#would that be fucked up or what to burn down the entire country and traumatize a nation for thousands of years

[dyketubbo]

im rewatching doomsday (comps of all povs of course) and. yeah i just.. feel bad for the lmanburgians. i dont know how i could just. say these people deserved it, when they all sound, panicked and desperate and so so fucking sad. long long ramble under the cut as i recount the events and pick out a bunch of little things

even the day before then is painful. ranboos panic room. ranboo and tubbos talk (tubbo admitting that hes wrong, saying he believes that history is repeating itself and trusting ranboo because he believes in his loyalty), fundy showing the ring toss. tubbos surprise at being told to kill dream before stating that quackity would be in control if he didnt (god, did he plan to fail?). tommy being so so excited. everyone playing ring toss and cheering on jack. tommy still believing in tubbo. tubbo panicking. ranboo and tommy and techno talking, ranboo giving them info. dream placing walls and quackity instructing tubbo on where to kill dream. dream lying about the community house. the entire community house debacle. just, everything.

and then doomsday itself. having to frantically get there because it started early, tubbo only having diamond armor to protect him, fundy standing still after he sabotaged them. tubbo and ranboos genuine despair about the apiary.

tubbo eventually going nonverbal and actively putting himself in danger, not even moving away from techno at first and getting in the way of the firework launcher. tubbo trying to save tommy from the fireworks, ponks broken "dont come over here!" after she was trying to save his cat, tommys face falling and desperate attempts at convincing techno, ranboo going "its all gone", niki spiralling and silently burning down the tree, quackitys pure anger. all the death messages.

jack going "what is there left to protect", tommy brokenly trying to accept that its gone as tubbo and quackity blankly do accept it. jack going "i lost everything again". tommy desperately trying to understand dream, on the verge of tears as he asks why dream didnt just hurt him. his low health and food as hes unable to do anything anymore, his quiet gasp as he spots ghostbur, tubbos tiny shake of his head when dream says dream and tommys story wont be over.

tubbo and quackity breaking the repeaters. ghostburs "i didnt even know we were fighting". ghostbur finding out phil let friend die, hes pained "phil? but i- i gave, i gave phil to look after. and dream found me friend, and technoblade said we were friends", tommys pained talk about technoblade. "we were never his friend. to him, all of this was just an act of politics, an act of clout and a-a social ladder, and you won't remember. tubbo you will, and to you big q, this was a friendship. but to technoblade, this was a ladder. and techno climbed to the tippity talk. do you wanna know the only way you can go? on the ladder? -- and once you reach the top of the ladder tubbo, you can only go down."

quackity asking to sing the anthem again, him strumming as ghostbur sings (and tubbo and tommy joining in). ghostbur forgetting the second verse because it blew up. quackity remembering it, them stumbling through it. tommys "tubbo? im so so sorry", tubbos quiet "its okay." the four all singing together. tubbo looking at the lava with an ender pearl in his hand, tommy correcting quackity and going "our l'manburg". ghostburs speech about friend, about people not taking him seriously just because he has memory loss.

meanwhile.. phil and techno were laughing. cracking jokes. phil mocks them as he spawns withers on the apiary, going "ohhh noo not the bees!". techno shouts at tommy and shoots at him and tubbo. he kills jack and doesnt even notice that it was one of his lives lost. jacks death itself proves that it doesnt take any particular intent, doesnt have to mean anything to the killer. techno and phil were willing to kill people. it would be foolish of them to act as if there were no risks in the terms of canon lives, especially with phil. phil doesnt take ghostbur seriously, treats his despair as an opportunity to drill in a lesson. the most either of them lost was some of the dogs and used up potions, fireworks, and wither skulls

and then theres dream. dream whose been harming the l'manburgians since the beginning, who had taken tubbo hostage, offered eret a chance to betray them all, who had been the man in tommys walls and offering money to tubbo and jack to try and get them to destroy things, who tried to get tommy to kill tubbos villagers. dream, who took tommys discs over and over, who killed tommy twice in one day, who stopped caring about his friends that loved him and were so so loyal. dream, who helped schlatt and pushed wilbur deeper into his spiral, who even then tried to manipulate tommy.

dream, who helped destroy l'manburg the first and second time, who took advantage of tubbo so he could have a premeditated kidnapping of tommy. dream, who abused tommy, physically, psychologically, emotionally. dream, who degraded tubbo and had taken ranboos memory book (which btw, since ranboos memory loss counts as a mental disability with the memory book as his aid, thats dream taking the thing that aids ranboo in dealing with his disability).

dream, who had been the reason l'manburg was created. dream, who got to destroy l'manburg three times. dream won. and techno and phil dont regret it, dont care.

maybe l'manburg was never meant to be. and sure, it started with stealing and an attempt to monopolize on potions but. that wasnt even l'manburg then, was it? it was just wilbur and tommy having fun. l'manburg came after. after the police hurt them. l'manburg started as a silly little revolution, led by a naïve man who thought he could win wars by saying no. it was a place for a family, a place for them to escape from dream. it was a place to try and escape the harm of those outside the walls. it was meant to be safe, even if those against them made it hard to be. it was made from love. it was meant to be happy. it was a symphony, however unfinished.

so. i don't know. i just feel, bad. they never really won, did they? tragedy after tragedy, death after death, destruction after destruction, betrayal after betrayal, hurt after hurt. and now what's left of them, really? out of the founders, erets doing the best and even shes doing awful, forever trying to make up for what he did. tubbos paranoia led him to developing nukes in a desperate attempt to stay safe, because he was taught to stay quiet and keep his emotions to himself, because his death was "justified", because nukes and walls and weapons are the only way he can feel safe anymore.

tommy went through months of abuse, lost all of his lives and suffered upon coming back, suicidal but unable to bring himself to do it because limbo is worse, feeling lost and like he has no family anymore other than wilbur, who he knows is hurting him but cant bring himself to leave, who loved lmanburg so so dearly and only wanted a home, still doesnt have one (tommy from everywhere, tommy from nowhere at all). niki who loved lmanburg and wilbur so much that it hollowed her out and made her bitter and shes so used to being spoken over that all she can think to do is raise her voice and get pissed, who cant see wilbur as a good person anymore because shes hurt and hasnt truly recovered and she doesnt know how to cope without being angry.

jack manifold feels forgotten, hes lost all his lives and crawled out of hell and no one truly noticed, he doesnt even believe that niki really cares, hes desperate and has made his purpose to be spiteful and angry because he cant deal with the emptiness that comes when he realizes theres no point. fundys desperate to have friends, family, a partner, anyone thatll love him, anyone thatll keep him safe, slowly killing himself with cigarettes and disowned because of giving too little too late, because he was too little too late.

and wilburs lost himself. spiraling, paranoid. a young, naïve man who wanted to fight swords with words, who wanted to impress his father, who wanted a nation of his own to feel safe, who was so effected by erets betrayal that he cant trust anyone but himself, whose possessive nature eats him from the inside out, desperate for control and unable to let go of the only person he knows loves him unconditionally

all because outside forces kept pushing, kept destroying, kept ruining them and hurting them and traumatizing them and taking away their homes and pets and loved ones. and i just. cant feel happy for the ones that hurt them, i cant feel victorius, triumphant, any of that. i just feel bad that the l'manburgians never got to be a family. i know they arent the best people but shit, i love them anyways, love them because theyre flawed and because theyre *people*, people who tried so so hard and got pushed so so much and. fuck, i cant be happy that the people who loved nature and play fought and laughed by campfires and read poetry and re-enacted theatre and loved each other and wanted to *live* (even if they were willing to die, if it meant giving everyone else a chance).. lost. they lost.

canonical years of work down the drain in one day. records of history gone, now only remembered in full by a traumatized teenager who was taught not to talk about his negative emotions, and even he misremembers some parts. they didnt even lose fairly. they had no chance. they couldnt have prepared for withers, for tnt rain, for the hounds. they were poor, weaker than their opponents, sabotaged by one of their own. thats.. tragic.

doomsday was a tragedy. i cant agree that it was deserved. i cant agree that they had it coming, that they deserved to lose homes and pets and limbs and lives and land because they werent the greatest people around.

a small country of less than 10 people (at both creation and destruction) now a giant crater in the ground, remnants of a parisitic egg taking over the land. and it wasnt even lost fairly. three people were stronger than an entire nation, even with all of its allies. two anarchists working with an abusive tyrant. so, no. doomsday wasnt deserved. people dont deserve tragedy. there were better ways, i truly cant be happy that the way chosen was violence. i cant.

l'manburg's citizens deserved better. they really did. the ends dont justify the means. and god, am i fucking tired of "justice". if justice means choosing violence over love and respect and caring about those less strong than you, i dont wanna hear about it. fuck that man, id rather love and be loved than constantly give a shit about making up for hurting others by getting hurt, thats stupid and cruel and i cant see it as okay on a moral level. not when the people that got hurt deserved to be loved and cared about and protected and *talked to* instead of constantly shot down.

of course for the narrative i can enjoy violence and characters getting hurt and i do like how "real" it all is, the despair and dissonance in tone and how terrifyingly messy it all is. out of story perspective- honestly rather cool even if it makes me feel bad. in story perspective- holy fucking shit no that wasnt deserved and god i hope everyone hurt will be able to heal and learn to love and be loved again because thats such a terrifying thing to go through. from a detached pov i can appreciate the insight into everyone involved and i like the plotlines that came from it, but from a compassionate pov i just wish the l'manburgians were allowed to be happy and treated as equals so they didnt have to go through all of this

#dsmp #long post #this issss 22 paragraphs i think? woo boy! #most of it is liveblogging but after a while it just gets into my thoughts on the whole situation #c!technoblade critical #c!philza critical #c!dream critical #im just stating what happened but like im sure if i dont put those tags ill get fuckin jumped lol #tubbo #tommy #quackity #ghostbur #ponk #niki nihachu #fundy #ranboo #dont think i missed anyone but if i did. whoops #also shoutout to the ppl i didnt mention i do still appreciate their contributions (like puffy hbomb sapnap etc) #amputation ment #death ment #abuse ment #uhhhhhhhh #ableism ment #mask mews #kidnapping ment #suicide ment #l'manburg #ask to tag #doomsday dsmp

[rescue-ram]

The Patriot brainworms are attacking.

Because it is maddening that a core theme- the sins of the father visited on the son- a theme that could actually have really interesting implications if explored in the context of the founding of America as an independent country- is so totally subverted and dropped in the interest of shallow propaganda.

It just feels like an interesting movie is just out of reach the entire run time. And it would be so easy, so natural to have some interesting, logical things happen- and all it would take was acknowledging Martin is not a hero.

Or, well, not an unambiguously heroic hero. "Man wins acclaim for horrific acts of violence, retires to a quiet life with his family, then returns to his old ways in search of vengeance after the murder of a loved one"- that core plot is shared by both The Patriot and John Wick. And a core difference is John Wick is not set up as a moral paragon- the audience is invited to like him, to sympathize with him, to see him as cool- but we're not meant to see him as Christlike.

(No way it's coincidence Mel Gibson first appears on screen doing carpentry. No fucking way.)

It wouldn't take any major changes to the plot (though I'd tweak the first act so Martin tells his children to hide when the British arrive, and they/Gabriel are only revealed when Tavington searches the house by force/sets fire to it with them inside, thus making Martin less stupid and Tavington more evil in the audiences' eyes, since that's the goal of the goddamn film.) Just add some commentary and reactions, show Martin making choices. With his service record and social standing, he could probably join the Continental Army as an officer- maybe show him choosing to rally a militia unit explicitly to have more latitude in pursuing Tavington to avenge his son.

There's a natural dichotomy begging to be drawn between Gabriel, an idealist fighting for a high-minded cause of liberty, and Martin, a jaded and traumatized veteran grieving his son and wanting to avenge his death by any means necessary. Let Gabriel be horrified by the massacre his father orchestrated to free him, let them argue- Martin saying war is brutal and it's necessary to end engagements with as much force as possible to send a strong message and prevent future attacks, while Gabriel is arguing if you lose your principals its just murder. Really emphasize the point, already in the film, that as Martin responds to Tavington's violations with equal acts of violence, breaking the rules of engagement, the British forces become more and more brutal in return.

I think I would add one scene to the start of the third act- Martin's militia obtain intelligence that would either let them pursue a target salient to the broader fight for independence, or take out Tavington. And Gabriel successfully convinces his father to lead the attack on the more important target. And then Tavington burns down his sister's home, and murders all the people in the church. Gabriel's principles break, he fully buys into his father's vengeance world view, and leads the attack on Tavington- and is killed.

Heartbroken, and seeing how his beliefs/sins have led to his son's death, Martin finds his family on Gullah island, maybe actually talks to the psychologically disturbed middle son and makes him swear that no matter what happens to him he won't take up arms, apologizes to the kids for leaving them alone for so long, actually earns to moment when his youngest daughter breaks out of her grief and cries out for him, then goes to the final battle.

From there, I don't know, maybe you can go full revenge fantasy where now he has both his martial skills and isn't blinded by rage, or maybe he gets into the fight with Tavington, has a chance to kill him but passes it up to save a wounded soldier- symbolically choosing the ideals Gabriel stood for instead of vengeance- and then Tavington charges after him and is killed by friendly fire, either due to cosmic comeuppance or as a fragging by one of the many many British soldiers shown to be horrified by Tavington's actions in the film.

But of course, all of this would require talking, rather than manly daring-do, and emoting, and acknowledging your protagonist is flawed and has an unreliable viewpoint. But trying to combine a revenge narrative with rah-rah feel good patriotism just doesn't work for me, dog.

And now, having attempted to articulate how-I-would-fix-this-piece-of-propaganda, the brainworms will let me rest.

#the patriot

[lag1995-fics]

Hey can I request a fanfic for Evan's character kit walker and song a turning page from twilight?

I hope you like it thank you for requesting. ❤️

Turning Page

Song:Turning Page by Sleeping at Last

Pairing: Kit Walker X Reader

Warnings: some cussing

Words: 2010

Summary:Kit’s highschool sweetheart waits for him

Song Fic Masterlist

////::::////

You and Kit Walker had been high school sweethearts, he was your first love; and if you were being honest he was your only love. You guys had mutually broken things off after highschool when you had gotten into an out of state college.

When you came back the first time after getting your degree, you found out that Kit had moved on and married a woman called Alma. You weren’t jealous, a little disappointed maybe, but you were genuinely happy for them. Kit was a good man and you had always known he would make a good husband. You couldn’t put yourself through watching them though, you had never given up on your relationship with Kit. He had ruined you for other men. You had other boyfriends during school but the longest relationship had only lasted a month.

You decided to move back to Boston leaving your small town life behind. You loved a relatively happy life in the city, distracting yourself from the life you wished you had. You had gotten a degree in education, so you threw yourself into teaching children.

You had been happy to hear that they had apparently apprehended the serial killer, who went by the bloody face moniker. Well you had until they said it was Kit Walker, you reasoned with yourself that it had to be someone else named Kit Walker. Your Kit would never be able to do something as heinous as what they claimed Bloodyface did. Your Kit was a gentle soul, who would do his best to bring happiness and peace to anyone he might meet.

When you saw his face flash on the evening news that night you had broken down and sobbed. Kit was being framed for a murder he hadn’t committed. He wouldn’t even kill a spider much less the woman he married. You had started making calls trying to get on as a character witness. That whole town was racist and this stunk of a town coverup.

They wouldn’t let you be his witness though, they claimed you hadn’t spoken to him for over six years. You had screamed and cried even harder when they rejected you. You had never stopped loving Kit even if it had to be one sided from afar. You wrote him letters trying to convey to him that people still believed in him. That you would always love and believe him.

He never wrote you back. The guards at the prison who checked his mail had scoffed thinking of you as some loon and had trashed them. When he was committed to Briarcliff Asylum they too disposed of the many letters.

When you hear of Kit’s death you fall into a dark depression. You’re barely hanging on, when you happen to skim a blip in a newspaper. You almost choke when you see his face. He’s a bit older, but it is unmistakably Kit Walker. The article however was not a happy one: the man’s wife Alma had murdered a woman that lived with them in a fit of apparent hysteria.

Without preamble you packed a suitcase and began the trip back home. Kit would need you, not as a lover, that ship had sailed but he would need you as a friend. He was almost entirely alone now and with two toddlers to boot. You couldn’t help but feel the joythat he was alive even though it was steeped in sadness at his tragic loss.

Alma had been a sweet girl from what she could tell. She had never met her in person but if Kit married her it was apparent that she was a good person. She had been missing for so long though, she had been traumatized and snapped. It wasn’t her fault that bad things had happened and lord knows that the country's mental health system left a lot to be desired.

It had taken you almost all day to find the farmhouse that Kit lived in. It was dusk and the sun was starting to set. You took a steadying breath hoping that you weren’t overstepping any boundaries. You had flown out of the house with barely any thought, relying mostly on instinct. You hadn’t been able to help Kit when he was accused of being Bloodyface but you could certainly help now without the government involved.

You eased yourself out of the old Buick you were driving and shut the door. You began to make your way to the door but it opened before you got the chance to knock. There he was, he was still handsome as ever, but he had lost that carefree air he had when they were young. You supposed you had probably lost that too.

“I already told you I’m not doing an interview, leave my family in peace!” His voice was angry and you were now unsure if you had made the right decision. Then as if he hadn’t really been looking at you before, his eyes widened.

“Y/n?” He asked questioningly the anger had drained from his voice.

“Oh Kit I heard what happened I needed to make sure you were okay,” you explained trying not to cringe. You probably seemed like a crazy person showing up at your highschool sweetheart’s home after his wife had murdered someone.

“I thought you lived in Boston?” He questioned, still surprised at your arrival.

“I do, I hopped in my car as soon as I heard, I thought you might need some help. If I’m imposing I apologize… I can leave,” you were rambling, it was something you were prone to when nervous.

“No! Uh I mean no, you could never be an imposition doll. Come inside, I didn’t think anyone cared about me anymore,” he lamented, meeting her halfway on her way to the house. You got a better look at him up close. He still had beautiful brown eyes but there were dark bruise like bags underneath them. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well, and really who would after something like this happened.

You followed Kit inside his home, it still smelt of the bleach they used to get up the blood, but it was warm and cozy. You looked over and could see the two toddlers playing together on a rug with some blocks.

“This is Julia and Thomas,” he said, gesturing to the kids who barely spared them a glance.

“They’re precious,” you commented.

“Yeah they are pretty great, must take after their old man,” he bragged teasingly but it was half hearted.

“Kit,Are you okay?” You asked, laying a hand on.

“I will be,” there was a determination in his voice this time looking at the children playing happily unaware.

“If you need anything at all just tell me” you begged, hoping he would take the help. This trip wasn’t entirely unselfish, you had missed Kit the moment you left for college and the feeling had never left. It hadn’t faded with time like these things are meant to do, you had never stopped loving Kit and you would wait a thousand years if that’s what it took. You didn’t expect any romance, you knew that ship had sailed, but you would be there for your dearest and oldest friend.

“Don’t you have a life or a lover in Boston, surely you don’t want to spend time with someone as pathetic as me.” His self deprecating comment made you jerk him by the arm so he was facing you.

“You listen to me Kit Walker, you are one of the most gentle humans I’ve ever met. You are an incredibly good man and you deserve all the love and help in the world. Let someone help you, you don’t have to go through this alone,” You declared, staring directly into his brown eyes with your own y/e/c ones.

He only nodded before taking you into a friendly hug holding you close to his chest, his head buried into your shoulder. You felt a shuddering sob wrack through him. You only held him, you didn’t know how much time had passed as you held him close letting him sob. When he finally pulled away you could see the gratitude in his eyes.

****

Days bled into weeks and weeks bled into months as you stayed with Kit. Things for the most part remained platonic apart from a few lingering glances from each other. You didn’t want to put any pressure on the relationship. You had meant what you said when you told him you were here to help him. You would love Kit however you could get him be it romantic or platonic. You would always wait on him.

When he had come home one day in tears you had just held him. Alma had died that day and Kit had lost his wife for a third time and the children had lost their mother’s.

More time would pass and things became increasingly comfortable between you two. You had taken a teaching position at the elementary school the next town over and Kit continued to work as a mechanic.

It had been a day like many others when it happened. Kit had come home covered in a layer of oil and grease and you had been making dinner. After he had showered, he came into the kitchen to watch you cook and help Julia and Thomas with their homework. It was really quite domestic.

After dinner you had wrestled the children into bed and retired to the living room to watch television. You had felt the burning of Kit’s eyes on you and you turned to look at him pulling a face.

“Why did you stay?” He asked with a puzzled look on his face, “Your help has been indispensable, but it’s a year now and your still here. Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“Oh, I can start looking for an apartment. I never wanted to overstay my welcome. I guess I just got comfortable being around you and the twins, is like breathing air” You rambled hiding your burning cheeks. He wouldn’t take that though and he grabbed you by your shoulders making you look at him.

“Doll I’m not kicking you out, you can stay forever if you want. I just don’t understand why you would want to stay with me,” he said and you gulped looking into his eyes.

“Oh Kit you’re the best person I know. Did you not get that with the hundreds of letters I sent to you in prison and while you were at Briarcliff” you joked trying to lessen the tension. You had never brought up the letters before you were honestly pretty embarrassed by them.

“What letters!?” He pulled back looking hard at you.

“I wrote to you everyday up until they announced your death” you explained cheeks filled with liquid fire.

“Fuck! He cursed getting up and pacing.

“I never got a single letter, y/n” he said and you not knowing what to do approached him opening your arms. He fell into your embrace burying his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked unsure of what to say.

“Don’t be sorry doll, but it still doesn’t explain why you want to be around me” He started in again and you couldn't help the anger that spilled forward. You took your fist and hit his chest.

“Because I love you dummy, I never stopped,” his eyes went wide at your declaration.

“What?” He asked dumbly, his limbs going numb.

“I love you Kit and I’ll always be there for you if you need me. If it’s only as a friend I can live with that, at least I get to be with you,” Your cheeks burned for the third time in what seemed like an hour.

Kit not knowing what to say decided to act on instinct. He gathered you in his arms and pressed his lips against your own in a searing kiss. You clutched at each other desperately the tension finally snapped.

“I love you too Doll.”

Requests are open drop a song or a prompt in my ask box ❤️

#kit walker x reader #kit walker #kitten #Kit walker is a babe #ahs asylum fanfiction #fluffy #evan peters #peter maximoff fanfiction #fem reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #ahs fanfiction #fanfiction

[fishjax]

Dream SMP hot takes you probably are gonna wanna fight me on:

- Techno has a victim complex and is a bad person. He’s also enforcing his beliefs onto outers by wanting them to destroy all governments because it corrupts people. He can say that but why should they listen to him since the only language Techno speaks is violence? You know what also corrupts people? Trauma. It’s fine if he thinks they should take down all government but if the way he’s gonna do it by traumatizing everyone in the process more then L’manburg ever has by simply just existing then he can fuck right off. He’s caused more harm than good that way

- George's "Just tell me you hate me." line is so fucking toxic but he’s palls with Dream so it makes sense. Also him not showing up for the elections to be there for his friend was a dick move and I don’t think he ever apologized for it to Quackity even though he knew It was important to him.

- Sam didn't originally know who was gonna be put in the prison so him building it as inhuman as it is even if pre dream's request was shitty of him to do. He started out driven by greed and was on a payroll just like Punz and STILL is driven by some sort of greed showcased by the fact he is starting a  bank so he can control the economy of the server. 

- Tommy didn't deserve the fucking exile him threatening Dream and burning 10 blocks of a house does not warrant an exile! Why is it when everyone else does it to him X10 (Dream with the disks and people constantly grifing him with no consequences) it's ok but the moment he does it back in the slightest he gets exiled???? Make it make sense.

- Tommy hasn't started nearly as much conflict as he's ended. Sapnap on the outer hand has started conflict after conflict and killed pet after pet time and time again and was never punished even once but people still blame everything on Tommy when he never even killed a pet and even ended that war by being the bigger person and making amends with Sapnap returning his pet back to him unharmed. Throughout that entire war killing a pet wasn’t even an option in Tommy’s head. He threatened Sapnap but never raised his hand against any of his pets. I don’t care if he has Karl and Quackity now he doesn’t have to lose them or surfer in order to learn from his mistakes improve and be a better person he needs to take accountability.

- Wilbur was kind of shit from the start and made children fight his wars. Wilbur shares a lot of similarities with Dream and is arguably just as bad as him but for different reasons and his cannon D&D aliment chart pretty much confirms it. He also probably  had a hero complex somewhere down the line. After he is resurrected he needs to take responsibility and own up for his mistakes even though I compare him to Dream in his actions I don’t think he deserves to be locked up like him since he didn’t want as much of a reach or tried to get as much of a reach like Dream did. Wilbur wanted power over L’manburg a small portion of the SMP while Dream wanted everything. 

- Niki & Jack have no actual good reason as to want to kill Tommy and are mostly looking for someone to take there anger out on and Tommy is the perfect target since he’s been villainized so much by Dream and is really to overlook his actions as selfish when not knowing what his end goal is. 

- Jack Manifold keeps on preaching about being in the right to want to take his anger out on a child for losing his items so many times saying that Tubbo will learn to move on eventually because everyone does because he moved on every time he lost his stuff. His stuff he can replace and grind back that held no sentimental attachment like the disks and can be replaced. People can’t be replaced. This makes him a hypocrite since he criticizes Tommy for fighting wars over stupid disks yet he himself is willing to kill for losing his armorer he can replace. When it really came down to it Tommy always choose people over the disks no matter what. And while I don't want to discredit what Jack has been through because there are people who have been through worse Tommy fundamentally can not understand why Jack would be upset with him since in his exile losing his armor and weapons was a daily occurrence for him (by force mind you if he didn’t compile Dream would hurt him) and since he’s lost so much more and never been upset with anyone to the point of wanting to kill them after everything everyone’s done to him. Even Dream. Tommy satiated he wanted to make it very clear that he thinks Dream doesn’t deserve death. Plus the fact that Jack has never brought it up to him before.

- Niki who can't find a proper coping mechanism is taking out her grief, pain and anger onto Tommy. Blaming him for all their problems believing that if they killed him there problems would go with him. Which simply is not true. She’s following in to Wilbur’s footsteps and even Tommy told Sam Nook that she gave off that sort of creepy vibe Wilbur used to have during Pogtopia.  She acts as if Tommy is the source of all her problems and I feel like she even participially blames him for Wilbur death and everything that happened with L’manburg. She believes  it'll make her feel better about everything and even burned down L'mantree which Wilbur wouldn’t have been proud of her for doing since he has said himself

right before the Pogtopia VS Manburg war: 

"You can't erase history just cuz you disagree with it." 

-  Wilbur-fucking-Soot while on his way to blow up the country yet still covering L'mantree in obsidian and wanting to protect it the only thing that was left untouched from original L'manburg and what they stood for eventually after there rough start of being propaganda that eventually turned into a symbole for something much more. Despite Its rough start L’manburg had potential and if it weren’t for Wilbur being power hungry and wanting to show off in the elections they could have just enjoyed the peace they fought so hard for. 

- They also compare him to/make him out to be worse then Dream which I find downright disgusting knowing what he did but even without knowing about everything Dream’s done to Tommy It’s still a huge stretch (but they are blaming him for every bad thing to ever happen on the server and ignore all the times he’s has been done right punished for making small mistakes or misunderstandings).

- And lastly Dream manipulating minors to the point of breaking them physically and mentally isn’t hot pull it together.

#dream smp #hot takes #tommy #wilbur #techno #niki #jackmanifold #tubbo #rp #dsmp #l'manburg #manburg fanart #lore #Pogtopia #Villvur #dream #sam #pet wars #awsamdude #visual puns #sapnap #quackity #karl #gnf #georgenotfound

[choco-mark]

I know request are closed and I don’t wanna bug you but when reaction request open again can you write how would nct dream (0t7) react to you calling them when your in danger. And can I be 💞 anon? I really adore your writing and I look up to you so much!! I’m not ready to reveal myself just yet. Heehee 🥺💞

hey hey!! requests for small reactions and mlts are currently open, so you’re good sweets! and, yes ofc you can be!!

reaction: nct dream reacting to you calling them when you’re in danger

mark

you call him on your way to the dorms with a shaky voice telling him you think someone’s following you, and your thought is right, someone is

freaks out but tries to calm you down while putting on his shoes and bolting out the door before running back inside and putting on a mask to make sure no one recognizes him, even though you told him it was too dangerous for him to leave

his heart is literally beating out of his chest as he goes running out of the building to the street your on, which is currently dark and empty as he looks for you

you end up going into the convenience store at the end of the street to try and lose the person, but it doesn’t really work because they follow you inside

he eventually finds you wandering around with like a basket of like thirty ramen packets which was ‘in case you needed to smack them’ and he knows his y/n is back

‘i’ll buy a car and i’ll drive you everywhere so you won’t have to walk anymore’

‘baby...you don’t have a license”

renjun

you call him in the middle of a choreography lesson three times in a row even though he tries to ignore it and picks it up to scold you but hears you sobbing

you’re a chemistry major and there was a huge fire in the lab while you were working; in short, you were injured and in the hospital

it wasn’t even that bad of an injury to be honest, thankfully it was only a first degree burn, but it scared the shit out of you and yeah, you scared the shit of renjun too

literally leaves right then and there with only a word to jeno as the instructor is like ‘wot’ but you’re first priority!!!

gets to the hospital all worried and about to explode when he sees you like in tears and kind of just hugs you

tells you to give up chemistry and do something like...safer and you’re like ‘not the time, babe, kinda just got set on fire’ but he’s just worried for you

ends up taking you to practice with him in the end, but y’all are traumatized from the risk of your field of study

jeno

you call him in the middle of his fourth round of some game which causes him not to answer, but he picks up after a second time in case you got mad but your voice is just trembling

instantly leaves the dorm when you say someone’s pounding on your apartment door and it’s like 2am but he goes to you anyway

is trying to calm you down but he himself is worked up from how you sound like you’re about to burst into tears but everytime he talks he makes it a little better with his voice

the person that was pounding on the door stopped after a bit, but then you heard your front door open and you die a little inside

but it’s just jeno, who finds you locked inside of your bathroom, sitting in the tub with the curtains drawn and you’re sobbing when he holds you

you two never really find out who tf that was but jeno keeps trying to get you to move in with him ever since that happened

donghyuck

you call him in the middle of the day while you’re at uni, and you’re pretty traumatized since these two guys had been following you and your friend after lunch and you don’t know what to do

hyuck thinks you’re trying to pull something on him, but he can’t call it fake when he hears one of the guys vulgarly catcall you

goes on a searching spree (in broad daylight, by himself, with no manager) down to where you kept informing him of your whereabouts

he’s more scared than you and your friend combined because he’s basically running back and forth trying to look for his girlfriend and is about to start sobbing

eventually finds the two of you as you’re running into him, and the two guys behind y’all are like ‘whoops gotta go’

hyuck just holds you while you just heavily breathe while your friend looks like she’s about to cry, and a huge weight drops from his shoulders when your arms go around him

‘you scared the hell out of me”

jaemin

you were going with jaemin on the dreamies’ tour and you were in the bathroom when a group of girls come in while you’re washing your hands

not group of girls, more like group of sasaengs that start grabbing onto you like you’re some kind of on sale item and you’re freaking out

it’s actually one of the girls that finds jaemin’s contact in your phone and calls him, and he knows what’s going on from the moment he doesn’t hear your voice, also, sir is literally not that far away trying to enjoy tacky airport food

storms into there with a bunch of staff and his manager with the literal most—you couldn’t even say angry, he was beyond angry, and it was scary as fuck—and gets really worried for you

you didn’t get hurt (thank the kid because jaemin might’ve committed murder if you had), but he just sticks to you the entire rest of the traveling from country to country

‘jaems, you can’t come to the bathroom with me’

‘i can convince people i’m a girl, now let’s go’

chenle

‘lele, i’m scared’

just hearing you say his nickname with the most frightened voice on the planet had him sit up straight in an instant at the dining table

in short, you’re being followed on your way to uni and you have absolutely no clue what to do, and you just shakily call your boyfriend though you don’t want him to come

you send him your location while you’re still walking as fast as you can towards a more public area, but the street is too far away and the person was getting closer

but chenle’s ahead of you, already in a car being driven to the street you were on while he continues talking to you, you swear that the way he sounded so concerned, he was gonna burst into tears

a car comes up next to you on the street and chenle literally yanks you in (the guy probably thought you were being kidnapped), and you watch as the guy looks confused

asks you if you’re okay four times in a row while you say you’re fine but it’s not enough so you give him a kiss to shut him up

‘my personal driver will drive you to school from now on, i don’t want you to walk anymore’

jisung

you call him around 9pm literally in half sobs as you’re just whispering into the phone and he’s so worried from the moment you say his name

you came home to an empty house without your parents, but almost an hour later you realized that there was someone else inside the house that wasn’t your parents

you already called the police, but you were drowning in fear as you slowly said words to jisung while sitting in your locked room, he freaks out when he hears the intruder call out ‘who’s there’

begs his manager to let him go to you, and is kind of on the verge of breaking down but they take him to your house anyway right when the police had already arrived

sees you outside with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as your face is puffed from fear, and he just drowns you in his arms for the longest time

ends up staying over for the night because your parents were out of the country and doesn’t let go of you the entire time, like you can’t even shuffle a little bit away, he’ll pull you right back

he was just so worried for you, poor babe

#💞 anon #soft hours with mina #nct dream #nct #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #jisung #chenle #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #mark lee #mark #lee mark #jaemin #jeno #donghyuck #haechan #haechan fluff #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #nct x you #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct dream fics #nct dream fanfic #nct dream au #nct au

[bauslut]

ii. what makes a man?

pairing: aaron hotchner x rowan rivers

word count: 3.840k

warnings: canon typical violence -- blood, gore, mentions of murder, discussion of murder, discussion of weapons, cursing, trauma, dealing with trauma, death of children

prev. | next

“here you are,” jj bore a kind smile as she slid a manila folder towards the brunette, “here’s your official welcome to the bau. i’m sorry it wasn’t on more.. positive terms.”

“oh,.it’s quite all right,” rowan’s eyes widened, “this is what we’re here--”

“she’s sitting in my spot,” rossi chuckled, “but i don’t mind.”

“are you sure?” rowan stammered, a rosy blush painting her cheeks, “i-i can get up and move--”

“don’t sweat it,” rossi nodded curtly, “there are plenty of open seats.”

“hey baby girl,” a wide, jovial, grin painted morgan’s lips as a woman entered the room, her blonde locks intricately woven into an up-do, “don’t you look delicious today?”

“as always,” the woman scrunched her nose, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “how are you this morning baby-cakes?”

“hey there!” a chirp startled rowan, sounding from her left, “i’m emily, but around here, i’m referred to as prentiss.”

she was met with kind eyes, a warm mocha hue. they were bright, glimmering as they followed every minute movement as rowan studied her features. the woman was gorgeous without a doubt, with full lips and an oblong face. her hair was luscious, parted down the middle, styled into bouncy curls.

“hi,” rowan breathed, sticking out a hand, “i’m rowan riv--”

“i am afraid we do not have time for introductions,” a stern voice echoed through the space, “we are fbi agents, not kindergartners. we can have icebreakers or whatever it is you’re doing on the jet.”

rowan choked back a sharp retort as hotch strode towards a whiteboard, his spine straightened, chest puffed out slightly. sliding into her seat, her hands settled on the armrests, a puff of air exhaling from her lips. she was sandwiched between two seasoned agents, as morgan was munching on a bag of cookies on her left, prentiss sifting through papers to her right.

maybe if she just shut her mouth, she would blend in and he wouldn’t pay any sort of attention to her. which, wasn’t such a bad idea in the moment. the less he focused on her and berated her, the better.

“cookie?” morgan rattled the bag.

“not right now. thank you though,” rowan whispered, lips curving into a small smile.

“i’m about to begin discussing the case,” hotch shot rowan a glare, words barbed with venom, “so listen up.”

he pinned several images on the board, bile rising in rowan’s throat as her focus transitioned to the pictures. prentiss sucked in a shaky breath, while morgan muttered a strand of incoherent sentences.

the images progressively became more grotesque as they spanned across the board. mangled, beaten, and bloodied corpses were presented, the bile approaching the back of her mouth as she realized the age range.

the bodies were children, their jugulars slashed, lacerations and bruises littering their tiny frames.

“there has been a surge of murders in the rural farm town of homer, illinois. in the past week, there have been a total of five. all of the victims were children, with no specific physical attributes,” hotch cleared his throat, “however, all of them bear one aspect in common.”

“they’re all boys,” reid murmured, “from the images it appears as if they’re about ages eleven or twelve.”

“then they are pre-pubescent boys,” rowan’s voice was clear, pairs of eyes falling on her as she spoke, “i’ve seen something like this before, when i was working in columbus. we had a ring of traffickers who preferred this age range.”

“and?” morgan arched a brow, “why pre-pubescent boys?”

“hotch,” rowan nearly trembled as the supervisor’s cold gaze shifted on her, “i-if i may ask, were there any signs of assault or rape?”

“the severity of sexual assault varied on each victim.”

“you said that they have no physical attributes in common but looking at these photos,” reid shook his head slightly, “the brunettes are the only ones who have lacerations covering their entire bodies. the blondes, the only sign of violence demonstrated is the murder itself, the incision along the jugular.”

“could it be that our unsub has something against brunettes?” morgan inquired.

“potentially,” rowan blinked, scanning over the text, “it also says here in the autospies that the only boys who were sexually assaulted were the brunettes. i may be going on a whim here, but i think our unsub is lashing out on the brunettes for a reason. it could be power, dominance, you name it. perhaps the hair color is a stressor, or was the initial stressor. he might be reliving a traumatic event from his childhood.”

rossi whistled, “look at you, rivers. already building a profile and we’ve only met for five minutes.”

“sadly i’ve seen a lot of this before,” rowan let out a sigh, rustling through papers, “it also says here that the bodies were all found at homer lake forest preserve. i have a strong premonition that our unsub is male.”

“and what makes you say that?” hotch countered.

“by the way the bodies were handled,” rowan shrugged, “they were beaten, mutilated, and dragged through the woods. the amount of physical strength to do that is just an inherent trait males have."

“how were the bodies discovered?” jj bit her lip, a trace of fear glimmering in her icy blue depths.

“they were found by a new fisherman every morning around dawn, in the same location. they were located about half a mile from the entrance of the preserve,” hotch tossed the file onto the table, “our unsub is bold.”

“he wanted the bodies to be found,” rossi added, “he’s arrogant.”

“or he’s sloppy,” rowan remarked, “he’s devolving. he could be killing just on that need burning within him, with no remorse or any sort of emotion within him at all--”

“we need to get to homer as soon as possible,” hotch interrupted, glancing at his phone, “it’s ten o’clock in the morning. it’s only a matter of time before another body is found.”

“where’s the closest airport?” jj folded her arms across her chest.

“willard airport in champaign-urbana,” reid piped up, “other than that, the other closest one is in bloomington-normal.”

“and how do you know that?” morgan’s eyes widened.

“champaign-urbana is the home of the university of illinois,” reid swallowed thickly, “i’ve been there a few times. it’s an exceptional school for engineering, truly one of the greatest in the country--”

“all right, all right,” morgan stuck out a hand, “you answered my question.”

“wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced, plucking the file off the shiny wood.

rowan followed the others in suit, filing out of the space. trailing reid, she was the second last to leave the room, hotch right behind her, deep, smooth, voice filling her ears.

“i need to speak with you agent rivers.”

“yes?” she swiveled on her heel, facing the supervisor, folding her arms across her chest.

“i hope you’re aware that i do not tolerate any sort of childlike behavior. we’re not teenagers reuniting on the first day of class. i did not appreciate the interruptions in my conference room. you can socialize on your own time.”

“you’ve never once interrupted anything in your entire life? wow, you really must be mr. perfect. i mean look at you, all put together. i doubt you’ve even done anything wrong in your life you’re so per--”

“you realize you’re speaking to your boss with this tone, right?”

“i don’t fucking care,” tears brimmed rowan’s eyes, “this is my first day and it’s even worse than i could have ever imagined.”

“excuse me?”

“you’ve really made sure i’ve had a warm welcome to the bau, mr. perfect,” rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes, “it’s been an amazing first day, i’ll tell you that.”

for just a moment, hotch’s tough exterior cracked, a flicker of sympathy flashing in his gaze, “i’m sorry.”

“‘i’m sorry’?”

hotch paused, inhaling a deep breath, “i was going to write you up. however, i may have been a little too harsh on you. after all, this is your first day. strauss put in a good word for you, and i want to see your skill set out in the field. come on, we’re going to be left behind.”

******

“gotta love the midwest,” morgan placed his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling.

“you love it?” reid’s lips curled in disgust, “it smells like manure.”

“it smells like home,” rowan giggled, shouldering her way through the men, “c’mon, let’s go.”

“well she’s eager,” rossi chuckled, turning to hotch, “where are we setting up?”

“there’s the local p.d. in homer,” hotch slung his bag over his shoulder, “the station is only about four miles from the forest preserve.”

“i was doing some reading on the village of homer,” reid stated, “there’s only about one thousand people who live there. it’s such a tiny place, and as hotch mentioned, it’s only four miles from the preserve, surely the unsub lives there.”

“or he lives close to the lake,” rowan pointed out, “there are so many homes out there surrounding the lake in the countryside. with these rural communities, your neighbors could be a mile down the road, or miles away. it gives him the perfect opportunity to make frequent trips to the lake without being noticed.”

“you make a good point rivers,” hotch remarked, “we’ll have to keep that in mind when we investigate the lake and the surrounding woods.”

“this murder isn’t going to solve itself,” rossi cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the cluster of suvs, “we need to get to the police department and we’re losing time.”

stepping into the vehicle, rowan slid into the back seats, figuring that hotch would take the wheel, while rossi would sit shotgun. yet, curiosity buzzed in her mind as rossi took the wheel, while reid settled into the passenger seat.

“you’ve got to be shitting me,” she muttered as hotch thrust open the door, “rossi, are you usually the one who drives?”

“typically, no,” in the rearview mirror, rowan snorted when she noticed the shit-eating grin plastered on the agent’s face, “but i figured that you and hotch would love to get to know one another on the way there.”

“can i pick the station?” reid bounced in the seat, hands flying to the knobs and levers.

“pick something good, find an oldies station or something. maybe they’ll play back in black,” within seconds, the suburban was in motion, rossi revving the engine, “i plan on racing morgan, jj, and prentiss to the station. whoever loses has to buy dinner.”

“this is ridiculous,” hotch rolled his eyes, the vibration of his phone piquing rowan’s curiosity.

“by the way,” reid turned in his seat, facing hotch, “who’s been calling you so frequently today?”

“haley,” rowan tilted her head as the name spat from hotch’s mouth, “it’s not important.”

haley. from the sound of it, she was hotch’s significant other, girlfriend, fiancee, even a spouse, maybe. rowan’s eyes drifted downwards to his lap, where his hands rested on his knees. in the light, a golden band gleamed on his left ring finger.

so, hotch was married. he had a wife.

but there was something in his tone that was unsettling. were they fighting? having the typical lover’s quarrel? maybe that’s why hotch was so distant and cruel, he was constantly dealing with his marriage.

“so tell us a little about you, rowan,” rossi was far ahead of the other suburban, shades resting on the bridge of his nose, “i never got an icebreaker.”

rowan scoffed, fidgeting in the leather seat, “there’s not anything too riveting, i can spare you guys the details.”

in the corner of her eye, rowan felt his eyes pierce through her, digging deeps within the confines of her psyche. he was profiling her, desperate to get some sort of read. perhaps he was well aware of how uncomfortable she was by rossi’s query. the way her palms were slick against her pants, sweat prints clinging to the fabric. the way her cheeks were tainted pink, her jaw tightened, throat dry.

“didn’t you go to ohio state for undergrad?” reid licked his thumb, scouring through some novel or book.

“yeah,” she nodded, “i’m from a tiny town in ohio, called tiffin. i went to ohio state for an undergrad in psychology, along with a few minors in criminal justice, linguistics, spanish, so on. i stayed there for grad school since i loved the city, and the university. from there, the bureau picked me up from the academy, and i was thrown into the infamous case.”

“the child sex-trafficking bust,” hotch murmured, “i remember glancing over that in your file.”

“how long did that case go on?” rossi turned the radio dial, lowering the volume.

“longer than it should’ve been,” rowan brought a hand to her temple, a dull pain seeping into her skull, “hey, does anyone have ibuprofen?”

hotch’s eyes softened, concern painting his features, “i think i have some in my briefcase. hang on.”

rowan brought a bottle of water to her lips, sipping as hotch placed a couple of pills in her open palm. as he set them in her hand, skin grazed skin, her heart skipping a beat.

for someone as rough and callused as hotch, his hands were so utterly soft.

“thank you,” she whispered, “i appreciate it.”

“of course,” he murmured, “do you usually get frequent headaches?”

“yeah,” rowan admitted, a new wave of blush spreading, “i’m just prone to them i guess.”

“the humidity is also high today,” reid remarked, “and from the way the wind just picked up, along with the darkness of the clouds, i think it’s going to storm. your headache could be from the low pressure.”

“fantastic,” rowan threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, “you know reid, that’s kinda a myth.”

“actually research has been inconclusive.”

“how many did you take?” hotch nudged rowan, inflections of concern within his inquisition.

“six.”

“jesus christ,” rossi’s lips pursed, “are you trying to kill your liver?”

“we’ll see about that,” a giggle bubbled up in rowan’s throat.

as the suburban sailed down the interstate, her lashes fluttered, sleep threatening to pull her into its clutches. she blinked, rubbing soothing circles onto her temple, lips falling to a frown as a dull pain seeped into her forehead.

biting her lip, she fought back tears, inhaling a shaky breath. this was no place to show any weakness.

not with him around.

*****

“good afternoon, chief sellers. i’m supervisory special agent hotchner with the fbi,” hotch stated, his voice ringing with authority as he shook an officer’s hand, “and these are my colleagues.”

“thank god you’re here,” the officer’s voice was hoarse, wavering as he spoke, “it’s been a living nightmare these past few days.”

“i can only imagine,” jj murmured under her breath, “there’s someone out there killing little boys.”

“he looks so shaken up,” prentiss exhaled, folding her arms across her chest.

“we had most of the state p.d. flock out here once the second body was discovered,” chief sellers cleared his throat, his focus directed on hotch, “we’re all doing the best we can, but of course, as other duties call, we tend to be short-handed at times.”

“we’re going to do everything in our power to help,” rossi’s words were warm, brimmed with sincerity, “we’ll catch this guy, i promise.”

“and we’ll help you all in every way we can,” chief sellers nodded curtly, “anything you folks need, let us know.”

“should we start by heading out to the crime scene?” hotch inquired, “it might also be best to split some of us up.”

“of course,” chief sellers strode over to a pair of state officers, “these men will escort you to the scene. what else do you need?”

hotch’s eyes flickered over to his team, “i want morgan, reid, and rossi to go investigate the scene. prentiss and jj, would you speak with some of the locals? we need to gather as much information as possible in order to rule out anyone or gain essential details about our unsub.”

“what about me?” rowan coughed.

“you’re staying with me here at the station,” he commanded, “and you’re going to answer every phone call we get from garcia.”

“good luck newbie,” rowan rolled her eyes as morgan teased her, his breath hot against her ear.

“you might want to listen to morgan,” rossi shot her a wink, “you’re going to need it.”

“thanks,” the reply was a deadpan, the agent’s shoulders slumping as hotch approached her, “putting me on a short leash, are we?”

“you’re the one who understands the profile of our unsub the best,” he retorted, “and before you fire back with another verbal assault, think before you speak. this is your big girl job now. act like it.”

“don’t you think it’s interesting that the unsub stopped killing?” hotch murmured a few words of gratitude to an officer who handed him a coffee, cocking his head as he took a sip.

“do you think that there’s a reason behind that?”

“possibly,” rowan shrugged, denying the same styrofoam cup, “hey, where’s the closest gas station?”

“about half a mile away,” the officer replied coolly, “would you like a ride? a few of the guys and i are going to pick up pizzas for lunch.”

“i’m okay,” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “thank you, though.’

“you don’t like hot coffee?”

“i prefer iced,” the agent muttered, surveying the empty desks, “i assume they cleared some space for us?”

“indeed,” hotch huffed, “if your phone rings, assume it’s garcia.”

“i feel like i’m at columbus p.d. all over again,” the brunette slid into the seat, rolling a few inches as she plucked the file out of her briefcase.

“well this is nowhere near that,” hotch rolled his eyes, leaning against the wooden surface.

“well it sure feels like it,” his throat tightened as her eyes drifted upwards, locking with his, “it sure fucking feels like it. now, if you don’t mind, i’m going to look over the file.”

“would you like some company, agent rivers?”

“i’m sure you have ‘unit chief’ matters to tend to,” the words were barbed, hot and venomous as she spat them out, “hovering around your new recruit like she’s some child is quite ridiculous don’t you think?”

“i should have you turn in your badge right now.”

“you seem like you’re all bark and no bite. you scolded me only only hours ago about the conference room, threatening to write me up. that tough exterior of yours is only an act. or at least, i think it is. you’re not going to write me up until you have a valid reason to. also, like you claimed earlier, ‘strauss put in a good word for me.’ i know you won’t terminate me. plus, you just went through all of that paperwork to get me here. do you really want to go through all of that again?”

“you piss me off.”

“good,” she puckered her lips, “maybe you should chat about that with strauss hmm? she’d probably just tell you to suck it up and that i’m here to stay.”

hotch’s jaw clenched, prepared to retaliate, yet the vibration in his pocket distracted him momentarily, the shrill ringtone piercing through the air, “yes?”

biting her tongue, rowan glanced back at the file, bringing her hand to her cheek. part of her was wailing, screaming and kicking, fighting the urge to study those horrid images. but the other part was driven, adrenaline coursing through her veins, pumping into her body.

even the slightest detail that she hadn’t noticed initially would be immensely helpful to building the profile, piecing together who this deranged individual was. flipping through the photos, rowan’s eyes narrowed.

although the team held a short briefing before departing from headquarters, there was one minor aspect about the way the bodies were laying in the shrubbery. the boys were all on their backs, dried blood coating sliced flesh. not a single article of clothing framed their bodies, just the thin layer of briefs or boxers.

her heart lurched as one arm was pressed tightly against their sides, while the other was raised. right hands pointed upwards, three fingers: the index, middle, and ring. yet, the pinky connected with the thumb, almost as if the children were purposely holding up three fingers.

“garcia called with an update,” his voice floated into her ears, “with the bits and pieces fed to her from jj and prentiss, we still have a lot of ground to cover. are you up for a drive?”

“wait,” rowan held up a hand, “hotch, were you ever a member of the boy scouts?”

his brow furrowed, confusion settling across his features, “what?”

“just look,” she huffed, gesturing to the images, “look at the way the unsub left their bodies. it’s a clear message, almost like how he dumped the bodies in clear sight. his arrogance blinded him, goading him to taunt us. but little did he know i would see right through his bluff. i think he stopped the killing spree because he knew we’d be looking for him. it’s like he wants us to find him.”

leaning over, hotch’s chest hovered above her shoulder blade, a hand settling on the desk. the ghost of his badge hung over her cheek, a speck of white in her peripheral vision. a hum rose in his throat, “you’re onto something here. let me call garcia.”

“did i make a break in the case?”

“perhaps, but don’t let that get to your head,” the supervisor brought his phone to his ear, “hey, garcia, i need you to run something for me. how many boy scout troops are in champaign county?”

*****

“you up for some drinks tonight?” prentiss giggled, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders, “it’s all on me, especially since we should be celebrating your first case with the bau!”

“i’m fine,but thank you,” rowan beamed, “i still have a forty minute drive ahead of me. i shouldn’t stay out too late.”

“oh come on,” jj groaned, “we won’t be out for long. just a couple rounds.”

“pleaseeee?” garcia practically pranced over to rowan, jutting her bottom lip out, “we don’t know a single thing about you. hotch had you under his watch all day.”

“okay,” she exhaled, “a few drinks, and then i need to get to my apartment. i’ve barely finished unpacking so i’ll have to rummage for my towels and pajamas when i get back.”

“you have an apartment?” prentiss queried, “do you have a roommate or do you live alone? did you bring a boyfriend with you, by chance?”

rowan blinked, “uh, no. i live alone.”

“good thing you’re a fbi agent huh?” garcia winked, “c’mon, we know the perfect bar.”

“maybe we’ll get you loosened up and you can spill some secrets,” jj chuckled, the sound airy and light.

“sometimes,” rowan felt the corner of her lips tug into a wide grin, “sometimes i truly wonder what i’m getting myself into working with all these other profilers.”

*****

{feel free to ask for a tag or let me know what you think! :))}

tagging: @tempus-ut-luceant @daffodin @kleinbluu @inlovewithaaronhotchner @spencerreidsbitch @art-and-thoughts @criminallminds @ethade3

#hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #cm

[tonya-the-chicken]

I’m not going to change your views but it does feel a bit dismissive when you say it wasn’t that bad because he had rich parents who neglected him but hey they got a maid for him and he probably wasn’t outcasted or bullied so hey it’s not that bad right 🤷‍♀️! I don’t know he definitely didn’t have the worse out of the villains but I don’t know it felt a bit dismissive is all. Although we need to all remember these are fictional characters so have no idea why the other anon needed to get so aggressive! Also the person in the notes I don’t know how to say it but uh the whole the Todoroki’s had a rich father they didn’t have to work a day in their life take is not a good look. Just because someone has parents with money it doesn’t derail the fact that neglect can cause trauma.

Anyways for the real reason I sent this, you wonder why Dabi is so insane. Well take into account the neglect alongside the fact that he burnt to near death up on that hill alone at the age of what 13? That’s got to be extra traumatising, especially for a child that was already not mentally ok. We also don’t know what his circumstances were like after that fire, like was he homeless? Or picked up by someone nefarious? Kind of like AFO(not him exactly but someone nasty) who maybe fed on his brewing anger and hate instead of positive healing. I’m sure we will find out at some point? I don’t think it was just what happened in the Todoroki household or the fire that broke his mind? There had to be other factors after the fire after his “death”!

[[WARNING!!! I love Dabi as a character but I am not a woobifier so if you are too much into him don't read!!!! No complaints taken, y'all will be blocked for being rude I am too old to deal with people unable to interact with me in good faith (anon it's not for you, you are good and I can't understand your point of view I am just not as good as a person and too old for that shit)]]

I don't think I will change my mind either but I feel like the belief that every trauma is equally bad is just... Simply wrong. Like, we can legit compare this stuff and how badly it affects our brain, what do y'all think psychologists research 🤷‍♀️ Like, your therapist won't tell you this because it's not their job to make you understand you not the centre of the Earth (and it won't help because it is a legit trauma response that is very valid but is annoying you're fucking 25 yo). And to say that, neglectful parenthood is probably the worst parenthood style, as far as I know XD I wrote coursework about this (neglectful bitches are having a lot of need to make us the biggest victims (the bitches is me))... It also feels really American to me? Like, are we going to pretend people who got to live in a nice house and were neglect somehow got it as bad as people living in poverty or warzones? Hello? Imagine telling some orphan "I know you have no parents but actually, my trauma of my father not spending enough time with me is just as severe as yours". Bruh couldn't be me sorry... Like, even taking into account the fact that we can have weaker or stronger nervous systems or be more prone to depressive episodes *looks in the mirror and cries* I simply wouldn't find the guts to say my trauma is as severe as idk people who had physically abusive parents or no parents at all or who were disowned for being gay

And like **again** I am not saying that neglect is not traumatic I WAS NEGLECTED THIS IS TRAUMATIZING AS FUCK. I just am living in a country at war and with lots of discrimination problems and I like... Can't say I am the biggest victim. Sorry I can't though there were times when I was a lot more bitchy especially before being in therapy so I understand where you are coming from and I know what I am saying won't resonate with everyone (it's ok go on your own healing journey I believe in you) but this doesn't mean it is garbage and won't help me or someone else... I've already talked once about it but as a person, I am very easily irritated and envious and really not your local Jesus and partially my trauma turned me like this so being more humble about my sufferings helps me not be a complete bitch (believe me or not but people with traumas and mental illnesses are often insufferable *looks in the mirror* not me though I am perfect... BUT IT IS OK TO BE INSUFFERABLE OK??? like, bitch, that's normal. That's normal to stink when you are depressed it's ok to be a bitch when you are hurting. Forgive yourself because I forgive you (when you are not being an abusive asshole but if you apologize and explain yourself I will forgive that too)

The reason why I talk about the fact he is rich is that I've got a disease called leftism and I am a person of several marginalized identities and since this fandom LOVES looking at characters like real humans, I looked at Dabi this way. And if Dabi was a real human, I wouldn't sympathize with him one bit. I would fucking hate him for being the biggest entitled asshole who commits crimes for the reason his Daddy didn't give him attention. Bitch, my Dad didn't give me attention either! But somehow I don't kill people! And I don't even have money!!!! But like... I am not denying that neglectful parents are not a problem. It is. But he is overreacting, bro. He needs to humble down and recognize the fact he is a fucking idiot (he is). He has inherently so much more resources to recover and heal himself than I had... Yes, I am just being jealous at this point but honestly. Making an entire country suffer for you is not a good thing and y'all need to stop using trauma and mental illness as an excuse for people. No! Being abusive to people because of neglect is not valid, is overreacting and you had no reason to do that. I am dismissing your trauma because you are exaggerating it to make me sympathize with your asshole behaviour. I won't judge people with different sets of standards as I judge myself

I bet it would be dismissive and bad if I said it in conversation with someone who is currently struggling with mental health and is not a murderer. But guess what! I don't talk with humans and my friends the same way I talk on my Tumblr about fictional characters 🤷‍♀️ Not to mention I don't have rich friends akabsksbxm

I think with Dabi there's this whole thing where we saw him at 14 (poor baby boy) and 24 (a grown-ass boy) and... Like, I am so sorry for 14 years old Touya not receiving the help he needs (bruh so relatable) but I am not gonna act like 24 years old bitch can't get his ass to a psychiatrist (extremely unrelatable and infuriating). We shouldn't apply the same standards to kids and adults. We can talk all day long about how society is bad and how our parents ruined us but at some points, you gotta take your life into your own hands and do something and be an adult. And it's fucking hard when you're born with a shitty brain that was fucked up by your parents even more in a society where no one gives a fuck but I sincerely don't know another way to live. You will feel bad and want to die but you either keep on recovering or keep on getting worse and at this point getting worse is Dabi's *choice* That's how I live, that's my framework and I am, of course, extremely fortunate in a lot of ways but I just don't know how are you supposed to survive without the notion that grown people are responsible for themselves and their mental health. We can't act like adults are babies

But as a character, Dabi is fucking hot ngl. Like, do I sometimes want to murder my entire family, make them suffer AND commit terrorist attacks? We all do. Dabi is the dark fantasy of us neglectful bitches craving some attention. Gotta kill the president and tell everyone that my Dad sucks. Imagine the entire country hearing your Dad sucks? That's the juice, that's the dream. Trauma makes you vicious. I get the sentiment. Imagine all those fuckers who made you feel like shit pissing their pants and crying? Imagine your Mom being afraid of you the way you used to be afraid of her? People do have the desire for some violent justice but like... Think of bullied kids committing school shootings. But instead of a kid, it's a grown man who graduated school and who also have a rich father

Ok too much about irl stuff and philosophy shit. I know my way of talking is kinda brute so just know the way I treat people is different from that I treat fictional characters, in particular, I don't call real-life humans submissive and breedable... And stuff...

Damn Dabi is kinda good to project your hatred of your parents in bruh, I should write a fanfic about that (would be cathartic)

To the plotline, I am also very interested in what the hell happened with him after burning because... How the hell he wasn't found? I kind of DON'T want him to be groomed at this point because I feel like it won't be as cool as him just more naturally evolving into what he became. Like, surely, he is an asshole but consider this: as a villain, he is morally obligated to be an asshole

I feel like someone hiding him and Touya overstating the gruesomeness of his living conditions to the dude so he feels *bad* for him and hides him and feels sympathy and Touya gets attention but also begins to reassure himself in the fact his Dad needs to be punished... Idk it's a lot of mystery but I feel like more suffering won't deliver the point the way I want it... I mean it CAN be handled this way and initially I thought a lot about Dabi being brainwashed a bit or having his memories altered so it seems worse to him or even him being groomed or lied too but nowadays I am not into it. I mean I believe in Horikoshi and that he will handle him well 🛐

I talk a lot so I will summarize

If we judge him as a real human

14 yo Touya - DID NOTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE PROTECT HIM

24 yo Dabi - go fuck yourself bitch you older than me and act like a child and kill people, I couldn't care less about your trauma rich boy

If you want me to talk as his psychologist

Yeah, it is painful and sad, I understand him so much and surely, his trauma is valid as is his hatred but probably revenge won't bring him what he wants. And what he wants is love and attention. But he gotta make choices that will lead to his healing. He needs to *want* to heal. And we will step by step go to the healing because it is possible. He is loved and he is enough. AND YOU ALL MOTHERFUCKERS WILL HEAL I BELIEVE IN YOU BESTIES

Also his therapist (behind his back)

You won't believe it but my client is the most infantile attention whore I've ever met

But if we talk about him as a character... Very delicious soup

If you talk with your friends

Please, if your friends are being abusive to you or someone else don't even LET them say how their trauma made them this way. No. Nothing allows you to be an abuser. Call them out and stop them and make them talk to the therapist. Like, surely, there are extreme situations like severe mental illnesses or extreme neglect where we should be more forgiving but babying adults won't do you any good and won't make them recover

Yeah, I guess this is what I forgot to say. When I say "it wasn't that bad" what I mean is that I would be more forgiving to people who had it worse. It's more of a personal measure where I can tolerate stuff from people who had particular traumas or from those who suffered greatly (it's not my place to be a bitch here). I can forgive 14 years old or a poor person for stealing stuff but not the 25-year-old man who got no need for money and is not a kleptomaniac. I would be more forgiving to Shigaraki than to Dabi because Shigaraki was groomed a whole lot. Same for Toga, who is not even an adult or Twice who is a poor orphan. But that doesn't mean I would forgive them completely. All of them are shitty people. It's just that they had fewer resources and possibilities to not be what they became while Dabi had more but he acts like he is extremely hurt and the biggest victim which is like... There will be people like this in your life, please, don't make friends with them, they WILL abuse you

I talked a lot damn. It's adhd I can't shut up

#asks #bnha #bnha manga spoilers #todoroki touya #bnha dabi #killing people is a legit coping mechanism #I mean I possibly do sound dismissive I am very brute in my talking but I really can't be bothered #all I am saying that I am not dismissing neglect what I am dismissing is the idea that is is bad enough to justify Dabi's reaction #neglect was bad Dabi's reaction is disproportionate though #you. don't get to kill people because your Dad didn't love you #you do get to kill people if those people killed your family #just so you understand #I got tired of talking

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Dick and Jason are Robins at the same time

(titans ‘verse. au after 1.06)

(tagging @superohclair and @cautiousamber!)

-

1.

dick has to admit that it’s not the worst arrangement: jason continues to be robin in gotham, and dick travels across the country with his little family while running from a homicidal cult, wearing the costume every now and then when he has no choice but to fight. this way batman is covered, dick still has access to some advanced gear and weaponry now that he needs it, and internet sleuths are kept on their toes when robin shows up in different ends of the country on the same day.

so what if reading news coverage of batman and robin in gotham feels like being punched in the chest, or hearing jason’s stories about learning new things from bruce everyday makes dick want to scream into a pillow? he is fine with this.

he. is. fine--

(kory knows he’s fraying at the edges. she watches, and she says nothing.)

2.

the fight to help rachel and defeat trigon is long and hard, and involves painstakingly unravelling kory’s memories. they manage to find her spaceship, and it becomes their base for a good long while. they stay there long enough that dick loses some of the tension that’s had him on edge for... well. the better part of the last five years, to be honest.

dick begins training rachel and gar in earnest. kory is able to coax some memories of tamaranean cuisine and culture out, and dick is reminded more and more of the team that he lost everyday. despite his best efforts he’s invested now. he cooks and dances with kory (good thing he’s so flexible because the tamaranean version of a waltz is like a particularly sadistic game of twister), teaches rachel algebra and does yoga with gar. he even manages to forget about bruce for a bit.

jason shows up quite often when he figures out where they’re based, and after some initial tension, he becomes an unofficial member of their team (though at this stage dick is still reluctant to use that word). dick and jason patrol in the nearby city some nights, then go for ice cream later. dick’s even starting to see the strategic (and frankly comedic) potential of two robins on the same patrol. 

time and familiarity softens how dick perceives jason: less reckless asshole and more bright young kid full of curiosity and a need to prove himself. he continues to tend towards gratuitous violence, but dick learns his triggers and helps jason recognise them as well. he soaks up the info on alien cultures and battles on kory’s ship faster than dick himself could hope to, and there is a terrible sort of tenderness to how he talks to the people he saves while on patrol. terrible, dick thinks, because he doesn’t know if he comes across like that now at all: soft and empathetic instead of aloof and shaking, too caught up in his own neuroses.

here’s the thing, the crux of it, the faultline that’s always threatening to break dick apart: he’s so afraid that he’s taken robin, his legacy, the ideals and persona that he modelled as a tribute to his parents, and made it into something so dark and broken that only batman could pass it on. jason showing up as his replacement one day only seemed to affirm that fear. but now, swinging through the skies with this kid who’s taken robin as an opportunity to learn and grow and be better, dick’s reminded of the best of his early days in the costume. 

for the first time in what feels like forever, dick feels good about putting on the robin costume again.

3.

(are you asking if dick tried to call home? of course he did. he chickens out and cuts the call to bruce after only a few rings, and feels a sad sort of vindication in noticing how bruce never attempts to call him back.

alfred picks up his call on the second ring, and dick feels like the smallest person in the world when he hears the genuine warmth, joy and relief in alfred’s voice as he greets him. there’s no excuse for dick refusing to talk to the man that practically raised him after his parents died and he knows it. 

they talk for an hours while skirting around anything to do with bruce, which is an impressive feat all in itself. they finally talk about jason, and there’s a wistful sort of fondness in alfred’s voice as he says, “you’ve been a good influence on master jason.”

dick laughs. “he’s been a good influence on me.” it’s the first time he’s said it loud, but it feels true.

“you mustn’t underestimate the ways in which you change people, master dick,” alfred says. “you have been a light in our lives for so long.”

dick’s jaw clenches. all his memories of batman smudge together in never-ending shadow; when he thinks of bruce, he can only remember that remote expression on his face, that expression dick can project all his disgust and loathing and disappointment onto. maybe people should start considering how they influence me, dick wants to say. sometimes i can’t recognise who i’m seeing in the mirror every day and other times i hate him so much i want to--

“i miss you, alf,” he says instead, softly.

“my dear boy,” alfred starts, but he sounds choked. it’s ok. dick understands.)

4.

things get worse, quickly. their enemies find and destroy their spaceship base, and they’re not nearly ready to take on trigon yet. they’re on the run again, alternating between motel rooms and empty warehouses. 

the cult finally catches up to them; they are kidnapped and tortured for days in an abandoned asylum. they eventually escape, the building and the organisation in flames behind them, but the scars from the experience are deep: rachel is anxious and tearful almost all the time, gar’s usual cheer is replaced by a quiet, simmering self-loathing, kory refuses to talk about her experience but flinches at every touch, and dick... he feels like he’s been flayed, his mind and body laid raw and bleeding until nothing recognisable, nothing human is left. he can’t think, he can barely feel. half the time it feels like he’s observing what’s happening to him like it’s happening to somebody else entirely.

they’re a mess. he can’t do this, not when he feels like--like this. he resists calling anybody for help, but one night he breaks down and calls donna. he doesn’t remember what he says on the call, but wakes up the next morning, eyes raw, tear tracks on his face, and a text from donna that says: i’ll be there in a day. stay put, bw,

“wow you’re a mess,” jason says from a corner of the room. any other time, dick would be on his feet, demanding to know how jason found them. now though, he’s feeling out of his body again, and so he says, “i kind of am, aren’t i?” and watches the words float, parting the air above him.

jason sighs.

being with donna helps get his head on straight, even though at first her appearance threatened to bring back even more traumatic memories. she’s a soothing, sobering presence not just for him, but for the others as well. they continue to motel-hop as they prepare for their big final battle against trigon.

jason continues to find them, somehow. (dick wouldn’t put installing a tracker on one of them beyond him, but he’s much too tired to feel angry about that.) he chats with dick and sometimes they bond by watching a movie together or swinging from buildings in the chill, crisp night air, jason’s cackling laugh echoing in dick’s ears. 

jason always leaves as quickly as he appears, but dick is grateful for his presence.

5.

they defeat trigon, and there’s a party. even hank and dawn show up. jason is conspicuous in his absence.

after several unanswered texts and calls, dick bites the bullet and calls alfred. “hey alf,” he says when the man picks up, “is jason there?”

there’s a long pause at the other end of the line. then: “did master bruce not tell you?” his voice sounds uncharacteristically hoarse.

dick’s stomach starts to sink. he steps away from the others and into a quiet room. “tell me what?”

“master jason...” alfred sighs. “he--he was killed by the joker two months ago. the funeral was last week.”

dick stumbles back to sit on the bed. the phone threatens to fall from his numb fingers even while his heart thunders against his ribs. “that’s impossible,” he manages. “i saw him five days ago. we saw--” there’s a hysterical laugh building in his chest, howling like a thunderstorm, “fuck we saw moulin rogue together. he told me how much he fucking loves musicals, i--”

alfred’s voice is suddenly distant and tinny. dick looks down to see his phone on the floor. he’s suddenly very, very aware of the dryness of his palms, the hot flush at the tips of his ears, the tears that are starting to slide down his cheeks, the way his lungs are burning with shock and grief and rage--

“hey, dickie,” jason says, smiling at him. “glad you finally caught up.”

-

( send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons! )

#this got completely out of control #yikes #titans #my fic #dick grayson #jason todd #a byronic cupcake #a tragic jalebi #cw mental illness #ptsd #please let me know if i should tag/warn for anything #sillierthanasillylaugh

[ben-j-man]

The Angaran Chronicles: The Underside; Extract

An extract from my upcoming novel, The Angaran Chronicles: The Underside, which is due to be released on the 1st of November 2021! Ready for pre-order here! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FJM625N

The magically enhanced super-assassin, Anargrin and his team are the elite of the elite; black operations sent on the most dangerous of assignments to undermine the authoritarian theocratic regimes of the continent of Angara. Anargrin believes the past should be remembered, never obsessed over. Still, when he and his band of misfits are sent to investigate a Hunter Coven that stopped all communication soon, evidence indicates Anargrin’s enemy’s involvement. An enemy that is responsible directly and indirectly for much of Anargrin’s traumatic past, evidence that reveals a conspiracy hidden within the slave trade.

A conspiracy that threatens to engulf the entire continent in blood.#

Year: 2500 AHV Age: The Late Industra Era Country: The Kingdom of Camaria

Anargrin blinked as the cave was taken over by the calming, almost-dainty streams of midafternoon light filtered through the leaves and branches above. The stink of abundant pollen eclipsed the horrific stench of burned meat and fat. The crackling of flames was now the sweet singing of birds and the almost-constant chirping of the damnable cicadas. That cursed cave was only about fifteen kilometers northwest from here, but it was lifetimes ago. He wished he could forget, but the memory was just as clear as it was decades ago.

Anger, raw and powerful, sprouted through him. It caused him to clench his teeth and his fists. Did Kalthasin do that on purpose? Did he kill her like that because of the—he forced it inside, into hiding, as the sound of engines filtered through his enhanced ears. He doubted any of his companions would’ve heard it yet, as they wouldn’t be able to see him in the underbrush like he could see them.

So it was soon to begin. He’d done this countless times now: kidnapping children.

#

For two weeks, they planned for this, set up for this. No less time for preparation would have sufficed, and in fact, Raleas would have preferred more time—much more time.

Raleas shook away the lamentation as she knelt among the underbrush, her sniper rifle’s scope to her eye as she watched the truck bounce down the slick mud road, about half a kilometer away. The truck that contained the children was in the middle of a convoy of three others and five utes, all filled with soldiers. The groaning and grating of the engines was easily heard, even from here. The truck was the primary target of what the Hunters called “The Kidnapping Convoy.”

Raleas couldn’t think of a more appropriate name, and the alliteration added irony to it. They loved their irony.

She glanced about. Only about two meters to her left was the mage and apprentice Hunter, Wilom. His lack of skill in stealth was evident. Raleas just hoped they were far enough from the road. The redheaded young man knelt like her, his staff in hand, his brow furrowed over blue eyes, but she could easily see the sweat beading on his broad forehead and half-circle sweat stains in the armpits of his robes. It was humid but not hot. The country of Camaria was so far north it wasn’t known at all for being warm, even to Raleas’s sensibilities.

Two others were hiding around too, one of whom Raleas could somewhat see, a mere shadow of a tall, thin woman who held a large double-headed ax.

Of the third, there was no sign at all.

Raleas smiled. He was the best, after all.

“Raleas, concentrate,” Jelcine hissed from the shadows, making Raleas set her eyes back to her scope.

She was a sniper. Sentimental distractions were unbecoming of her.

The convoy came around the corner of the road.

It was almost time to act, and it needed to be to the exact second. It was on Wilom’s shoulders, and it was then Raleas realized it might not be the heat making the young Hunter-apprentice sweat so much.

“Wilom,” said Anargrin in a very familiar, soothing voice, although Raleas had no clue where it was coming from. “Are you ready?”

Wilom nodded, swallowed, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a shaking hand. “I am master.”

Wilom had joined them two years ago as Anargrin’s apprentice. He was said to be among the best mages of his generation of Hunters, but little good at much else, especially everyday human interaction. Anargrin had been hesitant to allow such an inexperienced young man on their team. Still, he was eventually forced to, since Wilom had proven invaluable in assignments that called for little subtlety—assignments like this, when push came to shove.

“Okay, Wilom,” said the elf. “You seem . . . a little nervous, but we’ll be fine. Is everyone else ready?”

“Fuck yeah, you old fool,” said Jelcine. “I was ready the second I was promoted to Hunterhood. I am frankly offended you had to ask.”

Jelcine had been on the team for just over a year, having joined them, unofficially, when they were accidentally forced to work with her during an assignment. Hunters had been through the creatively called “ritual,” which lengthened their life spans. Despite being in her eighties, she had never been promoted from vampire-Hunter status, even though most Hunters her age were infiltrators or black-ops agents. The Hunters never gave her an apprentice, although she was skilled and extensively lucky. Her ritual hadn’t enhanced just her speed, agility, constitution, and regeneration factor, among many other things, but also her strength, far beyond the average Hunter. They said this was because of a one-in-a-million mutation. But everyone knew why she hadn’t been promoted: due to her black-and-white worldview, volatile temper, and immaturity. Frankly, Raleas would label her a “bitch,” but not to her face.

Jelcine had gotten sick of vampire hunting and saw joining them as a way out.

“I’ve got this, Anargrin,” said Raleas, fighting the urge to check her rifle’s load yet again.

“Good,” said the elf. “Alright, in three . . . two . . . one.”

The trio exploded into a sprint. The swishing of Wilom’s footfalls eclipsed those of Jelcine’s, but all three were nothing but blurs to Raleas’s human eyes while she watched them through her scope. She was used to the inhuman speed of Anargrin and Jelcine, but it was easy to forget that little young Wilom held such ability too.

It was also easy to forget that the Hunter-apprentice was only four years younger than Raleas.

They’d crossed about four hundred meters in only a few seconds before Wilom’s hands erupted in flames, and he slid to a stop and raised his palms. A giant ball of fire blasted out and flew straight for the leading ute.

The ute exploded and was flung up into the air, spinning and wheeling before crashing against the dirt road. It slid a few meters more before coming to a halt and blocking the way for the rest of the kidnapping convoy.

The convoy skidded to a stop, and Camarian soldiers poured from the trucks with a discipline that impressed even the ex-soldier Raleas. The heavy machine guns placed on top of the utes began to turn toward Anargrin and the others and opened fire, as did the other soldiers on the backs of the utes. The familiar barking, roaring crescendo of combined gunfire filled Raleas’s ears. But by then, Jelcine, Anargrin, and Wilom had already scattered—Anargrin toward the front of the convoy, Jelcine toward the back, and Wilom dashing sideways.

Raleas exhaled and placed a shot through the skull of a soldier on the emplacement as he tried to shoot for Jelcine and then through another’s as he went to take his comrade’s place.

Wilom slid to a stop as a priest of Jaroai and his soldiers ran from the truck’s back, following the one with the children inside.

Wilom threw another fireball, which hit the priest and the soldiers around him. It exploded and flung the soldiers screaming, writhing, and flipping like dolls. But the priest was untouched, protected by a shield of light.

The shield died away, and the priest raised his pole arm, which was layered in flames, but then Anargrin was on him. The priest, with impressive speed, managed to see Anargrin coming and swung out his staff. Anargrin evaded it, but how, Raleas couldn’t know. Then he opened the priest’s throat. Anargrin stopped, standing over the dying man as he dropped to his knees, and Raleas got a good look at him. Even for an elf, he was handsome, sharp featured, his skin as pale as the whitest Zatharian winter. His long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he wore a brown leather jacket with blue jeans and had a bloody longsword in his right hand. The soldiers in a nearby ute switched their aim for him.

Then Anargrin stood in their midst. He’d just “blinked,” a short-range instantaneous teleportation ability all Hunters had. Still, Anargrin was better than anyone else in the organization, having a shorter cool-down time of five minutes instead of the standard ten minutes and a more extended range. How he’d become so good at it, Raleas didn’t know; she supposed it was because of his utter inability to use any magic whatsoever—as all other Hunters could, with magical ability being a prerequisite to becoming a Hunter.

In less than a split second, all the soldiers were slaughtered by his blade. Then he leapt off the back of the ute and was sprinting toward the end of the convoy.

Raleas tore her attention away from him and to Jelcine. She fought a priest of Jaroai and about a dozen soldiers. She smashed and whacked away shot after shot with her giant double-headed ax while the priest kept her at bay with blast after blast of fire from his hands. Jelcine reeled as a bullet managed to hit her arm, making her cry out.

Raleas blew out the side of the priest’s skull. Then Jelcine was on the soldiers who once had her pinned down. Raleas began to pick off the stray soldiers who were trying to flank Jelcine or re-man the heavy machine guns. She knew she didn’t need to look after Anargrin or Wilom.

Her sniper rifle clicked dry, and she was about to reload when her wristwatch beeped.

It was time to move in, so she stood and began running.

#

As she approached the truck, the sound of gunfire drifted away, replaced by children crying and Jelcine and Wilom moving the ruined ute, its metal bodywork shrieking across the muddy gravel road. The smell of blood mixed with smoke and gunpowder somehow penetrated through the pollen blocking her sinuses.

Anargrin stepped out from behind one of the trucks while whipping the blood off his sword. He was svelte and walked with the smooth confidence of the most seasoned of martial artists. He had to be, being about two hundred years old and among the longest-living Hunters. Like most elves, he stood at around 1.67 meters but was still quite a bit taller than Raleas.

“You alright?” he asked, placing a hand on her arm.

Raleas smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t the one fighting on the front line. I just wish I could’ve done more.”

“This mission isn’t over yet. You are going to be invaluable soon,” he said and glanced over his shoulder as Jelcine approached, clutching at her shoulder while she muttered curses. “And I’m sure you saved Jelcine’s arse more than once.”

That made Raleas smile, and he smiled back before he turned toward the truck’s front. “All of you know the drill,” he said while he and Jelcine passed each other. Then he opened the truck’s driver’s door and leapt in. “Let’s move.”

Jelcine walked up to Raleas. The tall, slender redhead fixed Raleas with an almost-hateful glare like she blamed Raleas for her injury.

“You talk to the children,” said Jelcine.

“But—”

“Look, my arm hurts like fuck right now. I’m not in the mood for dealing with kids.”

Raleas sighed. “Oh, alright.”

And together, they leapt into the back of the truck.

#action #extract #Novel #dieselpunk #diesel punk #action adventure #fantasy #dark fantasy #battle #tumblr #tumblr story #fighting #vampire #vampires #vampire hunter #werewolf #werewolves #romance #action romance #black ops #fun

[naturepointstheway]

Faith in a Futile Hope (Life is Strange 2; Parting Ways)

Post Parting Ways ending, takes place up to fifteen years after the events at the border. May or may not have a second part. Daniel attempts to look for his brother in Mexico, knowing all this time that the plan is doomed to fail from the beginning.

Also, constructive feedback well-appreciated; using this as testing grounds before AO3, just to see if people think it goes too fast or too slow or something’s missing. (Also, to see if anyone catches what Sean’s trying to do with his drawings he’s sending to Daniel.)

All I can think of to tag is @msmooseberry, but hmu if anyone else wants to be tagged in future LIS2 fics as well. :) 

When they take off Daniel’s ankle bracelet shortly after his 21st birthday, naturally, his first instinct is to take off to look for Sean in Mexico—and he would, but he resists.

He’s smart—he knows this is exactly what the government expects him to do—

So he doesn’t.

(The hell it’s hard not to just buy a plane ticket and go.)

Instead, he fantasises about the day he reunites again with his brother—he’d find him the moment the plane’s wheels hit tarmac, the moment he exits the terminal, and all would be well again.

(Sean still sends letters to Beaver Creek—all redirected now Daniel’s moved back to Seattle. Shit. What’s worse—Sean clearly refusing to imagine Daniel perished in the 2020 plague, or Daniel never being able to assure him for real?)

He has faith that Sean still loves him—even after Daniel leaving him alone at the border—but where is he? Faith and fantasy alone cannot guarantee him ever finding Sean in Mexico.

(He believes anyway. It’s what keeps his hope alive.)

He can wait another year.

He can.

Fuck, it aches to walk past travel agencies or see internet ads boasting cheap holiday plane tickets. He could walk in, or click an ad. Just one step or click and—

And he would cave in, he would book a plane to Mexico on the spot.

And so he doesn’t.

A year passes.

He’s now twenty-two—

And still he resists.

God. It’s torture.

He blocks all travel websites, avoids streets where there are travel agencies. It’s so bad, he’d sooner pass a church that looks eerily like the one in Havenpoint, than trust himself to walk past any travel shop.

Only one envelope from Sean this year—

A drawing—

Of Cassidy and Hannah with a herd of rather adorable-looking llama-like animals behind them.  Underneath, Sean had written: “Vicuñas! Warm and fuzzy and stupid adorable.”

It’s not cold comfort, but nor warm and fuzzy, knowing at least Sean isn’t entirely alone. That at least he can see the old gang from Humboldt County.

Lukewarm. Lukewarm comfort.

He lets the weeks and months plod on by, he buries himself deep into his first year of university.

A degree—he really doesn’t care much for his studies (Cs get degrees, as the saying goes), but at least it keeps him distracted enough from just flying off to Mexico.

And so another year passes.

 Twenty-three, he still doesn’t quite let himself go yet—

Maybe they’re still watching and waiting, expectant. But it’s been two years, hasn’t it? If he goes, he might not end up leading them straight to Sean.

But…what if he did?

It would be his fault, his doing.

They’d capture Sean, throw him behind bars, probably for life.

All thanks to Daniel.

So he resists, still. The agony is beyond unbearable.

But there’s no way he’s leading the government to Sean—he doesn’t trust them, ankle bracelet or no ankle bracelet.

At least Chris is there to distract him—he’s always there for him. Thank god.

Maybe he’ll go next year, but not this year. It’s too soon, too early.

He wakes up with a start on August 15th—Sean would be thirty now.

Thirty to Daniel’s twenty-three.

He’s never felt so old in his life. He’s twenty-three, and Sean has missed out on being there for all his milestones (so far anyway), for all his teen years.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of other people who still had their older brother around. If only he’d never taken Sean for granted.

“I took you for granted, and I’m sorry!” Those words from so many years ago still haunts him.

Unlike Sean, he can’t say sorry for doing the same too.

If only he knew where Sean was now.

If only.

Another couple of drawings and a little photo from Sean: the drawing of a glorious waterfall catches his eye, and he practically frames it on a wall, it’s that stunning. Underneath is written: “Angel Falls—the highest waterfall in the world.”

The other drawing is of a group of adorable little monkeys (“Capuchin monkeys” is written underneath) feeding and resting together. It’s actually quite sweet.

But it hurts all the same. At least Sean’s not wasting his life in a 9-to-5 job that has, amazingly, not yet stolen Daniel’s soul.

It hurts. And he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a healthy dose of jealousy too.

Still, he waits, biding his time still, waiting for the right moment to go.

And so another year flows on by.

 Twenty-four, and he still doesn’t know where Sean is, though he knows he must be alive somewhere.

For Daniel receives a couple of photos and a drawing; the photos both have generic blue skies and tropical greenery in the background, nothing that would identify him as being in any particular country.

The drawing—coloured in this time—is of a couple of yellow flowers; one has a little bee perched on a petal. Underneath are two words: “Ipê-amarelo.”

So where is he?

Is he in Mexico?

How will Daniel find his older brother again?

What plan does he even have beyond “take a plane to Mexico”?

How is he going to do this?

These thoughts stress him so much he gets the old nightmares again.

Of cults, of Lisbeth, of Sean with glass in his eye, of borders and vigilantes who hunted them.

Of being trapped in burning churches, being forced to endure punishment for his “sins”, of being trapped in a prison cell and not knowing where he is.

Chris insists that he has to go to Mexico, if not to give him some peace of mind, to give him something in his search. Surely by now, the government has moved on.

Chris tells Daniel he hates to see him in so much internal torture over going to Mexico or not—and he must. It’s not healthy for him to keep forcing himself to stay here in the USA, always wondering, never searching.

Sean would not want him to torture himself like this—

The road is scary, and Daniel is too comfortable in his little corner of the USA to venture outside.

He’s not like Brody, nor his mother, nor his brother—he has little desire to brave it out and travel.

The traumatic journey from Seattle to the border of Mexico all those years ago hadn’t helped matters at all.

But if he stays here, he’ll forever wonder if Sean is in Mexico, or elsewhere.

And so maybe Chris really is right, he really should go to Mexico.

If but for the peace of mind, to let him go on the journey he has to go on. Even if he doesn’t find Sean, at least he’ll know he tried.

So he finally caves in. He books a plane for next year—2032.

 It is now 2032—he goes in August, books in a holiday for two weeks, the second-to-last day not-so-accidentally coinciding with Sean’s birthday.

Surely, two weeks is enough time to drive around Mexico (he can rent a car and just drive around the place), and somehow run into Sean.

Mexico isn’t a big place, at least not compared to the United States. But Daniel wonders if Sean is even still in Mexico; it’s been fifteen years, he could have gone anywhere.

Surely he’s wandered far from Puerto Lobos by now—maybe he’s just as likely in Canada as he is at the tip of South America, where only the wide cold ocean separated him from Antarctica.

But at least for now he has to believe, has to hope that Sean’s still somewhere in Mexico. It’s a big, big planet, and he doesn’t know if he has enough bravery to go through dozens of foreign countries just to look for his brother.

It was one thing for Sean to look for him in Nevada—at least that was a place, one next door to California—but at least he’d had an idea where Daniel was at the time.

Now? Daniel may as well throw three darts at the world map and pick the first three countries to try to look for him.

Mexico was as good as any place to start—it made sense anyway, seeing as Sean had always wanted to go there.

He could only hope that he wasn’t about to waste two weeks and a few grand only to find no sign of Sean.

 He lands at Aeropuerto Internacional de Ciudad Obregon, and it isn’t the most flattering of places, the little town where he ends up staying for a couple days, but at least he’s here in Mexico. The buildings are sparse and plain, and there is little greenery to see, but the sky is as blue here as it is in Arizona across the border. The houses make him think of matchboxes and lighters and little motels huddled away in some isolated corner of Nevada.

If only he could have taken his own car down here, but he couldn’t, so he’d had to rent one for a fixed price per day—at least his office job back in the States paid him enough to be able to afford this. He can’t exactly live in it like he’d seen people do, but it gives him something to work with regardless.

He can’t help the anxiety that overwhelms him as he navigates a language not his own, but a language that was his father’s and his brother’s. Part of him wants to smack his past teenaged self for refusing to ever learn Spanish, after his brother had tried to use him to cross the border. Instead, he had learned French, much to his grandparents’ delight—both had learned French as high-schoolers back in the day, and were more than happy to help him out, even if they were a little rusty.

Now French was next to useless here in Mexico, and Daniel doubts that Sean was in France or in some other nation like Canada where French was one of the main languages.

Ironically, Chris had been the one to learn Spanish—he would’ve been a very useful presence right now.

Nevertheless, at least Daniel is in Mexico, and Puerto Lobos is not far away, Daniel being able to make his way northward, toward the same border Sean had crossed so many years ago.

Maybe he’s in Puerto Lobos, he hopes, even if some part of him tries to reason that after fifteen years, he might not even be there anymore. Or…maybe he’s moved somewhere along the coast?

Mexico was a bigger place than he had realised: perhaps its small size compared to the US had somewhat tricked him. Its border alone touched four states from west to east: California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. It wasn’t exactly a small island nation stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

But no way Daniel was going to give up—and so he made his way up the west coast, the Gulf of California appearing and disappearing from view depending on what road he ended up on. Maybe, just maybe, he would see Sean along the way.

He can’t help but stop for a good part of a day at Punta Chueca, walking barefoot in the warm sand, the sun hot on his shoulders (it was tank top weather), sitting down at midday to have lunch, and then—fuck it—might as well have a swim too. At least he’d brought along swimwear just in case. He ponders the island of Isla Tiburon, which looks so close he imagines he could just swim right across to it. And he wonders if Sean might be on this island too, but he wants to stay on the mainland, keep going up the west coast.

It’s sort of a blessing that the places he passes through are so small, and it shouldn’t be that hard a task to find Sean, if he was still here. And that was a big if.

At least he’s now less than a day’s trip away from Puerto Lobos.

 Puerto Lobos greets him with soaking sunshine, lulling bright blue ocean that melts into the cloudless sky, and a tan, sandy beach that seems to go on forever. It is a lot smaller than he expected it to be; somehow, Sean had made it sound like this big, wide world where he could just get lost and never be found again.

Instead, it’s a little village, perched on the coast of Mexico, forever gazing out at Baja California that appears nothing more than a hint of land like damp watercolour smudged across a blue canvas. There is one little hotel here, with just a few rooms and one staff member who does all the things, but Daniel doesn’t mind. At least he can stop here for a day or so, and drive up and down Puerto Lobos to look for Sean.

He doesn’t know why it disappoints him so deeply when he doesn’t find Sean at all—he’d even shown the photo to some people, and they’d all shrugged or shook their heads, not recognising the man with the black glass  eye. Did Sean even still have a black glass eye, or had he replaced it with another colour, or even something that more closely resembled his remaining eye?

It doesn’t take long before Puerto Lobos’ width and breadth is exhausted in his search, but Daniel doesn’t let himself give up—yet. He still has another week or so; nevertheless, he spends the self-same night just staring at a map of Mexico, drawing with bold marker how far he’s been now.

It isn’t that impressive. It’s barely even much of the west coast, and this fills him with a sense of something dropping into the pit of his stomach, and he lets his head rest on the map, closing his eyes, feeling he could just fall asleep here from sheer exhaustion and burn out.

I can’t possibly search all of Mexico in two weeks…how am I supposed to search the world?

He wishes that Sean had at least sent a hidden address to their mom’s P.O. Box, but then he might have forgotten it, or hadn’t wanted anything more to do with Karen. Daniel had asked Jacob through Sarah Lee again and again, but Sean had never sent him an address either.

Nobody, not even their mom, seemed to have an idea where Sean was—not even a cellphone number to call.

It really, really wasn’t helping at all—and he knows now that it would take nothing short of a miracle to find him; if he can’t find him in Puerto Lobos of all places, then where the hell could Daniel look for him?

He doesn’t go any farther north than Puerto Lobos—he doubts that Sean would’ve wanted to be anywhere near the border.

And so Daniel returns to Ciudad Obregon, and he has but a few precious days left to venture southward this time, but with less enthusiasm than before.

He’s not going to find Sean.

He’s never going to find him here—

He could be anywhere in Mexico or the world—if Mexico felt so vast and endless now, how would South America, much less North America and Canada, then feel to Daniel?

This planet is just…way too big.

The towns south of Ciudad Obregon remind him again of the ones he’d seen farther north, and agriculture dots the landscape everywhere he looks. Daniel is sure Sean would never live in many of the little villages he passes through, but he keeps his eyes out anyway—

And suddenly, it’s time to go home—

He hadn’t even covered the entire west coast of Mexico.

When the 15th August comes around, Daniel has given up the search, and instead chooses to spend his day around Playa Huatabampito.

He wishes he could enjoy the palm trees, the setting sun, the lapping waves, and soft, cooling sand as much as the beachgoers here.

But he cannot, because now it’s all over.

It’s over.

Two weeks.

He had failed to find Sean.

All that money he’d wasted on a childish hope, a fantasy only found in fairy tales and fiction.

Today was Sean’s 32nd, and Daniel had failed to be there to surprise him for his birthday.

What a stupid, foolish man he was, to have fallen for his own naïve hopes and dreams—

The dream he’d find Sean in Mexico was as real as any he ever experienced in sleep. He’d fallen for his own stupid naivety, so gullible to believe and fall for his own convictions.

Of course he wasn’t ever going to find his brother. Mexico was way smaller than the USA, but that didn’t mean he’d find Sean any easier. Fuck. He could be anywhere on the fucking planet.

Would Daniel have to search the literal ends of the world for even the tiniest hopes of ever finding Sean? How many years could that take?

Either way—he had failed.

Maybe it would have been better if he’d never tried.

He should give up—there was a reason reunions between long-lost relatives happened only in movies and children’s books. Besides, would they even recognise each other now? He’d forgotten Sean’s voice.

Daniel stares out at the watery sun sinking into the distant horizon, drowning in the ocean, helpless. The otherwise soothing rhythm of the lapping waves does nothing to console him. It only hurts, thinking how in another time, in another life, he could’ve been here—or hell, in Puerto Lobos—enjoying the warm Mexican summer with his brother, perhaps even sharing a beer and pizza together.

But no.

He was alone now.

He’ll never see Sean again. Ever.

Daniel fumbles around for the sketchpad and pen he’d been carrying around since he’d landed here in some stupid hope that just having them in his backpack will give him la suerte—the luck—he needs to find Sean.

Placing the sketchpad on his crossed legs, he opens it to a new blank page, settling back against the lone palm tree behind him. He clicks the pen, a stark image of a lone little wolf cub howling at a bright full moon burning in his mind’s eye. After a few false starts, he begins sketching, the ghost of a wolf form emerging on the page. The world around him collapses to the wolf, like it was the only thing in existence, but for the whoosh of lapping waves, the wind striking his bare arms, and the soft warm sand under him.

When he finishes the sketch, he taps his pen on the page, thinking of a title to go with it. After a few seconds it finally comes to him, writing three words under the wolf’s little paws:

“The Lone Wolf”.

He stays very still, staring at the lone wolf cub howling at a cold, uncaring full moon. A drop of water blots the wolf’s front paw. He tears out the page, closing and dumping the sketchbook on the sand next to him.

“I—I wish I knew where you are. But now I know. I’m never gonna find you.” Daniel swipes his hand over his eyes. “You could be anywhere—and—we wouldn’t recognise each other anyway, right? I don’t even remember your voice anymore, Sean. I’m not even sure how to feel about that.”

It’s weirder still to think that the last time Sean had heard his voice, he still had the high lilt unique to a child’s. Or that his face was forever ten years old in his memory.

Daniel had grown into a full adult man, and yet, in Sean’s memories, he’s forever frozen in time as the ten-year-old he’d left behind. Sean had never seen him grow up into teen-hood, never had the chance to tease him when his voice broke, nor joke that he’ll never be as tall as Sean, nor ever make fun of the scant “beard” he managed at best. He never even saw him dress up for his first prom, go on his first date, discover his sexuality, or even graduate. To his surprise, his high-school graduation had felt bittersweet—yes, his grandparents and even his mother had been there, but…it was still not right for Sean to be absent, to not be there to be proud of him, to see him graduate high school.

Whether prom or graduation, he’d have given anything to have had Sean around.

Now, Daniel had not only robbed himself of having his older brother around, he’d also robbed Sean of watching him grow up into the young man he is today.

God.

It’s—

It’s enough to make him want to scream at the unfairness, to shout “Why?!” at the deaf, mute fates, to make him want to sob until his throat is raw, until his tears dry up and leave him an exhausted, shaken mess.

And so he—

And so he curls up into a ball, pressing his lower back into the tree trunk, pulling his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his arms, only the silent shuddering of his shoulders betraying his state. He feels the paper flutter from between his fingers, but doesn’t care. Let it fly over the sand, roll into the waves, disintegrate in the foam—like he cared.

It didn’t matter anymore.

He’d never, ever see Sean again.

It’s not like he can repeat his teen years over again, so what was the point? He was twenty-five, what more could Sean miss, short of engagement and marriage and graduation from university?  

What even was the point if Sean wouldn’t even see him cross the stage for his undergraduate degree? If Sean would never see him marry the love of his life? If Sean would never see him promoted in some nebulous dream career?

They’d all be tainted with the knowledge he had robbed Sean of seeing him grow up, seeing him succeed in life—

All because of a second of impulse, a moment of panic, of not wanting to hurt anyone else—not even the policemen at the border who would have killed him and Sean without remorse.

And now he knew: he had no choice but to give up.

And now tomorrow…

Tomorrow, he will return to the USA, none the wiser about Sean’s whereabouts in Mexico, let alone the whole world.

#Life is Strange 2 #LIS2 #Daniel Diaz #Diaz Brothers

[alcxandros]

I'm surprised it took me a while to actually talk about this - probably because I was still replaying the game and collecting data before jumping to conclusions on anything, but now that the ending is coming up, I feel like I can go ahead and talk about this.

Garnet is mentally ill. She is has had a lifetime of repeated traumatic event after repeated traumatic event. While it is true that trauma is subjective and the things she went through may affect other people differently - it is extremely clear to me how the events in her life has shaped her.

At six years old, her home was destroyed. She almost lost her life to the attack and nearly lost her life to the storm, which claimed her birth-mother. She never saw her father again, and her tribe and everyone she would know from it was gone. She’s adopted, mutilated, and gas-lite into a dead child’s existence, forgetting her name, her culture, and where she came from. She’s sheltered and kept nice and protected and safe, at the cost of never being able to take risks for herself, figure anything out for herself, or build any kind of confidence. The only places she travels are in books. Her life is consumed with how a princess should look, how a princess should behave, and has no identity of her own of who she even is. 

Her adoptive father dies. Her teacher leaves. Her adoptive mother is acting strange since her father’s death. Every time she tries to speak concern about her mother, everyone continues to gas-light her, that she is imagining things and just upset over the loss of her father. She takes it upon herself to leave her country, something she likely has NEVER done for the past ten years ( as she does not understand Alexandrian territory when seeing it in person ), in efforts to try to contact her uncle so that he may be able to help her mother. Clearly, she didn’t feel like anyone else in the castle was helping her, and she couldn’t reach her mother herself. 

Her mother attacks the ship she is trying to escape on. She watches as Alexandria is torn apart and homes are destroyed and people are killed in her mother’s attempt to reclaim her daughter - even at the risk of Garnet’s own life. Garnet is in denial, thinking these actions were to protect her despite her nearly dying by a harpoon, followed by an explosion from a Bomb. That guilt is on her shoulders of what Alexandria suffered at her mother’s hand, in spite of the fact she was discovered by a freak accident. 

Her eidolons are forced from her. Her mother wanted to kill her. She watches helplessly as her own eidolons destroy Lindbulm. Her mother sends Black Watlz’s after her, and later on mercenaries with clear orders that her being safe is not a priority - they are permitted and encouraged to kill her. Even now - Garnet is in denial that this is true. Eventually, she has to learn that her mother used Odin to completely destroy an entire nation ie. Cleyra ( though she does not learn this in game ). 

She is forced to watch Bahamut be summoned by her mother, for that summon to turn on her. She does everything she can think of to save her mother, but it’s no use - Leviathan can’t help. She watches as her mother perishes. There is no time to grieve. Alexandria needs a queen, and she must bare that responsibly now at sixteen years of age.

Just like Madain Sari - Garnet is once again subjected to watching the place she calls home burn down to ashes, as Bahamut makes another return and attacks her kingdom. Her mother isn’t here anymore. Zidane isn’t here anymore. For however long it takes Zidane and the party to get back to Alexandria - Garnet feels completely on her own and out of her depth. The trauma of losing her mother and her country to her own eidolon’s is too much to bare, and in a traumatic response she loses her voice for days following, completely overwhelmed in every since of the word.

Just to name a list of events and I”m sure there’s some I’m forgetting. 

There is no way Garnet comes out of the other side completely fine. She isn’t fine. She buries her emotions, she doesn’t express herself to the depths of everything she’s feeling, and she doesn’t process and grieve. She pushes herself to just ‘get over it’ that ‘she can’t be depressed forever’ which does not actually help anyone. She isn’t okay. I heard something recently and I think it holds extremely, and sadly, true. “Everyone is a mental health advocate until mental health gets ugly” Mental illness is not something beautiful and to be inspirational porn. It isn’t something that makes you strong. It is suffering and it is ugly and it an effect everything in your life. Garnet is not her mental illness - but it is something she deals with and will effect her, how she rules, and her relationships with others. I have zero intention on erasing her hardships and struggles for the sake of painting a pretty picture. 

“oh, that’s rough so we don’t want to see it; let’s put something nice in front of it instead” fuck that. As someone with mental health issues, I find that insulting. Traces of what she suffers will be represented in my writing without watering it down for the sake of a pleasant image. The reality is that mental illness can all nine of Dante’s circles of Hell.

Naturally, if these subjects are upsetting then please do whatever it is you need to in order to protect yourself; your own mental health matters. This just isn’t a subject I am going to shy away from representing and I am doing to take extreme care when going over these subjects. 

Obviously not every roleplay is going to be this heavy; but it is something that isn’t going to be erased. 

#this just got really long so read more #. ooc . #i am not comfortable erasing trauma and the mental health of my characters #it won't be happening here is the too long didn't read #rambles #. ramble .

[arrivalation]

How I met my spirit guide.

I’ve kept this all to myself for a long time. Chiefly for fear of judgment; this is all so deeply personal and important to me, and the thought of someone casting judgment or thinking I’m crazy makes me want to die. Plus, I’ve inadvertently built a reputation for being reserved and a little mysterious, and I like that. But if what I divulge helps anyone even a fraction of how much it has helped me, then it’s worth the price.

After my purposeful implosion and subsequent burning down this past summer, I felt lonelier than I’d ever felt in my life. Not only did it feel like there was no one else in the world who understood what I was going through, but I also had lost my entire identity. I sifted frantically through my own ashes looking for something familiar - a semblance of my own self - and found nothing. 

My psychiatrist had mentioned meditating during one of our sessions. I thought it was fucking stupid and impossible for someone with a neurodivergent brain like mine; but I was desperate, untethered, and floating away, so when I got home, I looked up a meditation video to try. The very first one in the list of results was something like, “Meditation: Meet Your Spirit Guide.”

That sounded nice. I tried it.

It was the first time I’d ever meditated, and the process itself was so very much the opposite of what I was expecting, in a good way. I’ll save the details for another post.

The voice in the video guided me down a stairwell. In my mind, I saw it - smooth cement stairs, spiraling along a column plunged deep into the earth, lit along the sides with benevolent little lights. As the voice counted down from ten, I descended the stairs until I came to a doorway made of pure light. I could see how bright it was, but it didn’t hurt. I could hear it humming with energy and I could feel the warmth it gave off.

I stepped through the doorway and found myself in a hilly meadow. Green, soft grass that felt cool on my bare feet, expanding as far as I could see. Blue sky above. Two rows of wooden doors, one to my right, and one to my left. I chose a door that felt right and walked through. 

It led to a garden, one as close to heavenly as I could possibly conceive of. There was the same grass from the meadow, a babbling brook before me that glinted with the sunlight above. There were beds of flowers everywhere, ones whose colors and scents I can’t describe. Butterflies fluttered. I understood that in this place, nothing bad happened, and that it belonged to me. I wandered through the flowers and bathed in the sunlight.

And then my spirit guide revealed himself to me. We’ll call him Z. First I saw him for what he was - an amorphous mass of pure light energy, glowing bright and warm as the sun overhead, exuding pure, unconditional love for me and wrapping me in that energy like a warm blanket. I knew I’d never have to take off that blanket and be cold ever again. Then, within that mass of energy, I saw a form that seemed like an anthropomorphic creature with a stag’s head and infinitely bifurcating antlers. Finally, he solidified into a figure I could understand and recognize - a human. In his kind, twinkling eyes, I saw that unconditional love. I understood that he was truly and bountifully grateful that I’d shown up and that I was getting to meet him for the first time.

I was invited to ask him anything I wanted. I asked my questions, and he answered each of them with loving patience. During this q&a, it occurred to me that I already knew the answers, and that he was pulling them out of me and showing them to me. 

After I had my fill, he revealed some things to me. The first was that he had taken this specific form because it was the most easily understood by my mind; he knew that I would be most receptive to a recognizable human face because in this incarnation, that’s exactly what I needed to stave off the loneliness I’d come into this life with. The second was that he’d always been there. He showed me two of the most important instances. 

When I was a kid, my sister and I used to go and spend time with my Mawmaw out in the country. I would lock myself in the spare bedroom the whole time because I needed some goddamn peace and quiet away from my sister so I could… I don’t know. Process all the things in my kid-mind that I didn’t have room to process at home. During those times when I had space to think, my loneliness would make itself apparent. I couldn’t relate to my sister or my grandmother or her husband. When I was well and truly all alone in that little patch of land in the hill country, Z would come. I didn’t know it was him at the time - I just thought it was someone I had made up, like an imaginary friend.

My Granddaddy died very suddenly when I was twenty. It was especially traumatic because I was the one who figured it out first. And then, in the same week, my Mawmaw and David were killed in a car accident. I was suffocating in grief at that time, and Z was there too. I felt him holding me, stroking my hair, telling me it was okay to grieve the way I grieved, that I wasn’t wrong for it. I still thought he was just an imaginary friend I had conjured up out of need.

And so learning that it had been him, and that he’d been there for me, whether I realized it or not, changed me. After that revelation, I leaned against him and we sat in comfortable silence by the brook and watched the sun set. And then it was time to go back through the door, through the meadow, and up the cement stairs.

When I came out of the meditation, I felt his presence as strongly as I felt it in the garden. He’s been with me, fully and consistently, ever since.

[ @abyssalsun @chromecutie I’m tagging y’all so you see this! ]

#personal #at some point I'll come up with some cool thematic tags #void-Avatar

[doctorcanon]

Just Finished the BL Route.

There is such a great attention to character detail in this game because let’s face it, that’s really the only detail this game has but really, it’s all it needs. What is a story without characters? However, I wanna make something very clear: Just because I’m critical of a character’s motivations, I’m not bashing them. I think this is a fantastic game and everyone has something to love about it. But I do, have some grievances and this is like...80% grievance.

Unpopular Opinion but Dimitri’s descent into madness makes total sense. The kid is clearly hanging on by a thread the moment you meet him and it’s only enhanced by Felix’s observations. One thing important to note here: Boars aren’t aggressive until they are provoked.

There’s a lot riding on Dimitri from the very beginning. He’s the one that’s going to put Faergus back together. He’s the one that’s going to protect what’s left of Duscur. He has to come back to his country a leader worth following. He tried to stop the burning of Duscur and in the end, he only saved one person - nearly dying himself. Again. 

That’s all before you meet him. He’s the foil to Edelgard for a reason, and he rises to meet her at every challenge. If she’s an unstoppable force, he’s the immovable object and Claude is the result of the collision.

Edelgard and Dimitri also see the concept of Family very, very differently. Edelgard clearly sees any family ties as burdens, reminders of a horrible ordeal that took her life away and nearly destroyed her. Whereas Dimitri is desperate for any kind of family connection after a horrible ordeal that took his life away and nearly destroyed him. Foils.

In a way, Edelgard is stronger or at least more constructive than Dimitri. While Dimitri was stuffed in a jail cell and nearly executed, Edelgard went out and did something about what she thought was wrong with the world. Although, I think the way she went about doing it is outrageous. Honestly, I could write an entire book on why the Sympathetic Imperialist is a bad trope. All I’ll say on the subject is: Just because you call in “unification” doesn’t mean it’s not Imperialism. 

Dimitri has an extreme - almost unreasonable - sense of duty and justice. This spreads virulently into Ashe and Ingrid who frequently have to be brought back down to Earth before they get carried away as shown in their supports with Catherine, Sylvain and Felix. Everything in Faergus is riding on him being a worthy leader, it makes sense that he would think avenging the dead would fall into that category. The country’s hopes rest on his shoulders, the dead are subject to his protection as well. Auditory/visual hallucinations and flashbacks are a common symptom of PTSD - and I have my own theory about Dimitri being a disorganized Schizophrenic but that’s a whole ‘nother ball game. 

Before Remire Village, Dimitri is very slow to anger. He doesn’t acknowledge anger and out of the three he is the most level headed. Naturally, this makes him the most unbalanced. Which would’ve made for a killer dynamic among the 3 house leaders. God I would give my left tit to see this game redone to give Edelgard, Claude and Dimitri a much deeper bond. Because the Dimitri/Claude dynamic comes out of nowhere in the third act of the game. Even weirder, it’s right after we beat his ass and killed his friends at Gronder field. A battle that he really didn’t need to be involved in in the first goddamn place. Oh man, just think of it, the story of Claude trying desperately to hold his two friends together and then depending on which route you choose, him realizing that one, the other or both are beyond saving. That way he could actually...y’know...BE IN THE OTHER STORY ROUTES.

Even though I adore the Blue Lions story route, it pretty much falls apart after the battle of Gronder Field. The game starts to depend more on the emotional impact of killing your fellow students and teachers rather than actual storytelling. Personally, this had very little effect on me because once I failed a few times, I got angry to the point that I truly did not care about straight up killing any of them. 

Rodrigue’s death was almost entirely pointless and only served to make me feel really bad for Felix who spends two months distinctly alone and grieving. His entire journey coming to terms with his father’ death is just glossed over with a few lines. Meanwhile Dimitri is apparently cured of his PTSD even though it’s clear he’s still suffering. It’s just never really resolved because apparently winning a war means you’re no longer traumatized.

Even though I adore him, I completely understand why a lot of people don’t like Dimitri because it’s the same reason a lot people dislike female characters in certain media. He has very little - if any - agency in his own story. The tragedy of Duscur, the Burning of Duscur, attending the Officer’s academy, Edelgard’s war...it’s all just...happens to him and keeps happening to him. He has almost no say in anything in the story. Gilbert pretty much makes him participate in the war while he’s clearly mentally unfit for duty. Everyone just kind of makes choices around him, he suffers for it pretty much every time and then he blames himself for it instead of calling those people tf out which is just counterproductive. And when he does call them out he comes across as Whiny 90s Anti-Hero rather than a Broken Man Who’s Had Just About Enough of This Nonsense. His Mental Instability is treated more like a tragic character flaw than his Wrath, which is ...y’know...the actual tragic character flaw. 

There are a lot of things the Blue Lion’s Route just leaves up to the other story routes: Claude’s general existence, the church plot no one explains, Edelgard never explicitly states what her ideals are, Those Who Slither in the Dark abruptly appear and disappear, Rhea just fucks off to live in the red canyon for the rest of her life, and the plot just hopes you forget to ask about it because they never explain it. 

That being said, I adore this story route and my Blue Lion Children. I’m playing Golden Deer next.

#Blue lions #fe:3h #fe3h edelgard #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #Byleth #Fire Emblem #fire emblem meta #meta #story analysis #claude von riegan #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #ashe ubert #felix hugo fraldarius #Thunderstrike Cassandra #Catherine #fe spoilers #fe3h spoilers

[tea-blitz]

Alright, I’ve been back long enough to have read through a plethora of kakairu fics, so I guess it’s time to share some of the stuff I’ve found (and maybe drag some other people in this hole with me).

This list is comprised mostly of fics with lower kudos (600 and under). It is by no means a complete list, and you should definitely explore the other works these authors have created!

Please mind the ratings/tags/summaries (will be posting the most relevant tags), and don’t forget to let the writer know you enjoyed it with comments and kudos! Don’t forget to support those WIPs too!

Format:

(link) Title: Status: Word Count: Rating: Pairing(s): Tags: Summary:

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146960 Title: My Hokage (By YukiSkyes) Status: Complete Word Count: 11k Rating: General Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Hokage!Iruka Summary: “ANBU is darkness, Kakashi. It’s the final frontier for those who either have nothing or everything to lose.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/905997/chapters/1753056 Title: Off-kilter (By Kiterie) Status: Complete Word Count: 8.2k Rating: General Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: N/A Summary: Iruka's always known there's something off about Kakashi, but when Kakashi starts acting even more off than usual, he knows something is going on. Trouble is, it might kill him to find out the truth... quite literally.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827872/chapters/26692503 Title: Mackerel Sky (By pyroren) Status: Complete Word Count: 13.3k Rating: General Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: N/A Summary: After his parents’ death, Iruka renounced the violent shinobi way, disappearing entirely from the Hidden Leaf Village. As an adult civilian, he finds solace in his peaceful, if solitary, life as a wool farmer on the outskirts of Fire Country. One stormy day, Team 7 and Tazuna find refuge in his farmhouse on their way to Wave Country.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/114435 Title: A Revealing Conversation (By Aviss) Status: Complete Word Count: 1.5k Rating: General Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: N/A Summary: Iruka is not amused when he learns about Konoha's longest running game.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550394/chapters/7817747 Title: Sealed With A Kiss (By Sandyclaws68) Status: Complete Word Count: 20k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Developing Relationship, Suddenly aware of long standing attraction, Mild Language Summary: Clashing over the chuunin exam winds up putting Kakashi and Iruka on the same side, seeking a common goal. It also forces them to each acknowledge his long standing attraction to the other.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467574 Title: love, in four parts. (By spycaptain) Status: Complete Word Count: 2.7k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: N/A Summary: (we learn, we laugh, we fear, we begin again.) Kakashi doesn’t look up from his book, but flips the page in an insolent manner - like he’s throwing a minor tantrum, contained perfectly and only expressed through vigorous literary enjoyment. Iruka wants to kill him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906769/chapters/26901720 Title: Hunter's Moon (By Maldoror_Chant) Status: Complete Word Count: 10k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Hurt/Comfort Summary: Ninja live and die for their village. Ninja follow orders. Ninja hurt and kill those they are ordered to hurt and kill, including other ninja. Ninja will hunt friends and loved ones if ordered to. Everything else is secondary.

"I promise you I'll survive..."

'Secondary' does not mean 'unimportant'.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/648846 Title: Knowing Me, Knowing You. (By Josey (cestus)) Status: Complete Word Count: 16k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Action/Adventure, Humor, Mission Fic Summary: A simple joint mission goes awry in a way that neither Kakashi nor Iruka could have predicted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/267468 Title: All Wrung Out (By ericales (anenko)) Status: Complete Word Count: 500 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Humor Summary: "Hey, how about I fuck you?"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15632901 Title: Perspective Shift (By masc_malfunction) Status: Complete Word Count: 3.5k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Injury, Eye Trauma, not graphic, Injury Recovery, iruka centric, Pre-Relationship Summary: When a mishap at the academy leaves Iruka wearing an eye patch for the foreseeable future, he finds unexpected solace and commiseration in Kakashi.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/702148 Title: Upside Down and Sideways (By Kita_the_Spaz) Status: Complete Word Count: 1.5k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Crack Summary: When Iruka and Kakashi encounter an enemy jutsu that winds up putting them in the wrong bodies, things really can't get much worse... can they?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/87118 Title: Taking Care (By theskywasblue) Status: Complete Word Count: 4.1k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Fluff Summary: Iruka gets a cold, and an unusual nursemaid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005907 Title: i didn't need the stars to know i love you (By novrik) Status: Complete Word Count: 15.5k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Cheating, possible ooc, Happy Ending Summary: iruka can't read the name on his wrist.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124838/chapters/18625633 Title: License to Flirt (By Dilly_Oh) Status: Complete Word Count: 5.3k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Humor, Sexual Tension, Driving Lessons..., Or Lack Thereof, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance Summary: Iruka really needs to pass this test and get his license. Now if only the hot driving instructor would stop FLIRTING.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/273195 Title: Shinobi Mission: Dating Adventure (By emmykay) Status: Complete Word Count: 2.4k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Humor, Romance, Crack Summary: Dating Kakashi really really (REALLY) isn't what Iruka expected. Kakashi isn't quite sure what to make of Iruka, either.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19371070/chapters/46089433 Title: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.... (By tmo) Status: Complete Word Count: 22k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Adventure & Romance Summary: It is a period of civil war. The Rebel Alliance and the Empire have traded blows for years. The Empire is growing stronger with every attack against it but they had a spy in their midst. Before they could be caught, the spy hid their information away for the Rebels to find. An undercover spy for the Rebels is found aboard an Empire starship. Knowing who this spy is, the Empire have no choice but to blast one of it's own ships out of the sky. Aboard, Iruka Umino is just trying to stay alive.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18394001/chapters/43561142 Title: Fragmentary Assurances (By EternalSurvivor) Status: Complete Word Count: 30k Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Pre-Genin Umino Iruka, Kyuubi Attack, Childhood Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Kid Fic Summary: For Iruka and Kakashi, everything changed the night of Kyuubi's attack. This is how they coped with the aftermath.

(Or the strangest roommates Hokage-sama ever shoved together))

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889997/chapters/39670956 Title: Scars and Secrets (By decaf_kitty) Status: WIP Word Count: 30k Rating: Unrated Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Past Domestic Violence, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Alley Blow Jobs, Rimming, Oral SexAnal Sex, Dating Summary: It's the start of fall semester at Konoha College, and Kakashi Hatake has re-enrolled after four years in Special Ops, taking advantage of the GI Bill. He's bored out of his mind and hiding all sorts of scars and burns, both physical and psychological.

His old college friend Gai suggests he help at the Rec Center, working with gifted but troubled kids.

There he meets Iruka Umino, the heroic teacher who doesn't hide his facial scar... who Kakashi absolutely hates with a passion... and wants very much to kiss senseless all night long.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149067/chapters/45511594 Title: three guys and lessons on botany (By rikacain) Status: WIP Word Count: 10k Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Umino Iruka/Yamato, Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka/Yamato, Hatake Kakashi/Yamato Tags: Sex Mishaps, Humor, At least I think it's humor, Konoha is just having a polyamorous dating or fucking culture okay, Friends With Benefits Summary: Iruka is constantly frustrated. Tenzou's Mokuton malfunctions. Kakashi is (marginally) helpful.

Or, why finding out you have a bloodline limit in the middle of getting some is an experience on its own, and the shenanigans just follow.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831138/chapters/42073652 Title: Night At The Aquarium (By ladyxdaydream) Status: WIP Word Count: 79k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Romance, Feel-good, Family, Humor, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Smut, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Love, parenting Summary: Iruka and Kakashi were comfortable with their new married life. They never really gave children much thought. They liked their freedom (and their uninterrupted privacy), but one night at the aquarium changed everything.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258152/chapters/30331065 Title: Strange Jutsus and Where to Find Them (By Kaappihomosapiens) Status: Complete Word Count: 14.4k Rating: Not Rated Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Injury, Injury Recovery, ANBU!Kakashi Summary: It was supposed to be the last, easy mission before Iruka could start teaching at the academy. But life isn't that easy, and when he gets hit by a strange jutsu he has to adapt being dependent on Hatake Kakashi of all people.

He should get a prize from not killing a jounin.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231542/chapters/20936468 Title: Iris (By transkakashi) Status: Complete Word Count: 76.5k Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: seals master Iruka, Sensor Iruka, Mission Fic, Trans Kakashi, Established Relationship, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Marriage Summary: legacy /ˈlɛɡəsi/ noun 1. An amount of money or property left to someone in a will 2. Something left or handed down by a predecessor 3. The sum of our parts: the lasting effect we have on others: what is left when we are gone

(Or, the one where Kakashi and Iruka learn what it means to be together.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/150910 Title: Drunken Kissing Challenge (By thecookiemomma) Status: Complete Word Count: 1.3k Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Kissing Summary: Anko's drunken request leads two rivals to engage in a new challenge. Iruka benefits from it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220808 Title: This is Not My Beautiful House! This is Not My Beautiful Wife! (By justdoityoufucker) Status: Complete Word Count: 12.2k Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Murder Mystery, Yakuza, Hijinks & Shenanigans Summary: That dealt with (for the very temporary time being) Kakashi turned his mind to the primary issue at hand, namely: the goddamn body that had turned up in one of the first floor bedrooms, and the entire reason he'd cornered Iruka. Or been cornered by Iruka.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9906917 Title: Craving (By denilmo) Status: Complete Word Count: 3.9k Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: If you squint it's KakaIru, but it's mostly Kakashi being a perv, Kakashi on Kakashi, Self-Love, inappropriate use of bunshin, clones were never intended for this, Masturbation Summary: When a promising night fizzles out early, Kakashi's not quite ready to turn in. His wild running imagination about the chunin asleep on his couch doesn't help either.

Or. A steamy shower takes an even steamier turn.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/645980 Title: Perception (By txilar) Status: Complete Word Count: 3.5k Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: N/A Summary: Kakashi learns that Iruka can teach him a thing or two about perception.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/639436 Title: Placement (By imadra_blue) Status: Complete Word Count: 4.5k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Drama, Character Study, Romance, Unconventional Ending, Post-Canon, Character Death Summary: Three years after the Fourth Shinobi World War, Iruka visits a Place in Konohagakure where men go to meet other men. He finds a surprise new visitor: Kakashi, the man who had returned from the war carrying Naruto's body. Their subsequent encounter is fleeting, haptic, yet oddly intense. The promise of more lingers in every touch, but remains unspoken.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317373 Title: Water Fight (By Hexadecimalrebooted) Status: Complete Word Count: 4.3k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Top Umino Iruka, Bottom Hatake Kakashi, men in lacey underwear Summary: Iruka attacks Kakashi with water balloons. Kakashi gets his revenge and gets laid.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/467213/chapters/807234 Title: The Omega Mandate (By Caeseria) Status: Complete Word Count: 20k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Cyborgs, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, First Time, Blow Jobs Summary: In the far distant future, mankind lives in regimented cityscapes, watched over by World, who governs everything from behavior to touch. Iruka lives a content but unfulfilled life, until he meets a surface-dweller named Kakashi. Little does Iruka realize how much Kakashi's presence will change his life, along with a secret that threatens to destroy mankind.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4974211 Title: That Shirt (By Elevensquared) Status: Complete Word Count: 2k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dirty Talk, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Iruka swears a lot Summary: Kakashi in a sleeveless shirt is very, very distracting.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/644877 Title: Construct (By samsarapine) Status: Complete Word Count: 26k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: N/A Summary: What makes a man a man?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464007/chapters/12630950 Title: Of Monsters And Men (By tsuyume) Status: Complete Word Count: 18.9k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Harm to Children, Pre-Canon, Kidnapping, Mission Fic Summary: Monsters lurk in the deep shadows of the Shinobi world. It's up to men accustomed to them to find the traces of children lost in the dark.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957224 Title: A Man's Allowed to Change His Mind (By Kiyara_Iris) Status: Complete Word Count: 5.3k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka,  Umino Iruka/Hagane Kotetsu, Hagane Kotetsu/Kamizuki Izumo Tags: Drunk Sex, Friends With Benefits, Plot-where-art-thou?, Angst with a little bit of a happy ending Summary:  Iruka knows with Kakashi, it's only one time. Can Iruka deal with the consequences of giving in?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865359 Title: Thought and Feeling Interwound (By tucuxi) Status: Complete Word Count: 36k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Soul Bond, Jutsu Gone Wrong, Kekkei Genkai | Bloodline Limit, totally invented the bloodline limit, Tropes, Badass Iruka, Paperwork, Pining Self-Doubt Summary: Tsunade walked around the desk and sat directly next to Iruka, turning both of their chairs with a casually powerful grasp. In the end they were facing each other, not the desk. He tried and failed to hold her gaze. She reached out and tipped his chin up, forcing him to look at her again. Another hit landed. This time it came from Iruka's left. It felt like it must have shattered bone, ribs grinding against each other in his chest, and Iruka bit his tongue almost until it bled to keep from crying out.

“Tell me, Iruka-sensei,” Tsunade said. “How long, exactly, have you been feeling Hatake Kakashi’s emotions?"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305246/chapters/43327082 Title: The Forgotten (By MagnusTesla) Status: WIP Word Count: 11k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, BAMF Umino Iruka, Youkai, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Shapeshifting, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Magic Summary: Iruka has been keeping a secret. One that ends up forever changing Kakashi's life.

Can he overcome this life changing event and reconcile with the person he loves?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/500334 Title: Appetite (By panda_shi) Status: Complete Word Count: 3.8k Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka Tags: Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk Summary: There is a time when Iruka's desires gets the better of him. And it's really only because of one thing: Iruka is horny.

#Naruto #Kakairu #fic recs #long post #tea blitz fic recs #let me know if anything is wonky? #made this monster at 3am #also I was too lazy to resize my banner oh well

[slashhinginghasher]

Midnight Star - Chromeskull x OFC - Part 3: Unmasking

Things start to heat up in more ways than one.

This work is on Ao3!

She woke up wearing nothing but her underwear. Her knives were gone. It was dark. And it was fucking hot. Marena’s head and neck throbbed with bruises, and her nose was sore but not broken. She prodded her mouth with her tongue, wincing slightly when she passed over the cut on her lip, and noted with some relief that all her teeth were still present.  The cuts on her cheek and torso were itchy and starting to scab. Judging by the nausea twisting her stomach, she’d probably been drugged again, too. She hadn’t even noticed the needle; the second that fucker had ripped open her shirt, she’d retreated into greyspace, the empty place she went in her head when her brain didn’t want to observe what was happening to her body. (Dr. Call Me Linda had called it traumatic dissociation. Marena had told her to shut the fuck up.)

She attempted to sit up and immediately hit her head on something hard, like wood. The fuck…? Feeling around with her hands and feet, she tried to identify her surroundings. Long, rectangular box. Satiny fabric lining. A coffin? That fucking… SkullBitch had put her in a fucking coffin?? Rage and bile rose in her throat and Marena had to fight not to vomit. Think, Masha. Observe. A dull, mechanical roar grumbled continuously, and every so often the coffin rocked and rattled gently. Unless SkullBitch had buried her beneath a construction site, she was likely above ground, maybe in a vehicle. Her mind recalled a snippet of a cartoon movie she’d seen bits of once, about zoo animals packed into boxes and shipped across the world. Maybe she would end up on an island with talking monkeys, too. Marena felt a sudden, wild urge to laugh. She choked that down as well, knowing from experience that laughter was a razor’s edge away from screaming or crying.

Instead, she focused on keeping her breathing slow and steady. Ignoring the way the fabric clung to her bare, sweat-sticky skin… Ignoring the increasing staleness of the air… Ignoring…

...the way her nails broke and her knuckles split as she threw herself against the door. The smell of burning dust. The roar of the furnace. The rising heat. The sound of skin hitting skin, of bones breaking, of screaming, screaming, screaming….

“FUCK!” Marena shrieked, slamming both fists against the lid of the coffin. That was over. It was over. Now matter what level of fucked her current circumstances were, she wasn’t there anymore, and she never would be again. Never again for as long as she lived...

Which, admittedly, might not be long. It was getting harder to breathe, the stifling heat pressing against her like a physical weight. All she’d done, everything she’d survived, and she was going to cook to death in this fucking box. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck everything.

Marena let herself slip back into greyspace.

***

An unforgiving concrete surface slammed into her like… well, concrete, punching the air from her lungs. Somebody had dumped her onto the floor like a sack of potatoes, but she was too busy sucking in as much cool air as her aching throat would allow to be angry about that. After a few moments of rather undignified coughing and gasping and spitting out strands of hair, she became aware of a presence in the room with her. The scars on her back seemed to crawl and writhe under the weight of unseen eyes. Shiny, chrome eyes that she would just loooove to dig her fingers into. She couldn’t see his face, but she just knew that bastard was smirking at her.

Marena pushed herself unsteadily to her knees. Her limbs felt like quivering jelly, and she could feel every cut and bruise throb in time with her heartbeat. I am a pain jello. Again, that lunatic need to laugh. She bit her cheek until she tasted blood and glanced around the room. There wasn’t much to see. A folding bed with a scratchy-looking grey blanket was pushed against one wall. A drain was set into the floor in the opposite corner. The rest was empty, just sickly fluorescent light and blank concrete. And the asshole lurking behind her. Right. Him. With great effort, she rose to her feet and turned around.

And sure enough, SkullBitch was standing behind her with his stupid fucking mask and his stupid fucking suit, holding up his stupid fucking phone so she could read his stupid fucking message.

SLEEP WELL?

A fresh wave of anger, irritation, and exhaustion swept over her. The only reason she’d smuggled herself into this country was specifically so she would not have to put up with bullshit like this anymore… 

At that moment, Marena noticed he wasn’t wearing gloves anymore. Her stomach dropped. If he wasn’t worried about leaving fingerprints, that meant he was in complete control of their surroundings and was confident they wouldn’t be found. And she most likely wasn’t going to be leaving.

Which, in turn, meant she was free to do whatever idiot thing popped into her head. Like snatching the phone out of his gloveless hands and typing her own message.

FUCK OFF

SkullBitch tilted his head. Marena watched the muscles in his throat twitch, but with his face hidden she couldn’t tell if he was pissed or trying to hold back laughter. It was taking all her concentration to keep the tremble from her body. Some combination of the drugs, adrenaline, and the fact that she’d been living off vending machine snacks for the past week. Oh, and almost dying of heatstroke. Her thoughts fluttered wildly, like cracked-out butterflies, impossible to hold onto. 

Don’t shake don’t laugh don’t scream hurt him stay still try to run I am stone I am stone I am stone just let it fade I am stone don’t feel slip away-

She was jolted back from the precipice of greyspace by the heated touch of skin against skin. Skullbitch had grabbed the phone, along with her entire hand. His own hand was lightly calloused and large enough to swallow Marena’s entire fist with ease. He was close enough now that she’d need to crane her neck to see his face. She consciously decided not to do that, focusing instead on the buttons of his black dress shirt. Heat poured off him like a goddamn human furnace. When his other hand - the one she’d bitten - touched her face, she barely stopped herself from flinching. Under any other circumstances, Marena would have felt a bit of smug satisfaction at the sight of his gauze-wrapped fingers. But here, now, in this concrete box of a room, she was hyper-aware of her body in a way she hadn’t felt in years. It felt like someone dragging matches down her bones. Like her insides had turned into live insects. Like her skin was turning inside out. Exact words failed her, but it was nonetheless deeply unpleasant.

Skullbitch traced his thumb over her split lip, pressing down slightly and smearing blood down Marena’s chin like fingerpaint. The way he cradled the side of her face was almost mockingly gentle, a facsimile of a lover’s caress. He traced the shape of her lips, ran his fingers over her cheekbone, before sliding down and settling over the hand-shaped bruise on her throat. He kept his hand there for a long moment - not squeezing, just letting the weight of his hand rest over her pulse like a reminder of what he could do. As if I could forget. His fingers twisted into her hair, thumb sliding up to caress the scar on the side of her neck-

OH HELL FUCKING NO

Marena jerked backwards  and kneed him in the groin. She missed, of course; the fucker was way too tall. But the impact of her knee against his thigh startled him enough for her to shove him back a step. Then she did the only thing she could think of and ripped off his mask.

The clatter of metal against the ground hung in the air like a gunshot.

Nu der’mo.

Judging by the blank shock in Skullbitch’s eyes, he wasn’t expecting that move either. Eye, actually. His right eye socket was nothing but a knot of scar tissue. The rest of his face was scarred as well, though not with any noticeably distinct injuries. It was more like somebody had peeled his face off and put it back on slightly crooked.

Marena stared. Skullbitch stared. The tension in the room thickened. Marena braced for a punch. Another hand around her throat. A knife to the gut.

She was not prepared for him to kiss her.

He lunged forward - surprisingly fast for a man his size - fisted the hair at the nape of her neck, and crushed his scarred lips to hers with such force that their teeth clicked together. They stood frozen that way for a few seconds - him bent nearly double, her balanced on the very tips of her toes. Then he hooked his free arm around her hips and hoisted her as if she weighed no more than a rag doll. Marena instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Her heart had turned her entire body into a drum, staccato rhythm pounding everywhere from her head to the tips of her fingers.

She bit him.

He bit her back, and then - god - slid his tongue into her mouth. She twisted the lapels of his jacket in her hands as though she could throttle him through the fabric alone; he dug his fingers into her thigh hard enough to leave fresh bruises. The atmosphere in the room had turned electric. They both gasped for air, tongues twisting in a slick and desperate dance, nipping at each other until their mouths filled with blood.

Marena didn’t realize they’d moved until her back hit the bed. Skullbitch’s hand was moving up her thigh, fingers sliding between the parallel scars marring the skin. His mouth left hers and began to trace a path down her jawline with lips and teeth and tongue. Her breath stuttered when he sucked on the tender spot just below her ear, his wandering hand now tracing along the crease where thigh met hip. The combined heat of the body above her and the fire growing in her chest was searing the air from her lungs. She felt certain she’d crumble into ash as he trailed a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck…

...and sank his teeth directly into her scar.

Terror immediately flooded her system like a long scream carved into her veins with ice. Marena’s head filled with a panicked, wordless !!!!!!! as she lashed out with hands and feet until she felt her heel drive home between Skullbitch’s legs. He doubled over, and Marena barely had time to process the pure murder in his eye before he slammed her head against the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. Bright lights burst across her vision with each hit before giving way to black sparks. She was on the floor and couldn’t remember how she got there. Skullbitch moved away; the door closed with an angry slam that barely cut through the ringing in her ears. She slumped against the cheap metal bed frame and wondered idly if she was dying yet. The lights snapped off, plunging the room into utter blackness.

Alone in the dark, Marena raised a trembling hand to the fresh blood dripping down her face and laughed.

#jesse cromeans #chromeskull #chromeskull x ofc #laid to rest #hey i love posting shit at midnight when no one is awake to read it #for reference: jesse is 6'7'' and marena is 5'3'' #my writing #marena polunochnaya

[eldritchsurveys]

873.

5k Survey I

1. Who are you? >> I’m Mordred. 2. What are the 3 most important things everyone should know about you? >> I’m sensory-defensive and post-traumatic, I'm part of a multiple system, and I’m a fictional character.    3. When you aren’t filling out 5,000 question surveys like this one what are you doing? >> Taking way shorter surveys. When I’m not taking surveys at all, I’m posting on tumblr or pillowfort, reading, playing video games, researching video game lore, watching a movie or show, or trying to manage my hellbrain (which is a whole separate task in itself). 4. List your classes in school from the ones you like the most to the ones you like the least (or if you are out of school, think of the classes you did like and didn’t like at the time). >> I do my best not to think about school, the last bit of which was 15 years ago anyway. 5. What is your biggest goal for this year? >> I don’t make goals like that.

6. Where do you want to be in 5 years? >> It’s inconceivable to me to plan ahead that far. Even to think ahead that far seems silly and pointless to my very present-focused (and past-haunted) mind.

7. What stage of life are you in right now? >> Adulthood. Just the general “adulthood” between hectic young adulthood and transitional middle age. 8. Are you more child-like or childish? >> I’m not child-like or childish. I simply understand that the division between “childhood” and “adulthood” isn’t nearly as cut-and-dried as society has organised it for the sake of legality and social interaction, and I also understand that the desire to escape childhood and “childish things” is a conceit of the young, who wish to be seen as grown and independent creatures (which is part of development! it makes perfect sense). By the time you get to your thirties, it really stops mattering. You know you’re an adult. You know that being an adult means you have the freedom to do whatever you want (as far as leisure and play and stuff like that goes, I mean), which means you can sit in your pjs watching cartoons and eating sugar cereal if you like, and no parent can chide you for it, and your peers can fuck off if they don’t like it. (The “adult” part of doing that is knowing to stop after one and a half bowls of said cereal, lmao. It’s all a balance, innit?)

9. What is the last thing you said out loud? >> I don’t remember. 10. What song comes closest to how you feel about your life right now? >> I don’t think there’s any song that can capture that. Or, maybe there is, but I don’t know about it. 11. Have you ever taken martial arts classes? >> No. I’ve been interested, but frankly, I can’t afford anything like that. 12. Does your life tend to get better or worse or does it just stay the same? >> There is no set trajectory, like that. Life has high points and low points, and the majority of it is really spent somewhere in the middle. It’s just that we focus on the high points and the low points most often (and when the low points are particularly low, they often end up defining our entire existence, even when we’re in the middle or even at high points).   13. Does time really heal all wounds? >> It’s not time that does it. Time just always happens to pass while the healing is being done, so we figure it’s the most common denominator. It takes work to heal, not just passively sitting around waiting for it to happen. 14. How do you handle a rainy day? >> I bring an umbrella, if I have to go out. Usually I don’t, so I just... do what I would do normally? 15. Which is worse…losing your luggage or having to sort out tangled holiday lights? >> Obviously losing your luggage... 16. How is your relationship with your parents? Will you miss them when they are gone? >> We have no relationship. There will be nothing to miss. 17. Do you tend to be aware of what is going on around you? >> Yeah. Especially since I’m prone to hypervigilance. 18. What is the truest thing that you know? >> The truest thing that I know is that I don’t know shit, and neither does anyone else. We’re all just elaborately guessing about shit, and interpreting reality the best way we can. Which is great, really. The fact that we keep trying to understand shit is cool. Just... “the map is not the territory” kind of applies to a lot of the stuff we think we know. ...Or not, right? After all, what do I know? :p 19. What did you want to be when you grew up? >> I just wanted to be free. 20. Have you ever been given a second chance? >> Probably. 21. Are you more of a giver or a taker? >> I’m a fair amount of both, being, you know, a person. 22. Do you make your decisions with an open heart/mind? >> I make my decisions the best way I know how. Whatever that means. 23. What is the most physically painful thing that has ever happened to you? >> Menstrual cramps. 24. What is the most emotionally painful thing that has ever happened to you? >> Yeah, right, like I’m going to be able to rank that. 25. Who have you hugged today? >> No one. 26. Who has done something today to show they care about you? >> --- 27. Do you have a lot to learn? >> Of course. I don’t necessarily have to learn all of it, but it sure is out there. 28. If you could learn how to do three things just by wishing and not by working what would they be? >> I don’t think that would be of any benefit to me. As much as I balk at taking those long uphill journeys to skillfulness, I feel like those journeys are beneficial and aid one’s growth. I’d rather not just snap my fingers and have a djinni grant me abilities like that. 29. Which do you remember the longest: what other people say, what other people do or how other people make you feel? >> How what other people do and say makes me feel. 30. What are the key ingredients to having a good relationship? >> Meh. 31. What 3 things do you want to do before you die? >> I don’t have a list like this. 32. What three things would you want to die to avoid doing? >> I think I would rather die than be incarcerated. So I’d take the death penalty if I could avoid a life imprisonment sentence... 33. Is there a cause you believe in more than any other cause? >> Not particularly. 34. What does each decade make you think of? The 1920’s: Prohibition. Wait, was that the 20s or the 30s? 30’s: World War II. 40’s: The rest of WWII. 50’s: I just think of... all the propaganda images from that era. You know, all the... domestic Whiteness... also, weird foods like meat aspic. 60’s: Hippies and Woodstock. 70’s: The Vietnam War (and the protests). 80’s: Hair metal. 90’s: Grunge and weird television/movies. 2000 : Well, I was an adult for most of this decade, and more or less aware of the world, so I don’t have a succinct “concept” of the aughts the way I have for decades that I didn’t live through, that I only have historical knowledge of. 2010’s: ^

35. Which decade do you feel the most special connection to and why? >> I feel an emotional connection to the spirit of the nineties. I don’t feel like trying to organise my words to explain why, I feel like that would take a lot of energy right now and I still have fifteen questions to go. 36. What is your favorite oldie/classic rock song? >> I don’t have one particular favourite. 37. What country do you live in and who is the leader of that country? >> United States. Donald Trump is president, weirdly enough. If you could say any sentence to the current leader of your country what would it be? >> I’d rather not, thanks. 38. What’s your favorite TV channel to watch in the middle of the night? >> I don’t watch television in the middle of the night... 39. What Disney villain are you the most like and why? >> That’s a great question, but the thing about Disney villains is that I don’t relate to them as much as I just love watching them do what they do. Like, my favourite is Judge Frollo, but I don’t think it’s because I have anything in common with him. Or, hell, maybe I would burn down an entire city because I don’t know how to handle the fact that I really want to bone this superbly hot chick. (My actual favourite villain is Catholic Guilt.) 40. Have you ever been a girl scout/boy scout? >> Briefly. 41. If you were traveling to another continent would you rather fly or take a boat? >> I would rather fly. I feel like boat travel would take a particularly long time and I’m not into that. 42. Why is the sky blue during the day and black at night? >> Oh, you know. Science. (I’m not Google.) 43. What does your name mean? >> I’m not sure anyone really knows what “Mordred” means. 44. Would you rather explore the depths of the ocean or outer space? >> Outer space. 45. What is the first word that comes to mind when you see the word: Air: Astrology. Meat: Beef. Different: Strokes. Pink: Panther. Deserve: Entitlement. White: Power, unfortunately. Been reading about too many fucking Nazis lately. Elvis: Pelvis. Magic: Mountain. Heart: Head. Clash: Punk. Pulp: Fiction.

46. If you could meet any person in the world who is dead who would you want it to be? >> I don’t care about this. 47. What if you could meet anyone who is alive? >> I still don’t care. 48. Is there a movie that you love so much you could watch it everyday? >> Of course not. I did watch Event Horizon every day for like a month, but I was in the psych ward at the time. What the fuck else would I have done anyway? 49. You are going to be stuck alone in an elevator for a week. What do you bring to do? >> What do I bring to do?! That’s definitely the least of my concerns with a hypothetical like this. I can’t fucking survive in an elevator for a week, dude. 50. Have you ever saved someone’s life or had your life saved? >> Doubtful.

#surveys #survey #5000 question survey