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headspace-hotel · 2 months

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i'm...thinking about writing a book?

I mean. I feel really silly at the thought because i'm not like a scientist or anything, i'm barely at the beginning of my knowledge journey, but...being a writer was what I always wanted to do. It's what I've been doing ever since I could remember. And I'm constantly, constantly just so full of things that I want to tell the whole world. I will have a realization or idea and think, oh my god. Everyone needs to know this. But I can't tell everyone. I'm not good at talking.

I'm good at writing. But I will sit down to write a post on my silly little blog and get so overwhelmed by the SCALE of everything I want to say.

I think I've already started to write a book. I think the space for these ideas to fill is already the size of a book and it will never have any smaller of a size, and no one else will come along to write the book, and no one else CAN write the book, and IT HAS TO BE WRITTEN.

I want to write about the ways of the plants, of course. I want to teach how to transplant and how to gather seeds and the properties of keystone species...but more importantly, I want to write about how to learn the ways of the plants. I want to promote the habit of insatiable curiosity and intense observation. I want to show everyone that everything everywhere is infinitely interesting and mysterious, and if you pay attention to the plants, they will teach you.

I want to write about Symbiosis. I want to write about how we are connected to every other thing, how we have our own ecological niche as Caretakers, and our own special adaptations of curiosity and love. I want to write about how the ecosystem needs us to participate in it, not to cut ourselves off from it, and how our powerful influence on ecosystems can be for good or for bad. We are not a disease. We are a Keystone Species.

I want to discourage this Euro-centric idea that sees humans as separate, and recommend more reading from indigenous points of view that understands ecosystems better and sees humans as participants in nature, engaging in a reciprocal symbiotic relationship. I want to speak against all this talk about removing humans from half of the Earth or reducing the human population, and show other people that despair and fear make you paralyzed and powerless, but hope is powerful.

The most important and powerful thing you can do for your ecosystem is to love it. It is necessary to have hope for the future—to learn to imagine a future of restoration and renewal, and to build community with other people working toward that future.

If we don't imagine a future for our ecosystems, imagine them boldly and audaciously in ways that feel crazy and impossible, those futures will not happen. But just the act of saying, "This WILL happen. We WILL be okay." gives you the strength and energy to fight and it gives you the creativity to come up with solutions you never could have thought of before.

And I feel I have to explain, how did I end up listening to plants? And how did the teachings become so important that I had to write about them? There's this black, swallowing abyss underpinning all of who I am, some intimation of a reality so terrible the human spirit breaks beneath it. I had a mental health crisis back in 2021 where I was pulled deep into that abyss, and when I started rescuing little plants and caring for them, I was basically re-learning how to be human.

I feel like I was seeking answers to "How am I supposed to live in this world?" in the natural world because the human world of poetry and books and articles and think-pieces had utterly failed me in that regard. I had taken multiple poetry classes where I had read all the best contemporary poems, and all the poets just wrote flat, plodding, blunt descriptions of their trauma and despair. Nothing is wrong with these topics, but the worst part was how these authors didn't even take themselves seriously; they had to be detached and ironic about their own pain, like a snarky dystopian novel hero who jokes casually about the horrific reality they live in so the reader knows that this reality is normal and unremarkable to them—and even more importantly, that the hero is ironic and cool instead of responding in a vulnerable, human way.

And speaking of dystopian novels...there were a lot of those! It was like all the visions of the future I had read were dystopian. Even I had been writing a dystopian novel. But I realized that I wasn't wise enough to tell that story yet. I didn't know why at first. But then, as I was reading everything people were writing about climate change, I began to realize.

I saw a lot of patterns between the way people wrote about climate change and the tendencies of self-harm and self-defeat that gnawed inside me. Suicide was something that I had never struggled against, but I understood that suicide was only the most striking manifestation of a self-annihilating way. Sometimes you feel like by hurting yourself, you are being transgressive, exercising autonomy against an absolute, crushing reality. It doesn't have to be physical hurt; it can just be deciding no one will like you and denying yourself love, or thinking "Well, there's no use hoping for anything good to happen."

This is how people talk about climate change. They fantasize about extreme, horrific scenarios and talk as if the Earth is already dead and destroyed, and they talk about humans hatefully and as if they were a disease, and then congratulate themselves for seeing how bad it REALLY is instead of being in denial. It is easy for people to get attached to this and even get mad when someone suggests there might be hope, simply because self-harm can be very psychologically reinforcing.

It is common to call these responses "climate grief." But as I came into this very simple and quiet yet profound encounter with Nature, she had an answer to this philosophy that was perfectly gentle and placid and yet caustic enough to strip paint:

"HOW CAN YOU WISH FOR THE STRENGTH TO GRIEVE THE EARTH, WHEN YOU WERE NEVER STRONG ENOUGH TO LOVE IT?"

I realized, with a breaking heart, that I had always hated and resented my back yard and my home town, because it was an ugly place that seemed to me "Already destroyed," and my soul ached for woods and wilderness.

It had taken me 20 years to fully admit my love of nature, because I felt like there was no point in acting upon it—everything would get destroyed anyway.

I had not been brave enough to love the woods across the road, the creeks and the hills, because they were so fragile in a world that didn't respect them, they could be destroyed by some housing development at any time. So I just accepted that it was already a lost cause.

But it was time to be brave enough—not to accept despair, but to choose hope.

To grow up, first we had to become strong and get rid of silly beliefs like hope and fairness and love. But now, we have to become even stronger and start believing in those things again.

#the ways of the plants #learning to imagine the future

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inawearyworld · 4 months

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free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

#fiytwtb #wonka movie #wonka 2023 #wonka #willy wonka x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet #wonka x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader #mat baynton x reader

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redlegumes · 5 months

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Dec 2nd: Came Back Wrong

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

Summary: A holiday card marked 'return to sender' and Eddie remind Steve who his family is.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

“Looks like one of the cards came back to us babe,” Eddie said, flipping through bills. He handed Steve the battered blue envelope that Steve instantly recognized from their Christmas cards that year.

Steve looked at the neat block lettering the recipient had used to print the words ‘return to sender' above the address, and quickly noticed that the envelope was… altered. It was obvious to Steve that it'd gone through more wear than regular transport could have created.

“Stevie?” Eddie stopped looking through their other mail and set it on the kitchen counter before walking up to Steve. He ran his hands up and down Steve's arms, and began to stare daggers at the offending piece of mail in Steve's hand. “You're a little frozen there. What's wrong?”

Steve cleared his throat to speak, but his own voice still felt a little far away. “It's ‘return to sender,’ but it came back wrong.”

cont. after the cut

“Uh, looks like a letter sweetheart,” Eddie said. His brow furrowed and Steve caught sight of one eyebrow raising slowly. “Which address was it?”

“Yeah, it- it's just a card,” Steve mumbled, his hands clenched the envelope a little tighter. “It was addressed to my parents.”

Eddie softly asked, “can I see?” Steve didn't respond, or fight when Eddie gently tugged it free from his grip. Instead Steve pictured exactly what was in the envelope. A secular, ‘happy holidays’ card with a blanket sort of sentiment on the front. He and Eddie weren't particularly religious, but they enjoyed the holiday season all the same. The cards they’d chosen that year were blank inside and Steve had spent a long time, not just building a list of recipients but on the letters he wrote out in each one.

The best part of the cards that year were the mall portraits Steve and Eddie ordered. They were in matching red long johns with a Christmas themed background. They even managed to get Lucifer (their three year old tortoise shell cat) and Bird (their mystery mutt) posed with them. Wearing bows. Wrangling the pets into the J.C. Penny photo studio alone had been a feat. Steve normally still chuckled even thinking about it, and Eddie's embellished tale of the event had already come up at multiple holiday parties.

He wondered if the photo would still be inside.

“Ah, I see what you mean now.” Eddie had a grimace on his face as his dexterous fingers turned the envelope over and ran along the top edge.

Someone had opened the card, and not in an unintentional way. There was no evidence that someone ripped it open, assuming it was a card for them before realizing the mistake and sending it back through the post. No, the envelope had been carefully slit across the top, something one might be able to do with a very sharp letter opener. Steve pictured such a letter opener in detail: being lifted from a wooden, velvet lined box on a desk, the blade sharp, handle heavy, real silver throughout kept free of tarnish.

Eddie practically growled as his nail picked at the single piece of scotch tape that had re-sealed the top edge. “Assholes.” He pulled it off and took out the card, glancing briefly at the careful script Steve had written inside before plucking out their photo. Eddie marched to the fridge where he moved a large souvenir magnet from their California trip to secure it to the front door, centered over the other holiday cards already collaged over the appliance. He hooked Steve’s fingers when he walked back, heading directly to their small home’s fireplace. “We can always use more kindling,” he said, kneeling to nestle the card and envelope between the logs already placed there to light later that day.

Steve nodded, and Eddie took his face in his hands. His calloused grasp was steady, and Steve let himself become absorbed in the hot chocolate brown gaze holding his own. “You made lovely cards this year and our family photo is in the hands of everyone we care about this year. Everyone who loves us sent us cards too.” He kissed Steve’s nose, and sighed. "Are you going to be okay, knowing there was one that came back wrong?”

“I will be,” Steve replied, kissing Eddie on the lips. The kiss was sweet, but Steve also basked in the knowledge he’d built a loving family. One that chose him in return. One that proved, time and time again, what right looked like.

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

#Steve Harrington has bad parents #found family #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #i write things #holiday drabbles #drabble #ficlet #steddie ficlet #came back wrong #christmas cards #holiday cards #return to sender

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redgoldsparks · 2 months

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February Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross read by Alex Wingfield and Rebecca Norfolk

This book started a little slowly for me, as I waited for Roman to regain his memories and for Iris to get back to reporting at the front. Luckily, the magical typewriters once again play a major role in this story as they did in the first one; Roman and Iris's letters are the emotional heart of this series. I also love how it fore fronts the importance of journalists during wartime. Iris's bravery and constant willingness to move towards danger and the unknown in service of sharing the truth makes her a very compelling character. Unfortunately, the magical divine conflict behind the war just didn't compel me very strongly in this book. I think the gods were introduced too slowly into the narrative, and that a lack of a human motivation behind the war simplified the conflict in a way that sucked some of the tension from the text. If you are looking for a solid romance with a strong epistolary element and the aesthetic of wartime setting, this series delivers; if instead you want a complicated, devastating, deeply emotional story of young people surviving a real historical war, pick up Code Name Verity or Rose Under Fire.

Mamo by Sas Milledge

Jo has lived in her small seaside hometown her whole life, and loves it there. But then things start to go wrong- curses, bad luck, mysterious illnesses. She seeks out the town witch and finds a teen girl about her own age, named Orla, who Jo has never met before. It turns out Orla has just returned to town after the death of her grandmother, the previous witch. She wasn't buried properly and her bones are scattered around the town, stirring up bad energy, disturbing the local fae and trolls. Jo and Orla set out of lay the old witch properly to rest, but there's more going on than either of them realize. This is a fairly short but well told tale, queer and magical, and with a little bittersweet edge.

Look on the Bright Side by Lily Williams and Karen Schneemann

This is a very charming follow up to Go With The Flow, taking place over the friend group's following high school year. Brit, who was diagnosed with endometriosis at the end of the previous book, had a surgery to remove it over the summer. When she goes back to school, she finds her affection caught between two different boys. Christine has finally admitted to herself that she likes Abby as more than a friend... but telling Abby that is another matter. Abby is still working on her campaign of menstrual justice on campus, while Sasha struggles to balance her homework, sports, and time with her boyfriend. The girls learn, grow, make mistakes, and support each other.

Gathering Moss written and read by Robin Wall Kimmerer

It took me a little longer to get into this one than Braiding Sweetgrass, mainly because I had much less personal knowledge of mosses than the larger types of plants which Kimmerer wrote about in Sweetgrass. It doesn't help that mosses do not have common names, so are referred to mainly by scientific names, and I was rarely able to picture them well in my head. However, by about a third of the way through I had fallen into the miniature world of mosses and the striking and insightful ways Kimmerer links them to all other organisms in their ecosystems. I loved learning how mosses, like tardigrades, with which they probably co-evolved, can survive desiccation and be revived by water even after all seeming signs of life have disappeared. I was intrigued by the story of a moss species which changes its gender over its lifespan, starting out producing only female reproductive stalks in its early days, shifting producing a mix of male and female stalks as it matures, and then producing solely male stalks as the patch reaches peak density. I was frustrated by stories of the illegal moss harvesting which is stripping Oregon rain forests bare. And I was once again completely charmed by the beauty and generosity of Kimmerer's writing and worldview. She's a bestseller for a reason; I highly recommend everyone pick up at least one of her books at some point.

The High Desert by James Spooner

James' white mother and his black father divorced when he was in elementary school, and he moved around a lot. For high school, he moved with his mom to Apple Valley, a barren small town in the desert an hour inland from Los Angeles. Already a skater, James encountered punk music just went he needed it most: as an isolated and angry teen in a racist town with little to no underground scene or counterculture. The music, and later, the politics, of punk raised James in the semi-absence of parents and role models. This memoir, chronically roughly a year, is an unflinchingly honest look at the cruelty, creativity, friendship, and solidarity of teens. It has the density and scratchy texture of a 90s zine without ever sacrificing clarity. I was very impressed by how clearly and in what detail Spooner was able to recreate his high school angst and activist awaking in this coming of age tale. Punk wasn't the music that found me, but I still remember the high of finding a new favorite band or song that felt as if it spoke right to my teen soul. This book is a testament to the power of music to reach into the dark and pull someone out into the light.

Falling Back in Love With Being Human written and read by Kai Cheng Thom

Short and sweet, this book is half confession, half spell book. Each chapter is written as a letter- to trans women, to activists, to sex workers, to johns, to those contemplating suicide, to TERFs, to children's book writers- each followed with a little action or ritual. I listened to it as an audiobook and loved hearing the letters in the author's voice, but I can also see how reading it in print and lingering over each letter one at a time would be wonderful too.

The Great Beyond by Lea Murawiec translated by Aleshia Jensen

Manel Naher is an anti-social and idiosyncratic young woman living an endless city in which everyone advertises their own names on street signs, sandwich boards, at social events, on business cards, and by simply shouting them at strangers. This may not sound so different from our own world except that it's driven by an even more intense desperation: if one's name is not known, and one's presence fades fully from people's minds, and the forgotten person will literally die. Manel wants nothing more than to escape the city into the wilds beyond it, but her presence is so low she suffers a near fatal heart attack and is scared into a fearful scramble to gain enough fame to live. Her attempts to claw her way into people's memories is surprisingly successful, and in the process of becoming one of the 1% she leaves behind everything and everyone she loved. Never before have I read a comic that felt so much like literary spec-fic. The concepts are fascinating and the cartooning knocked me off my feet. A visual masterpiece I'll be thinking about for a long time to come.

The Spectred Isle by KJ Charles read by Ruairi Carter

Saul Lazenby is a disgraced archeologist who served time for a war crime during the recent WWI. Back in England, disowned by his family, he struggled to support himself. The only job he is able to secure is as a personal assistant to a batty old major who believes in fairy stories and keeps sending Saul off to various parts of London to investigate supposedly occult sites. Saul knows it's all fake but he keeps investigating anyway... and then a tree bursts in flames in front of him. And a mysterious gentleman keeps showing up at the same sites of sacred groves or ancient wells which Saul's been sent to look at. That gentleman is Richard Glide, who just happens to be the heir to one of the oldest arcane families in England. And he can't tell if Saul is causing the spiritual problems that keep occurring around him or if it's all an unlikely coincidence. This historical romance is a fun and quick read, shorter than most of the KJ Charles books I've read before. Be warned, the end sets up a sequel which has not, and may not, ever actually come out- but I still enjoyed this one on it's own.

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson

A gorgeous, nonlinear novel about three generations of a Black family living in New York between roughly the early 1990s to the mid 2000s. The chapters rotate between multiple POVs, covering moments of change, tension, or reflection for the family. The opening scene is the evening of a debut party for sixteen year old Melody, who wears the dress her own mother was supposed to wear at her debut... except that she was already pregnant. From that moment, the narrative spins back time to how each character arrived there: Iris, a teen who refused to give up her baby but also refused to settle into motherhood; Aubrey, a young man in love with a girl who was already leaving him; Iris's mother Sabe, a daughter of a survivor of the Tulsa massacre, a women who stores her money in gold bars hidden around the house; Iris's father Po'boy, who as a young man ran races, and as an old man holds more love for his family that his body can carry. The character work here is so strong- I was immediately swept away into the cares, worries, secrets, and longings of the family. I read the whole book in one day, but I'll be thinking about it for a long time.

We Are The Land: A Native History of California by Damon B Akins and William J Bauer Jr

It took me a long time to read this book, as it was challenging to read a history of genocide while also seeing genocide in my phone every single day. But I'm ultimately very glad that I finished it. This is a well researched, approachable, indigenous-authored history of the native people in the land now called California. I enjoyed how place specific this book is. I felt much more connected to the history recognizing nearly every place name, and once the book got passed around the year 1900 I started to also recognize names of organizations that still exist and activists who I'm familiar with. I have a much better understanding of the patchwork creation of and the broken promises of the reservations, land allotments, and rancherias. I was happy whenever the book mentioned Pomo master basket weavers Elsie Allen and Mable McKay, who my mom has been telling me about for years, or Greg Sarris, Santa Rosa based chairman of the Graton Rancheria and author. I have a better understanding of this land where I have lived and worked all my life after reading this book.

Zodiac: A Graphic Novel by Ai Weiwei, Elettra Stamboulis and Gianluca Costantini

I've been following Ai Weiwei's work since about 2010, and was absolutely delighted to learn he was releasing a comic memoir. I managed to snag a signed copy though the Comix Experience Graphic Novel of the Month Club and I will treasure it. This book is organized into 12 chapters, each themed around one animal from the zodiac. It weaves together slice of life moments from Ai Weiwei's day to day life, stories of his father (the revolutionary poet Ai Qing), memories of Ai's time as an art student in New York, his incarceration, time spent with his mother, his partner, and his son, conversations with artist friends and some of his international exhibitions. It is not a tight narrative; it wanders, it indulges in myths and fairy tales, it is open ended and I enjoyed it so much. It was written along with Elettra Stamboulis, and draw in a delicate lose line art style by Gianluca Costantini. A few of the lines from the end of the book haven't left my head since I read them: "Freedom of speech and human rights are not given to anybody for free. They always come through fighting and struggle" (101); "Any artist who isn't an activist is a dead artist" (165) and "... the purpose of art, which is to fight for freedom."(166)

Witchy Vol 2 by Ariel Salmat Ries

This volume was just as beautifully drawn as book 1; the cartooning is masterful, but I don't have a very good sense of where the larger plot is going. This book was mostly a long side quest in which Nyneve learned how to make a broom under an exiled gay broom making master. I enjoyed this! However it didn't particularly seem to move the story forward. I will keep reading, but the sense of drama and urgency from the beginning of the first book is slightly missing here.

No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull read by Dion Graham

What a ride! I went into this book knowing almost nothing, and I think that was the right way to go so I shall not summarize the plot. This is the first book of a series; it's ambitious, it's weird, it's got a very large and extremely diverse cast; it is such a fresh and original take on a contemporary sci-fi in which the world realizes that monsters, gods, and magic have existed all along. I worried a little in the first third that the book maybe had too many POV characters, most of whom seemed very unconnected from each other except by geographical proximity to either Cambridge, Mass, or the island of St Thomas. However by the end almost all of the characters had been at least tenuously linked by plot events in a way that really worked for me. The book also has trans, nonbinary, asexual, queer, and poly characters whose identities are only revealed slowly, and usually after you've known the character for a while. I am very impressed by the scope of this story and definitely plan to continue with the series.

Arrive In My Hands by Trinidad Escobar

Sensual, at times tender, at times haunting, this beautiful little book is a collection of lesbian erotic comics from a poet artist at the top of her field. I am definitely biased, having been friends with the author for years, but I also deeply admire this work. The women, witches, and creatures in these stories yearn for pleasure and for freedom; they chase both through oceans, forests, broken suburban towns, and through dreams. The book is perfectly sized to hold close to your heart.

Bird by Bird by Annie Lamott read by Susan Bennett

I've been hearing about this book for years as a writing guide, but it is almost equally a memoir or collection of anecdotes about the writing life. Parts of it worked for me and other parts didn't. The author has a very different type of brain than I have, and the chapters on working through the anxiety, neurosis, and depression she suffered from when trying to write didn't really speak to me at all. I also did not enjoy the handful of flippant jokes about killing yourself when the writing isn't going well. However. There are also some genuinely really moving pieces about writing books as gifts to loved ones, especially loved ones who are soon to leave us. I thought a lot of the advice in the middle about focusing on details, on recording memories, on research, and on character development was really solid, and I want to keep some of it in mind when I start developing my next book. There was also a set of lines in the introduction, about how writers are able to participate in public life while also working from home and without leaving the house which hit the nail on the head of why I entered this career!

Recitatif by Toni Morrison read by Bahni Turpin with an intro written and read by Zadie Smith

I've been wanting to try another Toni Morrison, since the only one I had previously read in high school went completely over my head at age 15. Recitatif is Morrison's only short story, and this audiobook version is read by the wonderful Bahni Turpin (who you might recognize from Angie Thomas or Akwaeke Emezi's audiobooks). Also included in an excellent essay written and read by Zadie Smith. This comes first in the audio, but if you are new to the story as I was, skip the essay and listen to the story first! Then go back and listen to the essay afterwards. This way the cleverness and impact of the story can hit you fully. It is so smart, so well crafted, and such a master class in writing that both reveals and conceals so much about the complicated relationship of two damaged women.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 1 by Ryoko Kui

I can immediately see why so many people are charmed by this world and these characters! This is the start of a really fun D&D infused adventure story, with a small group of down on their luck adventures deciding to cut their adventuring costs by eating the monsters they kill in the dungeon. The man behind this idea, Laos, is also searching for a missing sister who may or may not have already been eaten by a dragon. I already have books 2 and 3 on hold; I haven't been so captured by a manga series since starting Witch Hat Atelier.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 2 by Ryoko Kui

I devoured this book as quickly as book one. Our adventure party gets a bit deeper into the dungeon and begin to have more meaningful interactions with the beings who dwell there, including an Orc family just trying to get by, golems which grow vegetables on their backs, and living paintings which might reveal more of the buried castle's history.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 3 by Ryoko Kui

A flashback reveals more of the school friendship of Marcelle and Falin; a deep underground lake leads to many encounters with watery monsters of various types. I continue to have a very fun time with this series!

Bunt by Ngozi Ukazu and Mad Rupert

Molly grew up in Peachtree, Georgia, in her lesbian moms' hardware store, in the shadow of the town's prestigious and expensive art college, PICA. Every since she can remember, she's wanted to attend PICA- despite the fact that her best friend dropped out last year and says the school chews people up and spits them out. But Molly got a full ride scholarship, so her first semester should be a breeze, right? No! Because when she shows up to orientation, no one can find her scholarship or even her registration. It turns Molly will have to pay for her first year after all; she takes out some dodgy loans and scours the financial aid booklets for any other scholarship she can apply for. It turns out, if she can scrape up a full team of softball players... and they compete against other college teams in the same division... and they win at least one game over the course of the semester... the whole team gets a free tuition! Is it possible to win one game with a bunch of big-ego, burned-out, athletically-challenged artists? I loved the energy of this story, with many well-informed digs at art school culture and hypocrisy. The team has great chemistry and the art style is full of action, physical humor, and delightfully expressive cartooning.

#comics #book reviews #reading #comic book reviews #book recs

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doomsday-dj · 8 days

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smut recs tho? 🥺👉👈

Okay. I've put this off long enough. By popular demand (five entire people which does seem like a lot) here are some Rizzles smut recommendations. I'm not outright tagging any authors this time because I don't need to be showing up in their activity page like "hi I enjoyed the sex you made."

Anyway, this is weirdly vulnerable. Writing smut for you? Totally fine. A blast. Love to do it. Love to hear all about how you liked it. Telling you what smut I read? Mortifying. Torture. But I'm gonna do it anyway. For the people.

I also feel like people are waiting for this like I'm going to drop a bunch of recommendations that are real graphic fuckin but the truth of the matter most of the time what I enjoy most is suspense, tension, anticipation, other words that mean mostly the same thing, and also big feelings (good and bad ones).

I'm not going to dwell too much on highly kudosed fics, but I do want to point out how insane it is that the top kudosed fic in the fandom BY A LOT (and locked to users only no less!!) was written by someone who wrote Rizzles one (1) time. They just casually crushed it while writing for like 50 different fandoms. They are a mystery and an enigma. And the fic is super hot, I love it.

Of course, we all know DanteBeatrice77 is the master of the E rated long fic. Your milage may vary on the daddy kink stuff, but it's always tagged (plus like who hasn't called/been called daddy a time or two? No? Oh okay, uh, my mistake). The only thing I'll say is that if you, like me, don't give one single shit about vampires, don't make the mistake of skipping on Cafuddàri. I was 100% ready to have my blood sucked after.

Frankly, many of the authors that I mentioned in the previous post also wrote my favourite smutty stuff. I realized this while going through my bookmarks. Turns out good writers are often good smut writers, who knew. If I mentioned them already and they have E and M fics, then read them. I recommend them. I am not singling anything out except to say that coolbyrne has a lot of highly kudosed fics but this one is woefully underrated and so intimate and perfect.

Now! On to some throwbacks from that other website. There's a surprising amount of smut on FF.net even with their puritanical rules. Plenty of it is in the category of very good but two fics that live inside me are the following: Warm Milk by YoDrDeath I almost feel bad putting this one in the smut post because I think it's exceptional way beyond that, but there's also, like, a whole lot of sex in it, so it also isn't wrong to put it here. I thought I didn't like second person POV until this fic. It's just GORGEOUSLY written. And hot. And vulnerable. And hot. I am fully obsessed with this fic. The whole point of this post is honestly to recommend this fic.

Teasers by MSonya This is billed as a collection of one shots and the first three chapters are (and they're very good) but then after that, it's a "one shot" that turns into a ten chapter story and within those chapters is some of the best hate sex I've read. You want to read about some FRAUGHT fucking? Yeah you do, don't lie. On AO3, here's some buried deeper in the kudos rankings that I think are great:

She's So Pretty (When She Goes Down On Me) by hopelesswanderer17 Just a good ol' fashioned super hot one shot.

Use Me by crackinois Butt stuff one shot.

heatwave (the nearness of you) by iamthegeneralissimo This is more build up than it is sex but it's good! Honestly it probably should have been in the other fic post but oh well. I'm going to stop there! But hopefully you enjoy.

#rizzles fanfic #rizzoli and isles fanfiction #ask doomsday

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alicepao13 · 19 days

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Hudson and Rex S06E15

So, as I’m sure a lot of people have already figured out, we just watched the intended season finale. CityTV, you better hope I never get to cross that ocean. I mean, every season finale aside from the two where Peter Mitchell was in charge (coincidence?) were run of the mill episodes which could have fit anywhere in the season. Maybe it will be fitting for this season to start and end with viewers wondering what they watched. But I’m getting ahead of myself here and I might be wrong. Let’s focus on 15 which may very well be the best episode of the season for me, probably tied with S06E04.

The spoiled scene with Charlie and Sarah’s mentioned anniversary. Rex totally wants to stay with Jesse after their “celebration”. I’m trying to figure whether Jesse is pretending to be naive or is actually being naive about it. Or if the whole response is the writers being unable to outright say that Charlie and Sarah really spent their anniversary having sex all night.

Speaking of, two years, Charlie Hudson? What are you waiting for, an epiphany to hit you in the head? Oh, wait.

What do you mean, we didn’t save the day? There’s a dead woman? Huh?

Nice bomb explosion by the way.

“My bosses are gonna hate this but tell me more”. lol Jesse

How did we end up as security detail for the woman who might become prime minister?

Look, I like when there’s a case where they’re toying with supernatural elements. That’s why I loved Castle so much. And Jesse is always eager to believe. Charlie on the other hand looks like he’s got tons to say on the subject. Rex too. Apparently he doesn’t believe in time travel either.

Any so called time traveler should come back to the present with the numbers for the lottery. That would be ample proof for me :P

Can I say how much I like the camera work on this one? Good directing by John Vatcher.

Rex is getting so many pats in this episode. Deserved.

This campaign manager is on par with the Veep campaign managers. And by that I mean he’s ruthless and self-centered and I want to punch him.

That food now possibly has dog hair in it.

I come from a country where it’s pretty normal to put a musical montage right in the middle of an episode (even a dance number), so I’m not going to say anything about the needless song.

Thunk! There goes Charlie. Again. I’ll spare y’all the concussion speech. Besides, time moves in mysterious ways in this show, maybe it’s already been six months since episode 11.

Seriously, why do you tell Rex to chase a lead if you can’t survive being ten feet away from him?

I can’t remember the last time any of my shows put a bomb vest on one of the main characters. The latest that I remember was FBI but it was on a minor character. That had been a great episode too.

I haven’t yet decided whether that bomb vest looks too amateurish. To be fair, given who the culprit was, it shouldn’t look professional.

Sarah finding Charlie as he has a bomb vest on is like, the best thing that has happened lately on this show. Her look. His look as he realizes that he’s got his entire family now in this (and the mantra of no, no, no that must be playing in his head, I’m filling the blanks, don’t mind me). The slight zooming in of the camera in both of their shots, denoting the direness of the situation.

I was almost waiting for Charlie to say “this isn’t as enjoyable as it was last night” as Sarah was touching him while she’s checking the bomb vest. It writes itself, come on.

In my last review post I wrote that I was hoping the earphones would serve for Charlie to call Sarah and tell her goodbye or something like that. This certainly exceeded my expectations.

We’re a bit late for love confessions under duress but when Charlie was asked about whether Sarah was his wife and he replied “Not yet”, that was a nice moment. At least we know where his head is at.

Their silent communication. They’re so in sync.

Elsewhere, Joe and Jesse are quietly trying to figure out a way to save innocent people and somehow not get their friend blown up.

Superintendent Joe Donovan making airplane noises. I laughed so much.

They are holding hands as they’re walking to their doom! Oh, by the way, interesting music choice. I wonder if it’s score created for the show or non-original music. I’ve certainly not heard it before on the show.

Goodbye kiss! I love it here. And look at the shot of Charlie and Rex leaving as Sarah is staying behind.

Me: no way it’s the convict. Five minutes later: it’s the fucking convict!!! Ten minutes later: it’s not the convict???

Ha, Charlie using the mute button which is pretty convenient but almost no one uses on calls.

Okay, they fooled me with the bomber. But the takedown went pretty much as I expected. Nice communication with Rex through hand signals, again. Although the detonator flying off the lady’s hand… anything could have happened.

Rex’s influence to the system will be more K9s lol. They may also have ensured unlimited funding for the SJPD.

Can the time traveling guy tell us if Charlie is going to propose anytime soon? Or is the “not yet” considered a non-proposal proposal?

This is the first time I’m hearing about the so called Alice in wonderland syndrome.

“Everybody needs a Rex”. Ah, yes. Our catchphrase.

Charlie, put the phone down. When is that man clocking out? Who’s going to make sure Rex is getting adequate rest? I need to talk to his superior. Joe!

Well, I kept saying that I wanted Charlie and Sarah to be in danger again together since they hadn’t after they had become a couple, and I got my wish, thank you, show. We could have had an aftermath scene with them but I’m not going to complain about it in an otherwise good episode.

Promo: I’m beyond frustrated that they keep shuffling the episodes and they wouldn’t even give it a rest when they got the season finale or the 100th episode on their hands. Today’s (yesterday’s) episode would have been a better 100th episode than The Rookie’s for sure (which is embarrassing for The Rookie). But instead we get to watch it as episode 99 and have a run of the mill case for the 100th, which, unless it ends up in a huge celebration scene, is going to fall flat. We basically end off exactly as we started, expect I now know this is 100% CityTV’s fault.

Speaking of, is CityTV even going to acknowledge that it’s the 100th episode? Is anyone? I’m obviously not expecting the magnitude of promotion ABC gave The Rookie or 911 this season (and that was a lot) but something that shows they’re not completely neglecting Hudson and Rex. It doesn’t seem like we’re getting renewal news anytime soon, so I’d settle for them celebrating the episodes they already filmed. There are quite a few production companies involved too, this does not only fall on CityTV. If Shaftesbury wants to celebrate this milestone, I won’t say no.

#hudson and rex

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stereopticons · 5 months

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2023 writing round-up

Rules: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones you're most excited about.

Thanks for the tags, @hippolotamus @rmd-writes @kiwiana-writes. This has been a rough year but hey, we've almost made it through.

January

we were loud like love [david/patrick, E, 5k]

David wears a collar. Tenderness and filth ensues.

the world would make sense again (if i held your hand) [twylexis, T, 2.7k]

Twyla finally tries to get over her fear of flying to go visit Alexis. Alexis tries to make it easier for her.

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky [david/patrick, T, 1.2k]

A small, late-night moment of domestic bliss in the kitchen of the cottage.

puzzling it out [david/patrick, E, 1.9k, part of the wordplay series]

A wrong answer on a crossword puzzle prompts an interesting discovery for Patrick.

February

with a hand on your side of the bed [david/patrick, T, 2.3k]

Five times David falls asleep without Patrick, and one time they wake up together.

March

paint me up (you're my favorite color) for @blackandwhiteandrose [david/patrick, E, 2.5k]

David wears nail polish. Patrick has a lot of feelings about it.

let my love fix you up for @rosedavid [david/patrick, T, 1.7k]

After Patrick is injured while hiking, David takes care of him.

April

your secret's safe with me for @scrarefest [stevie/ruth, M, 3.1k]

Stevie enlists David's help to plan a surprise party for Ruth. It goes about as well as one would expect.

let our shadows fall away like dust for @hippolotamus [david/patrick, E, 3.2k]

David has a bad day. Patrick makes it better the best way he knows how.

May

tangle and stretch [david/patrick, T, 3.3k]

Patrick sees David on a magazine as a child, and David weaves his way into Patrick's life without either of them realizing it.

June

in the long tresses of your hair (i am a babbling brook) [david/patrick, T, 1.3k]

An airplane meet-cute-ish in which Patrick finds himself obsessed with David's hair.

July

(B)13 Reasons Why [david/patrick, T, 3.1k]

collab with @blackandwhiteandrose. Patrick gives David a gift for their 13th wedding monthiversary.

i'll miss you from this place that i stand [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

After the wedding, all the Roses leave Schitt's Creek within a few weeks of one another. David doesn't handle it very well.

catch my breath to breathe your name [david/patrick, E, 358]

Patrick and David have explored a lot of things together. At the heart of it all is love.

August

never knew a home until i found your hands [alex/henry, E, 1.1k]

Henry and Alex get a little handsy (and have some feelings) at the lakehouse.

touch me [david/patrick, T, 546]

An incomplete list of the ways David and Patrick touch each other during the wedding.

September

knock on wood [david/patrick, E, 3.4k, part of the every year we get a bit closer series]

Five wood-related fifth anniversary gifts that Patrick gives to David, and one (or two) that David gives to Patrick.

you can tell everybody (that this is your song) [david/patrick, T, 1k]

A story of falling in love and David and Patrick trying to find their way to each other told through a series of drabbles inspired by song lyrics.

crossed words and open hearts for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, E, 2.6k, part of the wordplay series]

Five times David needs help with a crossword puzzle and one time he doesn't.

parallax for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, T, 5k]

collab with @indestructibleheart.

Patrick doesn't have an eye for art; he doesn't pay much attention to painting or sculptures. But he likes photography. Well, he likes a photographer in particular, anyway. The mysterious artist known only as D.R. — a black-and-white film photographer from New York — may have disappeared from the world years ago... but Patrick still treasures the one print he'd purchased during a business trip in the city. After all, it may have given him the courage to break his own heart, move to a city he'd never heard of, and meet the love of his life. He hasn't thought about in years. That is, until he's picking up lunch at the café and something familiar catches his eye. The tone, the light — he'd know an original D.R. photo anywhere. "Oh, this?" Twyla grinned, pointing to the frame on the restaurant wall. "David gave me that."

October

everybody's waiting for the next surprise [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

Stevie drags David to a haunted house on Halloween. They run into a kind stranger in a blue button down in the group ahead of them. You know how this story goes.

November

my misspent youth and my slow decline [david/patrick, T, 800]

Four characters reflect on something that haunts them through four double drabbles. Or, the author projects feelings onto an unprecedented four characters at once.

December

ribbons and bows [david/patrick, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for Schitt's Creek

my only wish is one more year (and then i want them all) [alex/henry, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for RWRB

And, god willing, two Frozen Over fics and one RWRB 5+1 before the end of the year.

I haven't been tracking who's done this, so apologies for tagging you if you already have! @apothecarose @chelle-68 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @lilythesilly @nontoxic-writes @blackandwhiteandrose and anyone else who wants to share!

#sorry for the long post #2023 writing round up #schitt's creek #rwrb

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albertonykus · 1 year

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You Wouldn’t Really Know Shizuka from the Doraemon Movies

If you’ve experienced enough Doraemon media, you’ve probably noticed that the movies tend to emphasize the main characters’ positive qualities, which often paints a very different picture of them from the regular manga and episodes. The contrast is especially noticeable with Nobita, Gian, and Suneo, who in the mainline series are frequently cast as anti-role models to show children how not to behave.

Shizuka, on the other hand, is already kind and morally upstanding by default, so it’s only natural for the movies to continue portraying her that way. That makes Shizuka pretty much the same between the regular series and the movies, right? I would argue not exactly, and unfortunately her character in the movies suffers for it.

It’s not that the movies never characterize Shizuka well. She’s had very important roles in some of them: in my reviews, I counted at least eight films in which her actions are critical to resolving the plot. Certainly one can gather from the movies that she’s compassionate, quick-witted, brave, and adventurous, and all of these things are true about Shizuka in the mainline series.

However... if you only watched the movies, you might not realize that Shizuka also enjoys messing with other people for fun...

... or can be very blunt towards her friends...

... or participates in schemes to get even with people who have wronged her...

[A short time later...]

... or becomes disproportionately violent when she’s upset (“Janie” being one of her dolls)...

... or lies to get out of things she doesn’t want to do.

(If any of this seems like it conflicts with Shizuka’s usual characterization, I don’t think it does. When I was Shizuka’s age, I was also a “good kid” who stayed out of trouble and got along with most of my peers, and I still did every one of these things.)

From the movies alone, you might even miss that Shizuka is supposed to be bad at playing the violin, which is her one “flaw” that the franchise likes to highlight with any regularity. Her violin playing has shown up in two movies so far (Nobita and the Knights on Dinosaurs and Nobita and the Kingdom of Clouds), but only in very brief scenes where we don’t see anyone else reacting to it. (Edit: I’d forgotten that she also plays the violin in The New Record of Nobita’s Spaceblazer. There, it is a similar situation in which she is only seen practicing alone. She is finally shown playing in front of an audience during the end credits of Nobita’s Sky Utopia, which I hadn’t had a chance to see when I first wrote this post.)

Of course, there are other ways to add dimensionality to a character besides giving them flaws. However, Shizuka in the movies almost never exhibits quirks of any kind, except maybe for being just a bit too obsessed with bathing. (Now that they rarely neglect to include in the movies, for some reason...)

In the main series, Shizuka is often the voice of reason who is strung along by the foolishness and craziness of the others around her, but she still gets her kicks. When the kids test out Doraemon’s Mysterious Trash Chute, there’s the implication that she goes the extra mile to throw in a concrete beam. (As far as I know, none of the animated adaptations of this story have included this particular detail, which is disappointing.)

There’s also the time she hesitates to partake in karaoke, only to have trouble putting down the mic once her turn comes around.

Even the manga counterparts to the movies sometimes contain facets of Shizuka’s character that weren’t adapted into the films themselves. (Perhaps that’s not a surprise considering that the original author had a more direct hand in the manga.) Nobita’s Three Visionary Swordsmen is already one of the best movies when it comes to Shizuka’s portrayal, but if you’ve never read the manga version, you probably wouldn’t have known that she aspires to be a diplomat working for world peace.

Then there’s this moment in Nobita and the Tin Labyrinth, where she makes a bet with Suneo over whether Nobita is lying to them. This conversation does happen in the movie, but the film version doesn’t quite get across just how smug Shizuka looks when she takes that bet.

And check out how pleased she is to be eventually proven right! (This expression didn’t make it into the movie either.)

Nobita in the Robot Kingdom was not written by the original manga author, but I’ve discussed before how the manga version of that story gave Shizuka an important part that was unfortunately cut out of the film.

Is this really a problem? After all, it’s well established that the other main characters in the movies don’t act exactly like they normally do in the manga either. With the others, however, subverting their usual roles is precisely what gives them character depth. Relegating Shizuka solely to being “the nice one”, which she already comes across as most of the time, makes her feel much more static by comparison.

An understandable concern is that swinging the pendulum too far in another direction might erode Shizuka’s kind image, but this need not be the case. Like anyone else, nice people can say and do some very un-nice things, and the trick for a storyteller is to interrogate what might lead them to act in such a way. I think the Nobita in the Robot Kingdom manga does this very well, but an example found in the films themselves can be seen in Nobita and the Steel Troops.

In this movie, (SPOILERS) Shizuka rescues a severely damaged robot spy, Riruru, and works on nursing her back to health. After Riruru explains the history of the robot society that she belongs to, Shizuka observes its parallels to human history. However, Riruru, who is still operating under a belief in robot supremacy, takes offense to this comparison and tries to shoot Shizuka, which results in Shizuka expressing regret and bitterness over having saved her in the first place. Shizuka gets over this very quickly and it’s not explored much further, but this still a rare deconstruction of her role as “the nice one”. Sometimes, being kind is hard.

Overly-long story short, it would be nice if the Doraemon movies let Shizuka do more “bad” (or mischievous, or just plain weird) things, especially for the sake of good.

#Doraemon #Manga #Anime #ドラえもん #Long post

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someverygaymoth · 3 months

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KD!AU

(lmao did I forget to mention the errormare? My b Dawgs that too. We have chaos polycules in this au.)

Euclades(NM) knew Steller(Error), when he was younger, still in his flock, still by an entirely different name and form. When things went horribly wrong for him, he ran from his flock, and Steller. A lover he'd taken some 400 years ago. They parted with only a letter, a letter Clay left for him in a fit of fear and confusion after becoming what he is now. He fled from his problems, and didn't allow anyone to follow him or help them. Needless to say, Euclades still thinks of him often, and having him show up on his doorstep, with a mate, no less, is not something he was prepared for.

Steller doesn't recognize him. He looks so different now, he can hardly blame him, but part of him aches. He can barely stay there long enough to greet both him and Atra(ink) before having to spend the rest of the day in his room, shocked to realize he can still take his old form. He didn't know that before Steller came around. But, it didn't take much for Steller to figure it out...

Literally the whole fic I wrote about that ages ago↓↓ (this is old AF I revamped it literally just for this post PLEASE forgive me if it vaguely sounds like garbage in some parts.)

(Important details: trade is the common language used for international trade in this world, dragons propose with giant intricate circles made with stones and rocks gathered sometimes over months, dragons have little balls of flame for souls called soulfire.)

(First person: Steller's point of view)

Clay isn't who he says he is. To Steller, it's all but a mystery to whom, if anyone, he's told the truth to. It started with a feeling when they first arrived here. Something felt off, familiar and suspicious. Then it became a hunch, then a conclusion that the king was hiding something. If his mate, his kid— Atra's kid were going to stay here, secrets weren't going to fly with him.

Many things clued him in on the King's secret, and when he uncovered something so personal as this is, Steller found it an incredibly difficult realization to have. He had to confer frequently with Atra, to fumble through what to do and what to think, how to feel. Not that Atra is any good at any of those things, but stars he does his best. And that's something. One thing Atra said stuck with him through all of this.

"If he loved you as you said he did? He left so abruptly to keep you safe, even if it was something you didn't need to be protected from."

Euphe was always the protected, never the protector. Of course he'd want to protect Steller from what he wasn't protected from. From whatever happened to his home, to his people. To him. Thinking about and processing all of this went slow, was absolutely heart wrenching, and snowballed slowly into more of an investigation into the truth rather than a hunch or a feeling.

The first hint had been his reaction to his presence here, Euclades didn't utter a word beyond a curt greeting in draconic, in response to Steller's trade. That could easily be mistaken for an old age monarch attached to his ways, but Euphe never learned trade either. Then, with nothing but those words, he disappeared for the rest of the day. Stellar had been intrigued, and looked for him, wanting to talk to him more. At least thank him for allowing himself and his mate to stay here, apologize for his lover's foolishness.

Though, he wasn't around. Steller asked his mates, though they told me he was in his room, probably working, and he seemed in a mood about something when they last saw him. In other words, he was best left alone. Though they remarked about Cain handling the political affairs this week, to give him a break, and promised they would check on him later, and relay his gratitude. It left him with an odd taste on his tongues, persay.

The next? Cain. Steller never met him when he was with Euphe. Euphe talked about him a lot. Tall, strong, bright and beautiful. Steller knew without a doubt, that Euphe loved him deeply, but Cain was a protector before all else, he would've kept the secret at first, but Euphe knew it would spill eventually... On purpose or not. His flock wasn't a fan of lone draconics. Nor was any other, really.

To have one of their monarchs, nevermind such a sacred being as Euphe fraternizing with a troublemaker like him, that would give the young monarch's flockmates more reason to hate him. Though, now Cain acted the same way Euphe had always talked about him. A beautiful golden social butterfly that was able to connect with damn near anyone. Though he lacked a certain naivety that Euphe described, Steller could guess that was a product of maturity. To find them together now, ruling their empire as mates, was no surprise.

Cain contributed to more than one hint, really. One other being, their origin. Born of the sacred Tree of Connection, twin protectors given to their flock by their deities. It's pretty difficult to miss that one. Euphe never completely explained what they both were to him, but he's not sure that Euphe completely understood that for himself at the time. Nonetheless, you don't get two stories like that one. He was almost completely sure of it then.

The fourth hint lie in the garden. Deep in the garden, in fact. Abandoned and alone. The Tree of Connection itself, and the last source of Empathy magic, a single golden apple, alone within its ancient branches. A story that's also pretty unmistakable for any other, it sat in a well, reflecting golden light onto the water beneath. It was so well kept. Too well kept to be anything but the real Tree of Connection. How the hell they got it here was beyond Steller's comprehension, but still.

Steller would suppose it's fair to count the Tree of Life as a part of that last hint as well. The massive tree in the middle of the castle's main buildings. An apple tree, just like the Tree of Connection. It wasn't hard to figure out that it was grown from the last dark apple of Empathy. Steller put that one together pretty quick after seeing the golden apple all alone on the tree. He had few doubts then.

The fifth clue, was each of Clay's mates. The stories of how they met. Clay's need to help them all... That unmistakable empathy for small, helpless things. That was all Euphe. It was just like him. Steller could see it in his expression as they talked about it, he seemed so nostalgic for the time, but so terribly empathetic, hurt by remembering their pain and helplessness. He still has that same desperation to protect, to provide. Like he has anything to prove after taking an entire Empire by right of combat and creating a safe haven for draconic people everywhere.

The sixth was the library. The moment Steller saw it he had no doubts left. So many books, in so many draconic languages, so many scrolls from so many different flocks. Euphe loved books. He may not know trade, but he knew almost every draconic language near to his own flock. He used to bring many books in whatever language he could find, to their little clearing in the woods and read to him all night long. Memories Steller carries with fondness.

The castle is full of secret rooms and dark passages, and the library is no exception. The library has so many secret rooms, full of old scrolls in ancient draconic languages. In one of these rooms there was nothing but scrolls about his flock... The flock and the prophecy that tortured Euphe until the day they all disappeared. So many of them had the burnt impression of claws on the corner of the page. Steller could imagine it so easily, Clay staring at it with such fear and anguish, wondering why they had done this to him, and allowing his emotions to run away with him.

Between Cain dropping information about their past, Clay's desperate little attempts to hide the obvious, and the clues practically written in the walls themselves... It wasn't long before Steller figured it out. Now, came the hard part. Actually talking to him about it.

Atra was there through it all, content to let Steller know his thoughts on everything. All he had to say when he decided he wanted to talk with Clay was, "do whatever you feel is right. If the dust settles and you want to be friends? That's okay. If you end up fucking on his desk, that's cool too! We can sort stuff out later." Stellar gave him a straight shot to the ribs for that, of course, because that was a very unhelpful fantasy to carry in this situation... But at least he knew whatever way things went, he had the support of his mate.

After hours of pacing and procrastination in my room, Steller somehow end up in front of his door... Holding that old letter like the most precious thing in the world. The purple ribbon that held it was old and worn now, he'd applied sap many times over the years to help the fraying. The edges used to be a vibrant shimmering silver, but now the thin metallic touch had worn and flaked in some spots. The letter itself was corroded and yellowed at the edges. Steller read it often in those first years that his lover was gone. In fact, he'd read it so many times now he's certain that he could recite it word per word, blindfolded.

Now he held it before the door of the one who gave it to him, unsure and fearful. Clay knew he was there, without a doubt. Born of the tree of Connection, he possessed focal magics even other monarchs did not. Empathetic magic, specifically. He'd always been able to feel the emotions of others, but what he understands now is that Clay's abilities have grown much over the years. Steller knocks on the door gently and it unlocks with a small click, opening just a little. He pushes it the rest of the way open, and when he does, Clay watches him with tired eyes.

After all his anxiety and worrying today, it would seem he is an expected guest.

"Steller, what do you requi-" he freezes-no, flinches- when he sees the letter in his hand. His eyelight swirls with an unmistakable twinge of vibrant violet for a moment. He blinks and it's gone, it almost felt imagined.

"Euclades. It's a lovely name."

He was silent, watching Steller wearily. He looks guilty, contemplative, maybe even afraid... The dredge of negativity that flows over his bones seems to drip more heavily around him, roiling like a pond disturbed by rain.

"But it isn't yours, at least... It wasn't always. Was it?"

"No. No it wasn't." The door shut quietly behind him. The sound makes Steller glance back, only for a moment. "Please... Please allow me this moment in private. I... Cannot imagine how you must feel. If I must endure your anguish, let me be the only one to bear it." He pleads.

Steller locks the door on his own, content to give Clay what he asks. He sighs out, "I knew it was you," in a breath. It's difficult for him to tell whether it's a sign of relief or something entirely different.

"You're clever, I knew I couldn't hide it."

"You made quite an effort," Steller counters quickly.

He whispers back, "I am sorry."

"Why?"

"I was afraid," Clay answers. He looks Steller in the eyes with some acrid, visceral emotion that lingers. A terror he keeps buried away in the embers of his soulfire. It's an expression so like one he'd once seen Euphe make, whenever he spoke of his flock... It makes Steller's soul twist with longing, nostalgia, love and care that still lingers after centuries apart.

"Why did you leave." He corrects, "why didn't you even say goodbye?" Steller steps forward slowly, pulling the worn, old ribbon from their letter, and places the curled page gently on Euclades' desk, right in front of him.

"I... was afraid," he answers again.

"Of what?" Steller paces a slow line past his desk and around towards the door, gripping his skull as though he couldn't comprehend any of this. Maybe after all these years, he still couldn't.

"Of myself, what I might do... What the corruption did... It... I hurt people. It made me want to hurt people. I didn't want to hurt you."

"And you thought I wouldn't stop you? You thought I'd ever let you become something you're not? You thought you could hurt me? I am a force to be reckoned with, I've burned villages and destroyed towns, I have faced those which were unbeatable in the presence of draconic armies! I can protect myself!" Steller spits.

"Not from this. You don't understand. The influence of the tree is strong, Steller, it is dangerous, and real. It isn't something you can protect from. It took me centuries to break through it's influence-"

"And I COULD HAVE HELPED YOU!" Steller cries, pausing his pacing near the door, "but no, no you left me alone, and scared, with no clue where you were and no chance of helping you- you fool! I would never be afraid of you!"

"Well maybe, you fucking should be." Clay hisses, standing up.

"Don't try to prove a point, dumbass. I know what you are. What you REALLY are. And you can't ever hide that. You are not, and will not ever be something I fear." Steller growls, wings flaring out behind him. Already a broad, tall monarch, it made for a threatening display.

Clay puffs up right back, purple dancing through his eyes and in his markings. Two eyes... That's... Different. Everything is different. He's so much bigger now, it's startling to hear everything in his voice ring with something from the past, all coming from a form so different. Euphe was beautiful, even without the extravagant marks of a strong monarch. Even now, he's so beautiful, in all the conventional ways he never thought himself when they were younger. It makes Steller ache, but he doesn't let up on his stance.

He's in power here, size and status be damned.

Euclades still can't hurt him.

Clay marches around his desk, a growl heady in his throat. "That's exactly why I stayed away. You're too trusting— too stupid to—" he makes a wounded sound, "if I wanted to hurt you, would you even stop me?" He asks, expression pained.

"If you wanted to hurt anyone I would have stopped you!" Stellar barks back, throwing his hands up in the air.

He marches forward, face twisted into a snarl as he slams a fist into the door hard enough to make the wood tremble. "WOULD YOU?! Would you hurt me to stop it? Would you?" Steller doesn't flinch. Instead, he slides hands up to Clay's face, rubbing the gleaming markings under his right eye.

It has all the effect he remembers. The expression on his face wanes and it's not so difficult to see the tears blossoming in his sockets now. His wings shudder and his eyelights shift to a deep plum, he might notice, given the way he blinks a little harder for a moment, but he seems to give up on whatever he was trying there fairly quickly. Steller lets out a long breath, still holding him gently.

"The entirety of this hypothetical little situation that you've made up in your head, depends on you being able to hurt me. Euclades. You may be a king now but I know you are not but a stubborn child in your embers. I am not afraid of you, I never have been, and I never will be. No matter how hard you try, you can't hurt me. I won't let you, and you would never. You never once won a sparring match against me in our days together, and a handsome set of horns and some height on me will certainly not change that. Euclades, Euphe, neither of them would hurt me, I know that. More than anything, I trust that," Steller whispers to him, watching as Clay closes his eyes.

He leans into the contact as his breathing goes shaky, and his shoulders tense up with quivering little sobs. His expression tenses for a moment before going lax again. When tears fall, they're a familiar purple, not seafoam. They leave smooth trails of ivory white bone visible in their wake, and only more of it is exposed with every moment.

He asks softly, "do you hate me?" and when he speaks it's not the same deep central nation draconic grumble. It's softer, a gentle voice with an eastern dialect. It's Euphe's voice, not his.

"I couldn't ever hate you, I don't," Steller promises, still holding him in his arms, even as the darkness fell away, dripping onto his hands and the floor. "Not Euphe, and certainly not Clay. I don't blame you... Even if you were a stupid jerk for leaving me like you did." He whispers. Clay smiles, and when he opens his eyes, blinking away tears, it's Euphe staring up at him. "I uh... didn't know you could... you know. I didn't know you were... Still... Like this, under all the..."

"I didn't either... Until you came back." He laughs, like it's all some cruel joke.

"You're beautiful. Still so beautiful..."

"You always said that." He's smaller than Steller is now, looking up as he gently wipes the tears from the other's cheeks.

"I'm not talking about Euphe, you're not some relic, Clay. I'm talking about you."

Euclades looks up at me like he's said something profound, something that he hadn't even considered.

"That's not- I'm not..."

"But you are... You're so beautiful. You're strong, and amazing. You always have been, you just didn't see it before. And your horns have grown so much too... I won't lie, it's... attractive." Steller admits, smiling wryly and glancing to the chair in the corner of the room. It's upholstered in a beautiful purple, velvety fabric, and it's clear that someone sits their frequently, likely to keep Clay company while he works.

"Oh..." Clay stares at him wide eyed, flushed a deep plum, a color that's rather ironically fitting of royalty.

"You're... I still..." Steller sighs before taking a deep breath in, "I loved Euphe, and I want to love you too, Euclades. I want to chart every difference, bed our coals and make a new fire together, every new feature and habit as our kindling."

Clay sighs when their skulls press together, a smile creeping onto his face when their horns clink, and it makes both their beads rattle on their horns. "I cherish you Steller... I always have."

"Too much for your own good, dork."

"Hah! Maybe..." Clay admits, sighing.

Steller smiles down at him with an unconditional fondness. Their faces are close, like this Steller can feel their breaths mingling together. The tease of a taste on his tongues, like sweet spices and the love Steller wants to give him. Clay takes a step closer and pauses, seeming contemplative.

"Is this okay?"

"More than okay," Steller murmurs back, sliding one of his hands into the other's.

With the confirmation, he presses a slow kiss to Steller's mouth, chaste and small. The taller leans in again, vying for a deeper kiss. Clay happily reciprocates, squeezing Steller's hand as his other gently squeezes his iliac crest. He pulls away just enough to breathe before searching for more. Steller encourages the closeness with a hand on his skull, pulling him closer with the gentlest insistence. Clay doesn't resist or hesitate, just presses closer, until Steller's back is firmly against the door, wings relaxed out to the side.

After a couple more rounds of kissing he pulls away, breathless. "Wow, spirits I missed that..." He says softly, almost trembling.

"Did you now?" Steller asks, grinning a little.

"Silence, I missed your silence... That's what I missed." He insists, although the soulfire glimmering through his thin shirt does him no favors in confirmation.

"Naturally, of course."

"I- oh stars, Atra, he- did he say this was okay?" He tries to pull away, seeming startled.

"Shh, he's fine... Jerk was literally rattling off about every way this could go and telling me I better at least kiss you," Steller scoffs.

"Oh... Hah! Dear stars... Yes, I can imagine he was as helpful on the mind as Vicki was..." He sighs, "I figured this was coming... I... Thought you would be more... Upset with me."

"Something like that... Ramblings of a horny bastard," Steller sighs, shaking his head. "I was upset, at first. I couldn't fathom why you'd abandon me. Not when we almost..."

Clay pets gently over his hand.

"We were almost mates, Clay... That and I... I know I didn't tell you but I... I'd been working on a circle for weeks before you left."

Clay's expression twists up again, and his surprise is almost something he can feel in the air. "Steller..." He sighs, tearful.

"Shit timing... Huh?"

"My love..." Clay cries, smiling at him. "I would've loved that more than anything."

"would've."

"I still would now."

Steller's soulfire burns cold for a moment, flickering in his ribs.

"We have some catching up to do... and we still need to talk with our mates, together. But I want you to know... really, it was time that wronged us. You, were perfect. Always," Clay says softly.

"You were perfect too..."

Clay smiles wider, and Steller can almost feel the joyful shift of his magic in the air around them.

"So... where should we start, on that catching up?"

Clay grins slyly, "you know, I have been thinking about that. I have some ideas."

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jimmymcchill · 2 years

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i've tried to write this post more than once, but apparently i was never really clear, so: here's a "list of reasons why i believe jimmy and kim have to find each other again in gene's timeline".

1) bcs is, at the core, a love story. it wasn't exactly planned, but the showrunners saw something special about bob and rhea's chemistry and got inspired. so the mystery woman from the cornfield at hhm slowly became a main character, to the point where the main focus of the the legal plot has been their relationship, at least from season four. you can't just erase all that as if it was nothing.

2) superficial dismissal should be illegal. and i am not even sure i am joking, really. if i read another theory about kim showing up and being like "yay hi jimbo now i am totally fine" or "see i got married and have five children two dogs and a parrot", i am going to scream very loudly. it's not that i don't want kim to move on, find herself again, of course i do!!! but first of all, randomly getting married working some job she doesn't even like is literally the life she escaped from when she was young; then, honestly, it would be so fucking offensive to her beautiful, nuanced, extremely detailed arc. first you slowly and carefully build a complex character, then you just flatten six years of her life telling us what happened to her and not showing it? because honestly, they have literally no time to show it, while of course for jimmy it was different, we know what was going on with him because of brba. if she shows up and she has just put everything behind her, it would feel... rushed. rushed, and unacceptable.

3) kim willingly destroyed her happiness. rhea talked about this nonstop in her interviews after 609. there is a clear and wonderful selflessness in her choice to leave, but that's just one side of the coin... the other is much darker. after what happens to howard and after understating that she was having so much fun playing with his life that she lied to jimmy in the process, she can't live inside her own skin anymore. so she erases herself completely. leaves her home, leaves the job of her dreams and then leaves the only relationship that has ever made her happy. she decides not to be herself anymore, because that's what she deserve. now, you see that this is a heartbreaking process that can't just be told offscreen (see point 2) without showing it, but also something she has to face with jimmy. because playing god once again deciding what punishment fits her crimes — leaving the only one who ever truly saw her and loved her for who she was, that is — is not a healthy behavior. and to go on, in my opinion, kim has to realize that she can be a good person who does good things without stripping herself of all happiness. she has to see the two are not mutually exclusive. and she can only do that finding that happiness again, or at least remembering it, with jimmy. not because i necessarily want them to be endgame, but because any other relationship for her, or source of happiness, couldn't possibly be explored as it should. it can only be jimmy.

4) jimmy not so willingly did it as well. just like kim, he skinned himself of his true self and wore the bloody mask of saul goodman instead. he thinks he ruined her life, he believes his love was not enough... so what's the point anymore? a theme that is now emerging strongly with gene (the! monologue! in! 610!). jimmy sees himself as unworthy, someone who destroys everything around him. but that's not what happened with kim, that's not what she was telling him: as i wrote more than once, she didn't leave him, she left their relationship and everything wrong that came with it, but to jimmy it was unthinkable that she could ever be bad for him... so it had to be his fault, right? and that guilt, that shame, that need to punish himself stays with him to the point where we find him leading a colorless, meaningless life without any purpose, and with a heart filled with loneliness and regret. do the writers really want to leave jimmy like that, still believing it was all his fault if kim left? thinking he is undeserving of love when it was never her point? can this huge misunderstanding between the two just be forgotten? how, i wonder, if jimmy has to look inward, move on and be a better person?

so... yeah. to me, at least narratively speaking and if they don't fuck up (or find something much better than these silly theories of mine) kim's peace of mind depends on jimmy, and jimmy's growth depends on kim. i could add that, given how little screen time they have left and if they don't fuck up kim's arc by rushing it, their happiness ultimately depends on their relationship. such an all-encompassing love like theirs can't be read very differently.

to me, but i could be 100% wrong, kim and jimmy have to meet again and need to bring it all back, from the traumas to the love. to be endgame? maybe, i wish lol. but that's not the point. i think they need it to complete their arc as characters and as people. to find themselves again, be themselves again, and realize they can be happy in their skin.

in the end, it's all about that.

#THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK #THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG SJGSISH #no one should read it this is just me pretending i know shit about characters arcs and stuff lololol #i am so full of shit #bcs #better call saul #bcs s6 spoilers #jimmy mcgill #kim wexler #bob odenkirk #rhea seehorn #mcwexler #meta

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liskantope · 4 months

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Drat, I just realized that I let the 10-year anniversary of my first seeing Scott Alexander's writing pass unrecognized by me. It must have been, most likely, January 13th, 2014 that a distant Facebook friend (likely friended from certain philosophical-discourse-ish Facebook groups years earlier but I already couldn't remember; we've certainly never met) posted Scott's Slate Star Codex essay "A Response to Apophemi on Triggers".

Mind you, this isn't the most important 10-year anniversary for me this year, as I didn't follow up on learning who Scott Alexander was or familiarizing myself with Less Wrong or the rationalist community until my spring semester was over several months later, sometime in Math 2014, and I didn't (re)adopt the handle Liskantope and start participating in any way until a couple of months later still. When I first read "a response to Apophemi" ten years ago, I'm not sure I registered the name of the author, and I distinctly remember assuming that Slate Star Codex was some sort of community blog or forum, perhaps through glancing at the archives and seeing an implausible number of posts for only one author, and more likely because most of my exposure to "the blogosphere" had been through community blogs / online magazines / something of that sort (e.g. Feministing, Jezebel, Freethought Blogs). But reading a blog post like that was an absolute revelation to me, and I still have fairly vivid memories of some of my thought processes as I went through it section by section. I recall forcefully filing it away in my mind as "I need to follow up on the source of this to see if there's more, but not until this new semester is over and I have more time."

The revelation for me came from not only the (honestly rather earthshaking) event of this being the first article I ever read (as opposed to the occasional poorly-calibrated Facebook comment from that one friend) arguing against the general SJ mentality of the time (I was introduced to the term "Social Justice" through this essay and had internally been referring to it by several other terms up until that time; "woke" wouldn't show up until several years later), and eloquently at that, and not seeming to come from a conservative or otherwise obnoxious viewpoint. It was also that I had just never encountered anyone who wrote quite like this, with so much genuine politeness and compassion for the other party whose views they were arguing against and yet so rhetorically forceful against them at the same time, with a particular combination of intellectual meticulousness, and easy-to-read, semi-informal, lightness to the writing style, through which the general good character of the writer palpably comes through.

(Well, the brief paragraph about "hosting the black flag" is pretty sinister actually, and I prefer to think that Scott was being carelessly hyperbolic. I don't think I took any notice of it on the first or second reading during 2014, though. At the time I had no idea who the "Heartiste" was that Scott was referring to.)

It's always interesting to reread something from a full decade ago and think about how long that is in "internet years" and how ways of talking about certain things has changed. Scott used the ze/zir pronouns which were (unfortunately) still very popular at the time but, as I recall, not for much longer, and he switched to they/them within a few months of this. He seems to use transsexual interchangeably with transgender (as I remember I kind of did at the time as well) and even used cissexual, which I didn't recall was ever a word. And, of course, although he discussed racism as a name-calling word quite a bit, he basically used "SJ" and "feminism" quite interchangeably, reflecting a perception I shared throughout the first half of the 2010's of SJ being essentially equivalent to (the popular internet form of) feminism.

It's still kind of a mystery to me exactly who Apophemi was. Okay, looking back at their post that Scott was responding to, it seems they were also going by Cyrus Alexander, and were an Oberlin student at the time. But, given that once I got into rationalist community stuff a few months later, I basically never heard anything about them again, and their Wordpress blog's most recent update is from only half a year later, I have to wonder what it is about their blog or this particular essay demanded so much of Scott's attention. Apophemi's post isn't even particularly substantial or hard-hitting or well-written; why did it carry so much weight? Was it just that Apophemi was directly attacking the rationalist community and got a critical number of shares and reblogs? Was Apophemi just a temporarily famous figure in that corner of the online world, rather like the Tumblr-user Hotel Concierge was for a brief period around a year later before becoming almost forgotten? It is interesting that only two (arguably three, counting Ozy, mentioned multiple times not by name in Scott's piece) characters were involved in the first big controversial rat-community-related essay I was exposed to, and then one of them immediately and permanently disappeared from my view.

EDITED TO ADD: I also forgot to mention that Scott's "response to Apophemi" explicitly describes the cancellation attempt against him when he was editor of his college newspaper, and as far as I know, this is the earliest time Scott explicitly talked about this traumatic life event (except that he probably talked about it in his LiveJournal at the time it happened, but as he had locked the pre-college-graduation period of his LJ right before I came across it -- likely primarily because of this incident! -- I and most others have never seen it). He (understandably!) pretty much never mentioned it so explicitly again in the next decade, so my very first introduction to Scott included knowing this about him while I don't think that many among his bulk of later fans did. But it's an interesting (probable) coincidence that, as of several days ago, he first described the event again in his January 24th post on trauma/politics, ten years later to the month.

#scott alexander #slate star codex #social justice #words words words #pronouns

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perexcri · 1 year

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6,11,27 for the ask game 🩷

hello Lark!! thanks for the ask - i was in a book mood so it means a lot to me :D

also i had to look back at my blog to find the original questions and realized this will be my 1000 post on this blog so uhhh. congrats!!

6.) a book with a pink cover

just for you - my collection of Natalya Baranskaya short stories that i had to use my last semester of college!! i'm currently in the middle of another novella-length one called Lubka that's reading very much like Bernice Bobs Her Hair by F. Scott Fitzgerald, but they're all really good!! i love her writing style (as you know) and absolutely adore A Week Like Any Other :D i'm glad you enjoyed it too, and from what i've read of her other stuff in here, i would highly recommend checking out other stories by her too!!

11.) a book with a green cover

Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer

i went on a huge non-fiction reading stint while i was in college just because i was reading so much nonfiction for my classes that i couldn't get in the mood for fiction (sad, i know). but this one was fascinating because it's a book about the moral and practical questions of not consuming meat that deals with a lot more than just "killing animals bad." it's genuinely one of the only nuanced takes on vegetarianism/veganism i've ever interacted with that dives into questions of what food means to us socially and culturally as well as ethically and in matters relating to health. i ironically read this like,,,four years after i switched to a pescatarian diet for a few substantial reasons, but mainly Just Cause, so it was strange to actually read something that was giving different arguments for the diet i follow several years after i chose that diet (even though there is a chapter about fish and the mass production of fish in the US in here but alas. i'm not hardcore enough to commit. i love cajun food too much)

it's a really interesting book if you want to learn more about the topic though - i'd highly recommend it, especially because it's very sympathetic in tone

27.) a book with a purple cover

The Burning God by R. F. Kuang

this is the last book of the Poppy War trilogy, which i absolutely devoured last year. it's one of my favorite series of all time by one of my favorite authors of all time, and i can't recommend it enough. it's a fantasy series based on 20th century Chinese history that deals a lot with shamanism, classism, colonialism, and the role of women in patriarchal societies. Kuang actually wrote the main character's arc to follow that of Mao Zedong's in his rise to power in China and it's just!! so so cool!! especially if you've studied or read on the history of that time - one of the most fascinating aspects of reading this trilogy was trying to figure out up to what point the main character's life would follow this historical figure's. it was like i got a free mystery included in my delicious fantasy trilogy heheheh

so yeah, it's a great series if you support women's rights and women's wrongs, love fantasy settings not based on the kind of traditional European-influenced fantasy that tends to be really popular, and want to learn a little about Chinese history along the way :D

i will give a warning and say that this series is incredibly violent though. i don't mind a lot of violence in my reading material, but there were even some scenes for me where i was wincing just a little bit. so just be mindful of that!!

anyway thank you Lark for the ask i hope you're doing well :] 💜💜💜

#ask #book rec #i'm just gonna start making tags for anyone who shows up here more than like two times #hmmmm #how about:#song of the lark!!

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austajunk · 1 year

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Hi, I hope you had a lovely Christmas yesterday or any holiday you celebrate on that day.

I just wanted to say that your latest post really resonated with me, I first got into dangan ronpa at 16 years old by a friend who told about it and I’m now 22 years old meaning it been one my comforts and hyper interest for overs six years. It been interesting because like you my friend lost interest and we drifted apart until we were no longer friends and I did other meet with who enjoy the games but they two got bored of the topic over time, although I have other interests such Pokemon, Digimon and other games and I love talking animations and films. It just funny how this game series has been with me for over 6 years but I don’t regret it because it one the reason I got the courage to start posting my art online and one my first fandom I talk to people, yes it rocky here or there but I had a lovely time sharing my art and improving my art.

Sorry for the rambling but as a fellow autie or autistic adult, it really hit home ha ha I made jokes in my head telling dr so are gonna leave yet you done and it like nope I be staying rent free in your mind. I will say my love of dr focus more dr2 because that the one I most attached to. Yes,drawing the silly chef make my brain happy but that’s okay. Also I’m bit shy when sending an ask publicly.

ps enjoy what you love and enjoy your art, whatever make happy and keeps a smile on your face.

Hi there!

First of all, I hope you had an amazing holiday too. It was a fun time. Made homemade peppermint patties, I got a few Murder mystery board games. It was a good time.

Secondly, I’m really glad someone related a bit to how I felt too. The thing about hyperfixation is that a lot of it makes me feel powerless. Being obsessed with something and hyper focusing on it in real time to learn all its ins and outs can be so fun. It helps you find friends in other fandoms and such. But then, when it’s all you can focus on, you start to alienate people around you without even realizing that you’re doing it. People are genuinely polite and they don’t want to cut you off. And by the time they tell you something is wrong and that you’re driving them away with your interests, it’s too late. They’re gone.

And like… it sucks. It’s a hard truth to swallow and I really struggle trying to be more about other people. I want to be more open about that since I’m an adult who has now reached her 30s. I think it’s very valid to admit that I’ve struggled with this my whole life. I’ve always wanted to relate to others, to find and keep friends and then be validated for my interests. But last year, things came crashing down hard.

A former friend wrote me an entire three page letter on my flaws and a good portion of that was about my hyperfixations and how I don’t listen or hear them. And it drove them away. I felt utterly crushed and I think from then on, I had been trying to lessen my love for DR.

Ultimately, I just don’t think it’s a good thing to lose what makes you happy in the world. Even some silly piece of media. Or even just a character you identify within a piece of media. Of course, we can’t bombard the world with it as much, but those things that we obsess over are still for us too even as we’re trying to improve ourselves and work out our issues: neurodivergent or otherwise.

Danganronpa is a series that I think has a lot of love put into it by its creator, writers, artists, musicians, and fandom. I think that’s really freaking rad. I think it’s characters have something for everyone. I think it’s heavily flawed, but also vibrant and brilliant. I think it’s revolutionized murder mysteries in gaming and visual novels as a genre. That’s awesome. I don’t want to ignore how I feel about that.

Thank you for your words and encouragement. I really do feel that in my heart and I appreciate you and your art as well. No one draws a cuter TeruTeru than you! :3

#danganronpa #personal junk #blog stuff

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bubblelockerwhitter · 2 years

Text

A friend non-user tumblr asked me for the mini-fanfic “Dulce Et Amarum” about that I am working, on according to their question. What would happen if Reader and the boys (Deku and Kacchan) were from the same Aldera Junior High school? And how would they meet? (3/4)

ongoing of this: Post (part 1), post (part 2)

Warning: mentions of food, implies signs of anxiety on Reader's part, angst, stalker/yandere behavior, pill and substance use, attempted suicide.

A/N: I was on a writing block for a long time because of college, tasks, personal issues, and myself. Thanks to those who are still there waiting for a shitty post by me.

A/N II: I'll make some adjustments to my mediocre Fanfic self-insert of "Dulce Et Amarum" in the future in case those who are going to read it again notice a change, it's because I'll be rewriting the story again because I don't like it the way it is now.

The wind is loud.

You read your caretaker's message on your old cell phone.

ᶠʳᵒᵐ: ᶜᵃʳᵉᵗᵃᵏᵉʳ ᵀᵒ: [ʸ/ᴺ]

[ʸ/ᴺ]⁻ᶜʰᵃⁿ, ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿ ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ qᵘⁱᵗ ᵐʸ ʲᵒᵇ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵖᵃʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ˢᵉʳᵛⁱᶜᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ. ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ

You began to gain some confidence in that caretaker. They took care of you like a parent figure who look for their child, fed you, gave you some advices, scolded you gently when you did something wrong and love you as if you were their child.

You still don’t understand why they are treating you so kind, although you refused to be cared, they never gave up.

The hell you lived with your mother and the impotence of your father.

Their hugs were warm.

Their cheek and forehead kisses were a charm.

“...Caretaker?”

“Hm? Yes, honey?”

You wanted to tell them the problems and doubts you dealt with every day, bullying, the days your bullies changed their attitude, in short, those rare days.

Your restlessness when you spoke to someone, mysteriously disappeared.

Your classmates blamed you for that, calling you “the death's path”.

“...Nothing” You just got a pat on your head.

It was all for the money, what a greed.

“What’s wrong?” You flinched before the voice of your classmate, Midoriya could read who that email was from in your old phone, “Oh, I didn’t know that you had a nanny”

“Papa...Mama” You extended your arms, “...work..a lot“

“It must be a paradise to have your house to yourself and someone to have company, I-It’s nice, isn’t?“ Both of you stopped at a traffic light, It's red.

Midoriya kept looking as you wrote in the notebook.

...

𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒.

...

𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑒, 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒.

...

𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝑜𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉𝓈.

...

The light was green, both of you went ahead.

“Do you have hobbies?” Midoriya's head cocked.

...

There was a silence except the footsteps of both of you.

...

𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒽𝑜𝑜𝒹.

“What about yours? His question brought you out of a trance, rather, an alarm. It was inevitable that someone would ask about your childhood until now.

𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟

You looked for other words to write it.

ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕚𝕥

Speaking it was already difficult.

𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕥

“Y-You don't have to tell me, surely you were strongly doubting if you should trust me or something, a-a-and..uhhh, we should return quickly or those gangters will kidnap us!”

The night had already arrived, both of you were running, which you didn't realize Midoriya’s hand was holding your free hand.

You never thought that an Omega, no, a shy classmate could be so bold.

It’s been long time that you didn’t hear any sound.

Not even an itchy feeling in your bandaged arms.

The wind is no longer loud.

A tall man, he wore an unbuttoned and wrinkled white shirt, his tie with American tones was open hanging on the collar of the shirt, yellow pants still fixed and, light skin, his blond hair with two strands in front that rise in peak, blue eyes.

Whose age seems younger adult must be like 20 or 30 years old.

And his big smile on his face.

His aura seems bright.

“So you are the famous classmate of my boys’s school, right? Nice to meet you, I’m Yagi Toshinori, but you can call me Toshi, sir o mister it makes me feel old. Thank you for take care of Midoriya-shounen on the way home, [L/N]-shounen!”

Intimidating, his voice is very strong and enthusiasm.

You already want to go to a far away place.

You have never been in someone's house without permission from your parents.

Your hands were clutching the fabric of your arms.

Midoriya was no longer with you, he went to take a shower.

And you already freaked it out, alone with a stranger.

“...” You looked across the driveway of your classmate's big house, your school shoes were right the one with his red shoes were on the driveway, too late, again.

...

𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝑔𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒, 𝒯𝑜𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑜𝓇𝒾-𝓈𝒶𝓃?

It took you 3 minutes to write the name of Midoriya's parent.

They did not seem to be relatives because of the different surnames, right?

Maybe he’s boyfriend’s mother or his caretaker?

“You’re quiet one, huh? It's midnight and it's not safe for a young one like you to go home at that time, haven't you heard the news? It must be shocking to see young people disappear” Toshinori scratched the back of his neck and his gaze softened.

You widened your eyes and looked at the man who stepped aside to let you pass with his big smile in the face.

You were used to hearing from adults that they referred to children and teens as a class and not as a person, it seemed that adults forgot that they are human too.

What that...man said.

You were going to take a ste—

*SLAM*

That relief disappeared in an instant, you never even heard the front door open.

“Bakugou-shounen. You’re late again and look what Midoriya-shounen brought home”

You quickly looked behind you.

Bakugou dressed in street clothes and brought a big bag.

“I know, old man and get out of my fucking way, late bloomer!” You quickly stepped aside to let your bully classmate pass, he growled at you and looked away.

“Watch your language and don’t call them like that, young man!” Bakugou ignored Toshinori, his steps were quick. Toshinori had heaved a sigh heavily and his hand rested on his forehead.

𝒮𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎.

“I’m sorry too, [L/N]-shounen. Since he manifested being an Alpha, his pride increased by the praise of others. You must tired, wanna take a seat?” The tall man extended his arm towards the living room.

𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒.

You bowed your head to the man.

𝐸𝓍𝒸𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒.

“Haha, you don't have to be so formal and make yourself at home, [L/N]-shounen!”

“Oie, late bloomer! Leaving so soon?” The blond's sarcastic voice reached your ears, you flinched by his voice, “Aren't you supposed to help too?”

You had already put the dinner things a while ago as Bakugou asked you.

It’s not necessary to mention his threat.

He was making the dinner, the smell from the kitchen was mild and spicy.

It was already the third time you tried to leave Midoriya’s house without being caught, if it wasn't for Bakugou you would have left for while. You carried your notebook, positioning it above behind of your head, so that Bakugou could read what you were going to say.

𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒.

“Of course you do, dumbass! Do you want them to fucking kill you there and have your organs sold to you on a black market?!”

You shook your head.

“Quit sneaking around and help me with the fucking dinner, asshole!” You walked back to him, watching the knife sliced through the vegetables at lightning speed.

Yakimeshi, Miso soup, Gyoza, you did those foods (Bakugou had ordered you to do it).

...

Yakisoba, Takoyaki, Katsudon, Bakugou did those foods.

...

“Stop drinking water, you've already done it like 6 times!”

𝒮𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎.

...

𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈.

...

𝒜𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉.

...

𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒.

...

𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒.

...

𝓉𝑜 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉.

“Then, stop” You looked at him somewhat defeated.

...

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓎.

...

𝐵𝒶𝓀𝓊𝑔𝑜𝓊-𝓈𝒶𝓃.

“Tsk! Go to the table before I strangle you with food, scum”

You looked at the time on your old cell phone, it's already dawn, not a message from your father yet.

Luckily tomorrow is a weekend.

The table was already Midoriya already put on his house clothes and Toshinori, they were talking and laughing. When you entered with meals in your hands and putting the food on the table, the eyes were on you, you panicked, almost.

Bakugou was putting the food on the table and sat down immediately while you are sitting in the table too.

They were excited, the brightness of the green and blue irises.

“I didn't know you c-could cook, [L/N]-san and Kacchan as a-always amazing!”

𝐼 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝐵𝒶𝓀𝓊𝑔𝑜𝓊-𝓈𝒶𝓃.

“So many textures and glitters, good job both of you, Bakugou-shounen and [L/N]-shounen!”

The vibe was shining on these two guys.

Seeing closely how people laughed and enjoyed the moment like any day, it seemed like an unattainable dream for you.

Your heart was tight.

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕠𝕕

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕗𝕠—

You pulled your left cheek hard until your cheek skin was reddish.

Your eyes open meeting Midoriya's worried gaze, seeing how your right hand trembled holding the chopsticks, he smiled, “Y-You'll be fine, I doubt your parents would be mad at a sleepover invite”

Your gaze turned into a confused expression.

“...Sleepover?” You looked at the food you had on the front, “I didn't bring a change”

Both men were stunned as was your voice.

It's the first time I hear them speak.

I haven't heard them speak in a while.

The boys barely heard you speak at school, most were long pauses or just a written page. No wonder why you have low grades when it came to presenting a project or speaking aloud a reading.

There was a time that you used to talk before, two years passed, it was sudden that you stopped talking. No one knew why but they said it was because you found your voice somewhat disgusting or you have anxiety?

“Hey dumbass, I'll lend you the change“

“...no need, thanks anyw—”

“Don't you want me to take your trash’s school off by force? You change or I do it myself” He had already got up from the seat and went to the bathroom closing the door making a loud noise.

“Woow, I didn’t know that Bakugou-shounen would worry about someone else. Young people today are being considerate, huh?“

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭?—

You gritted your teeth with closed lips.

You brought the entire bowl to your face to eat all of your food and you ended up putting your hands together, thanking the food.

A hiccup escaped from your mouth.

Both men were still at the table found their guest rather cute.

The shower was lukewarm but the sensation disappeared when the water hit your skin, the pain was sharp. You got out of the shower right away, dried off and put on the bandages around your torso that you brought in your backpack.

You found yourself looking at yourself in the mirror, ignoring the ribbons wrapped around your skin, you turned the sink faucet to get a little more wet.

The borrowed Bakugou’s clothes and Midoriya's blue coat were neatly folded on top of the toilet lid.

You brought your palms up to your eyes to rub them.

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕠𝕠𝕣 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪, 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥?

Your gaze in the mirror, behind you.

A woman with the cigarette in hand wandered around the corner of the bathroom.

𝕨𝕆𝕟’𝕋 𝕪𝕆𝕦?

𝕨𝕆𝕟’𝕋 𝕪—

*BAMP*

“[L/N]-san?! Are you okay?!” Midoriya's voice was heard on the other side of the bathroom door.

Your forehead was leaning against the bathroom door, you had bumped into it.

“...I almost slipped but managed to balance myself” You turned on the faucet to cool off your forehead and your entire face.

“I-I see, be careful ok?”

“...I’m okay, thank you for asking, Midoriya-san” The boy nodded while his hand rested on the door frame and his ear pressed against the door to hear you on the other side of the door, the sound of water falling and clothes moving.

The noise you make, the sounds you produce or how you speak were music to the ears of the green eyes.

He hadn't realized his Alpha was standing there.

“Oie”

“Eeek! K-Kacchan, you’re scared me!” He scowled at him as he waved his hand, excusing himself that he wasn't spying on you in the bathroom. You opened the bathroom door, the clothes were fleece and warm, red pajamas from top to bottom over Midoriya's sweater with the towel around your neck.

“...It’s a pajamas, thank you for lending me your clothes, I'll wash them when I return home tomorrow, Bakugou-san”

The blond let out a “tsk”, inside his mind, he was proud of your answer.

Midoriya pouted, he was glad that you used a part of his clothes but he doesn't get over the bitter feeling, jealous that his mate let you borrow his clothes complete, he awkwardly stood at your height.

“Let's watch movie together, [L/N]-san” He smiled innocently, his irises shone with flutter.

Your gaze went blank and Bakugou snapped out.

“No, they will watch movies with me, Deku!”

“Boys, boys, calm down. You guys stay in your rooms and they will be in the guest room after the sleepover, I am right?” Toshinori looked at you both with an intimidating look while the boys nodded in fear and his big smile returned as if none of this had happened

While the boys went ahead leaving you alone with the man.

Toshinori sighed, “It's the first time the boys bring a friend at home, you know?“ Thank you for taking care of them, you are good child.”

He put his hand on your head, you almost flinch from the sudden touch.

“Look at the boys for me, okay?“ You turned to see him, he was already leaving, but you noticed that the back pockets of his pants had a gun stored and the back of his shirt had some reddish drops stained.

Bakugou as always rude and a mocker having group of friends in school, but sometimes there are not too many classmates around always his calm voice came from him while yours on paper or your unknow voice.

He has parents, an explosive mother and a worried father, because of work they couldn't have time for him. It was almost the same with your parents but very absent and little communication with you while his are very close.

N̷͕͗o̶̝͝t̶͔̾ ̸͔̿t̶̩̓o̷̡͋ ̴̝͗m̵̞̎e̶̹͠ṅ̴̥t̴̡̽i̸̜͘ó̵̺n̴͖̔ ̸̨͐t̶͙̍h̸̻͠a̵͖̋t̴̝͋ ̵͓̉ẏ̷̢ȍ̷̬u̴̩̚r̸̄͜ ̴͚͗m̵̱̔ȯ̴̡t̶̡͆h̵̹͊e̵̮͠r̴͈͝ ̵̤̃i̸͓͛s̷̰̉ ̷̘̊ǎ̸̟ ̶̣͒m̶̭͠o̴̧̕ñ̴̝s̷̳̏ţ̴̑e̸͇̕r̵̟̂ ̶̛̹á̴̟n̸̥̈́d̸͈͂ ̶́͜y̵̝͗o̷̤̅û̸̹r̵̹̎ ̸̨̂f̷̬͑a̵̙͛t̷̯̒h̶͚̐e̷̲͗ṟ̶͑ ̸̬̇ḯ̶͈s̷̟̈ ̸̝̕å̶̩ ̶̢̈v̶͎̐ị̸̇c̷͚̓t̷̻̂ḯ̴͈m̶͖̍.̸̠̑

He likes spicy food and you still have a spicy trace on your tongue from dinner, he is very good with housework and playing the drums.

The reason why he bothered Midoriya was questionable, because he is Omega they give him more attention than him as Alpha or because he found his mate so annoying.

He admits that he loves his Omega.

if you tell him i will kill you, he said.

You didn't think to do that anyways.

He trusted you to take care of his mate, without telling you.

He was intrigued by the fact that you have a lot of guts when he was about to annoy his Omega since you were there to defend him and other classmates, it made him angry.

Bakugou was always staring at both of you, always.

Midoriya invited you often to go home together, sometimes lunch time when his mate aren't around. He likes action stuff, analyzing enemies to find their weakness or nature, he loves his father figure, Yagi Toshinori and his Alpha since he was a child.

His mother had passed away for a long time. She used to dating Yagi Toshinori for a while, the affection and love that he had for his mate, he was responsible for taking care of her son.

He and his mate were childhood friends as the classmates used to say.

He seemed to enjoy your company a lot, when he finds you somewhere his eyes shone like a sun, have a lot of confidence to put himself in your personal space, he is an affectionate Omega with trusted people, you assumed.

It's been a long time since you received one, a hug, though you tried your best not to flinch and not let sounds from your mouth by the puncture wounds on your skin under your clothes every time his hug tightened around you.

Quiet days didn’t last as long, classmates became actively aggressive about spreading horrible rumors.

Death’s path.

It was all written on your class table, notebooks and your back written on a piece of paper

Death’s path.

Classmates started avoid you and blame you for involving more than just the school.

Death’s path.

You stopped spending time with Midoriya or Bakugou for sake of their reputation and security.

Death’s path.

"What are you doing there, dumbass?" You were sitting in the corner of the room with your headphones on and your phone at hand, “took long to found you”

There wasn't anything going on in the nursing room, hiding in the corner like an unwanted pellet.

You closed your phone and ripping the headphones out of your ears.

"The crybaby told me that you were avoiding him even though you still accompanied him home and you were doing it to me too" You only looked at Bakugou's shoes and you didn't want to see how his head grew hot from your lack of presence those days, "Some explanation?”

“...Sorry but I'm grounded”

“Pfff-your excuses don't work on me, airhead”

“...we're classmates, you shouldn't care about me” You sank lower to your knees as your gaze settled on your cell phone resting on your lap, “I'll just make you or Midoriya-san disappear if you keep spending time with me”

“I thought a rumor wouldn't affect you so much, smarty”

"...This feels weird as if all the people I've talked to just fade away like nothing or forgot about my existence"

Bakugou walked over to your side, keeping his distance from you, his gaze never left you.

“I think it's one prank of those extras or are you being paranoid?“

You grabbed your cell phone and stood up but, Bakugou had pinned you against the corner with his arm resting on your chest while the other grabbed your wrist, dropping the cell phone to the ground, a hum escaping from your mouth.

“I'm not done talking to you yet, idiot”

“...What do you want to talk about?”

“Your shitty behavior those days and today. Everything from before didn't mean anything to you, not a value for Deku, hah?”

The reddish eyes of the boys looked at you like sharp threads straight at you.

You supposed that some day, moment or instant this was going to happen.

“...It will lead nowhere even if you insist on telling you about me, Bakugou-san”

“Then, why won’t you tell me?!” He presses his arm tighter against your chest.

Your throat tightened.

𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕦𝕘𝕝𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕒𝕞 𝕀 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥?

“...Because..you will leave” You murmured.

Your expression was already different today, from what Bakugou was used to seeing, there was fear in your eyes.

Bakugou was going to ask about that, so you flopped down on purpose to free yourself from his grip, then rolled forward to the ground and ran out of the infirmary.

“Oie, stop there, asshole!”

In your room with cold sheets on top of you, school things and lined notebooks with words on the floor. Your knees were red from the shock after Bakugou's persuasion, your cell phone was filled with messages and missing calls from Midoriya.

You felt your stomach turn over for having stood up Midoriya.

You didn't understand those overwhelming emotions.

Tomorrow was already graduation, you felt better not to go. You won't see Katsuki and Izuku ever again, they were the last people who were nice to you, even though the friendship was formed through “strange circumstances”.

Even your parents won't be there to smile and congratulate on your senior year.

You already reached the conclusion.

About the rumor, you were surely cursed because your care about people for nothing, maybe.

About your parents, maybe thay are working so hard, leaving you alone all time at home without notifying because the work of the adults is hard or...

…Abandoned?

And if they are kidnapped?

What if they are dead?

...That’s right.

...

You want to end your suffering, you loved your father but you only felt that this did not end the the damage caused by the monster you call “Mama”.

You still remembered that your father blamed you that day.

As if a part of him snapped.

You didn't understand why he blamed you.

It will be because you were born a being classless one or because all the suffering that happened was your fault for just existing?

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭.

Leaving you alone in the living room while the red fell around your sight. His eyes were empty and he didn't bother to help you get up from the ground after the monster's venting.

You went to the bathroom effortlessly.

You opened the lid of the mirror and found a medicine box.

You weren't thinking straight.

*CRACK*

You devoured all the medicine bottles, even the substances with water.

You felt relieved.

“aha, I feiieel..weieeer..Paba arnd Mama wiill fieel bzziter..iif IIah daai hiere..righ?“ The coughs came out of your mouth, the saliva flowed on the ground just like the tears that came out of your eyes.

There was a slimy smile on your lips.

You swallowed more pills in your mouth.

*BAMP*

Your eyes were falling into the void.

#boku no hero x reader #katsudeku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #fic writing #headcanon

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