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timeoutsoup · 1 year

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Dig You A Grave Part 2

(Again thank you for @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 for the prompt. Also shout out to @spoopyspoony for the hilarious tag)

Klarion had succeeded in his mission of obtaining the tome for The Light, but at a heavy cost to himself.

Teekl had emerged from the Mayor’s Mansion having successfully gotten the book, only to be seen by the junior justice babies. They divided their attacks between him and his beloved familiar. In the end he was able to grab the book as he a Teekl were separated by a blast. Deciding to lead the heroes away and return for his beloved feline, Klarion took to the sky. Once he knew it was safe to return, the witch boy began his search for Teekl.

It had been three days and Klarion had not found her yet. Anger and worry clouded his vision, as he continued his search.

The powerful witch boy was getting sick of the light. All they cared about was their stupid plan. They kept the Lord of Chaos on a short leash, gave him rules to follow, and had him run errands, like some servant. And to top it all off none of them had cared the Teekl was missing. Savage had the audacity to tell him to just find a new one, as if that man had any power over him. He decided to find Teekl and then make his decision about the light.

The Day Before

Danny was excited about fostering the cat he found. She was so sweet, and really well trained. He didn’t even know cats could be trained. His parents had let him foster the cat, when he explained how he had stumbled upon her after the ghost fight. Also mentioning how the feline had orange fur, and it reminded him of Jazz, didn’t hurt either.

Sam and Tucker had joined him when he went to the pet store to pick up items for his new house guest.

“What if she doesn’t like anything?” Danny worried.

“Simple we will donate what we can to shelters and local rescues and come back and get different items.” Sam replied as she grabbed a bag of Churu’s off the wall.

“More importantly, since when do you buy meat products?” Tucker asked, raising a brow at Sam.

“While cats are omnivores, they eat mostly meat. Just because I am a vegan doesn’t mean I’m going to make a poor animal suffer and deny it proper nutrition.” Sam replied, giving Tucker a look.

“Huh, I didn’t know that. Maybe I should pick up a book or two on cats while we are here.” Danny said, pushing the cart down the aisle.

If Sam decided her parents should foot the bill after they had tried to replace her favorite combat boots with pastel pink kitten heels, who were the boys to complain about the Manson’s generous donation for this poor, injured kitty. They got everything, wet food, dry food, bowls for food and water, a water fountain bowl, treats in all shapes and sizes, a wool cat cave bed, a cat tree, toy and more.

Once Teekl (she had a collar with her name on the tag) had been released from the vet, which the Manson’s also paid for, Danny took her straight home, hopeful she liked it. He read the book they got and followed the vet’s advice to start by introducing her in a small safe area. The upstairs bathroom was perfect because only he really used it now that Jazz was off at college. Not everything they bought would fit into the bathroom, so Danny made the decision to put the necessities and a few extras. No matter how funny Tock found it he was not putting the cat tree in there. Carpet in the bathroom is disgusting. Just the simple ceramic food and matching water dish, the new litter box, and the shirt he was wearing when he rescued her, on top of an old pillow that smelled like Danny.

Opening the carrier, Danny watched as Teekl walked out, examining her new surroundings. She gave a courteous sniff to the food, took a few laps of water, and then plopped herself down onto her makeshift bed. Confused but happy that she felt comfortable, Danny continued to watch, making sure she was comfortable.

After a few minutes Danny left her to her own to finish settling in, making sure to close the door. Returning to his room to finish setting all the cat supplies up. Placing a bed between his dresser and the wall so she could hide in comfort. The cat tree between his bed and the window, so she can sun herself, as well as use it like steps to get on his bed. The water fountain off to the side, on a rubber mat, and her food bowl near by but not too close. And a basket, holding a variety of toys slide nicely under his bed.

Checking his watch, the young halfa decided to check on his furry little house guest again. Standing up, and turning around, the ghost boy is shocked. There sitting in his doorway, cleaning their paw without a care in the world, is Teekl.

“Well, I guess you’ve adjusted to being here then.” Danny muttered, leaning down to pick up the orange tabby. Surprised that she not only let him pick her up, but began to purr, he turned around and began to how her his room.

By the end of the day Teekl was sunning herself in the last rays of sunlight as Danny finished up his homework for school tomorrow. It was a nice relaxing moment in his hectic life. He began dissociating and didn’t notice the cat in his lap until she began to headbutt his chin. Blinking back to the present Danny looked down and smiled, gently petting the purring feline. He knows that eventually Teekl’s owner will come for her, and he does want her to be returned, but another part of him wants her to stay with him forever.

Waking up to a warm, purring cat on his chest has to be one of the best feelings in the world. Danny doesn’t want this moment to end really. He feels like a normal teenager for the first time in a long while.

Trying not to dwell on the fact that he isn’t normal, the teen gently gets up to start his day. Teekl decides to lay in the warm spot he just left.

Danny dressed quickly, rushing through his morning routine, making sure he had enough time to take care of Teekl before he rushed off. After checking everything, and topping off her food in water, Danny crouched down beside his bed, eye level with the sweet tabby.

“Alright cutie, I have to go to school now. I topped off your food and water. There are plenty of comfy and warm places to take a nap. Stay out of the fridge. I’m pretty sure the hotdogs have overthrown the ham. Also stay out of the basement. It’s dangerous and my parents wouldn’t know lab safety if it bit them.” Danny stated as he rubbed her head.

He stood up. Two rings of bright light engulfed him, and a moment later a teen in a black and white hazmat suit, white hair that seemed to move with no wind, and a pair of glowing green eyes.

“I’ll be back after school.” Danny said with a wave, turning intangible as he rushed off to school.

In his hurry he didn’t notice the glint in feline’s eye as he rushed off to school. Softly jumping down from the bed, she made her way to the door and down the stairs, only stopping for a bit of food and a drink of water.

Teekl would have usually returned as quickly as possible to Klarion, but this time was different. The being that helped her had smelled of death and power, and she was curious, after all she was a cat.

—————

Danny had made it to school on time for once, and was able to grab some food before class started.

“Wow you're on time for once.” Tucker snickered.

“Yeah, I woke up early to take care of Teeks, and no ghosts, so I also grabbed breakfast.” Danny bragged.

“Teeks? You already gave her a nickname? Danny, you know she’s not your cat.” Sam stated.

“I know. It’s just a nickname, don't worry.” Danny replied as he turned toward the board as the bell range.

—————

By lunch Danny was bored and missed Teekl. His idea of sneaking out and checking on her during lunch got thrown out as his ghost sense went off. Lunch Lady was back and had taken over the cafeteria. Ducking for cover behind an overturned table, he peered out to a scene that made his blood run cold.

“No animals in the cafeteria!” Shrieked the ghost, hurling meat at an orange tabby. “Get out now or I’ll turn you into meatloaf.”

——————-

Klarion had been flying around for hours searching for his familiar and he had finally tracked her down to a school. Racing down the hall, dodging fleeing teenagers, he finally reached a set over double doors, flung them open and was shocked by the scene in front of him.

The black-haired teen, who had asked him out during his fight with Young Justice was standing on a pile of meat, holding his beloved familiar, and wielding what looked like a thermos that was sucking up a ghost wearing a hair net. A truly chaotic site to behold.

After capping the strange device, the interesting blue-eyed boy turns to the remaining occupants of the room and opened his mouth.

“I have only had Teekl for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I thermos everyone in this room, and then myself.”

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny fenton #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #klarion #chaoticspirit #danny and klarion friendship #klarion dc #klarion danny #klarion the witch boy #part 2 #Dig You A Grave

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months

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Set Up To Fail: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Tagging: @shanimallina87 @malindacath @@djs8891 @dempy @words-and-seeds @cosmic-psychickitty @xoxabs88xox @hardballoonlove @@ssa-sadboi @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @queenslandlover-93 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond

It’s been a long time since Jake has had a flashback, he used to have them occasionally in his early twenties after he received his care file, but he hasn’t had one in a couple of years. However, there’s a moment when he’s slipping out of the door of the locker room that Rooster puts his hand on his shoulder to tell him something and it hits him. It feels like someone has put a filter over his vision, the past and the present flickering and merging into one. For a second, he’s back in the trailer of his parent’s dealer, trying to slip away because the fumes, they’re choking him. He sees the gap in the door a sliver of light in the haze and he dives for it, but there’s a hand on his shoulder, a grip he can’t shake off pulling him back. He doesn’t escape that night; he’s forced to sit there as his parents’ barter meth for their only son. They leave the trailer without him.

His reaction in the present is unwarranted. He tears himself away from the other man and hurtles through the door, letting it slam behind him. It’s only when he sits in his car, both hands gripping the steering wheel and his heart pounding in his chest that he realises that Rooster was only trying to return his keys.

He ends up walking to your place, it’s not far only a couple of clicks but every step feels like it’s agony because his nerves are flayed raw, and he keeps thinking about all of other shit he read in that file.

About how his family was known to social services already before he was picked up for trying to sling meth. About how going back to that trailer emptyhanded had meant earning it some other way, he’d seen it happen with other kids and he refused to be one of them. When he was caught it was almost a relief because it turns out he was pretty shit at hawking meth and Crispin, his parent’s dealer had already been making noises about how a good-looking kid like him can fetch a decent payday.

He ends up in a group home with no hope of getting fostered or adopted. The problem is he’s seven years old and feral because meth heads don’t make good parents and he’s been forced to fend for himself ever since he can remember. It takes him a while to realise that only the good kids get to leave that place, so he tries to moderate his behaviour, become one of them. He tidies himself up and works his ass off but by then it’s too little, too late because by that point he’s entering his teenage years and he learns that boys have a lower chance of being selected than girls.

Looking back, from the very beginning he’d been set up to fail.

When he gets to your house, he can’t bring himself to knock. There’s such turmoil inside of him, it wrenches at his insides, and he isn’t sure that he wants you to see this, that he wants anyone to see this. The choice is taken out of his hands when you pull the door open, Cujo’s lead in your hand, and you see the look on his face.

The problem is he’s never had a home until he met you, you’re a safe space in a sea of chaos. He knows that instinctively and his instincts, they haven’t failed him yet. You usher him inside, Cujo pressing against his legs because that dog, he knows how to read a room and he knows when one of his people are hurting.

It’s on the couch that he tells you what happened, with Cujo’s face in his lap, his palm smoothing over the dog’s head as he looks up at Jake with the most empathetic expression he’s ever seen. It’s grounding the feel of his fingers combing through Cujo’s fur, somehow it makes it easier to vocalise the messiness inside of his head. The most debilitating part is that he thought he was over it, that the past was in the past but he’s coming to learn that the foundations of his early life still bleed into his every day. He can’t understand what triggered it, he’s been clasped on the shoulder a thousand times before and he’s never felt anything this visceral.

Your fingers thread through his, your thumb caressing over the outline of his hand and he feels the tension starting to ebb from his body.

“Sometimes it can be a something as simple as a sound, a sight, a smell, even a sensation…”

It’s then that it clicks. An echo in his mind. The ghost of a memory. A hand clasping his shoulder, the door closing and that scent, the sharp tang of aftershave on his tongue as he’s drawn back. It’s a moment of clarity because he remembers now, Rooster mentioning the new cologne he’d bought, him spraying it into the air after he changed out of his flight suit. It’s not the same, but it’s similar enough. Those actions and that smell at the same time…

“Fuck.” He mutters before tipping his head towards you, his eyebrows furrowing. “What the fuck am I supposed to tell him?”

“How about the truth?” You suggest. “He’s your friend, he’s going to want to know what happened, how he can help.”

You see his jaw clench as he averts his gaze back to Cujo.

“Jake,” You say softly. “The thing about PTSD is it’s insidious, it feels like it’s this shameful, terrible secret but it’s not, it’s a part of you. What happened tonight was horrible, it took you back to some dark fucking places, but it doesn’t change the progress you’ve made, how far you’ve come. You’re still you, you’re still one of the strongest people I know.”

He gives you a look and you squeeze his hand gently.

“I mean it.” You say forcefully. “I’m proud of you.”

There are so many ways a man with his history could have turned out, but he’s managed to circumvent them all and instead he’s here, making something of himself, a lieutenant in one of the most prestigious programs in the Navy.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed to hear that.” He admits quietly, his arm coming to rest across your shoulders before he draws you close, his lips brushing over your hairline.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “Thank you for being there when I need you, thank you for loving me.”

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#jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake seresin #top gun hangman #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #tgm #top gun maverick #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader

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myheartismadeofstars · 1 month

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Man the more I think about it, the more I REALLY wish Durge could be a companion. It would be so cool to have a dragonborn companion, and just...see what Durge is canonly like.

Also I really want to see my Tav adopt Durge!

And it would allow you to see all of the Durge story stuff while playing your Tav!!

I really don't know why Durge is a Storm Sorcerer though? It just doesn't suit his character to me... (I don't know how well white dragonborn suits him either. Cold breath? I think there are better options, though I WILL say that he LOOKS cool AF as a white dragonborn!) I would probably have him as a rogue, barbarian or fighter (or even Oath of Vengeance Paladin!) if we didn't already HAVE companions of those classes please ignore the double druids but I could see him as a Monk if relying on unused classes! (Btw my Sorcerer subclass of choice would be Draconic for funny reasons)

Maybe it could be cool if Durge was multitalented before losing his memory and he could ask for advice as to what path to follow, allowing him to fill any role depending on what you needed. But he himself prefers to be up close and personal, approving if he got asked to be a more martial class (he would also approve if asked to be a sorcerer, implying he already knew he had those powers but would just...not use them lmao).

I feel like as a companion his approval would be a bit... weird. He's typically very reserved and cautious, but approves a LOT of you suddenly commit acts of violence (also pushes him towards indulging). But approves a bit if you use guile to avoid violence (pushes him to resist). Disapproves of chaos and often scolds chaotic party members (Astarion, Karlach to a lesser degree) even though he may laugh at their antics. Durge rarely responds to acts of kindness, but responds well to kindness to children (subconsciously reminds him of his foster parents). Mostly he approves of practicality, intelligence and ambition. He'd likely have interesting conversations with Gale about that, get along well with Minthara in general. I feel in my soul that Durge has chronic headaches because of Karlach (not because he doesn't like her, but because she mentions Gortash, and it hurts to think when he can't quite remember). I imagine he has a lot of thoughts that he doesn't act on. (Also I highkey think he'd sleep with Astarion at some point if neither are romanced. Listen... Astarion is dead, guys. He's a corpse that can consent)

If I were to write a companion!Durge story I would show him as canonly killing Quil instead of Alfira simply because it's a unique character and allows you to finish Alfira's quest AND get Durge Action (also I like the idea of her hitting on him). I think there could be some dramatic changes to the scene depending on how high his approval is, and how many times he's been encouraged to indulge (if he has high approval and has been resisting the whole time, he'll outright confess to having killed her, confused and terrified. If you've been encouraging his urges he'll take pleasure in it, it's possible to have a version where he blames Astarion, which Tav could pass a check to point out how nonsensical that is lmao)

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #bg3 durge #bg3 dark urge #the dark urge #dark urge #durge

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wifetomegatron · 8 months

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thinking about how dratchet would be the best girl dads (fluff)

just imagine a first contact au where cybertron's beyond repair, and so whoever's left after the war has to migrate & reintegrate into earth society ( including the lost light crew ). And of course, the first thing drift does is adopt a human daughter.

ratchet was initially against it and didn't even want to entertain the idea. and yet, drift had signed himself up for a foster program (specifically catered to cybertronian conjuxes as part of an assimilation project.) he tells ratchet it's only temporary: a couple of months until she finds a forever home with someone else.

'they're not pets.' 'i know they're not.'

ratchet continues to firmly disagree. until he realizes he had no say in the matter, returning home one day to find her on drift's lap: ridiculously small in his arms even with the mass displacement. around drift were pamphlets, magazines, and datapads scattered open, detailing a step-by-step guide for 'first-time fathers'. the boxes of human groceries and soft, padded furniture scattered around the shared space showed ratchet that primus—drift was serious. and so the medic only sighed and joined cross-pedes on the floor, the corner of his mouth quirking up against his will when she squealed in delight.

'i don't want to hurt her.' 'you won't. we won't.'

she's four and a half, wide-eyed and curious, just learning to speak her language. drift finds himself occupied: spending the mornings dropping her off and picking her up at daycare, while ratchet goes back and forth between overseeing relations in the local autobot facility and teaching at the local all-women's university — cybertronian medicine, to his surprise, was a popular choice of study. she makes a mess on the dinner table and refuses to eat her vegetables, arms crossed and pouting as she turns sharply away from her fathers. the once reluctant medic had to intervene, cleverly tricking the girl into a bargain: an extra hour of television time in exchange for three spoons. ratchet has to tell drift to stop smiling at him the entire night.

all of a sudden, she's ten and sitting on uncle rodimus's shoulders, smearing cupcake icing on the side of his cheek as he misspells her name with the frosting. the promise of 'a couple of months' was swept under the rug as ratchet hung a string of decorations, eavesdropping on the conversation drift was having with the mothers of the soon-to-arrive guests on the phone. the autobot facility wasn't the most ideal place to have a princess-themed birthday party, but the girls had a fun time decorating first aid and velocity with stickers — they were also fawning at fortress maximus's guns for legs, not that their mothers needed to know — and by the late afternoon, their daughter was already asleep against ratchet's shoulders. arms looped around his neck as she mumbled a chorus of sleepy thank yous. ( in that moment, whirl decided to topple glitter all over the table. and ratchet had to scrub for days to get every, single, glimmer out of his systems.)

then she's twelve, and that's when the chaos begins. the mood swings, the crying, the attitude — ratchet hated catching himself playing 'bad cop' while drift gets to be 'good cop': always the one putting his foot down while she runs to her other dad complaining. and suddenly, it all made sense when she and drift called him in the middle of his lecture, screaming over the phone about how she was bleeding. and her stomach hurts. and it's everywhere. his students stifled a laugh, smiling sweetly at the exchange. ratchet thanks years of experience with humans for teaching him to keep his composure. i'll stop by on my lunch break with pads. ratchet wasn't surprised to find that drift was the one in near hysteria, while she only seemed mildly disturbed — if not embarrassed.

puberty is a monster, all teeth and fangs, stubborn and terrifying, unlike anything he has ever seen — that was saying something considering that he knows megatron — housing itself in the body of his fourteen-year-old. he feels at a loss, and every time he's in a room with her, they will always find a way to dissolve into an argument. drift is sulking at how she never wants to be hugged any more. and how she always tells him to pick her up a few blocks away and never by the school entrance. he's worried. they both were. humans are relatively different than cybertronians. human children, even more so. in a society where they spent millions of years without sparklings, without children — there was a chasm spanning between two battle-worn mechs and her, and it was hard to get anything across when the words seemed to dissolve midway. lost in translation, swallowed by the echo. it seems like the more he pushes, the more she pushes back.

so when she had her bedroom door ajar, which was unusual considering she would always have it shut or locked, ratchet tentatively peeks in — nearly withering at the sight of her lying on the bedroom floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. the vinyl player he had bought her for her eleventh birthday, slowly spins a familiar tune. he joins her the way he did when drift first brought her home, sprawled across the floor, hands and servos nearly touching. it's almost funny how simple the answer was: pull not push. drift was the one who found them embracing, quiet with only the music humming in the background. it took ratchet sixteen years to really understand her.

then there's the whiplash of teaching her algebra by the kitchen table, to attending her university graduation — bouquets from nearly everyone: swerve & velocity, cyclonus & tailgate, chromedome & rewind, rodimus, minimus & megatron, another one from 'favorite uncle rodimus' cradled between her arms. the photographer had to jog backward and up a few flights of stairs to fully capture the moment and fit both dads in the frame. then it became a mantlepiece by the fireplace. coincidentally, the night after was her twentieth birthday. university finished. at such a young age — it helps when she's got geniuses for fathers and uncles. in the morning, ratchet listens to her talk with her mouth full: leftover birthday cake atop the table as she laughs with drift at the memory of swerve pouring her first drink, only to debunk that this was, in fact, not her first shot.

( may write a part 2 !)

#transformers #dratchet #drift #ratchet #transformers idw #lost light #mtmte #tf imagines #tf idw #tf mtmte #swerve #whirl #rodimus #megatron #minimus ambus

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sleepyfan-blog · 1 month

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Chained

Author’s Note: This is Joth’s first fic! I hope you enjoy it :D Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts

Warnings: mild body horror, ask me to tag

Summary: You meet your newest foster. He’s grumpy and injured.

"He's not… The most friendly…" Lieutenant Ollias started, the Ultramarine's hands at his side as he shifted awkwardly on his feet, looking down at you, a worried frown furrowing his brows.

You look at the Astartes he's referring to. He's a Chaos Space marine - and from his colorations, he's a World Eater. You can see the Nails buried into his skull, and he's growling at you - with both the mouth that is likely fused to the armor he's still wearing, as well as the secondary mouth on his chest, needle-sharp teeth snapping in warning at you. You had been fostering feral Chaos Space Marines for some time, and had dealt with initially hostile Chaos Marines in the past. With your years of experience, you make sure to shove the initial, instinctual panic of seeing such a large, powerful and hostile being in the furthest corners of your heart. "You don't say." You hum, going for a light-hearted tease back, managing to smile. "Is there a particular reason he's been restrained like this?"

The Chaos Space Marine's growls intensified as Ollias spoke explained "We found him while out on patrol. He was covered - and still is - in the gore of several animals. When we tried to speak with him, he attacked us. So we restrained him and brought him back to the base. When we had the apothecaries look him over, we found out that he's got several injuries - which explains the additional hostility. There's only so much room we have on the base… And if you're willing to foster him as he heals up, we're hoping that he'll agree to the Nail Removal surgery."

You hum again in thought, looking at the still snarling Chaos Space Marine over thoughtfully, and address him directly "Do you understand this language? Or do you only speak whichever Space Languages you know?" Some of the aggression might be indignance that he's not being included in the conversation. You knew it would piss you off if you were being talked at and around by a Known Enemy and Some Random Stranger.

The World Eater growls again at you before rumbling out "I speak little. Understand more. You think to handle me, human?" He bared both sets of teeth at you, as a clear threat display.

You were entirely unimpressed by his posturing. "Would you rather heal up chained to the wall and being lectured by Ultramarines all day and all night long?" You liked Ultramarines, but most Chaos Astartes really didn't.

"What is… Fostering?" The World Eater asked after several seconds of internal contemplation, head tilting a little as he asked.

"You would live with me, in my home and recover. We'd interact with each other at your pace. You'd have your own rooms and be able to come and go as you please - as long as you come back to my home every night and don't maim, kill or harm other sentient beings. If you want to go hunting, or need to spar, I know of several Astartes-grade sparring facilities that host both loyalist and Chaos marines. I also know of several nearby parks that stock prey for hunting. Both terrestrial and aquatic-based prey. They also semi-regularly release flight-based prey, but those are on special days, so that the birds don't escape and mess with the local ecosystem. You'd stay with me until the fostering period was up and you've fully healed from your injuries."

"And after? What then?" The World Eater inquired, his helmeted gaze focused firmly on you.

"You'd be free to do whatever you wanted - short of random murder and other illegal things." You explain honestly. You wouldn't be surprised if some marines did do illegal things after they were fostered, but that wasn't anything you could prove… And honestly, as long as they weren't hurting anyone without their explicit consent, it was none of your business. "I know that there are several Chaos Warbands in the area, who might be willing to take in a new member, or you can wander around on your own. Those are just a couple of options for you."

"If this is a trick, I will kill you." The World Eater threatened.

This was far from the first time that you'd been threatened by a potential foster. Chaos Space marines were a heavily traumatized lot, and many expected treachery and duplicity at every turn. It was one of the challenges of fostering Chaos Marines that you'd long grown used to. You knew that patience and showing that you were someone trustworthy, someone who wouldn't turn on them, they tended to open up to you, at least a little. "I understand that." Reassuring him that you meant no harm, that you weren't trying to trick him was unlikely to help. Especially while pinned to the wall of an Ultramarine base and unable to move. "Do you want to come with me? If we don't click as foster people, I know several others who'd be happy to take you in who have different set-ups and fostering styles."

The World Eater seemed to mull over your words as he tried to glare the Ultramarine lieutenant into submission. He eventually answered with a quiet "I go with you, little human."

You smile warmly and nod "Alright. Lieutenant Ollias, how do we get him down from the wall?" You also tell the World Eater your name, inviting him to use it to call for you, if he wanted to.

He just grins down at you and says "I'll keep that in mind, little human~" as Ollias pressed a button, undoing the World Eater's restraints.

For a moment, it seemed as if the World Eater was about to lunge for the lieutenant, but he seemed to reassess. He walked over to you, helmet tilted downward to keep you in his sight line "Let's go. Too many corpse-worshippers here. Bleh."

That was also something that the Chaos Marines accused the loyalists of. You never could get them to explain what that meant. "Alright then. Are you hungry? I've got some snacks in my bag, as well as water, if you're thirsty."

"Food? Yes! Food is yes." The World Eater trilled, moving closer to you as you lead him out of the base.

You smile as you pull out a bag of jerky and an astartes-sized water bottle out of your bag, tearing open the bag "Here you go! Beef jerky - I've been told it tastes like dried Grox - whatever that is."

He carefully took the bag of jerky from your hands and shoved it - plastic and everything - into the mouth on his chest, barely chewing it before swallowing. The water bottle followed after. You weren't surprised that he'd eaten the packaging, as other Chaos Space Marines had done that before, and had been fine. You figure it might be some sort of mind-trip thing they try to pull. You blink as you see a flash of movement behind your newest foster, noticing for the first time that this World Eater also had a tail - which was wagging ever so slightly. "More!… Please?" The World Eater asked, looking down at you hopefully. "No food while captured…" He said sorrowfully, a low whine leaving him.

"I've got a couple more snacks, and we can stop by a fast food place on our way home. What do you like to eat?" You ask, wanting to know more about your foster - and to know what you should stock your fridge with.

"I like food. Anything I can eat is good." The World Eater answers after several seconds of thinking "Rations are… bland. But I will eat whatever. Jerky good!"

This answer is also unsurprising, though you suspect as he gets to know the cuisines available to him, and the fact that there's quite a bit of fresh food available, his answer will likely change. "Alright, let's hit up a fast food place and order a bunch of things off the menu. I bet you can eat a lot, yeah?"

The World Eater nods, tail wagging faster.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #my writing #oc: joth #reader insert #world eater #ultramarine #oc: Ollias #cw: body horror

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star-going-supernova · 2 months

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Hi! So i have this prompt for you, cause we need some angst:

What if when Gregory left the pizzaplex after That Night, Freddy started missing him so badly he had some performance issues and someone deleted his memories of Gregory? And when Gregory inevitably comes back to the pizzaplex, Freddy doesn’t recognise him?

Oof.

The Boy

There is a boy who visits the pizzaplex regularly. He is not a registered guest in Freddy’s system, but every time he brings up this breach in protocol with his friends, they tell him it is okay, that he should pay no mind to any rules that might be broken by this boy.

No matter how many times he has seen the boy, met him, spoken to him—Freddy cannot seem to remember his name. Indeed, when he is not around, it is almost like Freddy cannot recall him at all.

The boy always looks a little sad when he visits. This is strange; children are usually very happy to be at the pizzaplex. But this boy rarely plays games or goes to events or visits the arcades. He always seems to stop by only to see the animatronics, and not even their performances. Just them, as they are. His friends are always quick to give the boy a hug.

(Freddy had offered once, and the boy had accepted, but the boy’s eyes had been full of tears afterward, so Freddy had not offered again.)

His friends know the boy. When they speak to him, they do not bother with being in-character. They ask him personal questions—how did he do on his math test? Did he enjoy his friend Cassie’s birthday party at the beach? Is his new foster home to his liking?—questions that speak of how well they know the boy as a person, not just another guest.

Freddy does not know the boy as a person. He does not know the boy’s favorite color (Roxy says it is blue), or the boy’s favorite food (Chica says it is grilled cheese), or the boy’s favorite hobby (Monty says it is causing chaos).

He does not understand how all his friends got to know the boy without him noticing—it hurts, too, in a quiet way, that he has been left out.

He does not know why the boy always sticks his tongue out at Moon, or why Moon always picks him up and holds him upside down in response. He does not know why the DJ allows the boy into his arcade tunnels. He does not know why several of the little yellow floor sign bots follow the boy around, chirping and beeping like they are talking to him.

He does not know why the boy sometimes visits at night, or why none of his friends find this odd or wrong, or why the boy and the night guard seem to have an uneasy truce.

There are many things Freddy does not know about the boy. But his curiosity and frustration do not bother him long.

Because the boy leaves, and Freddy forgets him again.

#i answered a thing #anyydidi #fnaf security breach #fnaf fic #star's stories #life and times of star

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dragoneyes618 · 23 days

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The major lesson that reviewer Christine Rosen extracts from Rob Henderson’s new memoir, Troubled: A Memoir of Foster Care, Family, and Social Class, is: “The people who control a great deal of our cultural and political conversations are a rarified elite with little understanding of how most people live their lives.” (I have not yet read Troubled, though I’m eager to do so. What follows draws primarily on Rosen’s review in the Free Beacon and on Henderson’s op-ed in the Wall Street Journal.)

To comprehend the gap between those elites and the vast majority of Americans, consider a recent Rasmussen survey of what the authors call “elites” — more than one post-graduate degree, an annual income of $150,000 — and a subset of those “elites,” who attended an Ivy League school, or another elite private school, such as Stanford or University of Chicago, whom Rasmussen dubs “super-elites.”

Three-quarters of the elites and nearly 90 percent of the super elites describe their personal incomes as on the upswing, while almost none describe their incomes as on the decline. For all Americans, however, nearly twice as many view their income as worsening as view their financial situation as improving — 40 percent to 20 percent.

Despite having eventually made it to Yale as an undergraduate in his mid-twenties and later earning a PhD in psychology at Cambridge University, Henderson most certainly did not stem from the elite class from which so many of his classmates came. Students at Yale from families in the upper 1 percent of wealth are more numerous than those from the bottom 60 percent.

One of Henderson’s Yale classmates, who had attended Phillips Exeter Academy, America’s top prep school, once lectured Henderson on his white privilege — even though he is actually half Asian and half Hispanic. Yet it would take a certain obliviousness to label Henderson a child of privilege. One of his earliest memories is of his drug-addict mother being pulled away from him in handcuffs and hauled off to jail, when he was three. He never knew his father.

After that, he was shuttled between various foster homes, none of them stable, until he joined the US Air Force after high school. The discipline of the military helped him overcome some of the chaos that had characterized his life until then. But many of the old demons remained, including his penchant for self-medicating with alcohol, and he ended up in a detox program, where a talented therapist helped him work through some of those demons.

One of the central messages of Henderson’s memoir is that a non-stable childhood family life is not just bad because it hurts your chances of getting into an elite college or attaining a high-paying job later in life, but also because those raised in such an environment experience “pain that etches itself into their bodies and brains and propels them to do things in the pursuit of relief that often inflict even more harm.”

Given their difference in backgrounds, Henderson found many of the social rituals of his classmates incomprehensible. One example was when the Yale campus erupted in hysteria over an email from Erika Christakis to the students of Silliman residential college, of which she served as co-master with her husband Nicholas, suggesting that they were old enough to work out themselves which Halloween costumes to wear, without asking the administration to issue an elaborate set of rules to avoid “microaggressions” or “cultural appropriation” — e.g., a white student wearing a sombrero. After the childhood and teenage years he experienced, a fellow student in a sombrero did not seem like such a big deal to Henderson.

Erika was eventually force to resign her position in Silliman and on the Yale faculty, much to Henderson’s disappointment, as he had been eager to take her course on early childhood development. Meanwhile, the black undergraduate who confronted Nicholas Christakis in the Silliman courtyard, in an expletive-laden tirade, in front of a group of students cheering her on, was given an award for extracurricular excellence at the next Yale graduation.

Henderson offers an invaluable term to describe the opinions expressed so fiercely and with no tolerance of opposing views by his fellow undergrads: “luxury beliefs.” Luxury beliefs, as Henderson defines them, “confer status on the upper class at little cost, while often inflicting costs on the lower classes.” The conspicuous displays of wealth and leisure activities that broadcast elite status in Thorstein Veblen’s time have been replaced by opinions and beliefs that give proof of one’s elite education. After all, Henderson notes ironically, how many non-Ivy-League-educated Americans can easily toss off terms like “cisgender” or “heteronormative”?

Mantras such as “defund the police” are luxury beliefs because their impact on those living in gated communities or the most affluent neighborhoods is likely to be negligible. Henderson comments about the policies implemented to combat white privilege, “It won’t be Yale graduates who are harmed. Poor white people will bear the brunt.”

He recounts the story of a refugee from the North Korean police state, attending Columbia University, who raised concerns about the anti-free speech movement on campus, only to be taunted with “Go back to Pyongyang” on a social media site for Ivy League students. Normally, nothing will earn faster exile to social media purgatory than telling an immigrant, “Go back to where you came from,” but this particular refugee was deemed deserving of insult, writes Henderson, because she “undermined these people’s view of themselves as morally righteous.”

Incidentally, I would rank as near the top of “luxury beliefs” the familiar chants about Israeli genocide and apartheid. They cost their proponents nothing, yet effectively broadcast one’s moral righteousness and humanity, not to mention elite education, especially when terms like settler-colonialism and intersectionality are thrown into the mix.

Henderson is primarily concerned with the way that bad ideas — e.g., dismissal of matrimony and monogamy as passé, decriminalization of drugs — filter downstream in the culture, where they wreak havoc. As Charles Murray thoroughly documents in Breaking Apart, rates of marriage, children living in two-parent homes, and attendance at religious services have remained more or less constant in the most affluent quintile of the population, while plummeting in the lower quintiles. But on elite campuses, marriage is more likely to be portrayed as a prison for women, just as the same students for whom the words “capitalist oppression” roll trippingly off their tongues can be found the same day lining up for interviews with Goldman Sachs.

But the danger posed by the holders of luxury beliefs lies not only in their pernicious cultural influence. Holders of those views are quite comfortable with the use of coercion to advance their beliefs. Four-fifths of the super elites, interviewed in the Rasmussen poll cited above, would ban gas-powered cars. Just under 90 percent support strict rationing of meat, gas, and electricity, and 70 percent would ban all nonessential air travel.

The impact of these restrictions on the most affluent would likely be relatively small. They can afford electric cars, and would buy carbon offsets to circumvent some of the most onerous rationing or purchase them on the black market. And dollars to donuts that their air travel would be deemed necessary. The impact of such policies on the less affluent doesn’t figure into their calculations.

Elite campuses have been focal points for the limitations on free speech, and over half of the super elites educated on those campuses describe Americans as possessing too much freedom. That goes with a general contempt for markets, which allocate equal weight to the choices of the unenlightened and the enlightened.

That concern with “too much” freedom goes together with a remarkable trust in government among 70 percent of the elites and 90 percent of the super elites. Government is beneficent, in their eyes, because it can force people to do what the enlightened have determined is good. The elites know that their hands will be on the levers of coercion, particularly administrative agencies. (I would wager that the majority of those lower-level staffers staging mini-rebellions in the White House and the State Department over American support for Israel’s war on Hamas are holders of elite credentials.) Ronald Reagan’s quip, “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, ‘I’m from the government, and I’m here to help,’ ” does not resonate with the elites.

Sixty years before Rob Henderson first stepped onto the Yale campus, another man already in his mid-twenties entered Harvard as an undergraduate. Like Henderson, Thomas Sowell came from a deprived background and served in the military before entering college. He was born in the Jim-Crow-era South, in a home without electricity, and served in the Marines during the Korean War, after dropping out of high school.

The 1969 black student riots at Cornell, where Sowell was an economics professor, and subsequent pressure at UCLA to lower his standards for students, soured Sowell on academia, which he left for a position as senior fellow at the Hoover Institution almost half a century ago.

Over 50 years and almost 40 books, most still in print and many of them standard texts in economics, and ten volumes of collected columns, Sowell has leveled a sustained critique at the dominant intellectual doctrines of our day, in particular those of his fellow black intellectuals, whom he views as having spectacularly failed the black masses by advocating for policies that may serve their interests but not those of the large majority of American blacks. (Only about one-third of his writing concerns issues of race, and he has penned classic works in intellectual, social, and economic history.) Jason Riley’s intellectual biography of Sowell is appropriately titled Maverick.

In a short new work, Social Justice Fallacies, which I would commend to every college student and social justice warrior, Sowell fleshes out many of Henderson’s observations, including the detachment of elite theorists from the lives of those whom they purport to advocate, and their sometimes subtle, sometimes not, contempt for those whom they view as their inferiors.

The second chapter compares the Progressive movement of the early decades of the 20th century to present-day progressives. At first glance, it would appear that little connects the two groups, apart from their position on the political left of their day. A strong streak of racial determinism characterized the early progressives, and many of their leading lights fretted about the disastrous impact of an influx of people of inferior races to America. By contrast, today’s progressives start from the premise that there are no differences between races and that all differential outcomes are a result of systemic racism.

In the earlier period, Professor Edward Ross, the chairman of the American Sociological Society, warned that America was headed toward “race suicide” by virtue of being inundated by people of “inferior types.” American universities and colleges taught hundreds of courses in eugenics, defined as the reduction or prevention of the survival of people considered genetically inferior. The most famous economist of the 20th century, John Maynard Keynes, was founder of the Eugenics Society at Cambridge.

Irving Fisher of Yale, the leading monetary economist of the period, advocated for the isolation or sterilization of those inferior types. Or as Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes put it, “Three generations of idiots are enough.” Sowell remarks upon how casually Fisher spoke of imprisonment of those who had committed no crime and the denial of normal life to all regarded as inferior. Not by accident did Hitler yemach shemo term a work on eugenics by Madison Grant, a leading conservationist and advocate for national parks and the protection of endangered species, his Bible.

At first glance, today’s progressives could not seem further removed from their namesakes. They are the opposite of racial determinists. In the modern progressive creed, all differences in outcomes between people of different races can have one and only one explanation: discrimination by the majority group.

Despite the opposite views on race, Sowell finds important continuities between the progressive movement of the early 20th century and that of today. Today’s progressives share, according to Sowell, their predecessors’ aversion to confronting empirical evidence that challenges their fixed verities, and a similar inclination to respond to empirical challenges with ad hominem insults — racist being the most powerful — rather than with counter-arguments and evidence.

And they are similarly inclined to use government power to coerce the less enlightened to behave in accord with their “expert” opinions, and too frequently oblivious to or unconcerned with the impact of their policy prescriptions on those constituting the “lower orders,” in their minds.

Woodrow Wilson, perhaps the leading figure of the Progressive era, served as president of Princeton before being elected president. Like many of his fellow progressives, he was an unabashed racist who insisted that black employees in government offices be physically segregated.

But what joins him to present-day progressives is his enormous confidence in government by experts. He presided over a massive expansion of the federal government and the creation of many of the largest administrative agencies, run by “experts.” He viewed the Constitution as outmoded for a modern age. But not to worry, government agencies headed by experts would usher in a “new freedom,” albeit not quite the freedom of a constitution limiting the power of government and enshrining individual rights.

Today, DEI bureaucracies on almost every campus seek to enforce right-thinking and enter into every aspect of university governance, including faculty hiring. Those mushrooming bureaucracies account for a large part in the explosion in higher education costs.

Sowell takes aim at the racial theories of the early progressives and contemporary ones alike. He seeks to empirically refute the claim that each race has a different “ceiling” for intelligence. (If anecdotes were data, his own genius would serve as refutation.) He met with and debated Professor Albert Jensen, one of the leading modern proponents of that view.

Sowell argues that environment, not inherent ceilings, underlies much of the difference in IQ between races. For instance, those raised in the Hebrides Isles and the hill country of Kentucky, though of pure Anglo-Saxon stock, have IQs comparable to American blacks. And like American blacks, their IQs tend to decline from childhood to adulthood. Social isolation appears to be the key. Sowell cites another study that blacks raised by white adoptive parents had IQs six points above the national average.

As an amusing example of the fallibility of IQ tests as measures of inherent capabilities, Sowell quotes Carl Brigham, who developed the SAT test. Brigham claimed on the basis of army mental tests administered in World War I that the myth that Jews are on average highly intelligent had been refuted. At least he had the good grace to admit by 1930, as Jews excelled on standardized tests, that his earlier conclusions had been without merit, and had failed to take into account that most immigrant children were raised in non-English-speaking homes.

Sowell is equally effective skewering the present-day progressive belief that all differences in outcomes are explained as products of racial discrimination. He chafes at the resultant cult of victimization that stands in the way of examination of cultural behavioral factors that prevent black advancement.

He insists that behaviors count and explain a great deal of the differences in income levels between different racial groups. For instance, black married couples have experienced poverty rates of less than 10 percent for decades, which is less than the national poverty rate for all families. And black married couples have higher income levels than white single-parent families. The problem is that black marriage rates overall are lower.

It is often said that the high illegitimacy rate in the black community is attributable to the “legacy of slavery.” But for nearly a century after slavery, the rates were relatively low. In 1940, they were one-quarter of what they are today. Sowell suggests that the rapid expansion of the welfare state in the 1960s explains much of that rise, as births to single mothers have also risen rapidly in Sweden, the welfare paradise, where there is no legacy of slavery.

Evidence cited to show discrimination against black children by “white supremacists” — e.g., discipline rates two and a half times those of white students — proves the opposite, Sowell suggests. For white students are themselves twice as likely to be disciplined as Asian students. Perhaps, then, disruptive behavior, rather than discrimination, explains differential rates of discipline. To get rid of school discipline in the name of equity leads to schools in which it is impossible to learn, and ends up harming black students, he argues. Attacks on discriminatory school discipline is thus another one of those “luxury beliefs,” like defunding the police.

One of the major causes of the burst housing bubble of 2007, which Sowell predicted, was government pressure on lenders to greatly reduce credit requirements for mortgages. The regulators’ theory was that blacks were being discriminated against in the mortgage market, as evidenced by the higher rate of rejection for black mortgage applicants. The only problem with the discrimination hypothesis, Sowell shows, was that black-owned banks rejected black mortgage applicants at even higher rates.

The hypothesis that different income levels are exclusively a function of discrimination founders on the fact that other minority groups — e.g., Asians — have, on average, incomes well above the medium national income, and dark-skinned Asian Indians earn on average $39,000 more per annum than full-time, year-round white workers.

The victimization narrative, in Sowell’s eyes, is not only unhelpful but damaging to blacks, as it shifts the focus from one of encouraging the types of behaviors that are associated with success. In the immediate wake of slavery, and for nearly a century afterwards, almost all graduates of all-black Dunbar High in Washington, D.C., went on to college. Black and Hispanic kids in New York City charter schools are six times as likely to pass city math proficiency exams as their counterparts in the regular public schools. Why? Sowell wants to know.

Focusing on the behaviors that foster success rather than wallowing in a narrative of discrimination — which he personally experienced in his younger years and does not deny still exists today — is for Sowell the key to black advancement. And that requires more empirical study and less airy theorizing.

Many of the panaceas that derive from au courant theories have been conclusively refuted on the ground. Black political power in most of America’s largest cities, for instance, has done little to change the lives of the vast majority of black citizens. And affirmative action has, in Sowell’s view, reinforced stereotypes of black inferiority, among whites and, even worse, among blacks themselves, while doing little to help inner city blacks.

Without a clear-eyed attention to empirical evidence and an openness to debate based on facts and logic, in Sowell’s terminology, we are forever consigned to the realm of “luxury beliefs.”

#mishpacha magazine #yonoson rosenblum #woke #woke madness #woke liberal madness #liberalism #leftism #sjw idiocy

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deusvervewrites · 8 months

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Izuku has Superman’s main powerset (photosynthesis, flight, heat vision, even more eye stuff, super strength speed and durability)

As the Era of Chaos ended and All Might began the never-ending battle, The HPSC came together with some degree of power for the first time since Quirks appeared. Seeing titans like All Might and All For One, and the devastation that only now was starting to be cleared up, they reached a decision. "Never again."

This project would take decades to bear fruit, and most of the resources for it were redirected towards similar projects, like Nagant and Hawks. But eventually, the HPSC produced a genetically modified child who drew power from the sun that would grant him incredible power. Someone they could wield. But there was a problem. Higher-ups in the HPSC disagreed about what they wanted to do with the newborn, and this infighting drew attention from All For One's informants.

All For One sent his forces to raid the secret lab so he could take the child himself. All Might arrived to intercept these Villain, correctly deducing their affiliation. In the aftermath of the battle, no one knew who the child was or where they came from, and he was placed into foster care.

Inko wanted a child, but was happily single, so she adopted. Her new son, Izuku, ended up not getting his Quirk, and was diagnosed as Quirkless at age four, but that didn't change how much she loved him. Nor did it explain why he never seemed to get hurt growing up. Or how he always seemed strong for his age.

This comes to a head about halfway through Junior High when his powers start properly coming in, leaving him struggling to control the new, unexpected abilities.

There was another ask about Midoriya learning he was half-Kryptonian in his second year at Junior High, but I couldn't find a good way to work that in without having an existing Kryptonian on Earth, which quickly overcomplicated all of my thoughts on where to take the AU

#asks #ask game #ask game series 16 #solar au

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iamaboredpotatonugget · 6 months

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Best Mama May Fics

A new recruit mistakes Daisy and May as mother and daughter. Nothing Daisy can say will convince him otherwise, and it kind of hurts to try.

She’d missed the tremors, the faint rumbling of the floor that shook the bed and rattled the drawers of the dresser. She knew it could only come from one place: Daisy.

After catching a bullet to the leg on a mission gone awry, Melinda May begrudgingly directs her protégé to the nearest safe place while they wait for extraction. Daisy is thrilled.

Skye gets hurt on a mission and needs surgery to fix her arm. The anaesthetic makes her distressed and there's only one person she wants to make her feel better; enter Mama May.

May and Daisy take a trip off base, but encounter somebody from Daisy's past in the foster homes.

After having been away on her 'vacation', May returns to find a very different Skye to the one who she had left after the incident with the inhumans on the ship. In all the chaos and the clean up in the aftermath, not to metion her best friend being swallowed by a big alien stone, Daisy has been flung into emotional turmoil and has turned to a very dangerous coping technique to keep her above the water.

“It’s not an order. The next few weeks, or months, or however long you decide to take off for is your vacation time, and I’m not going to try to make you spend it any way you don’t want to.” Coulson stood and took a few steps closer to her. “Skye… it’s crazy sometimes, how much she reminds me of you.” He looked away, his eyes sad and far away. “They all remind me of us, before…” he didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

“Before life happened,” Melinda finished solemnly. “You’re afraid this is her Bahrain.” Her voice was quiet and rough as she looked at him. When he finally looked her in the eye, May suddenly felt very old. And tired. God, she was tired.

May wants Daisy to come see the house she's bought in preparation for her post at the Academy. Daisy doesn't want to go because it feels like acknowledging the end of something. May has a surprise that makes Daisy see it differently.

After the events on the Illiad, Skye's still recovering from almost dying at the hands of Jiaying. A heavily medicated Skye and an amused May face facts: May's a much better mother to Skye than Jiaying ever was. Fluff ensues.

And within the four walls of a bedroom that is not hers, she will allow herself to fall apart. She will allow herself to break, but she will put herself back together before the sun rises and in the morning she will go about her day as if she isn't missing a part of herself.

#fanfic #fanfic rec #ao3 link #ao3 recs #fandom #agents of shield #shield agents #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#skye aos #skye agents of shield #daisy johnson fanfiction #daisy johnson #melinda may #coulson x may #mama may #quake #hurt/comfort

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ultfreakme · 6 months

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Geto and Yoshino parallel ramble:

Geto and Junpei parallels are so high in terms of the role they play in defining the themes and key events of the story. I feel like if Junpei survived, he would have written to be as a counter to Geto's character arc.

The biggest reason for why they remind me of each other is the way their death affects their associated main characters. Geto's departure and death transform the way Gojo sees Jujutsu society and his role in it, making him far more grounded and giving him a reason to help others who are weaker. Junpei's makes Yuuji see the dangers and unfairness of the world he's in, and how even a dignified death is something difficult to provide for people.

Geto and Junpei were both let down by the systems they were in. Geto's struggles were wholly unacknowledged by Yaga and any of the higher-ups in Jujutsu Tech. Junpei's suffering was noticed but no one did anything about it.

Fundamentally, they are both people who care for others. This is important in understanding their downfall.

Geto went to extremism because he thought he could protect people if he just tried hard enough. He understood that the strong hurt the weak, accepted it to some extent at the start and made it his mission to be the kind of strong person that would instead protect the weak. His motives are, even if simplistic and filled with issues, empathetic. Junpei says he doesn't believe that humans have hearts but its revealed that he's only led to this thinking because he can't stomach that any human being is capable of inflicting the cruelty he and his mother suffered through(also because Mahito guided him there).

They care way too much and that's what is used to break them.

Next, is how they are used by the special grade curses. Kenjaku is obvious, he's possessing Geto's body. Mahito's also pretty obvious, he used Junpei to manipulate Yuuji emotionally in order to bring forth Sukuna. In Shibuya Arc, Geto and Junpei are used to emotionally break Gojo and Yuuji(I'm not putting Nobara and Nanami here because they serve roles outside of the parallels I'm drawing between Geto and Junpei).

They are both characters who are broken by the systems that are meant to foster them, and are then used callously by curses to further chaos. I really want to know what kind of human emotion made Kenjaku, because I think it'd be something that works in an opposite yet complementary fashion to the cause of Mahito's birth; humanity's hatred for each other. I think it'd be like that because Mahito and Kenjaku have a discussion that's very important to the idea of 'humanity' in JJK, which is, the connection between 'the body' and 'the soul'.

Even more, Junpei was the prototype for all the sorcerers that were awakened during the Culling Games. Kenjaku brings up Yuuji as an example for the vessels, and I thought it was interesting to mention Yuuji and Junpei together when he was explaining the Culling Game participants. But I actually think Kenjaku counts as a 'vessel' (vessels lose autonomy, their souls are removed and replaced by a curse or sorcerer that was once alive and there is no way to separate the possessor from the body without killing the soul of the original).

In canon, they show the worst of human society and exhibit what can happen when you are let down and uncared for by the people around you. Their deaths happened because they were alone. Either out of choice or because they had no other options. In contrast, the lessons Gojo and Yuuji exhibited from these events was the importance of reaching out to people.

Gojo reached out to Geto and had an honest, private conversation with him before his final moments. Yuuji stopped attacking and listened to Junpei in his. Neither of these actions saved the characters, but they showed us that reaching out is important, even in the face of how overwhelming and awful the world can be.

JJK is a story about love, but it's also about the consequence of isolation and the power of community. Sukuna and Gojo are powerful, but they are overwhelmingly lonely. Yuuji calls himself a cog in the machine, and that sounds really bleak. The phrase is not used in any good context and is usually to show that an individual is detached or unimportant to the mechanism they're part of. But in this case I think a new perspective is needed. They are cogs that come together for a greater cause that they are all aware of and would eventually benefit them. Yuuji is surrounded by people who want to help him. It's what his grandpa wanted for him. Even if he dies physically alone, he'd have the hearts of others mourning for him and treasuring him.

Geto and Junpei died, but as tragic as it was they didn't die alone and their deaths made people reconsider the systems around them.

#jjk meta #geto suguru #yoshino junpei #itajun #satosugu

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southieparkie · 1 year

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Hot Take Bunny Headcanons and Responses to Common Bunny Arguments that Really Aren’t Even Hot Takes Now That I’m Reading Over Them But Whatever Lol.

I’m gonna start off with some good ol’ headcanons.

Butters is a short king and Kenny is a tall king. That’s just how it is.

I headcanon that although Butters is fairly secure in his identity as an AMAB, he still finds comfort in, and even encourages, feminine pet names. Kenny calls him “princess,” “wife,” and very jokingly, “babygirl”

Butters smokes. Kenny is a stoner. Argue with ya mama. Also Kenny gets pissed sometimes because Leo gets lipgloss on his blunts and it just throws off his mojo. But he can’t stay mad at him for long <3

Bunny is a pretty couple. I don’t care they just are. Kenny has a very pretty face, very charming and very handsome. And Butters. Butters is fucking gorgeous. All of his bullies in elementary school got ugly. Him, though? He got his glow up.

I am a huge fan of flirtatious Butters. LIKE. HUGE FAN.

Bunny is ADHD x ADHD couple I’m correct I’m correct I’m correct.

I actually really like the idea of rebellious reckless Kenny. Like, that’s my shit right there. Because if he is, and he gets hurt, that gives Butters an excuse to doctor him up and be all fluffy with him.

Vic Chaos is Dr. Mccormick’s sugar mama-

Fuck y’all “Buttercup” is an adorable nickname. Nicknames in general are just adorable.

All of my other “hot-take” headcanons are inappropriate. So I’m not gonna talk about them-

What I wanna do now is take a minute (or twenty) to talk about common discourse-starters in the Bunny fandom.

But first, I wanna reiterate one more time. When I say butters is gnc, he is a gnc CREATUREEEEE. He is hyper-femme (me fr). He has meltdowns about his trauma, then covers his tears with makeup (me fr), he expresses his feelings through his sewing machine (kinda sorta me fr), has the best outfits in school (me fr), and will key your car :)

But don’t assume that I also believe he’s a meak, powerless, washed up little baby just because I headcanon that he’s gnc (If you automatically associate femininity with any of these traits, I’m gonna give you the nastiest side eye.) Butters, from what I can understand, is a slick little guy. He’s shady, he’s a gossiper, he’s prone to snapping at people, and I’m happy (<- lying) to admit that he has this weird jealousy relationship thing going on with women. Personality ≠ Hair and Makeup and feminine outfits. Those are two totally seperate things.

Protective Kenny

In terms of Bunny, people say that Kenny would not be Butters’ protector/save his little meow meow from the evil Stephen-Wephen. I’d like to argue that both of these aren’t outlandish ideas. They just need to be done right in order to seem legit.

Protective Kenny is such a real and accurate headcanon because…that’s who he is! That’s what he does! He protects his little sister from their questionable foster home and strange new school, he protects his friends from Cthulu’s clutches by stating that he’ll die for good if it means that his friends would be safe, he voluntarily goes to hell to protect the fucking world!

Question, if this boy is willing to sacrifice so much to make sure nothing harms who/what he loves, why is it so jaw-dropping to say that he would do so for his boyfriend?

I do get that this headcanon can be trivializing because, yeah, it does kinda bolster the whole “meak little overly-dependent meow meow” pretense onto Butters. Yes, Butters most likely will stand up to his parents one day all by himself, but what happens when Stephen inevitably responds negatively? I feel like Butters would double down after seeing Stephen’s reaction to being yelled at. Because snapping and delivering one loud, detailed, emotional monologue triggered by years of hurt, anger, and mental disintegration isn’t going to magically undo the complience, discipline, and obedience Stephen has drilled into his head.

Butters is going to back down and go back to obeying his father because it’s instinctual. And because of that, he needs someone to step in and encourage him to not fall into this headspace. He needs someone to let him know that what he feels isn’t disobedience, it’s his conscience recognizing that this is bullshit. And if that backfires, then yeah, Kenny’s gonna take matters into his own hands.

Now, the dramatic dinner table scene that ultimately leads to a shootout between Mr Stotch and Kenny while Butters watches on in fear while pissing his pants, and then Kenny shooting Mr and Mrs Stotch dead and running away with Butters to California (or vice versa) is kind of a stretch. But to defend the people who may see it as one big showdown: it’s South Park! You think these characters are going to sit over cups of tea and have a civil conversation? No! Sure, you’re allowed to dislike that outcome and dislike the fact that people write it in fanfics, but you can’t really blame authors for writing it this way because the source material is batshit insane. Think about it this way, if Matt and Trey were to write a scene where Butters stands up to his father and Kenny is there to back him up, do you think they would either:

A) Write it like this: Butters blows up at his dad, his dad retaliates, they eventually settle down and have a reasonable conversation, and then everything is fixed…

B) Write it like this: Butters blows up at his dad, his dad retaliates, Kenny steps in, Mr Stotch attacks him, they get into a gunfight with lasers and condoms rain down from the sky and Mrs Stotch flashes her tits and there’s totally unsubtle political commentary in the form of a satirical new character nobody cares about and Holy Shit, is that Joe Biden on a bicycle?!?!

Idk. I’m neither Matt nor Trey. So anyway, Kenny is a protective boyfriend.

Stephen-Hates-Kenny

I honestly don’t think Stephen would hate Kenny as much as Bunny fans think he would. Although he’s a crude kid and one that’s mysterious and questionable when it comes to making money, it’s not like he’d be outright vitriolic towards him at first sight.

What I think does happen is that Stephen starts to dislike Kenny because he can tell that Kenny has an obvious influence over his son. If his son doesn’t meet the standards that he aggressively sets for him, and he knows that an outside force is disturbing that process, then yeah. I would assume that Stephen wouldn’t like whoever that “outside force” is because that person is taking control away from him. Not because he’s poor, or a manwhore, or even because Stephen and Stuart may or may not dislike each other. It’s simply because he’s no longer allowed to manipulate and warp his son into what he believes should be the standard, because Butters is starting to think for his own and not living by the ideals and harsh life lessons his father is instilling in him.

Homophobic Stephen Stotch

Okay, this one has takes that I both agree and disagree with. Some Bunny fans think that Stephen would be totally homophobic and unsupportive of his relationship, others believe that he wouldn’t care much in that regard and even support him. Both sides just seem fundamentally weird? To me? I don’t think that he’s homophobic, per se, but I definitely don’t think he’d support it full out.

The main evidence people use in this debate to prove that Stephen isn’t homophobic is the fact that Stephen Stotch…is literally gay himself. He has a history of going to gay bathouses and watching explicit gay films. So yeah, if this is a thing, then how would he be homophobic? Easy answer. Stephen doesn’t seem all too proud of himself for his behavior. In the same episode, he expresses to his wife that he doesn’t want to be this way. So yeah, he’s fruity, but in a “Catholic gay man is ashamed of his wicked ways and wants to undo his sins before God” way, or whatever the hell.

But that isn’t it, there’s another piece of evidence that argues that he is homophobic, and that’s the infamous “Butters Bisexual” episode. When Butters is almost tricked into sexually gratifying Cartman, his father walks in. Petrified, he sends him away to a gay conversion camp. Pretty harsh stuff, and pretty telling of where he stands in terms of homosexuality, specifically when it pertains to his son. At the end of the episode, though, he…accepts? His son for being bi-curious. And then the bi-curiosity is no longer explored nor mentioned or alluded to for the duration of the show up to season 26.

I feel like another vital piece of evidence that happens to be forgotten when having this conversation is how Stephen responds to Butters getting into a relationship period. He doesn’t seem apalled by his son getting a girlfriend at all, leaving us with the conclusion that Stephen isn’t against the prospect of his son finding a partner. But it still leaves a few questions unanswered, the main one being If Stephen is okay with a straight relationship, what would his reaction to a gay relationship be?

In my opinion, I really think it’s all a matter of perception and interpretation. The problem in this discourse isn’t exactly the idea of Stephen being homophobic or supportive. (either interpretation is backed up by canon, so it’s a matter of choice really) The main issue that people take in this aspect of Bunny is the extremity of either interpretation. Rampant Homophobe Stephen Stotch kicking his son out and murdering his son’s promicuous boyfriend v.s Accepting Healing Understanding Stephen Stotch who loves his son and embraces his son and his boyfriend with loving, caring arms. Neither of these are accurate responses to the supposed scenario of Kenny and Butters dating to me.

Raging Homophobe? No.

Accepting Ally Parent? Not exactly.

Closeted Gay Man who renounces his own homosexuality as well as his son’s? Yeah, that’s probably it. But IMO a combination of both sides of the discourse can be accurate and interesting if explored with nuance and an extra dose of consideration. I’m down with either.

Womanizer/Cheater Kenny

Uh. Idk. I do think it’s a little strange that people translate “10 Year Old Boy is exposed to sexual content and infatuated with it” to “He will grow up and get around with many girls (and maybe many boys).” Ultimately, though, it isn’t something I have extreme hatred towards, moreso something that I just. Scratch my head at. And don’t really have any need to talk about. Then again, it’s not a headcanon that has no evidence to back it up. Kenny does pursue sexual encounters even at a young age. He spent what I’m assuming to be multitudes of money to buy a concert ticket and condoms, and then he sat down and watched over an hour of said concert, solely to get a BJ from Tammy Warner. So, yeah, maybe he is seeking out stuff he shouldn’t be seeking. Plus, when you take puberty and hormones into consideration, Kenny might find himself persuing a few sexual encounters as a teenager.

One scenario that I see in Bunny fics a lot that really doesn’t make sense to me is Kenny selling himself for money. Like, yeah, okay, that headcanon is also backed up by canon. He was offered $20 (I think?) to give a popular radio host a BJ. But idk? I feel like that’s something the fandom should talk about more.

Cheating Kenny just pisses me off. Like, what? The most loyal character on this show would not cheat on any of his partners, and he sure as hell wouldn’t cheat on Butters. And you can play the “it’s for angst purposes!” card all you want, but out of all of the angsty shit both of these characters go through, you wanna take the easy way out? Yeah, no. We’re not even gonna go there.

Going Native

“Going Native had no particular moments that would ever allude to Kenny and Butters becoming a thing!”

Yeah. Exactly. That’s kinda the point of crackships. You don’t need any pivitol moment to justify the ship, you just need two characters, an Ao3 account, and a broad imagination. Besides, Going Native develops Kenny and Butters’ friendship. And where there’s friendship, there’s also potential for a romantic relationship!

Angst vs Fluff

I’m sorry, but if you base a ship’s validity/quality on the angst-to-fluff ratio, I just think that’s rather silly. People often make the claim that Bunny is a boring ship because it’s too fluffy and every time I see that take I just have to internally face palm. Isn’t that…good? Isn’t fluff a good thing?

I think the reason people don’t like overly-fluffy ships is because fluffy content in general mostly consists of nothing but cuddling, dates, wedding, domestic endeavors, and overall cuteness. Nothing about fluff makes you think, and that’s the point.

What drives them away from all of that is the obvious lack of sadness. It’s showing only one side of the story. In some cases, people wanna see a breakup, trauma, another breakup, an impromptu suspected cheating arc, character development, some more of that good old trauma, and then you can get to the cuddling. Kind of like a reward for using your brain and analyzing the characters first before portraying the romantic and silly stuff. But if you specifically enjoy the cuteness of the cuddling, then you’re neglecting to mention the characters’ dramatic backstories and placing a magnifying lense on only their good, loving qualities. Which isn’t inherently bad?

Like, yeah, I like angst too. Sometimes, I need to see my babies hurt so that I can see how they cohesively decide to move forward as a couple. Cool, three-dimensionality. But what if I just want to see Kenny and Butters rub their noses together like cute baby cows in love? What if I wanna see them awkwardly fumble and cutely make mistakes in an effort to make their first date the most perfect evening of their lives? Shit, what if I just wanna read about them having a pillow fight and playing footsies under the covers? Wanting either of these things is not a bad thing to want.

Now it’s very plausible that I’m just running my mouth here and people simply want to read about character depth in fanfics. That’s fine! We all have our preferences! But when you start disliking a ship simply because the popular consensus among the ship’s fanbase is that it’s fluffy, then I just think that’s a little silly.

In my opinion, yes! Bunny is a very fluffy ship! However, with both of these characters having a history of trauma and abuse on them, chances are you’re not going to get fluff 100% of the time. There will be fights, there will be hardships. Hell, if people are bold enough to portray such a thing in fanfic, and if it’s done in a way that is tasteful and in no way romanticized, then there may even be some abuse or manipulation thrown in there as well. It’s not a crazy concept, the cycle of abuse is a real-life thing that real-life couples struggle with.

Whether or not these struggles are portrayed is up to the author of the work. But if you don’t see any of that in Bunny fanfics, then you are capable of being the author that takes that risk and writes about it in your own fanwork!

ok thats all i can think of im gonna go drink some apple juice now

#south park #sp #leopold butters stotch #kenny mccormick #sp bunny #kenny x butters #friendly reminder that as i am posting this it is STILL bhm #which means i am correct and immune to criticism about this post /j #/j

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widderwise · 7 months

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Prompt: Children of Eternity

So this would be a Shazam/Thor: Love and Thunder Crossover (though with very little Thor himself)

Shazam has Billy Batson as the hero Shazam/Captain Marvel who is based out of the Rock of Eternity. This could work on either comic version or movie version, the main difference (that I care about) being just how old Billy is. I find how silly he is in Shazam 2 a bit hard to take if he’s almost 18. That attitude makes far more sense as a much younger Billy ala comics. There are other differences obviously but for condensed movies I find them entertaining as is. The deeper lore is always better, but done poorly would not be an improvement.

Anyway.

I imagine Billy and his siblings are chilling in their lair at the Rock of Eternity when one of the fancier doors in the lair that they could never open (one of the siblings liked to explore the doors). Out tumble a bunch of dirty, underdressed, not all human looking kids (if any are human, we know there are aliens and Asgardians) who were obviously just fighting and sparking electricity.

These kids would, of course, be the kids Gorr kidnapped in Thor: Love and Thunder and brought to the Gates of Eternity where Thor empowered them to fight the monsters.

Things in common:

-Rock of Eternity full of weird doors… Gates of Eternity…. A natural meeting point between DC and Marvel?

-Kids empowered by gods (in this case Thor-he said ‘temporarily’, but his time sense compared to a humans? Also, with Rock of Eternity/dimensional influence?)… some may be baby gods or demi-gods themselves, depending on how either world defines gods? (Heimdall’s son) Some are just aliens.

- Homeless/parentless kids with divine abilities…

So from there it can go a few ways. I suppose in some nice writer’s headcannon the kids could get home easily and safely and quickly….

Or the door could lock again behind them, probably a safety mechanism to keep the monsters off the rock. And to open the door they need the key, like Gorr and Thor did to get to Eternity. So that would lead to a quest… but what do we do with all these inhuman kids (probably at least a little hurt, most in pajamas at best, some little- and that assumes the older looking ones age at a human scale. We know the Asgardian’s don’t)

So do they wait for Thor to come? Or do they make chaos trying to get home? (Is that a real question?)

I could see the Shazam family trying to take care of the kids at the lair while working on solutions (cue shenanigans)

How do the foster parents react to their kids acting even more strange? Where is all the food going? Why so much laundry?

Eventually they’d get caught out and Billy has to ask for help. Diana for the godly aspect. Superman/Martian Manhunter/GL for the aliens. Batman for the adop… I mean child support. Yes, making sure the kids have what they need.

In the end Thor et allies will come through in some chaotic ridiculous way (goats scream) and meet Diana somewhere in the middle. Everything works out. Or does it?

#shazam #captain marvel #thor love and thunder #rock of eternity #gates of eternity #dc #marvel #dc x marvel #marvel x dc #billy batson #justice league

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royallygray · 4 months

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fic recs pls (part 1)

I am in need of long (don’t actually know what qualifies as long, 10k+ words?), complete (or not) dsmp (mainly sbi) or Life Series fanfic recommendations. I have read so many and I am trying to find more to soothe the brain itch.

Here are several that I have read, if you’re looking for fic recs yourself :)

Dream SMP (SBI)

tommyinnit’s clinic for supervillains by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti) — [26/26 chapters, 189k words] aka “clinic”. A superhero au from Tommy’s pov where he’s just chillin with his healing powers and then he heals a villain and then gets sucked into it. He also gets attached to this Wilbur guy that visits the coffee shop he works at.

the world forgetting by the world forgot by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti) — [21/21, 165k words] A superhero au from Tommy’s pov where he is the hero Dream’s sidekick and has terrible amnesia, forgetting the entirety of what happened the year before. The Syndicate, a band of villains, is looking for something that was stolen from them.

Hush Now (You Were Lost But Now You’re Found) by CorpseArt — [Incomplete, 56/?, 301k] A superhero AU where Tommy was Dream's sidekick and made it his entire person, and then Dream kicks him out of the Hero Corp. Tommy needs to figure out what the fuck is going on, bc there's no way Dream would just do that, even if he did protect the villain Siren. Their one rule is to not kill. Also he meets this funky man named Wilbur at a coffee shop and they become besties. (Pogtopia my absolute beloved.)

say you’re open by remrose — [9/9, 43k] A magic AU from Wilbur’s pov where he finds this kid unconscious on the floor if his shop after attending his mother’s funeral, obviously bearing the marks of intense chaos magic. He takes care of the kid. He also gets sold a mysterious object. The twinsduo here makes my heart sing. Also Phil is kind of like “you are mildly breaking the law” and Neapolitan trio just shrug.

Technoblade’s Entirely Average Babysitting Gig by opheliabloo — [3/3, 34k] A Techno pov fic where he is in college and needs money. A really shady family is offering like 20k for babysitting for 3 hours or something absurd like that, and him being a money-hungry college student, he ventures to this house in the middle of nowhere to take care of gremlin children that try to kill him.

His Curse of Binding by bari_astralis (orphan_account) — [30/30, 144k words] A foster au from Tommy’s pov where he is reincarnated into different Greek hero stories and he needs to figure out who this time’s story is before his sixteenth birthday. Featuring: Complicated SBI bonding, (minor) Clementine being a girlboss, bench trio being absolutely precious, allium duo making fun of each other but alsok being so damn precious, Linda Smith and Miss Allingham bashing (you’ll understand when you read it, I hate their guts), and generally trying to find your peace in life.

Breathing’s Just a Rhythm by MollyPollyKinz — [53/53, 186k] A time travel canon-divergent fic where Tommy, Schlatt, Dream, Tubbo, and The Voices travel from Exile era back to Pogtopia-Manburg era, and they've gotta fix the shitty world and avoid Dream at all fucking costs. Relationship building happens, and the Voices are the best character to ever exist in all literature.

the from ice to water series by Drhair76, plantform — [12 works, 157k words] The main fic is icing those hurts, but my personal favorite is hailing on you. An ice skating au fic centered around found family and belonging in a place without harm. In the main fic, Tommy gets healed, but in hailing on you, Wilbur gets healed and it's so sweet <3

holding onto nothing by remrose -- [20/20, 71k] A mainly Techno pov fic, twinsduo centric. adhd and autistic techno, and his mom is a bitch. He goes to the Crafts for help and it's terribly sweet but also pretty angsty. At times this fic has literally been my lifeblood, like my support system in keeping me alive. I love it so much.

My Faithless Hoax by phantom_star739 -- [24/24, 105k] A supernatural? (fae, vampire, siren) crimeboys centric fic with mild political aspects. I don't really know how to describe it, but it's amazing.

Fic recs part 2!

#dsmp #dsmp fanfic #sbi #sbi fanfic #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #fanfic rec #please i need more fics #will you accept this exchange #fanfic #fanfiction reccomendations

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