and then start marauding Atlantean settlements out of nowhere? Something extraordinary had to have happened. According to Arthur, Phantom had never been seen by his soldiers before. Perhaps Phantom had completed whatever goals he had in Amity, and was transitioning to his next move on Atlantis.

Phantom was young, or at least appeared young. Likely no older than fifteen. The fact that no records show any similar pattern of behaviour ruled out the possibility of it being some kind of coming-of-age ceremony. It seemed Phantom was an outlier among his species.

If sirens travelled in pods, then where was Phantom’s?

“It’s funny you mention that, since he wasn’t alone. There was a tiny child with him. I think he was about five years old or so. The boy carried weapons like a warrior, and blasted my soldiers with energy beams from a futuristic wrist gun. I’ll sent you the sketch the commander sent me.”

Bruce confirmed his receipt of the sketch. His eyes widened.

Emblazed on the gun’s side was a very familiar logo, a flaming blue F for Fenton.

The conversation ended soon after, with Arthur promising to forward him translated copies of the reports.

Bruce clasped his hands, holding them tight as he pondered (not brooded, despite what Dick insisted).

It seemed Phantom’s lack of morality couldn’t sink further. He had manipulated Amity Island teenagers into assisting him, and now he was leading what was basically a toddler half of Damian’s age into dangerous battles against trained soldiers.

Bruce’s will hardened with righteous anger. This Phantom was barely fresh off his last crime before preying on another child. He had to be stopped.

Suddenly he had three children to save now.

Please be ok, Damian…

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #atlantis #atlanteans #good parent bruce wayne #arthur curry #bruce wayne is bad at feelings

[koithelittle]

Hi hi!! Can I ask for a hurt/Comfort fic (or headcanons?? Whatever u feel like writing:3) with copbur?

Like he had to work longer than he told u by accident, but u get really anxious about people being away (I'm not projecting guys I swear-) and when he comes home ur little and sad and he's really sweet about it and feels so bad he accidentally did that to his baby :((

anxious days with happy nights

note; OH MY GOD YES I CAN!!! ngl I really struggle with separation anxiety/abandonment issues in general but esp with a carer so like ooo I'm gonna have fun writing this, thank you!

words; 2.1k

warnings; use of daddy/dada, cutesy petnames (i stick to baby though), separation anxiety, crying, panic, abandonment issues, reader gets a bath, not proofread, lmk if there's more!

pairing; cg!copbur x little!reader (gn)

navigation

taglist; @jjtheresidentbaby @lillylvjy @wilmaslittleflower @whos-nicooo (ask or dm to be added!!)

wilbur usually kept his shifts to the same length every day. his routine was set and it wasn't going to budge. he'd wake up at 6, get dressed and showered and then he'd wake you up to do a little check in. if you were big, you'd handle yourself for the most part; even if he preferred when you let him fuss over you. but if you were little, he'd help you wake up, get you dressed, get you to brush your teeth while he did your hair, etc etc. you'd both have breakfast and by 7:50 he was out the door and on his way to work. that way you'd be awake with him long enough to feel secure and not end up waking up without him and panicking (which has happened before and resulted in him taking an extra day for his weekend off).

his hours were the same, 8am - 4pm, Monday through Friday. it was the same routine every day, and it was easily expected to stay that way. his job usually consisted of more quiet work, like paper work, intake or lunch rounds. nothing out of the ordinary, nothing where he had to handle scuffles or escaped inmates. it was repetitive, and he liked that.

you had woken up in a normal headspace, getting yourself ready and joking around with wilbur before he left. you thought of busying yourself with house work, dishes that needed to be done, laundry that wasn't overflowing but you felt like it needed to be done. but you couldn't manage it mentally, you were exhausted and nothing was to a level of needing to be done at that moment, so you rotted on the couch and did some simple embroidery during the morning. you didn't start to slip until lunch time, having decided on a snack plate instead of a put together meal because you were simply just getting so tired and didn't feel like it. the rest came with it.

the further you slipped and the later it got, the more on edge you were. you managed to catch wil during his afternoon break, texting with him and telling him of your day. part of him was estatic you were little and enjoying yourself, while the other was worried since he wasn't there to actively care for you. not to mention he only had a fifteen minute time window to speak to you before he got swept back into work.

he told you he had to go, and you understood, telling him how much you loved him and missed your daddy! he smiles and puts away his phone in his pocket before going back to his post.

you managed on your own until it was around the time he usually left work, you didn't get a text or a call that he was on his way. he wasn't answering his texts and he should've been home by now. but he wasn't. you were panicking a bit, curled up in blankets and staring blankly at your phone hoping to all hope that you'd get a call from him. that he would be coming home.

your anxiety only built further and further as time passed, you tried to keep yourself cozy and distracted, turning on some cartoons as your phone went unchecked.

another hour passed and you heard the front door click closed, you lifted your head, dried tears over your cheeks.

"daddy?" you call for him, jumping out of bed and waiting for him to answer.

"baby?" wilbur echoes back and he hurries up the stairs, seeing you peeking out of the bedroom door, your eyes held wide with a pout on your lips. he scooped you up into his arms and carried you into the bedroom. he sat down and set you between his legs after he kicked off his shoes. he runs his thumbs over your cheeks as he takes note of your reddened eyes and the tears dried on your skin. he frowns, kissing your nose as he rests his hands on the small of your back.

"how tiny is my baby, mm?" he tries to lighten the mood with a soft question, trying to keep you with him as his mind wanders and runs with different thoughts. feelings of guilt and worry at the sight of you so distressed and he knows it's because he was late. but he'll address that later, right now his baby comes first.

you shrug softly, reaching forward and grabbing hold of his shirt, messing with the fabric and rubbing it between your fingers. it's a softer cotton shirt, and you always like to fidget with it when you can.

"are you.. five? two? ooo is my baby realllyy tiny? hm?" he kisses all over your face as he speaks, trying to coax a smile or a giggle out of you. you crack a bit of a grin, shaking your head as you look up at him.

you hold up one finger, smiling sweetly as he gasp, "oh so you're a little baby, then?" and you nod as he places a big kiss to your forehead, pushing back your hair and tucking it behind your ears.

you move to crawl against his chest and he takes you into his arms, rubbing at your back as you drape your arms around his neck. you don't feel like talking all too much, just so tired and overwhelmed with all the feelings you have, that words just feel exhausting.

silence drapes over the both of you, and wilbur tucks his face into your neck as he hums, "I'm really sorry, baby. I got all caught up at work with a bad guy and I couldn't get home in time, I wish I did," you nod into his shoulder, humming softly as his arms tighten around you.

"s otay, daddy," is what you manage to squeak out, and he sighs, tension and stress being let out with the long breath and you hold yourself tighter to him. you don't want him to disappear, you need to hold on tighter. tighter, tighter, tighter.

he feels your hold tighten, and he rubs your back while leaving little chaste kisses by your ear. he mumbles small words of reassurance, "I'm here, baby. not going anywhere," which earns a little whine from you as you bury your face deep into his shoulder. he holds back a small chuckle, and it comes out as a huff of air as he simply keeps you close.

more time passes, nothing changing other than the intensity of your hold on him, hands grabbing at the fabric of his shirt. it helps you stay grounded, he doesn't mind.

"baby, have you done your routine yet?" he knows the answer, but he still bothers with asking anyways. you shake your head with a huff, his lips curl into a grin and he nods, "mkay baby, time for a bath then."

he then works on prying you off of him so he can effectively get you ready for a bath. you're shaking your head and whining at him, and he tries to soothe you with soft back rubs and little kisses to your face. it works for the most part and your silent complaints seem to fizzle out as he settles you between his legs again.

"can you sit still for daddy while I get things ready? mm?" he coos, knuckles running over the soft skin of your cheeks and you nod vigorously. wilbur chuckles and kisses your forehead before handing you your favorite stuffie and turning the TV to bluey. you focus your attention on the show, sitting still on the middle of the queen size mattress. he slips out of bed from behind you, untucking his shirt out of habit as he gathers up some pj's for you, taking them and laying them out behind you on the bed. then ventures into the bathroom.

he starts by running the water in the bath, then adds some bubbles to get all foamy. he keeps the door open so he can hear if you call for him, or if you fall. he then crouches to look under the sink for some of your bath toys and a bath bomb. he wants to make tonight's bath a bit more fun and exciting than your usual baths. mostly to help soothe the guilt that grows in his gut. he keeps the bath running as he pokes his head into the bedroom from the bathroom and smiles at you.

"hey, honey, the bath's almost ready," you look over to him and nod, reaching your arms out and making grabby motions with your hands. he scoops you up from under your arms and kisses all over your face, "good baby," he cracks a small grin, holding you on his hip as he carries you into the bathroom. after he sets you down on the counter, he kisses each of your cheeks before he begins to help you undress.

"what did my baby do today?" he croons, helping you into his arms before setting you down in the bath. you shrug at him, padding at the water as the bubbles collect around you.

he grabs the little washcloth and gets it all wet before he starts to scrub at your back, "i's watched cawtoons a bit," you finally speak up, eyes droopy and tired as you watch him.

"oh you did now, mm? what did you watch, bug?" he smiles sweetly at you as he gently guides your arm to be closer to him, and he gently scrubs your arm and shoulders before moving to the other arm. he glances between your eyes and where he's cleaning you up, waiting for you to answer.

"Ninjago," you mumble, smile brightening as your eyes widen with it.

he chuckles, kissing your temple and humming at your answer, "zane still your favorite?"

you nod happily, giggling before you ramble on about the episode you watched, and everything that happened. he manages to comprehend most of it, but the rest was all baby babbles that he couldn't quite make out.

after your body was all clean, he sat back for a minute, letting you play to your heart's content as he watched you. his shirt is a bit soaked, and he has some bubble bath in his hair from when you tried to give him a foamy hat, but he doesn't mind. with a small smile on his lips, and love in his eyes, he watches as you play and splash, giggling and including him in your play. he leans closer a moment later, grabbing hold of your hand and rubbing his thumb over the skin. wilbur then kisses each of your fingertips, ending with a kiss to your palm. you giggle and splash about, grinning ear to ear.

"was dat fow?" you ask softly, eyes squinting with a smile on your lips. he grabs your other hand and repeats the order of kisses before he places one tiny kiss to your nose.

"oh, well I'm just showing my baby how much I love them," he smiles softly before he starts to wet your hair and lather up your scalp in soap. you smile and hum, shutting your eyes as he washes out your hair.

when he's done, you're so tired that you don't even fight to stay in the bath, just letting him pick you up and wrap you up in a soft fluffy towel, drying you off. he carries you into the bedroom and helps you get all dressed, kissing all over your face before he helps you get back to the bathroom to help you brush your teeth. you're sleepily leaning against him the whole time, exhausted from your anxiety filled day.

once he got your teeth brushed, he carried you over to the bed, grabbing your hair brush and a couple of hair ties. he sat you between his legs as he unpaused the TV, letting it play as you focused your attention on bluey. he gently brushed out your hair, before splitting it in two and braiding both sections. he places a quick kiss to your temple before turning you to face him and shut off the tv.

"alright, baby, time for bed," you nod, reaching your arms over his shoulders as he picks you up and pulls you into his chest, kissing all over your face. he held you to his chest as he tucked you both under the covers, making sure your stuffie was safe in your arms. after he had effectively kissed every spot on your face, he pushed your bangs back and pressed you to his chest.

"goodnight little one," a small pause as you held him closer, a smile on his lips as he continued, "I love you."

you murmured an echo of his words, telling him you loved him too, and you were soon asleep. held tight in his arms with comfort surrounding you.

#sfw agere #koimoodboards #koiwrites #wilbur soot agere #wilbur soot #cg!wilbur #cg!wilbur soot #wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #copbur #copbur x reader #copbur agere #cg!copbur #cg!copbur x reader #cg!copbur x little!reader #cg!wilbur soot x little!reader #wilbur soot x gn!reader agere #koifics

[cathers-world]

hey!

i wrote a thing for the sub!wilbur prompt you got but im too shy to post it myself so im sending it to you through asks

cw explicit sexual content, edging, denial, pet play

"Stop shaking your leg it's distracting me!" your co-worker Kate says from the other side of the desk.

"Sure," You hadn't even realized you were shaking it to begin with. It's been hard to focus on anything really. This whole week feels like a blur you barely remember, with the only thing clear being Wil. Your Wil.

You clockout for the day, 'thank fuck it's finally the weekend.' and drive home. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel, barely focusing on the road in front of you as you go back to daydreaming about your good pup.

"I'm hoooooome." You announce and take your shoes off waiting for the usual eager response, but nothing. "Baby?" You glance over at the shoe rack, there doesn't seem to be a pair missing so he is probably not out.

"Wil? Are you napping?" You whisper as you slowly push the door open. And smile at the sight. He is in a deep asleep, his messy curls all over his forehead as his chest slowly rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm. So gorgeous. So innocent.

'Jesus christ! ' You squeeze your thighs together a bit huffing at the fact that him looking cute is all it takes for your body to go crazy. He doesn't even have to do anything; it's frustrating sometimes. How can one be so effortlessly hot?

You remember the first time you met him. Your friend introduced you to each other and you couldn't stop but tell him how you think he is so beautiful instantly. It came out without your permission. Your brain needed the man in front of you to know he looks angelic no matter if you ever ended up with him or not.

And here he was years later, laid asleep on your bed, the most amazing thing to ever happen to you.

"Hey, pup," You whisper as you slowly crawl into his side. Rubbing his back and kissing his forehead, "I'm home, love." You watch as his breathing changes and his eyes open, "Your eyes are so fucking cute, baby." You mutter out the compliment, he smiles and drags you in for a sweet kiss.

"Hey, you. I missed you," He says caressing your face. "I missed you too pup...so fucking much..." His expression changes at the pet name, or rather the way you say it. He knows that tone of voice. He craves it more than anything. It's all he can think about and dream of in the past few years.

You can almost see him slipping into subspace by the way his eyes glaze over. Or how his mouth goes slightly agape, silently begging for your figers. He is so cute. You watch as he moves his legs ever oh so slightly, trying to hide his desperate need.

"I need to keep you edged out for longer puppy, you are such a good boy when you are all denied and desperate, love." You say with a little smirk on your lips. You reach your right hand to his face, and start playing with his bottom lip.

"You have the most perfect lips you know that Wil? It's like gods themselves carved them." You say staring at you thumb, tracing his plump bottom lip and the perfect arch of the top one. You hear him whimper, and you feel it on your thumb too.

"Please..." He pleads with his puppy eyes staring right at you. God he is so gorgeous. "Please what puppy? What do you want?" You say, it's been years and yet he hasn't learned that he needs to use his words...or mayhaps he likes you coaxing it out of him.

"I...fuck," He whines and hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Poor baby is too edged out to function?" You giggle out the words, it's amusing but also oh so arousing, you can practically feel your wetness on your underwear. You love seeing him so needy...so needy for Your touch. Your good boy.

"Yea, I am," He says with a chuckle. "I had to stop myself from humping the pillows this morning after you left, baby." He breaths the words against your skin, still holding onto your back for dear life, "I need you so bad, love. It hurts." He whines as he tries to get even closer to you somehow.

"Awwwww babyyyyy. I'm so proud of you for stopping yourself and being a good boy. You are such a perfect pup for me." You coo as you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull it, maybe a bit rougher than necessary just to get a reaction out of him. It works, he whines as he looks at you again, eyes locked with your, god you wish he knew how gorgeous he really was like this.

"What is it that you want, darling? Use your words my pretty boy." You say playing with his hair and slowly rubbing his back. He whines, trying to force the words out of himself as his shyness begs him to stop, "I want you to fuck me, love. Please. I need to feel you around me. I need you so bad. I need to rut into you because it's the only way for my body do calm down. Please, I'll do anything, my love." He rushes the words out before hiding his face in your neck again.

"Fucking hell, Wil." You say now fully yanking his hair back, "You are driving me insane, pup." You say as you carsh your mouth into his.

i uhhhh i can write the rest but didnt know if you were comfortable with full smut in your asks. if you are you can let me know and i can send you the other part.

-subbur anon

Write.the.rest.

Also I’m 100% ok with head cannons/one shots in my ask’s!!

#wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur imagine #wilbur soot #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur smut #wilbur dream smp

[mysticalsoot]

he said he'd cure your ills (but he did and he always will)

A/N; i wrote this in like an hour which is entirely a record for me lmao. there will be an alt vers posted tomorrow!! i’ll also post an intro and masterlist later!!

TW// manipulation, cheating, swearing, Wilbur is a bitch, it gets worse before it gets better sorry, fluff at the end I promise, partial derealization??, most of it is a nightmare.

Words; 2,004

Pairings; cc!Wilbur x Reader

Pronouns; Not mentioned, one use of y/n

Inspired by;  The Smiths – This Night Has Opened My Eyes

Bittersweet angst version here

masterlist

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

"Wilbur," You begin, voice trembling and caked in uncertainty, "Don't go. You can't."

"Why can't I? I have free will," Wilbur's tone is sharp like claws that slowly pick at the flesh around your heart, begging to rip it from your chest. And you're sure it will. His arms are flayed out, stretched out on either side of him. The same way they always are when he's angry. "Who's to stop me from leaving your pathetic excuse of a person?"

"You don't mean that.." Your voice gives out at the end, and you back up from him and into the wall. You want to run.

You want to scream.

You want to call him names.

Yell at him the way he's been doing to you.

Threaten him in the same ways, only worse and more tortuous than he could ever come up with.

But he's right.

You're pathetic, and so you curl up inside yourself, you freeze, and you die inside. You're rotting from the outside in. You're rotting, and isn't it his fault?

"I mean every word." His words come out slowly, it's calculated, the way he says it. It's like he really does mean to hurt you, that every word is a swing of the sword he's wielded for months. Slowly getting duller as each swing cuts deeper.

First, it was the distance; he stopped being as affectionate in public or at home. He no longer asked for it either, he just let you initiate it as if it was a chore he'd rather forget about for months on end. But you let it go, he was probably just tired!

And then it was the phone calls; his phone would ring and he would leave the room. He always said it was "work" stuff, but you knew the people he worked with and you were even friends with his manager, let alone his bandmates. But you let that slide too. Who knows, maybe it was a secret project! It's not that concerning..

The last straw was your friends. They were his as well, but they were just as much yours as they were his.

They were the ones that caught him. Up until this point you had been willingly oblivious, always pushing the gut feelings and the second thoughts as far away from you as possible and burying them six feet in the ground.

Wilbur was out during the day, he had gone to the beach that day (although he told you he went to the studio), to meet up with them. James was walking past the boardwalk that afternoon and he saw the tall man over by the water, out of the corner of his eye. He thought it was odd given the fact that Wil almost never went to the beach without you. So, he moved to a closer spot and hid far enough away that he wouldn't be noticed by his friend but close enough he could still see. It was deceptive and over the top, yes, but James was always one for theatrics.

He watched as Wilbur had gotten closer to the person he was with, holding their face the same way he watched him hold yours. He smiled at them the same way he smiled at you. But this person, they were the complete opposite of you and it made James' blood boil. He knew that you had no knowledge of this person because if you had known, he would have known. And he was in the dark, so you must be too.

And unfortunately, he was right. He went to the others first, the band, Alex, Tommy, Niki.. He covered all the bases for your closest friends and gathered them all together for dinner and game night at his place. And so, James told them everything, everything he saw or heard; the fact you probably didn't know.

They hatched a plan that night, after discussing all of the details, and their own suspicions. The plan was simple, they would stage an intervention. When worded like that, it sounds as if they pushed you into it. They didn't, the words they used were this; we found something out and we think you should know, but we have to tell you in person; and don't bring Wilbur.

It caught you off guard for sure and it filled your body with buzzing worry and nausea. But it subsided when you had gotten to the agreed apartment (Niki's), only to build again when you saw the expressions on their faces. Ones of grief, guilt, and pain.

They told you everything.

And then you went home (after plenty of comforting until you were semi-stable again), and you told Wilbur. You knew. There was no getting past you anymore. The secret was out.

And now you're here. He's making it out to be your fault and you so desperately want to believe it's not, but his arguments are more compelling and convincing than you thought.

"You, Y/N, have always been a nuisance. You're clingy, and possessive, you talk too much and you never know when to stop. It's always Wilbur this and Wilbur that. You never give me a break. You're overbearing, you're controlling. And I hate every fucking bit of your shit existence!" It hurts so bad to hear every word he says and know that he means it. The ache in your chest feels like a throbbing and if you didn't know better you would've assumed your heart had been ripped out and shredded over and over and over again, the hole in your chest then gushing blood from the half-assed job of heart surgery. All done by the sharpness of Wilbur's words.

God, you wished this was just a dream.

"If I'm such a nuisance, why have you stayed?" You ask, tears burning the skin of your red cheeks. The bags under your eyes are more prominent now than ever, it's the exhaustion from life combined with the stress of...this.

"Because I pitied you," He pauses, eyes narrowing before stepping forward, closer to you, "I never loved you."

You wish this was a dream, it has to be. He's not this cruel, it can't be him.

"What about the promises you made? Did those mean nothing to you?" You're begging him to spare your heart now, to not rip into it in the same way he ripped it from your chest. Your tone simply begs; please spare me, Wilbur, please.

"I never meant a word."

You feel yourself fade from reality, the sight of his anger-ridden red face fades into darkness, your surroundings going with it.

And then your body is frozen. Everything is black and you're crying, you can feel the wetness on your skin, somehow chilling you whilst burning you at the same time.

"Hey, hey, hey.." A soft voice speaks, it's muffled and you can barely make it out, but it's familiar; comforting.

You want to say something but your throat is locked, it's just as frozen as the rest of you, and you can't speak.

"It's okay, it's just a dream." The voice speaks again, and your brain subsides the fog previously inhabiting it and you remember. It's Wil.

Your eyes shoot open, his arms are wrapped around you, your head resting on his shoulder with his chin resting on the top of your head.

You shake your head, "No, no," you sniffle, grabbing onto the t-shirt he slept in, a simple white Los Campesinos! shirt, "it's not okay, it's not okay." The fabric entirely muffles your words on his shoulder but he can hear, he can make it out.

He pulls you closer to him, arms holding you in a tighter grasp. The feeling is warm, fuzzy, and good.

"Love, you're okay. I promise it's not real. This is real, I'm real, you're real." Wilbur rests his cheek against yours, the warmth of his touch enveloping you in a care you'd almost forgotten could exist.

You open your mouth to argue, but find yourself without words yet again, you simply whimper as you cry into his shoulder, soaking it in tears. He traces circles on your back as he whispers to you all of the things you didn't know you needed. He's warm, he's loving, and he's nothing like the nightmare Wilbur.

Moments pass until you've cried all the tears you could, and you pull away from his shoulder to look at him, adjusting yourself to sit in his lap facing him, rather than laying across his lap like before. The circles under his eyes are darker, and his hair, albeit longer than usual, is fluffed up and sticking up in every direction. He looks tired and worn, but his eyes hold the same concern and worry he has whenever you're upset.

He reaches his hands out to you, palms up and hovering in front of you. You take his hands in yours, holding on tightly, hoping and praying this isn't a dream either and you can stay. You desperately hope this is real. You want it to be real.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, head dipping slightly to meet your eye level, he's still taller than you even when sitting.

You weigh the options, if you told him, he would console you most likely. Or something would click and he would act in the same way he did in the nightmare, irritable and cold. Cut off from you. Was the risk worth it?

On the other hand, if you lied or perhaps omitted details, he may move on and the risk of him mimicking that same behavior is tremendously less likely.

You choose to tell him, there's a risk to it but what could it hurt?

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, "You cheated on me." You open your right eye a bit, just enough to gauge his reaction.

He looks to you expectantly, knowing there's more and so he waits patiently. You let go of his hands and move forward towards him again, wrapping your arms around his middle and your face pressing up against his chest. You can hear Wilbur's heartbeat, a pitter-patter against his ribcage.

"It was a long dream. James caught you and he told our friends and then they told me. Everyone else suspected it but didn't want to believe it until they had gotten proof. I didn't know until then. I went home and I told you that I knew and you-" You pause, voice wavering in fear. "You blew up on me. You told me you never loved me and told me all the things you hated about me." A single tear runs down your cheek, and you nuzzle further into him, your hands gripping the back of his shirt. "You said you never meant the promise we made. You didn't mean it."

After you finish, you stay silent, and so does he. His breathing becomes uneven and before you know it, he's crying too. You lift your head up to face him again, your hands rest on his cheeks and you wipe away the tears on his face with your thumbs.

"I would never, ever, do something like that." He mutters, his arms tightening their grip on you, pulling you closer.

You nod, "I know. But it was still scary."

He nods back, and then places a kiss on your forehead, "I'm sorry, Wil." You whisper, your arms leaving his back to wrap around his neck.

"It's not your fault, my love. We all have fucked up nightmares like that from time to time. I promise."

It's a simple promise, a promise that you're not alone and that he too has dealt with similar things. And despite the turmoil of the dream, you're glad you're awake and no longer in that hellish world.

You're home, and home is him.

Wilbur said he'd cure all of your ills, but he did and he always will.

Wilbur is yours and you are his. And you couldn't be happier.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur #cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #angst #fluff #dsmp #dsmp wilbur

[moiraineology]

New Spring read-through: 80% mark

*caution* spoilers ahead!

I'm hoping to make a longer post about New Spring, but for now, I just want to say that it is a true delight to witness baby Mo just being absolutely baby. She is every bit the young adult trying to put on a performance of competence, confidence, and calm, and we know that that eventually hardens into something resembling the truth, but we also know that that (metaphorical) mask she wears continues to cover up a maelstrom of self-doubt even into her older years.

The person who sees through it best is, of course, Lan, who is her age but already a more reserved and careful presence than she, and she hates that about him! Which brings out this totally childish side to her, and makes the disparity worse. Idk. I love seeing her through Lan's eyes in those early days, knowing that such a strong foundation of respect and trust will eventually be built between them. He sees everything about her that she will one day successfully hide. That she already successfully hides, for the most part. He sees the bratty, insecure, wilful, scared, and frustrated kid who has no idea, really, what she's gotten herself into. It makes me love them both even more than I already did, and I already loved them so much :')

#wot book spoilers #new spring #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #new spring spoilers #he will meet the wasps in perfect health #when i tell you i cried laughing #baby mo you idiot #you loveable little fool

[redshoes-blues]

The Will Byers Full-Circle Theory

Stranger Things 4, vol. 1 spoilers ahead + me putting my literature minor to use

Let’s talk about Will Byers as a character, Vecna’s curse, and the Mind Flayer. This theory will have a part 2 relating to my Byler-centric ideas about how this could all play out in vol. 2 (and how I think it will trickle into season 5), but for now I’ll focus on the theory itself.

Part 2 of this theory: Will Byers’ Vecna Song

Mirroring in Stranger Things

Stranger Things references the effects of mirroring throughout the series in multiple avenues, both within the text and visuals, along with the subtext. Most obviously may be the Upside Down, which we know as a twisted / dark mirror of Hawkins’ reality. Within season 4 (and previous seasons) a lot of the shots themselves further the idea of mirroring: El in the rainbow room, the biking sequence, the end of ep. 7 with the rope between realities, etc. This shows up in characters as well, like Henry Creel (001) who is mirrored and realized within Vecna himself. Mirroring is a common storytelling device which is used to draw comparisons between characters, plot lines, places, and other elements in a story. We clearly see this within much of Stranger Things.��

I’ve seen some people point out Henry Creel as a mirror or foil for Will due to some similarities in their character traits. They’re both sensitive and drawn to interests seen as odd or even dark by the larger world (black widow spiders which Henry emphasizes with despite their links to death; D&D for Will, which is seen as silly by some, and even potentially Satanic by the town during season 4). They also both have a talent for drawing, and are shown drawing these “unusual interests.” These similarities could be used as a way of building empathy towards Henry (making his motives more understandable) by drawing comparison to an established outcast character who we know to be good. It’s their actions and the ways they react to being outcasts that set them apart. But the similarities could also be building towards a full-circle moment of Will confronting Vecna in one way or another. More on that later. 

Will and the Upside Down

Will has a connection to the Upside Down like nobody else in the series, which further sets him apart. Although others are shown as having connections to the Upside Down, the entire story began because Will went missing: lost in a mirror dimension. A parallel world. In season 1, Will is frightened and sings to himself in Castle Byers (a location which symbolizes his childhood innocence). With the help of his friends, Will is returned to reality and the real world Hawkins. But as we know, he is scarred from his experience there, dealing with “True Sight” and a deepening connection to the Mind Flayer in season 2. In season 2, he’s the only character who has this kind of connection to the Upside Down. Even El, who we now know to be involved in the creation of the original gate, doesn’t have such an intimate tie to it. Although Will is no longer possessed in season 3, his connection to the Upside Down continues as he is able to sense the presence of the Mind Flayer. Then the gate is destroyed, the Meat Flayer is destroyed, the Byers move away, and all seems well. 

The Mind Flayer

Now, I want to create a little side-note about Vecna vs. the Mind Flayer, because I know there is a lot of discourse about which is the true big bad of the series. Personally, I see the Mind Flayer as the real villain pulling the strings. I think season 4 pushes this idea because we know the Upside Down existed before Vecna/Henry Creel/001 were banished there. The Mind Flayer seems to be a much larger, more cosmic deity who is quite Lovecraftian and clearly not human. There are lots of other reasons for this that I could elaborate on in another post. But for now the main takeaway is that I agree with Dustin about Vecna being the top general of the Mind Flayer, who acts in accordance to the true villain. 

If the Mind Flayer is the real villain, then Will’s connection to it is even more crucial and powerful. This is potentially the most powerful being in the entire series, and Will has a tie to it like no other character. 

Vecna’s Curse

Like many others, I think Will will (ha) fall under Vecna’s curse in vol. 2. In fact, I think it’s inevitable for this to happen. It wasn’t until the gate closed that Will lost his ability to feel the presence of the Mind Flayer (and its soldiers), and then he moved away. Now, Will is likely going back to Hawkins where we know there is not just one opening to the Upside Down, but at least three presently. In other words, the Mind Flayer is still in there, and when Will returns I believe that Vecna (operating within the Mind Flayer’s hive mind) will use the “spell” on him. Vecna preys on teenagers who have trauma in their pasts, which Will certainly does. Out of the Party as a whole, I think he’s the person most likely to be targeted next. 

Vol. 1 reveals that music has the power to block out Vecna’s curse. Will has an obvious connection to music in general, throughout the entire series, and especially to The Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” Will himself even sings the song multiple times when he’s in the Upside Down and it seems to ward off the monsters, if even momentarily. If Will does fall under the curse as I suspect, then I think it would be the most perfect full-circle moment for the series to bring back the song. Whether Will himself sings it, the Party plays the song, or Mike sings it to Will (part of my Byler-centric speculation), if he’s impacted by Vecna’s curse, it seems only natural that this would be the song he’s most connected to. In a lot of ways this would mirror the beginning of the entire series, with Will trapped in the Upside Down, listening to and singing The Clash to get himself through the traumatic experience. 

But what does it mean that Will has a stronger connection to the Mind Flayer than everyone else? Would this change the way Vecna’s curse impacts him? I think it potentially could. I don’t personally believe they will kill off Will in vol. 2 (it doesn’t really make sense for his character arc), but I do think the curse could play out differently in him than the others. There are lots of things that could happen (I could speculate possibilities all day). Some see a dark Will arc in the making, with Will as the final villain, but I personally don’t see this as likely. One option I could see happening is that Will is stuck in the Upside Down at the end of season 4, leading into season 5 with him in a similar predicament to the start of the series. Perfectly mirroring the events of season 1. 

My Final Thoughts 

I love the idea that season 5 is a bigger and darker version of season 1 revolving around Will and taking down the Mind Flayer for good. I think it would be a phenomenal end to the series, and the story would have a cyclical effect that would resemble the way the characters, relationships, dialogue,  and locations themselves are oftentimes mirrors for each other. 

Even if season 4 doesn’t end with Will stuck in the Upside Down, I think Will in season 4 being caught within Vecna’s curse and having to fight to get himself out would bring a lot of closure to his trauma. It would also be a general amazing callback to the first season, especially if we see Will alone in the Upside Down with “Should I Stay or Should I Go” playing out. So overall, I think vol. 2 will conclude with a direct mirroring of Will’s experiences in the previous seasons, building on his connection to the Mind Flayer and creating a satisfying cyclical storyline.

#st 4 spoilers #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #st 4 #stranger things season 4 spoilers #will byers #vecna #vecna's curse #the upside down #will byers mirror #byler #byler is endgame #stranger things music #stranger things music theory #stranger things theory #will byers analysis #the mind flayer is behind everything #redshoes-blues

[cyncerity]

alien terrarium au!!

here it is! i said it’d be today, so it’s done! 1 min before it becomes tomorrow!

minor thing, tho: this is extremely unedited. like, there are a lot of things i post that aren’t edited fully, but i didn’t even fully read this one in one sitting. but i’m not free again until this tuesday or wednesday, so i’m not gonna make you guys wait that long lol

basically it’s midnight and i’m way too fucking busy so i’m gonna post it and edit it when i have time to later in the week. if you wanna wait for the fully edited version, ignore this until i specify that I edited it. if you don’t care, i hope you enjoy! this has been an on again off again thing for a few weeks and i’m so glad to finally have it like 95% done :)

tw: soft safe vore, unconventional vore ig?

“We have to cut our losses here. We don’t have enough to fund this any longer, and there’s no one we can reach out to for more money. We can’t risk this getting out.” “Fine, I- I know, it’s just…this is a breakthrough. We can’t afford to give up now.” “We won’t. We just need some time to get back on our feet is all. Besides, he knows what to do now…” the scientists turned their heads to the one way mirror they stood behind. A little boy, barely a teenager, sat behind it on his bed, his eyes glassy and unblinking, turned a glossy pearlescent white. Their project, practically their life’s work. Well, the container for it, anyway.

***

Wilbur heard the three scientists come into the room, and somehow registered one of them motion vaguely with their hand despite his eyes being effectively turned off, which meant they wanted him back in their world. Ugh. Still, he cut off his thoughts with his practically other half, eyes beginning to function again and the scientists approaching him as they saw his eyes shift back to the colors they were supposed to be.

“Wilbur, what we’re going to tell you is very, very important, so you have to listen carefully. It’s your life at stake if this goes wrong. And his.” The one in blue said, gesturing to Wilbur’s torso. Well, that was certainly a way to get his attention. Wilbur didn’t say a word, though; the green one didn’t like it when he ‘sassed them,’ so he instead scooted back and placed both arms protectively around himself and his…what did they call him once, ‘cargo’? He was sure he heard Green call him a ‘parasite’ once, which was rude. Still, they must have noticed his panic, cause the orange one responded immediately. “It’ll all be ok, things will just have to change for a minute here. You’re…youre not going to be able to stay here for a while.” “What?!” Wilbur said, unable to restrain himself. The green one went to speak up but was silenced by blue, who just whispered something about him being ‘scared’ and how this was ‘probably a lot to handle.’ Yeah, no shit it was!

“I get this is a huge change, I do, but it’s necessary for now. We don’t have the necessary resources to keep taking care of you here. We need to find a way to keep you safe and healthy, both of you. You’ll be staying somewhere secure while we find somewhere more reclusive to hide you. We don’t want anyone finding out anything and putting the two of you in danger.” Orange said, sitting next to Wilbur and rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. Right. Right, he had a purpose. And if part of his purpose was to survive without his caretakers for a short while, he could do it. If it meant safety for his stowaway, he could do it.

“You doin ok, bud?” Orange asked, and Wilbur nodded slightly. Orange was his favorite of the main three. He was always nice, and even gave him extra treats when he was behaving! “When do you think you can be ready to leave, Wil?” Green asked, crouching to be at level with where he sat. “Whenever you need me to be, sir.” Green smiled and ruffled his hair. Wil always tried to be extra good for Green. It’s not like he didn’t like him, it’s just that Green was more likely to yell at him if he messed up. “Good kid. We’ll leave tomorrow morning and introduce you to who you’ll be staying with. Try to get some rest.” He said, smiling before leaving and leading the other two out with him.

***

“Sam! Hey buddy!” Dream said, jumping out of the side of his van and running over to his old friend. “Dream! How’ve you been?” “Pretty good, you?” “Doin pretty good myself.” Sam replied, pulling Dream in for a hug. “So, who’s this kid you found?” “Calls himself Wilbur. We found him a few months ago, but we’re a bit short on money right now and can’t handle another mouth to feed. He won’t stay here for long, promise, just till we find a more stable income.” Dream hated to lie to an old friend, but he couldn’t afford his secret to be leaked. “I’m always lookin to help out, especially for a friend. Anything I need to know about him?”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of an odd one, but that’s what we love about him.” Dream chuckled, hoping his friend was still oblivious. “He disassociates a lot. Like, constantly, and tends to get really upset if people try to mess with him when he’s like that. He also doesn’t do a lot of physical activity. Bruises take longer to heal for him, he gets sore easily, and his immune system doesn’t handle cuts well. He’s not very talkative, and he’s got some weird scars all over him. We think the two are connected, but we don’t know what this kid has been through.” Dream finished, and Sam nodded solemnly. Great, he was taking the bait. He was less likely to ask questions if he thought he was prying into the past of an abused child.

meanwhile, in the van…

“We found you abandoned. You’re just staying here until we get more stable jobs and can afford to feed you again. If he ever asks you about where you came from, you look away or change the subject as quickly as possible. You don’t know why you disassociate. You don’t know where the scars came from. Never do any of your caretaker necessities for him in front of Sam. He can’t know. Got it?” “Got it. He’ll never know.” Blue nodded back. Orange had just kind of been pacing in the van as Blue gave him the rundown again. Green came back to the van with a hand out towards Wilbur, giving him a reassuring smile.

Wilbur was about to take the hand before his arm got tugged and he was pulled into a hug from behind. A gentle one, obviously no one wanted to risk damaging what was inside of him, but a hug all the same. He didn’t get many of those. When the person pulled away he saw it was Orange, who was smiling proudly. “You’re gonna be fine kid. We believe in you. I’ll miss you, ok?” Wilbur just smiled back and nodded. “I’ll miss you, too. We both will.” He said before taking Dreams hand and walking outside with him.

***

It had been an…odd week with Wilbur in Sam’s opinion. Firstly, he’d been way more interested in things like trees and grass than any normal child would be, but refused to touch them. He also spent 95% of his time in the guest bedroom with the door locked, never making a sound. Who knows, maybe the kid just liked to sleep. He refused to play any sort of physical game, like Dream had warned him, but he seemed overly cautious of anything that could hurt him. But he wouldn’t pry, that wasn’t his job. His job was to take care of the kid until Dream, George, and Sapnap could take him back. Right?

That’s what he was supposed to do, but somehow, against all logic…he knew this kid. The giant brown eyes, the curly brown hair, his face shape, it was all so familiar. But why?

Until it hit him.

He’d woken up in a cold sweat, immediately racing to his computer to see if he was right. And his suspicions were confirmed, against all odds. There, on his friends facebook page, was a photo of him and his young son. His young son who was Wilbur’s age. His young son who used to have an identical twin brother who went missing when he was just a few years old.

Sam knew Wilbur’s face because Wil wasn’t the only person he knew with that face.

Sam wasted no time calling. He must’ve called 12 times before someone answered, which was fair given the ungodly hour, but this was urgent. “What the fuck, Sam…” and groggy voice answered. “Mate, it’s, like, 4 in the morning, what could possibly be this important-”

“Phil, I think I found your son.”

***

Breakfast was different the next morning. Wilbur walked downstairs only to see two strangers sitting at Sam’s table, one an adult and one a child around his age. The adult looked about as old as Sam, which was to say a bit older than his scientists. He had blonde hair and kind blue eyes, and was wearing a dark green sweater jacket over a white button up. The other had long pick hair pulled back into a loose messy braid and glasses almost reminding Wil of his own except square instead of circular. He wore a simple pink hoodie and dirtied jeans and surprisingly clean white sneakers, but he must have been staring, cause soon the kid looked over to him and-

Wilbur’s breath froze.

Why…why did this kid have his face?

At this point, the man had looked over to, and immediately shot up from where he was sitting, knocking over the chair he was sitting on in the process and making Wilbur flinch. “Orpheus?” Wilbur stared blankly for a few moments before the man rushed him, barely giving him time to react before he was pulled into a hug.

Not a gentle one like Orange knew to give. Not one given by someone that knew why so few people were even allowed to touch him. A lung crushing, tight hug that was unbelievably painful after so much time with such infrequent gentle touching. He rarely found his mind drifting back to his the feeling of cargo in him, given that he’d lived most of his life with him and had gotten used to the odd sensations, but now it was impossible to ignore. Everything in him, everything that had been worked on so diligently, everything that had been removed and replaced and rearranged to make him perfect for his purpose, and his stowaway inside were being crushed. His purpose, the thing he’d been raised to protect, his only true constant in his life, was being crushed. It was the most horrifying downpour of fear he’d ever felt.

Wilbur screamed.

He screamed bloody murder as the adult let go and backed away, eyes wide. Wilbur vaguely noticed that both the strangers were crying, but he didn’t care. Wilbur only stopped screaming once his air was gone and now replaced by jagged breathing and spasms in his lungs. He felt like he was about to collapse as his vision darkened and his limbs began shaking. He needed to know if he was ok. If he wasn’t, Wilbur would never forgive himself. He needed to know.

“Kiddo, I need you to take deep breaths, ok, I think you’re having a panic a-“ “Stay the hell away from me! All of you!!” Wilbur screamed, voice hoarse as he smacked Sam’s hand away and ran up to his guest room and locked the door. He sat on the bed with a thud and tried to stop his shaking, but couldn’t spare much time for that since he had to make sure his cargo was still ok. He needed him to be ok. God, he was still just a kid, even younger than Wilbur. He can’t have let him get hurt.

He tried to take deep breaths and reached his mind out to some foreign instinct he knew. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how it came so easily, but it was such a central part of his brain that he could find it with ease. The second he got close to it, his whole body relaxed involuntarily. He hadn’t done that, which only meant…

“Oh, Tommy, thank god.” Wilbur sighed out loud, though the rest was said just to Tommy in the special way only they could communicate. He felt Tommy slow his heart rate more as he felt like he was being sucked away from his body into a void that words couldn’t possibly describe. “Wilbur!” a voiced called out. It hadn’t come from anywhere, just everywhere, like Wilbur’s did when he was here. Wherever ‘here’ was. He didn’t really know. It wasn’t like a darkness or white area, it was just…nothing. Not a nothingness that couldn’t be seen, but felt. Devoid of anything that could make it describable. Wilbur liked to joke that it was the emptiness in Tommy’s brain. “What was all that outside? You know i’ve got se-“ “Sensitive hearing, I know. I was being loud. Sorry.”

Wilbur could basically see Tommy huff and roll his eyes, despite the fact that he’d never seen Tommy at all. He knew every detail of his little brother friend, and Tommy knew every detail of Wilbur. Despite neither of them being able to see in their respective nothings, somehow they could sense every “move” (aka the movement they imagined themselves making since they didn’t have bodies in the nothingness) the other made in the void. Also Tommy can sometimes see through Wil’s eyes to look at reflections, but he rarely does that. Green doesn’t like when he does that.

Still though, he knew Tommy. He may not know what he looks like perfectly, but he knew Tommy. In an odd sense, he knew his details, but never what he truly looked like. He could list the facts of how Tommy was, but he had a feeling of deja vu whenever he tried to imagine a face or any detailed image of his body. He never could, he just knew the facts, like he’d seen Tommy but the detailed image in his brain had been removed and blurred beyond recognition. It seemed kind of unfair to him, given that Tommy knew exactly what he looked like because of the shared vision things and mirrors existing.

Still, though, he knew the pale white-blue of his skin the bright blonde of his hair and otherworldly accents. The shining, almost glowing iridescence of his eyes and the strange markings found on his body. He was mostly humanoid, which had initially shocked Wilbur and the scientists. Orange had warned him once that since they had no idea what Tommy was, something inhuman and vicious could easily rip through him. It scared him a little, but at that point he’d seen Tommy’s egg once and had grown monumentally attached, lethal beast creature or not. But Tommy was humanoid, except for one thing; he didn’t have legs. Rather, he had a long predominately red scaly tail like a snake.

When Wilbur was first getting used to Tommy’s being in there, the hardest thing to deal with was one: the odd feeling of scales against his sensitive organs and two: Tommy was almost always cold. How he could stay shockingly chilly in almost 100° Wilbur didn’t know, but that’s probably a big factor on why Tommy couldn’t be in open air; he’d freeze to death. Or his aversion to any form of light (maybe that was an understatement: a dim lamp 2 rooms over could kill him). But besides that, his unnatural colors, and a few other random snake-like features, Tommy was far from the horrific deep space lovecraftian monster he or the scientists were expecting. He was more just a little person who also happened to be a snake from space. No biggie.

“I- I don’t know what happened down there. There’s…there’s these two people, and one looks exactly like me and the other called me the wrong name and rushed to hug me and I panicked cause I thought he hurt you. You’re not hurt, are you?” “I’m right as rain, mr. human man. I’m sturdier than you think. Er, well, you’re sturdy and I’m in here so yeah I’m good.” Tommy responded, letting out an unearthly mix of a rumble and a hiss as he did. Wilbur liked Tommy’s weird alien noises, it comforted him. He sighed. “Still, I should’ve been more careful-“

“No you shouldn’t have! Stop bein a..a uh…” he paused for a minute to mumble a series of his weird Tommy noises before starting again. “what’s the english word for someone who takes blame for no reason and thinks that they need to solve every problem ever cause somehow everything is their fault?” “I think you’re talking about a martyr complex.” “Stop have’n a martyn complex!” Tommy yelled back, making Wilbur laugh. He pressed a hand against where he felt Tommy within himself, in one of the open areas that had been cleared just for him. Tommy pressed back and started to purr, a common reflex for him when he was happy, excited, or just needed to comfort Wilbur.

Even if Wilbur’s and Tommy’s consciouses were in the nothingness, they could still feel their body’s and move a little bit, even if it was more difficult than when they were awake. Wilbur liked to think of it as the same type of gesture that his scientists would do when they rubbed his hair or gave him a side hug, something he would love to try but could never do with Tommy. He thought Tommy deserved to have his hair played with or to be hugged, but it could never happen. But the pressing in, the only amount of intentional contact they’ve ever had and could ever have, worked just fine as a replacement. Something comforting and quick to show he cared. Of course, Tommy knew he cared, they’ve lived together (well, one within the other, but same difference) for most of Wilbur’s life and all of Tommy’s.

“Still, though…i don’t know what to do. Sam hasn’t had anyone else over, i don’t know what they’re doing here.” “I’d say good old fashion spying, then. See if you can get closer and make out what they’re saying.” “Good idea-“ Wilbur said, beginning to break off the connection before Tommy shouted out. “Wait! Aren’t you gonna let me see?” Wilbur rolled his eyes and somehow, in a way he couldnt describe, let Tommy’s weird telekinetic force into his mind. He opened his eyes and he was back in his room, the nothingness vanished and his body back in his full control. He looked to his mirror and sure enough, the shiny white gloss that overtook his eyes when talking to Tommy had confined itself to just Wilbur’s pupils. He’d given Tommy access.

“There, is that better?” Wilbur asked quietly, unable to respond telepathically when not in his weird zoned out state. The lack of that void didn’t seem to pose an issue for Tommy, though, as Wilbur heard an enthusiastic “Yup!” mixed with a few alien chirps echo through his mind as a response. Wil nodded to his reflection (and Tommy by proxy) and went to the stairs. He probably didn’t need to go down, he just needed to be able to hear them.

***

Ok that was, in hindsight, a bad decision.

“‘Dad?!’ I have a dad!? And a brother!?!” Wilbur whisper yelled, pacing back and forth across his room. With Sam and the now-not-so-much-strangers still talking in their kitchen, he figured it’d be safe to talk outside of the mind void. Tommy, meanwhile, laid himself against the front of Wilbur’s storage, rubbing circles into the walls to try and calm him down. “Maybe that’s not so horrible! I mean, you’re not an orphan! That’s normally a good thing, right?” Tommy said skeptically.

“Maybe it would have been 9 years ago! But now I have you!” Wilbur said, stopping to sit on his bed and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I don’t know them. I don’t remember them at all; you’d think if they were a good family to me I’d at least recall that they existed. But I don’t. How could I ever trust them with knowing about you?” “I…I don’t know. But…you have a dad, Wil! And a brother! That’s not something you can just ignore! Neither of us know what it’s really like to have a family, maybe…you could learn for the both of us?”

Wilbur sighed. He knew Tommy was right. And they’d both wondered where their families were; if they missed their sons, if they even wanted to give them up in the first place, what ever happened to them. Wilbur always felt awful because Tommy would likely never know. The odds that his parents were even still alive were slim, and it’s not like he ended up on earth with very specific instructions on how to take care of him by accident. But Wilbur had never thought his family could show up, either, yet here they were.

“What do we do about the trio?” “You know how I feel about them. Let’s see if those two are any better.” To be fair, Wil did know how Tommy felt about them; he didn’t like them at all. Tom didn’t like the tests they ran on him, he didn’t like what they put Wil through in order to do tests on him, he didn’t like how they treated his big brother caretaker as the less important one in their experiments, and he didn’t like how damn nosy they were. That part even bugged Wilbur. How the hell did they expect Tommy to be able to explain so much about what he was? He’d never met anyone like himself either, he’d been hatched on earth!

“Well, at least we know them. They’re predictable, and we know they have our best intentions at heart. Our. They know how to help the both of us and I- I don’t know if I can do all this alone.” “Wilbur you haven’t been alone since the day I was born. You’re not gonna start now.”

“What if something happens to you and I don’t know how to fix it? It’s my job to make sure nothing bad happens to you. I couldn’t live with myself if I let myself get caught up in some familial adventure and you ended up getting hurt because of it.” “I get it but don’t you think that’s unfair?” Wilbur paused. “Wh..what do you mean ‘unfair’?” “We’re kids. You’re a kid. It sucks for you that I’m your responsibility, it’s unfair that you gave up your childhood to keep me safe. But you can get it back, some of it, at least. Just…see if this can work out. If not for you, then for me. I hate seeing you put yourself on the back burner like this, Wil, I hate it. I can’t stand that i’m the reason you can’t have friends or play or be a kid. But this could change that. If it can’t, we’ll go to whatever lab the trio puts us in next. I’m sure they’ll be sooo thrilled that you’ve met your family.”

“Tommy don’t say those things about yourself.” Wilbur said, hugging his arms around himself. “I chose to take care of you, and I’ve never regretted it. Not for a second. You’re worth everything I willingly gave up, ok?” He heard a disgruntled noise in response. “Fine, we’ll come back to this conversation later. For now…ok. I’ll..I’ll give them a shot-” He heard Tommy cheer with a mix of wooing and trilling that he made when he was excited “-but Sam obviously knows the trio, so i’m sure he’ll tell them about my family at some point if he hasn’t already.” “I figured, but what are they gonna do? They can’t take you if you want to stay.” “Emphasis on if I want to stay, remember?” “Got it, bossman.”

“Wilbur?” He heard a voice outside call while knocking before the door opened a crack. “Were you…talking to someone..?” Sam said, poking his head in through the gap a bit. “Uh, no, I just..uh..kinda talk to myself sometimes. But I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” Wilbur said, trying to move past his previous conversation as quickly as possible. The less Sam questioned why he was talking to an empty room, the better. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that, I just…don’t like being touched.” Not exactly true, but if it would keep the blonde guy and his clone from touching him it could be the truth for a while. Sam just solemnly nodded. “I’m sorry, I told him about you and how you were just kinda found with no memories, but…I don’t think he believed that your amnesia was as bad as I told him it was. I don’t think it hit him that you really didn’t know him until you ran off…Wil, he’s-” “He’s my dad, apparently. I was eavesdropping, i heard you talking downstairs.” Sam stared wide eyed for a second before he nodded solemnly.

“I know this must be a lot. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by calling them here, you obviously didn’t expect to meet your long lost family while you stayed for the month. But…I’ve been friends with Phil for a while. That’s the blonde guy, by the way. He…he didn’t take losing you well. I was there for him when he and Techno were grieving and it..it was horrible. They were so broken.” Sam said, eyes beginning to shine from unshed tears. “I can ask them to leave if you want, I understand if-“ “I don’t want them to go.” Wilbur interrupted, almost mad at himself that he’d let Tommy talk him into this. “I want to meet them. I want to see what they’re like again.“

“Really? I mean, you can, but I just thought-“ “I’ve made up my mind. Can I meet them again?” “Y-yeah, yeah, absolutely.” Sam said, leading Wilbur out the doors down the stairs. He heard Tommy make a few more excited chirps before he started purring again. Like always, it put Wilbur at ease a bit. He followed close behind Sam down the stairs and back to the kitchen, where he saw the pink haired boy leaned over the blonde guy, who was sitting at the table with his head on his folded arms. The pink haired boy’s head snapped up from where he’d been comforting his father as Sam and Wilbur re-entered the room, eyes narrowing at Wilbur like he was a rabid animal. In the awkward silence, Phil looked up, and it almost pained Wilbur too see his red cheeks and puffy eyes. He really hadn’t meant to hurt the guys feelings, he just panicked. They all stared at each other for a moment before Wilbur realized that they were probably waiting for him to speak up. Great.

“Uh…I’m sorry for screaming at you, Mr. Phil. I don’t do well with…surprise contact. You just scared me, is all.” The man just continued to stare back at Wilbur for a moment. “You…you really don’t remember me, do you, Orpheus?” Wilbur looked back and took a deep breath. This may have been for Tommy, but he had to stand his ground here. “I’m going to say this once, and only once cause I don’t think you can handle hearing it a second time, ok? You think you can handle this?” Phil looked a bit confused at the annoyed tone but nodded, prompting Wil to continue. “Good, cause here it is: I don’t know who Orpheus is. I don’t know who he was. All I know is he’s not me. Maybe he was, but not anymore. So maybe your grieving wasn’t in vain: because he is in fact very much dead.”

Wilbur paused as Phil’s face fell and tears started to run down his face again. Even the pink haired boy had started crying. He tried to ignore it. “My name is Wilbur. If you want to know me, not Orpheus, me, I…I’m willing to try to connect with you again. I don’t mean to be heartless but I need you to understand that if you want me back, there will be no prior standards for me. I won’t try to change how I am now to be the person I used to be for your amusement, because frankly? I couldn’t give less of a shit about what you want, because I don’t know fuck all about either of you. If you came here to find the son you lost, I’d suggest leaving. Any questions?”

Shocked silence filled the room. Phil stood silent and still as tears poured down his face, his clone even started to cry when he saw Phil crying, and Sam looked like he’d just watched a bomb go off. Wilbur just stood at the center waiting for something to change. For Sam to send him to his room, for Phil to break down even worse or for him and his son to deem Wilbur too different and abandon him (again), but nothing was happening. ‘Way to sugarcoat it, Wil.’ quietly played in his head, as if Tommy was afraid he’d somehow interrupt the group despite them not being able to hear him. He’d elbow himself in the gut later, that’d probably look really weird if he did it now.

“…Do you want to come home with us?” Phil said after a few minutes, shocking Wilbur. “Do you want me to?” Phil just nodded and wiped a few more tears from

his face. “Even if you don’t remember us, you’re still my son. You always will be. I’ve missed you so, so much Wilbur.” He said, kneeling to be at eye level. Wilbur just sighed. “Ok, then…let’s go home, I guess. I didn’t come here with much, I can just go with you now?” “Really?” Phil said, surprised but seemingly excited. “Oh, o-ok then! I thought you’d want a few days but, uh, sure! As long as Sam is ok with that?”

“Oh yeah, Sam!” Wilbur interrupted, turning to face the man who’d just kind of been standing silently, clearly unsure of what to do in the situation. “I need you to tell my guardians what happened. They’ll

probably understand, but they’ll also want to meet my long lost family

since they raised me and all.” ‘More like interrogate them and possibly file a restraining order so they can never take us again, but same difference I guess.’ Tommy chimed in unhelpfully. Wilbur ignored him. “Give them Phil’s address asap so they know where to find me. Also give me their phone numbers, i don’t remember them.” “Wait, guardians?” Phil chimed in, lightly tapping Wilbur on the shoulder with a concerned look. “You have legal guardians?”

“Three college aged guys, yeah. But I wouldn’t say legal,” Wilbur explained, “they just kind of took me in when I was lost without my memories. They tried to find you for a few years but gave up after a while. I couldn’t really give them any info to go off of.” “Oh…do they treat you well?” “Yes.” ‘No.’ Wilbur and Tommy said at the same time, though obviously only one was heard. “That’s…that’s good, i guess.” Phil said quietly, then it was back to the awkward silence. Godammit, Wilbur hated silence. Was it gonna be like this all the time with Phil?

“Well then, let’s get a move on.” Said the pink haired boy who Wilbur had only remembered was in the room when he spoke up. He’d been pretty silent, but at least his tears had dried. That was better than Phil was doing. “And you are?” Wilbur asked. “Technoblade, but most people call me Techno.” he said, holding a hand out. Wilbur just stared trying to figure out why he was doing that. Was it a high five? Sometimes orange would give him a high five when he did a good job testing, but why was he doing it sideways?

Wilbur smacked his hand quickly and pulled away, smiling awkwardly. Techno just lowered his hand and stared. Shit, he was wrong about the high five, wasn’t he?“Ok…” Techno said, “we’re gonna have to re-teach you some stuff, aren’t we?” “Uuuhhh…maybe.” Wilbur said quietly as he heard Tommy laugh at him. Asshole.

Wilbur made his way to their car after grabbing his bag and saying goodbye to Sam. The packed into the car, and Wilbur was met with the silence again. Phil seemed…weary of him, to put it best. Like he was dam one bad storm away from breaking. Techno seemed more disinterested in him, just playing on a phone as Phil started to drive, never looking up at him. Well, he wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence this time. He didn’t want to talk to them anyway.

Instead, he let himself fall into his nothingness, connecting with Tommy on the other side. “Well that went great!” Tommy said sarcastically. “I stood my ground.” Wilbur shot back. “I don’t want to be treated like some lost broken kid. I’m 13. I know what I’m doing.” “Well, I like them. They seem nice!” Wilbur wasn’t sure how to respond. Sure, Phil seemed like he wanted to care about him. Techno seemed…willing, at least, even if he was a bit nonchalant. But could he trust these people? They were the people who abandoned him and left him to almost starve to death in the woods as a toddler. That wasn’t exactly something a loving family would do, but they seemed happy to see him alive. Was it a mistake? How could they have fucked up badly enough that he got amnesia and almost died at the ripe age of 4?

But Tommy seemed so excited. As much as the scientists always tried to make sure it didn’t happen, Wilbur loved Tommy. He really was like a little brother, they’d grown up together. They’d both always been told that it would be for the best that they didn’t make that kind of connection in case something where to go wrong, but who else did they have? Tommy was family to him, and damn if he wouldn’t do anything to make the little boy happy. He sighed. “Yeah, well…let’s hope so.”

#i’m too tired to even type essays in the tags what have i become #jokes aside tho im conkin out once i type this all #cyncerity #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #alien terrarium au #cynwrites #mcyt g/t vore #tw vore #soft vore #safe vore #tiny!tommy #alien!tommy #giant!wilbur #giant!phil #giant!techno #giant!sam #alright gn y’all peace

[mavia-anon]

SBI Whumptober Day 6 - coughing up blood // choking // "just breathe."

This particular prompt is getting a spotlight here because I like it. If you wanna check out everything else I've written for SBI Whumptober so far you can find it on my ao3 here. This is also longer than what I'd usually post on Tumblr so sorry about that

CW: dark SBI, possessive behaviour, vampire Tommy got turned against his will, (but that's not shown, just mentioned)

---

There's a hunger like never before gnawing at Tommy's bones.

He's no stranger to going hungry, he spent most of his childhood being half starved and weak because of it. But even that doesn't compare to the hunger and the pain he feels now.

"Just rest," a gentle voice soothes, a cold hand carding through his hair. "You can eat soon."

Tommy whines pathetically, under the hunger pangs that make his stomach twist, there's an ache in his heart at the sound of the voice. Wilbur's voice, a slightly more coherent part of him, recognises.

He's supposed to trust Wilbur, right? They're friends – brothers almost. He remembers joking about that once, he thinks. It feels like it was a lifetime ago.

But as awareness slowly creeps back into his mind, Tommy remembers more. He had trusted not just Wilbur, but his whole family – Techno and Phil, where are they?

Tommy whines again, some new and unfamiliar part of his mind crying about the loss of… something. The ache in his heart worsens.

His family. Tommy trusted them – had trusted them. He trusted them with so much. With his fears and his vulnerabilities, with his physical wellbeing, with his fucking heart.

Fuck, he even trusted them with Henry. The stupid ratty cow plush that was his only memory of his biological family. And what did he get in return? Backstabbed – no, neckstabbed by Phil the moment he could admit he loved them.

"Wil," Tommy whines. "Wil what did you do t' me?"

"Don't worry about it, moonlight," Wilbur dismisses quickly. "You love us, right?"

Tommy whines again, confused and uncertain. Because he does. He loves them so much it hurts him sometimes but… but love shouldn't hurt like this, should it?

"You fuckin' turned me," Tommy whispers brokenly, the start of tears pooling in his eyes. "I told you I'd never want this."

The hand in his hair tightens painfully, and Tommy whines once more, moving his head to try and shake Wilbur off.

"Sorry, moonlight," the hand retracts completely and Tommy has to bite back a whimper. "Just… don't say things like that, alright?"

Tommy doesn't offer a response, he hardly feels smart enough to argue with Wilbur on a good day, but now, with his head stuffed full of cotton and the hunger overtaking his every thought, it feels almost impossible.

"I'm hungry," Tommy says after a long moment. "Do you think Phil'll make me pancakes again?"

"I don't think so, moonlight," Wilbur says gently.

Tommy frowns. "What's up with you callin' me that?" He mumbles. "Though' I was your sunshine, or whatever."

"You were – you still are," Wilburs hand returns to his hair, sharp nails scratching at his scalp softly. "But you're like us now. Still yourself of course, just. Changed. Moonlight is only a darker reflection of the sun, after all, and now you're ours. I thought it was fitting."

Tommy hums a non answer. Wilbur has always been poetic about shit like that, but Tommy feels too distant to really understand the words properly. It's nice to hear him talk though, his voice has always been calming.

Tommy breathes deep, content to listen as Wilbur continues rambling on. He can't sleep, as much as he wants to, the hunger is constant. But he’s fine, for now, he's certainly lived through worse.

Like being bitten and turned by a vampire.

The thought comes unbidden and Tommy frowns to himself, but the sound of a door opening steals his attention quickly enough that he doesn't have to think too deeply yet.

He feels the presence of two people enter the nest, an unfamiliar bond between them that feels like family. And with them, the sweetest smell reaches Tommys nose.

He sits up instantly, his hunger growing with a vengeance at the smell. Phil and Techno stand in the doorway, wide smiles on their faces and a fondness in their eyes Tommy has never seen before.

“Hey mate,” Phil greets him with a soft voice and Tommy makes an odd noise in return, something eerily close to a bird call. “Wow, you're deep in your instincts, huh? Makes this next part easier I guess.”

Both Wilbur and Techno chuckle at that and Tommy whines lowly. The sweet smell is only getting stronger, and Tommy is just so hungry. Whatever his sire is hiding, Tommy needs to have it – to sink his teeth into it and–

“Come here, Toms, I’ve got your food right here.”

Tommy doesnt waste a moment, scrambling out of Wilburs arms and off the bed, rushing headfirst into Phil, an unpracticed rumbling purr spilling from his lips.

That's… that's weird, right? Tommy blinks, awareness seeping back in for a moment. He shouldn't– something is wrong.

“Shh,” Phil hushes. “It’s okay, I'm here, just focus on me. You want to eat, don't you?”

A haze he hadn't noticed before falls over Tommys mind. It feels safe, warm. Phil purrs at him and somehow he knows it means his sire is content. Tommy lets himself sink into the haze.

“Good,” Phil praises. “Techno, if you would?”

Tommy blinks, and suddenly something is at his lips and the sweet smell becomes overwhelming.

He bites down on the thing in front of him instinctively, and distantly he hears Techno hiss in pain off to the side. Tommy hardly cares though, there's something thick and rich on his tongue, almost as sweet as the smell still in the air but almost tainted somehow.

Tommy feels himself being moved and gently the finger – Technos finger, he realises – is pried from his mouth. Before he can even whine in complaint, there's something else pushed in front of him. It's the source of the sweet smell, Tommys stomach cramps and he bites down without another thought.

The taste on his tongue is heavenly, as thick and rich as before, but it's not spoiled this time. It tastes fresh and it feels hot as it spills down his throat and warms his stomach. Tommy drinks and drinks and drinks until he is full, his hunger finally sated.

He pulls back, the haze over his mind is gone and he blinks the blurriness from his eyes–

To find a body cradled in his lap.

Tommy screams and scrambles backwards, staring wide eyed at the pale and bloodied person in front of him.

They're not moving, not breathing– they're– 

Tommy brings a hand up to his lips. They're wet and sticky to the touch and as Tommy looks at his fingertips, he sees a deep red blood staining them.

Oh god.

His stomach lurches, his breath quickens.

Oh fucking god. There’s no way– he wouldn't have–

Tommy gags, rolling onto his side as he focuses on the sick feeling. There's still blood in his mouth and Tommy's breath hitches with the force of his sudden sobs.

He's choking. He can't breathe, he can't remember how to anymore.

His guts twist.

Oh god.

“Hey, it's alright, I'm right here, look at me.”

That's Techno. That's Technoblade talking to him in his deep rumbling voice. Warm hands grab him, but it's okay. It's okay, it's just Technoblade, right? Technoblade would never hurt him, he promised. 

“Just breathe,” Techno soothes. “You're gonna be okay, I promise.”

Tommy settles at that. Techno… Techno would never break a promise.

He promised to protect Tommy, and he had. He promised to love Tommy, and despite everything he does.

They all promised not to turn him.

But… but if Techno promises everything will be okay.

Tommy retches again. There's still blood in his mouth, staining every inch of him. He's scared, he's so, so tired.

The haze creeps over his mind, and Tommy willingly sinks into it.

His coven will keep him safe. They love him, afterall. Even if they hurt him.

#sbi whumptober #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #dark sbi #sbi fanfiction #angst #vampire sbi

[blackbird-brewster]

Three years ago this week, I had a hysterectomy as part of a surgery to remove stage IV endometriosis that had taken over my body. The endo was so bad, my uterus, ovaries, and bowel were all adhered together in one large mass. My surgeon removed a large number of endo adhesions, cysts, and fibroids as well as removing my uterus, tubes, cervix, and one ovary.

It was unreal how even the immediate post-surgical pain was noticeably less than what my pain levels were beforehand. There's no cure for endometriosis, but the hysterectomy at least meant I would no longer have periods that caused me to black out from pain.

That alone was a huge bump to my quality of life. Unfortunately, endo is a relentless disease and within nine months of surgery, I started experiencing that well-known pain again.

I ignored it for as long as I could, not wanting to admit that it was back already, not wanting to go back to the non-stop appointments and scans, where my body belonged to the medical system.

Subconsciously, it was like if I didn't say it out loud, if I didn't seek treatment, it meant it wasn't real. I played wilful ignorance for nearly a year, but of course, while I was ignoring the endo, it was busy spreading.

The thing about endometriosis is, the only way to fully identify how bad it is, is to have surgery. Ultrasounds and MRIs can give an idea of what's going on, but surgery is the only way to medically dx it with certainty.

Surgeons can remove the adhesions, but that causes scar tissue and unfortunately, the more scare tissue you have, the more endo grows back. Even the most skilled surgeons can't remove every cell of endo in a patient.

How long it takes to come back varies by person, so I guess I just drew the short straw with only getting nine months of relief.

Luckily, there are some ways to manage the pain. I've been doing a chemical menopause treatment for about 18 months now. I get a monthly implant that stops my one ovary from producing hormones (which can make endo worse). And it's been LIFE CHANGING, to say the least.

This treatment has been SO effective on the pain, I mostly forget that I have endo at all. I rarely feel the pain, usually it's in the week leading up to my next injection when my implant is wearing off -- I feel it and the pain stops me in my tracks.

Lately, that pain comes earlier and earlier each month, and every month, the pain is worsening. I am terrified about what this all means. Usually, the treatment I'm on is only used for 6-9 months at a time. I'm already at 18 months, which I am grateful for. But even this isn't a long-term solution.

I'm so scared. I'm so scared of going back to the life I had before surgery. The life where I was in debilitating pain every day, the life where I was bed bound for weeks and months at a time, the life where my body belonged to the medical system, the life where I was always being poked, prodded, and scanned. The life where I made such regular visits to the emergency department, we had to keep a hospital go-bag at the ready.

I don't know what comes next. I don't see my gynae again until April and I desperately hope she says I can keep doing this treatment, because at least it manages the pain 80% of the time. But if I can't, if the long-term risks are too high and I have to come off this treatment, I don't know what I'm going to do.

I guess I'm posting about this to not only get this off my chest, but also so other people with endo might see it and know that you're not alone. This disease destroys lives and is a constant battle, but you're never alone. I see you. I'm so proud of you. All we can do is keep fighting. <3

#endometriosis #chronic illness #reproductive health #about me 2k24 #chronic illness life #rants

[notasapleasure]

WIP ask meme

@stripedroseandsketchpads tagged me in this. And oh my god. If you think there are Too Many Words in the fic I publish, you should see my poor notes app. Here is a sneak peek of its contents. I haven't edited for brevity/those I'm actively working on, these are just all the unfinished files I could find. Some I don't intend to do any more with, others I'd really like to pick up again. The only ones being actively worked on right now are the Andor Saga AU and the first one on the list for Andor.

I put ALL the Lymond I could find in mainly for @oughtaagh who has been leaving the most lovely comments on my Lymond fics that I have totally failed to respond to. I'm sorry! I will cycle back round to Lymond one day, it's inevitable <3

Tagging uh.... @distressednoise, @r0b0tb0y, @faceofpoe, @donnaimmaculata, @batri-jopa, @elwenyere, @notabuddhist and anyone else who wants to say I tagged them! Also sorry if you'd already been tagged, I'm not keeping up with the dash very well at the moment!

Anyway please send me asks/comments/cease and desist orders about these. xxx

ANDOR

C: We decided we were thirsty, and you wanted to go to Cavo's. As yet untitled Brassian alternative scene - what if instead of a great collaborative cover story this was a great collaborative fuck? Almost(?) finished?

Saga AU pt 2. This actually does have a working title of 'The Bear and the Berserk' but this doc is just a short bullet point list of plot things for a specific part of the fic.

Cassian pov. It's a Cassian pov chapter! For...drumroll...the first chapter of the Saga AU pt 2! The rest is going to be back to Brasso FPN. The file actually includes a rough first draft of chapter 2, as well.

"You're up early this morning," Bix says lightly. A follow-up chapter to Only Ever Just One Night started back when I had epic plans for continuing this, bringing in Cinta and Vel and Luthen, whumping the hell out of Brasso, and having Cassian rescue him. This is just one scene of awkward conversation with tea though.

Oh god it developed Plot. Related to the previous chapter - a bullet-pointed list of things that might have happened in this fic I Wil Not Write (not least as I'd rather just see what happens in S2 first anyway).

AND THEN WE DANCED

It was a sunny day in Batumi... Patchy few paragraphs of the next chapter of Inchoate.

Plannnnns (again). Plans for how Inchoate would/will continue.

THE LYMOND CHRONICLES

Canon-verse/other AUs

Multiple pieces of follow-up to The next man with a ladder, Danny/Jerott post-canon: It was dark when they rode into the port town... [Chapter 3, basically done, plus most of Chapter 4 but it devolves into broken paragraphs at the end]. "I'm going to the other bed," Danny said in a voice like someone was standing on his throat... [??? there's loads of this written! This is the file where they Get Down To It] Stitch the scenes together [a few paragraphs in which I hoped to make a logical leap from Chapter 4 to fucking, but seemingly never quite got there].

Lymondar saga draft. Actually two files of the abortive first effort at writing a saga AU. I was trying much harder to write in saga style and playing with lacunae in a way that was fun for me but exceedingly nerdy. I think I found the idea more fun than the execution, too.

St Seb. Remember ages ago when I was writing a post-canon 'Jerott gets shot full of arrows and has to admit his feelings because he thinks he's gonna die' fic? This is the file! Some bullet points and some text, some of which I even posted as Sunday sixes way back when iirc.

Fait prosperer qui n'est à croire vain. Fuck me, there's LOADS of this. Pawn in Frankincense/Ringed Castle AU where Marthe steals Lymond's ride with Kiaya Khatun and persuades her they should take over Russia together. Meanwhile Francis is left with Jerott. Hahaha. It kept getting longer because Francis kept trying to escape and I kept finding ways to drag him back, but the 'and now kiss!!' with the two of them behaving in character was just not coming easily.

Francis Crawford's Holistic Inquisition Agency. I wrote this??? One chapter of a Lymond/Dirk Gently AU, where Francis is obviously Dirk and Jerott is a furious/bemused Todd.

She tried every instrument, she redrew every chart. A few short chapters, never finished, of Marthe wrestling with her role in canon and her fate as assigned by La Dame. A couple more paragraphs of a similar sort of thing in Volos.

Malta. Half-arsed few paragraphs of wondering how Jerott would cope with meeting a fellow Knight being imprisoned for sodomy.

Band AU (my 1980s rock band AU for the series, see also @theartistknownaslymond)

Au of an Au. What if, after the Battle of the Bands at Solway, Jerott went to stay at the Edinburgh townhouse for a while and he and Francis got to collaborating in the shed? There's quite a lot of this and it's quite fluffy.

Out out out! The band celebrate Thatcher's downfall. Happy epilogues for everyone! However it's an epic task trying to do all the characters justice, so I was trying to write it as vignettes to match each song on the playlist. Six-ish are written. And earlier draft with plan for characters intercting is in Ding dong the witch is dead.

Jerott/Marthe - four times it just about worked, one time it really didn't. What it says on the tin? aka you just know Jerott has said 'Francis' instead of Marthe at least once when he comes. Only the beginning of the first time exists in this chapter, but I think I explored the idea elsewhere, whenever I dig up that file...

DWTH missing scene. Jerott/OC missing scene from Don't wake the house. Not finished, probably not going to be finished. I think I have enough Jerott smut on the go.

Workshop. Patchy draft of pre-canon Jerott and GRM 'therapy' session in which GRM learns about Francis Crawford and what a hold he has on the boy he thought of as his own plaything. GRM doesn't like sharing.

F/P. Draft of a fluffy kiss prompt someone (@erinaceina? @notfromcold?) sent for Francis/Philippa. Post-canon pregnant Philippa and worried Francis written when it was too hot in summer. It's probably complete enough to post tbh! hmu if you want it posting.

Jerott behaving badly (again). Somehow this ended up in the 'comfortember' section of the notepad, which...no? Maybe it was intended to be originally, but it grew a life of its own. Post-canon, post split-up with the OC, pre-getting together with Danny. Joining the mile high club and regretting it, then ending up crashing at Joleta's (who he meets coincidentally at the airport, NOT who he's screwing in the airplane loo!!). It's meant to end up cathartic, but didn't get finished :') I'm actually really pleased with what I have - post-canon Joleta is so much fun to write!

Somewhere (Google Drive?? an actual Word doc??) there is also loads and loads and LOADS of Pawn in Frankincense band AU around Baron Morgan's place (the Aga Morat), featuring fucked-up Francis/Morgan, fucked up Marthe/Kiaya, fucked up Francis/Kiaya, and bewildered cold turkey Jerott. There's also some Jerott/Marthe from later on.

Other

Crossover. A sequel to my ATWD fic I will shake mountains, where Merab and Irakli encounter celebrity diners in the restaurant they work in: respected musician Francis Crawford and friends take the boys for a drink and share queer/artistic inspiration/history with them. There's quite a lot written but I couldn't quite manage to finish it off.

St Mary's. Another ATWD/Lymond crossover, placing Merab and Irakli among the mercenaries of St Mary's. Mostly bullet points.

3m. Furious that there was no fic for the film Three Months I decided to jot down a scene I wanted to see afterwards. I wrote four lines and cannot remember what my plan was at all.

#often i think it would do me good to fear a wordcount more #my wips #my writing #my fics #wips #wip ask meme #memes #asks #please send asks about any of these!! #long post #:))