#it's the basis of half of my internet friendships these days

[fullscoreshenanigans]

What's your thoughts on Ray and Norman's conversation after the spy reveal, where Ray says Norman should've discarded him and Norman says he would've but Emma convinced him otherwise? Was Norman really going to do that? (sorry if you've already talked about it but I missed;;)

You're good! I talked about the framing of the end of the scene here forever ago in internet time, touch on it here as an add-on to a post regarding the false belief there was a rivalry founded on the basis of a classic love triangle inextricably integrated into the core of the narrative (i.e., Norman and Ray actually dislike each other because they're both vying for Emma's romantic affection), and a brief summary of those feelings in this paragraph from this post, so my thoughts on it are kind of scattered about lol

Ray knows Norman, knows his sense of rigid morality well enough to account for him discovering his alliance with Isabella and using that to his advantage, to further push Norman away so he’ll be more comfortable with using him (he even chides Norman for not keeping his original plan to do this a secret) and so his death will hurt him and Emma less. And for roughly the entire back half of October 2045, Norman did genuinely hate Ray for his betrayal in the same way he hated Isabella, his reaction so visceral at being deceived and hurt by people he had loved all his life. He would have been willing to sacrifice Ray if not for intervention from Emma, which opened him up to directly confronting Ray and, in turn, led him to discover Ray’s true motives. He was so humbled and taken aback by the depths of Ray’s love and loyalty he returned to his original categorization of him: a dear friend who needed to be saved from his intended fate in their cruel world. Even if saving him came at the cost of his own life; even if he desperately wanted to live.

So I do believe Norman would have done it given the circumstances, and that Ray was banking on him doing so if Norman suspected him of being the traitor (and from Ray's perspective, this was the more likely outcome because of how much stock he puts in Norman's intelligence).

It fits with Ray's meticulous planning, Norman's overall morality when left on his own at this point in his life plus his pride and ruthlessness, and the series' themes of redemption/second chances for those who genuinely work toward change and the positive influence of friendship/solidarity over isolation.

Upon discovering the truth of the house, Norman's first instinct is to grab Emma and Ray and get out of there.

His mind is absolutely fried by what's just taken place and its implications, and he's scrambling to come up with a plan, focusing on whatever he believes is still familiar and safe to ground himself so he can shake off the emotional and mental paralysis he's in. I love how both the manga and anime convey how shell-shocked he is with the weary lines under his eyes and the thousand-yard stare he's got going on as he's floating outside himself. It's all completely understandable.

This is one of my most-cited details about the anime taking advantage of the medium shift. Both Emma and Norman are completely shocked by Isabella being there, but it only takes Norman a second to shift between that initial shock to sorrow over realizing what it means that the woman who he’s viewed as his mother his entire life is here casually talking with demons and not recoiling in horror at what’s taken place. He genuinely loved her.

(Chapter 6)

It's part of why he reacts so viscerally to her betrayal, another being his pride taking a hit due to being outmaneuvered by her. He's scored perfect 300s on his test since the day he started taking them at four-years-old, the first child in the history of Grace Field ever to do so. While he's never haughty or smug over this, he does find comfort in his intelligence. This undermines him in a way that not only cuts him to the quick, but also puts his family at risk, and he's determined to come out on top in this game of high-stakes wits and save them.

(Chapter 10)

So after being dealt the crushing blow that Isabella was raising him and his siblings just to be food for demons, a few days later he's dealt another one when Krone's appearance leads him to instantly suspect Ray as the most probable and convenient informant for her. Ray was one of his two main pillars of strength he could fall back on in a time where his whole world has shifted beneath him. They had been together ever since he could remember, and he was disgusted with himself for even thinking Ray could do this. Like Isabella, he genuinely loved him too. In the face of the insurmountable conclusion he'd drawn, however, he couldn't ignore reality, not when the lives of Emma and his siblings hinged on him not making any more mistakes.

The revelation of this betrayal silently festers over the course of roughly two weeks. During that time, Ray even encourages Norman to be ruthless when dealing with his enemies.

(Chapter 7)

It doesn't take long for Norman to get on board.

(Chapter 9)

And while he ultimately comes to the conclusion that suppressing the adults is the better course of action,

(Chapter 10)

the poignancy of the fork symbolism is still there: stay vigilant, stay sharp, stay ruthless. Even if it means discarding one of your best friends once he's no longer useful in the escape plan. (I'll use this as an opportunity to plug one of my favorite pieces of art on the subject by @nekokat42. It's funny how over the course of the story, Norman ends up taking after Isabella the most out of the trio on this front.)

In the same way his categorization of Isabella has shifted in his mind, so too has his categorization of Ray, and he would have stayed there if Norman hadn't sought Emma's perspective on the matter. It parallels nicely to when she acts as his moral compass in chapter 1/episode 1.

Emma's automatic, genuine desire to save everyone quickly sobers him up from his stupor and his plan for just the three of them to escape. He's touched by this, her being far more selfless than him, and he silently chides himself for not even considering trying before resolving to make Emma's ideal outcome a reality.

(Chapter 13)

Emma reaffirms the importance of considering the nuance and material circumstances of their situation, what the logical fallout would be for the traitor if they were left behind during the escape, and the biggest thing for Norman, striving for better instead of settling for pragmatism when you still have the opportunity to effect change on the world around you and reach an outcome you'll be happier with.

(Chapter 14)

(Chapter 13)

Norman being willing to use and discard Ray makes the impact of him switching his stance on the matter and later realization of Ray's true motives hit harder while also providing a basis for his actions and beliefs during later arcs after he's been isolated from the positive influence of his family.

(The Good Place; borrowing because I like the conciseness and feel it's applicable to Norman, Ray, and Yuugo.)

With the way the final seconds of this sequence are framed in the anime—going from a shot of a giddy yet harried Norman to a self-chiding Ray to Eugene's drawing of a trio of children—I feel like they wanted to draw attention to this aspect of his realization more than chapter 14 did where Norman's more focused on what Ray's position as Isabella's spy affords the plan. Here it looks like he's taking in the full ramifications of the choice he would have made if he hadn't talked with Emma; a future where he threw away a dear friend who had made years of impossible decisions as Isabella's sheepdog and was willing to die so that they could have one, because for Ray it's always been about Emma and Norman. What once appeared to be a selfish choice to save his own skin was actually one born out of love and loyalty, and once again Norman is disgusted with himself over his presumptions and saddened by Ray's intention to die, though at this point he hasn't seen the lighter fluid stockpiled under Ray's bed, so he has yet to figure out how he plans to pull it off. It's an ache profound enough to leave him startled and reaching to cover his mouth in its wake. One that could possibly be prompted without Norman intending to discard Ray since on top of everything else already going on he's now aware Ray plans on killing himself, which is devastating, but I think it's more poignant if he was going to go through with it.

#The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #TPN #TPN S1 #Escape Arc #TPN 013 #TPN 014 #TPN S1e01 #TPN S1e05 #Full Score Trio #TPN Norman #TPN Ray #Norman #Ray #Emma #Long Post #FSS Asks #FSS Chatter #Norray #Noremma #for tagging purposes #Read More #obligatory “People improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don't?” TGP quote #me when this is already a tag on here jkdfsh #we're going to sidestep how Ray's self-sacrifice is selfish in its own way for him avoiding the fallout of it by virtue of being dead #even if the younger kids are quick to forgive him in Ch38 so canon doesn't have him spend much time on it either explicitly

[lola-from-the410]

Btw how was your first time on heroin? When? Where? Why? With whom?

I think I have told this story before on my blog but here’s the loooongggg version. So in 2016 I started a new job and one of my coworkers was a friend from high school I used to “party” with a lot back in the day. I don’t wanna blast her business all over the internet so I’ll just call her R. R & I rekindled our friendship quickly, we would get off work late, around midnight, and I would always go back to her place to hang out. She lived a house with a bunch of roommates, I think there was like seven maybe? It was like a mix between a trap house and a hostel, people were always coming and going and there was lots of drugs around. Her and I had done pills together in HS, and started dabbling in them again. For about a year both of us were able to keep somewhat of a handle on things but one of her roommates was a heroin addict and she tried it a couple times with him. I knew what she was doing and initially told her it was a bad idea but I was also using pills more and more, to the point I would have very mild withdrawal symptoms ( I wouldn’t even call it dopesick because I could still function, I was just super uncomfortable.) For some background, I was living with a long term partner who worked at the same place as R and I, despite this R & I started hooking up on a regular basis (yes, I’m a terrible person and I do not condone cheating) This is what I consider the start of my so called “spiral into addiction.” I kinda knew it was inevitable that I would end up trying dope but I held off for a few months after R started using it regularly with her roommate. I can’t remember why I eventually gave in but it was around October that I told R to get a couple bags for after work. We went back to my apartment as my partner was working a night shift and wouldn’t be home until morning. I think I started with half a bag, sniffed it then waited a half hour and sniffed the other half. It felt amazing but I also got extremely nauseous and threw up several times. I don’t know how to describe it because I felt simultaneously the best I had ever felt in my life but also like I could puke at any second. R and I stayed up until 5 am talking about who knows what, just dumbass high rambling probably but I remember thinking at the time she was my soulmate(she most definitely is not) then she went home and I sniffed another half a bag. By the time my partner got home I was puking again but I claimed I had “food poisoning.” I nodded out for a few hours before meeting up with R and getting another bag before work. Within a few weeks I was physically dependent on heroin, I used IV for the first time on NYE and by February I was a full time IV user.

#asked #about me #first time #heroin addict #heroin addiction #drug addiction #drug addict #opiates #nodsquad #personal #heroin abuse #iv heroin #iv drugs #addiction #black tar heroin #china white

[teaandcartography]

March 26th, 2024 - My best friend became a stranger

If you've never experienced this feeling, then count yourself lucky.

Communication is the basis for any good friendship or relationship. A simple, "Sorry, I can't make it tonight," goes a long way. Right?

But once that kind of communication stops, what happens then?

I've always cherished close friendships, the kind of friendships where you can tell each other anything without fear of judgement.

I haven't had many of those in my life, mainly because the friends who I held the closest, would usually stay for longer than half a decade. I didn't feel like I needed to add more friends to my circle, when I was comfortable with what I had.

My best friend, R, I had met online in my early teens. We even fell in love with each other at some point. And I was so convinced that this was the guy I'd marry.

12 years.

Let's ignore the fact that we dated and only focus on how we were the best of friends.

We were friends for 12 years, and we shared everything with each other. Our fears, our dreams, our slightly embarrassing thoughts, you name it. Nothing was TMI between us.

We would spend every day together, with an obvious exception for when our families would take us for a vacation, and internet was limited.

We would let each other know if we didn't have time for each other, or if either one of us said something that was hurtful.

And then it stopped.

As if the world stopped turning, and the sun burnt out. R simply stopped telling me much about himself, his feelings, or what he's doing.

But I didn't want to accept that. And I thought that maybe I just need to put in a little more effort because he's not feeling well. It happens, right?

So I didn't say anything and I continued to reach out. Asking if he was okay, what he was doing, and if he wanted to hang out.

It all got progressively worse, to a point where if I had something to say or rant about, I would get dismissed or overshadowed by whatever R is going through. Or at least, it felt that way.

It felt as if I simply wasn't heard, like it didn't matter what I was feeling, R's situation was somehow more important.

I allowed it to happen, stupidly. I fell asleep crying almost every night, I lost interest in most of my hobbies, and most of my time was spent worrying and waiting for R to reply.

Granted, I did express a couple of times, "Hey, I'm realizing I'm not being listened to. Can we work on this?" but change never came. It was always the same old, "I will try."

I didn't know him anymore. While I knew everything about what he was going through, and his concerning thoughts, I didn't know who he was as a person.

The boy who I befriended 12 years ago no longer existed. And so, I made the tough decision to walk away.

Our connection was like a rubber band that tried to pull me back, but I just couldn't allow myself to get hurt anymore.

Unfriend. Delete. Block.

And then suddenly, the world began to turn again, and the sun kissed my skin once more.

#☆•° a diary of some sorts °•☆ #ldr #long distance romance #long distance love #long distance relationship #vent #coping #mental health

[megatownac]

I don't want to talk about Ankha, but I'm going to, just once

To the person who's sent me three asks this week regarding Ankha's status as a meme, both accusing me of not caring about her and then insisting that I must care because of all my totally-normal posts about her:

I'm not going to post the text of your messages, because, frankly, I don't want to. I try to keep this blog safe for all ages, even if I do dance around some adult or risque topics. I'll joke about giving Henry a sound thrashing, or burying Tom Nook alive, or, and this is what seems to have upset you, the fact that NSFW artwork of Ankha exists. But that's where it ends. I try to avoid swearing or using any explicit language, and you went for it in your asks, and that's why I won't be posting that text here.

You've asked me to speak out against the meme of Ankha as a "sex doll," saying that sickos on the internet are ruining her, and making it impossible for people to find normal, work-safe fanart of her.

I'm not gonna speak up FOR that, for sure, but I can't speak against it, because I disagree with your basic premise. I don't think that it's become impossible to find the cute artwork, and I don't think she's being ruined by anyone. As I said myself in my post on Sunday with my latest character poll, on this blog, Ankha is just living her simulated life on Supertown, completely unaware of anything else that might be said or done on the internet. She's just hanging out, like any other Snooty islander.

Maybe it IS hard to look up Ankha on Google image search, or even here on Tumblr, without finding her drawn in ways that differ greatly from her Animal Crossing character design, which is, let's not forget, this:

She looks like a child. She has the exact same proportions, the same mesh, as every other cat, male and female. She's just there, a blob, in fun makeup and with a fun hat that looks like a smiling snake. That's not what's turning people on. They're projecting a fantasy onto her. It's not her. It's them.

And it sucks! And I wish it wouldn't happen! But I do not have some kind of dark and terrible power that I can use to "call upon the Animal Crossing fandom" to do anything about it beyond saying what should already be obvious: you shouldn't post stuff that isn't work-safe in places where kids will stumble upon it. That's not a hot take. That doesn't need ME, of all people, standing up on my soapbox shouting it. You know how many people actually read this blog on a regular basis? Maybe half a dozen, tops. My "last three days" activity view right now says I've gotten eight notes across my most recent 13 posts, man. MOST of my posts get zero engagement with the internet at large.

This kind of thing happens in EVERY fandom, to some degree. Maybe you're old enough to remember when My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic actually tried to embrace their older male audience? It made the online fandom for that show pretty hard to tolerate!

I'm a big JRPG guy. Have been for over thirty years, because, as I've pointed out in the past, I'M OLD. I remember as a teenager, in the early days of the internet, finding NSFW fanart of my most beloved game and cartoon characters and being very upset about it, too.

If you're upset about, say, the Zone cartoon that featured Ankha, I've got news for you there, too: Zone's motto literally used to be a boast about how he's been ruining people's childhoods since 2000. This is a thing that happens, and we all just have to ignore it and move on.

I get it. You like Ankha. A lot. You used a different account, but I'm pretty sure you're the person who did this:

You went back a decade and liked hundreds of my posts featuring Ankha. That's great! I'm really glad that you enjoyed seeing her through the years. I love Ankha, too. She's wonderful. Hang onto that. Don't stress about what other people are doing with Ankha. Ankha does not mind. Ankha is not a real person. Ankha is a video game character. Everybody who has Ankha in their town has their own copy of Ankha, in the same way that everybody who bought a Rainbow Dash figurine has their own copy of it, no matter what extremely gross things they've chosen to do with them. It does not "ruin" Rainbow Dash for other children that there are people doing messed-up things with theirs. It does not "ruin" Ankha that people are getting turned on looking at artwork that other people have drawn and posted to the internet.

Does it make it harder to be a fan? Yes, of course it does. And that sucks. It makes it hard to find the cute stuff that you're looking for. I'm telling you this as someone who first started going online and looking up his interests when he was 1) a young teenager, and 2) a HUGE fan of Final Fantasy 7. The original one, back in 1997. And BOY HOWDY, even THEN, even with a 56k modem that took several minutes to download a single image, I sure did accidentally stumble upon some absolutely gross stuff. It made me angry! And all I could do was focus on the good in the world, and it taught me how to do that, to where now I can play Mario games without thinking about Bowsette, for example.

(Though I actually rather like Bowsette as a concept, I do not like scrolling Twitter and suddenly seeing adult images of the character without asking for them)

If you won't take it from me, take it from Sonic the Hedgehog.

Trust him. If there's ANYONE out there who would know what it means to have fans who are ruining him on the internet, it's Sonic the Hedgehog.

Now, please, go back to peacefully enjoying cute little Ankha the adorable yellow cat in a children's video game, and I'll go back to making silly posts about her that waste everyone's time and clog up the tags so that people have to block me.

#long post #text post #non ac #not ac #okay it's tangentially ac #i don't mind getting asks but angry asks about ankha's sexualization are not a fun thing to wake up to folks

[violetsystems]

#personal

Of all the things I'm known for here including writing three paragraphs long form and researching the taxonomy and order of fruit? Not a lot of people knew it was my birthday this week. I don't have an active Facebook anymore so I don't think anyone would know. People find ways to show it even when they can't be high key about it. I can't really be too high key anymore about things I'm known for. Mostly because I'm sure it's pretty much understood at this point. That and active sabotage and retaliation by jealous people including the police and the people that work with them. When people forget you then you tend to focus on the people who don't. And Tumblr has been a refuge for me in terms of friendship over the years. Not a lot of people would be held captive this long to me ranting and understand the character arc of it. But a lot of what's happening around me in real life is rooted in populism and some form of social justice cucking. Like you haven't done enough for the community. So much so that people want to make sure they grief the birthday you had that they pretend to not know the day of. So much so that people out here in all walks of life make me out to be a villain they'd never even address by name. I'm some legend. Some terrorist. Some spy. Some mentally ill writer on the internet. Some lone wolf. Someone who doesn't follow subliminal and forced peer directions from a bunch of people hiding from the consequences of their actions over time. Most of what I experience on a daily basis is isolation, intimidation and retaliation because I haven't fallen in line with the herd. But it's gotten so bad that I've resigned myself to rely on what I already know. That even if people like to show in public that they can bully me behind the scenes online it's a different story. I'm sure people try and I've blocked a lot of people trying to make me think they're side blogs. But as a genuine person who knows nothing else other than being hardcore, you begin to innately know when someone is full of shit and when someone is being nice to you. I think it comes down to the fact that I think before I click. Just like I think and talk a lot in my kitchen to myself about how I feel about the world. I want to be sure when I interact with people. Just like I want to be sure people aren't using my birthday for some organized crime organization's initiation. Nobody baked me a cake and made me an offer I can't refuse. At least not in real life. But about a year ago around this time, I started taking my interactions with certain people a little more seriously. A vibe I'm sure that's grown over time in an unspoken friendship. Enough for people to quietly whisper just what this old, weird guy on the internet is all about. I don't feel old. Not as old as the people flailing around me. And they're younger than me.

People go along with populism in difficult times because things are rough. Around two and a half years ago I was let go from my job and forcibly retired. I didn't really understand what retirement was because I worked solid for twenty years. My friends at my old job distanced themselves out of fear. And I started to learn that a lot of my life was just forgotten about. I still had a roof over my head and resume. I created a company to try to work for myself. I got shunned more than I could possibly explain. The motives are clear. People in this neighborhood that I've lived in for over twelve years now compare themselves to me. Claim I don't belong here for probably more obvious reasons than we'd like to get into. I definitely don't own property. My situation is an experiment in population density which explains why I feel like a lab rat for politicians and protestors alike out here. The secret with everyone is that they think everything is a protest and every protest is a provocation. And people with tax payer funded jobs think it's their right to follow suit especially when they have a whipping boy. I am that scapegoat. I've lived it for years on this blog even before the accusations switched from being white and affluent to being attracted to women and posting fashion related pictures about them. People are always looking for something to neg you about. They probably learned it from men who control and dominate women in relationships with that same fucking stupid technique. You feel awkward and self conscious around someone you think has it all. So you constantly and subliminally break their balls if they have them. I'm no different. I was always trying to learn from the critique I thought was valid from the community I was part of for over two decades. The arts community or as I like to call it... a tax write off charity case for rich people to fuck with. You'd think leaving that community would be less pretentious. But I'm out here defending my right to breathe because I don't own property that has lost it's value over the last two years that also is being taxed unfairly. That is if you don't understand that people like me were the Petri dish for politicians to claim they created communities focused on walkable streets, public transportation, and diversity of culture. All for a tax break that people didn't get the memo for because the alderman was too busy calling me on my birthday in New York to ask me to vote for him in a run off. That's no lie. Nothing I've ever written about has ever been all that untrue. I'm never going to vote again if that's what rich politicians get away with doing at the expense of their community. And yet I'm the one who gets punished and isolated year after year for being right. I'm right about spending my time on my birthday alone. Because nobody outside of Tumblr has ever even tried to interact with me. I have to live with knowing people in this community actively tell other people to ignore me. That's beyond cucking. It's something worse than domestic terrorism.

I'm not going to be the one to sit here and tell you I can fix it. Everyone else would be crying no one baked them a cake. There's enough I've caked on my own since last Valentine's Day. People seem to persecute me in public for that too. In fact, so many people seem to know everything about me including my masturbation habits. That's beyond fucked up. It's like they've camped out on my doorstep to usher in their Ron DeSantis fueled civil war. And for all the things we think about Chicago being progressive? It's the front line for all the domestic terrorism from January 6th on. We have a Florida governor speaking to a police union in the midst of a chaotic election. We're part of some horribly fucked up rich people's transgressive art that jet sets in it's private plane to here and Miami Basel. And I've been at the center of its unintelligent and belligerent tantrum for years. So much so that I have no life. No joy. No pursuit of happiness. No real reason to be anything other than invisible and that has been helped by people working together in this neighborhood across international borders and law to actively destroy my life. I'm still alive. I turned forty nine. That's pretty fucking old if you made the wrong decisions for yourself like everyone else. I'm not married. Never have been. Don't have kids. It's not like I don't want to start a family and live cozily ever after. Maybe I just want to be cozy for a month long cuddlefest and see how it works out. Maybe I've been happily connected for years and just didn't realize it because nobody was ready or at the stage of their life to admit it. Maybe I've been actively sabotaged every waking moment of my life desperately trying to fight it off and finally stood up to it. Now it's an irresponsible and illegal mess of incompetence and excuses. Just like people tried to actively excuse the last three years of my life as being insignificant so they could wait for me to die and resell my entire narrative back like Van Gogh. This is how these rich people work. You will never break through to them. You will never be their equal unless you have millions of dollars in stock they control the markets with their goddamn fat faced twitter feed and poses next to Ghislaine Maxwell. The simple fact of the matter is that I'm here not by choice. But I'm still alive. And I don't have to fucking explain to any trust fund charity case hipster fuck what it is I'm into and why other than the people I love. If those people want to give me a birthday present they can go fuck themselves. I have a shovel to bury your shit if it ever snows again. Just like I'll have another birthday again where you could bake me a real cake. For now. I don't have a fucking life to celebrate other than with you. And that's not something that bothers me really. <3 Tim

[waterandsilver]

jiang cheng edition <3

#the untamed #untamed memes #jiang cheng #mdzs #mdzs meme #i can no longer tell if these are funny or not so im just posting them #oh baby ur so easy to make fun of #it's the basis of half of my internet friendships these days

[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #>:3 #shoutouts are their versions of jumbotrons btw

[beevean]

SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever

[Translator’s note: this article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik​]

Hello again! Today we’d like to discuss about something that’s been happening recently, and probably taking Sonic fans by surprise: what is going on with SEGA and its stance about Sonamy?

At the beginning of this year, to celebrate the 200 articles on Seaside Hill Paradise, I finished what I call “the Sonamy trilogy” of articles that I started in 2018 and which cover different themes, such as:

SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonic-Amy dynamic

“I love you” – Forbidden words in Sonic

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

The idea was to offer a more-or-less complete analysis about the many facets of their dynamic in the last 27 years; a dynamic that, you may have noticed, is not that easy to pin down, and that we’ve been updating almost regularly (although I also intended to investigate on other dynamics, like Knuckles and Rouge’s for example, and write about them). Generally speaking, in these articles I don’t draw objective conclusions about the status of the ship in canon (despite the fact that the available information tends to confirm it in various occasions). I also like to repeat myself and say that shipping is supposed to be for fun, not for tearing each other’s hair in that black hole of misery that is Twitter, but recent events left us slightly perplexed, and this is why we’re here once again.

We left the status of the Sonamy canonicity with these two peculiar instances back in August: Sonic mentioning his “girlfriend” in the Japanese version of Sonic Battle, and the Twitter account of SEGA of Europe saying Sonamy is their “favorite videogame romance”. Now, let’s recap a bit…

Sonamy in Sonic IDW... Round 3

[SPOILERS ALERT FOR IDW SONIC #14-#35]

In 2018, when IDW just started, I decided to study a little how the Sonamy dynamic worked in this new universe. To our surprise, the comic didn’t waste time in dropping its biggest bomb, in one of the cutest scenes we had seen in ages. Since the very beginning, IDW proved that it didn’t intend to deceive those fans that looked for a bit of development of both characters.

I wrote an article about it in June 2019, and it coincided with the beginning of one of the most infamous arc I’ve seen in a Sonic comic for a long time: the Metal Virus Saga. The question is, what has happened since then?

Well, in 2019, with the same accuracy of an aimbot, I said “We’ll probably see some new interactions between Sonic and Amy sometime around IDW #20”. And wouldn’t you know, as misery and tragedy settled in that arc, it was exactly around IDW #20 that we saw some Sonamy interactions: both exhausted, to their limit, with a Sonic that couldn’t even touch Amy to soothe her pain, due to him being infected with the virus.

The arc developed like this in what felt like an eternity, to finally conclude in one the most absurd ways in Sonic history. But it wasn’t a complete disappointment, as, after months and months of asking and discussing on the internet about how much Sonic and Amy deserved a hug at the end of the arc… it actually happened.

Since that moment in IDW #32, we shippers thought that it was what both of them deserved after so much time spent separated and pushed to their limit to survive, but also that after the end of the arc everything would go back to normal. However, what we didn’t know was that the Sonamy train had no intention of stopping, not in IDW, nor anywhere else.

A recurring detail in IDW Sonic is that Amy’s tail starts wagging every time she sees Sonic, as if she was a happy dog. I swear, it happens every time.

Come IDW #35, once again we have some hugs and bits of dialogue between our hedgehogs. For sure, the question here isn’t their relationship itself, as it was for IDW #2, but rather the issues this arc is slowly dealing with. But it’s really nice to see them again, sharing that closeness that they’ve had in the comic since the beginning– be it with some gestures of affection, a wink, a gesture, a private joke.

My favorite image is the first one, Belle’s reaction to seeing Amy hugging Sonic. It’s like she’s thinking “oh, is she his girlfriend?”, and she wouldn’t even be wrong in thinking that.

It can’t be denied that IDW Sonic provided us the conversations and the emotions that the games seldom do. Certainly, the comic has its share of issues and it’s not really a story that I personally follow for its own merits (it’s more because it’s still Sonic, for my interest for things like this, and Belle’s existence… whom I already ship with Tails, sorry not sorry), but what it does well it does really well.

For now, we have to see how IDW Sonic will follow the development of the characters, especially in view of the closure of the current story and beyond. And we may be done with this part of the article, but there is still a lot left.

Sonamy in merchandise

Taking us completely by surprise, recently SEGA launched, in collaboration with Hot Topic, a series of Sonamy-themed t-shirts. No, seriously.

So many people told me this as soon as the voice spread (you know who you are, thank you guys for thinking about me <3), and I can’t help being still surprised that this is actually a thing. T-shirts with lines like “You’re my favorite”, “Love in the fast lane”, and my personal favorite, “S&A Forever”, with drawings of Classic Sonic and Amy… in SEGA-approved products. I don’t know if you realize how much of a big deal this is, even more than “Celebrate the 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend” from 2018.

One of the things that surprised me the most (aside from how explicit they are in officializing the relationship, and the fact that there are still 2 months left before Valentine’s Day 2021), was the decision to use Classic Sonic and Classic Amy. I tried to understand this decision by analyzing the simplicity and easiness with which the Classic designs convey a message (let’s not forget that Classic Sonic was so iconic because it was specifically designed to convey his expressions without words), besides the fact that they’re inherently cuter than their modern designs. There’s also the controversial aspect of post-Adventure Sonamy, with all the dubbing and weird interpretations that the fandom made over the years… By comparison, the Classic design are a much simpler choice.

What is actually going on?

Well, let’s take a step back and think about what we just saw. The way SEGA has been recently trying to push Sonic and Amy in front view (and for the entirety of 2020, based on the articles I mentioned in the beginning) tells us the harsh truth we all have to accept sooner or later: Sonamy sells, and it sells a lot.

From a strictly business point of view, the ship is so iconic and popular, with fans and detractors alike, that it would be absurd for SEGA to ignore the chance to print these two characters and get a load of money. As I said in my 2018 article, despite the fact that in Japan Sonic isn’t as big of an icon as it is elsewhere, they know pretty well that Sonic + Amy = love, and they have huge amounts of merchandise to back it up. It’s in the West that because of different cultural values, of which we’ve already talked about, along with some internal resistance, left this aspect of the franchise a little on the side. But they’ve been trying to fix it… and how…

Let’s not forget that a decade and a half ago Sonic Team seriously favored Sonamy. They officially said it, Sonic X was their purest view of Sonic they had at the time.

Outside of the business perspective, I believe we’re facing the moment that we’ve been waiting for: it’s time they’ll establish once and for all the dynamic of these two characters, following more closely the original Japanese vision of Sonic. I said many times that, in trying to change canon, the West, especially SEGA of America, did nothing but confuse fans and generate more discussions than needed, by introducing different data and portrayals that contradict the canon established by Sonic Team.

We’ve talked about Unleashed and emotional support, about Sonic X, about the major moments that opened the door to interpreting this dynamic as something more. We don’t threaten at gunpoint those who would rather stay away, but we respond to those declarations that still try to violently discredit the simple fact that Sonic and Amy, who are most of all close friends, form in some measure a couple that, even with its imposed limitations, manages to captivate fans and not fans everywhere in the world. Even the Simpsons used it as a joke, and that says a lot.

What the future has in store for us.

Unless something else happens in this last month of 2020, this is the most complete compilation I can offer at the moment about the status of Sonamy in the fandom and in the official canon. Yes, canon.

It’s impossible to ignore the signals. As you may have noticed, I’ve been considering Sonic and Amy as an official couple, with its clarifications (for example, that at the end it’s more of a friendship, that it’s not a romantic relationship in the most explicit way, that it’s more of a personal perspective to justify a more mature vision of the relationship in the future, not right now), but nowadays I think that SEGA has spoken loud and clear. I think canon is ready to negotiate the idea that Sonic and Amy, apart from being excellent friends who would risk their lives for each other in a heartbeat, have something else on their hands (probably the other’s hand). This won’t automatically translate into a kiss, or a complete love declaration (although Sonic X came close…), or a commitment to a formal relationship like we know them in real life. SEGA canon affirms that Amy is “Sonic’s girlfriend” and nothing more. Outside of that detail, they still pretty much function as friends interacting with a little flirting here, and a little Sonic running away there. It’s the basis of their dynamic, now enhanced by the fact that SEGA is giving us a clearer message.

I think that this all may culminate in a game or an animated series, but I wouldn’t completely count on that. It is good to recognize how far the official position goes on this issue, but at the same time I want to reaffirm that there are things that are better left in the hands of the fandom, and in the meantime that IDW or any other continuity gives us hugs, winks, gestures and words of encouragement, we as the fandom will take care of exploring other avenues and hypothetical scenarios.

This is all I have to say on the matter for now, and I hope you’re happy with this wonderful Sonamy experience we’re going through – I certainly am. See you next time!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #amy rose #translation #long post #whew #this one was a doozy #but super interesting #thanks again latin for writing these long ass sonamy posts

[aestheticaxolotl]

V.I.L.E Headcanons

- Graham “Crackle” Calloway grew up in the poorer slims of Sydnee Australia where his parents struggled on a day to day basis to provide food for their 4 kids, Graham, being the oldest son felt the absolute need to help his parents provide for his three younger siblings. Doubling down in school, and getting the best grades he could (B’s and low A’s) and then diving into work as soon as he got out. -Graham started with small odd jobs until he got a part time gig with a rather cranky old electrician who had no love for anyone in his life. But he took Graham on as an apprentice because the stupid kid wouldn’t leave him alone. To his chagrin, the kid took to the job like a house on fire. This became important when he joine V.I.L.E -Tigress came from a troubled home to say the least. Her mom was an alcoholic and her dad was a blue-collared working class man who would gamble and chase after his dreams while squandering all the families money She resented her parents for these reasons and acted out as much as she possibly could, whether by robbing small stores or beating up younger kids on the play ground

-She started out trying to make a quick buck to help her momma pay the bills, not because she was showing kindness to her mom, but because the land lord had threatened to kick them out one too many times, and kept making lewd comments and suggestions that even Tigress would not allow her mother to take.

-El Topo’s story isn’t the happiest, seeing as his mother moved into America when he was very young, unable to afford to bring her husband and son with her at the time. Of course, El Topo’s father was not keen on being left behind and took his 12 year old son, attempting to smuggle him into America. Sadly, this would not end well seeing as El Topo’s father was shot and killed, and he was placed in foster care, unable to contact his mother.

-El Topo got out of the Foster care system when he was 18 and was homeless for a long time. He lived on the streets in Georgia, the last place his mom was having known working. He did everything he could to find his mom and was devastated to learn that his mother had moved to New York, remarried and had a daughter.

-Le Chevre’s mother died giving birth to him in Paris, France. His father being left alone to raise their one and only son, they had married young and had a baby younger, leaving the young father devastated and entirely loving of his young son. Le Chevre’s young life was full of music and love. His father worked as a caretaker in a French Theater, working up with the lights and the set pieces.    -Young Le Chevre wasn’t as fascinated with the acting as he was with being high up and above the actors, it gave him a feeling of power and meaning while his father proposed that he take lessons to play instruments for the plays. HE did for about a week to please his hard working father, but took the gold star in thievery. To this day he still leaves large amounts of money on his’s father’s doorsteps as thanks for such a wonderful upbriging.

-Dash Harber grew up with a love of fashion and the stylistic life of the rich and famous. His parents, both very wealthy and distant from him, showered their son with gifts and money for doing nothing but existing. His parents ended up sending him away at the age of 15 (At his request) to his aunt “Cookie Booker” so that he could have a better, proper upbringing. 

-Through his ‘Aunt Cookie’, he met the Dear Countess Cleo, who he took a major liking to the Countess, having a childhood crush on her. Cleo found the young gentlemen quiet endearing and took him under her wing, giving him the life he had know that he’d desired at a very young age. This came to bit him in the but when he started working for V.I.L.E. His parent identifying him during a caper and he had to go into hiding for quite a while. (His parents minds were wiped after this incident, as far as they are concerned now, they never had kids).

-Paperstar’s mother was a prostitute in Japan, and gave birth to her from an unknown father. Paperstar was devoted to her mother, even if she was not devoted to her daughter. She was usually there when her mother brought a man home, covering her ears when ever, what her mother called ‘Business work’, started.

-Young Paperstar started stealing from the men who her mother brought home when she was seven, doing this for many years before one man noticed and turned both Paperstar and her mother into the police. This enraged her mother and she disowned Paperstar, leaving the girl alone and vengeful, only wanting to look out for herself. (She might have killed her mom too, I’m still thinking on that one)

-Mimebomb was born in Ireland with their twin brother. When they were young their parents moved them to France. This is where they saw their first ever Mime, their mother had stopped at a shop and 3 year old Mimebomb had wandered off and stopped to watched a man with paint on his face act on a street corner. They realized they were lost and the Mime just... Scooped them up to help them find their mom and twin brother. This REALLY enforced in them that Mimes weren’t scary or freaky. (Their WHOLE family disagrees to this to this day)

-Spoiler, Mimebomb grew obsessed with Mimes and this really worried their parents. They sent him to a Psychologist, one Professor Maelstrom who was doing freelance work. Maelstrom found the phenomena rather interesting and kept track of Mimebomb for a very long time, it was Maelstrom who brought Mimebomb to V.I.L.E and showed them what their true calling was.

-Boris and Vlad.... I don’t have much for them but what I do have is rather... Boris and Vlad grew up in a very unwelcoming community. Russia at the time was very hostile towards outsiders and while their parents (They are not related, family friends in my eyes) had both of them in Russia, they were still not well accepted by their community, often bullied and beaten bloody by other kids, who forced them to clean up the mess after they finished beating them.

-This horrible childhood instilled a rather off form of PTSD and OCD in both of them that leads them to see every mess that a V.I.L.E operative made was something they had to clean up. Somehow, it was their fault and they had to fix and clean and pretend nothing ever happened.

-Cookie Booker is the Aunt of Dash Haber, she ADORES her Nephew and spoiled him rotten when he was a child, basically taking him in when he asked her too. She took great care to raise him the best she could, never having been able to have children herself, an event that let to her husband leaving her and marrying another woman.

-Cookie was also the woman who introduced Countess Cleo to Professor Maelstorm, a very monumental occasion in V.I.L.E history.

-Neal the Eel was just Neal as a kid. His mom and dad were performers in a Circus, a Magician and his Assistant. He used to adore the circus and wanted to be part of it as a contortionist/escape artist. He was bullied for his hypermobility ( similar to double-jointedness, but if it is progressively more serious it can create more problems for someone.) Causing him to end up resenting his upbringing and parents.

When Neal was 16 he began to break IN to prisons and then BREAK BACK OUT with a TON of the criminals inside. This quickly put him on V.I.L.E’s radar and they decided that they really wanted to recruit him. They made the offer and he vowed that he would never be seen as a joke like he was with the circus.

-MooseBoy was not the brightest kid in school, often picked on for being slow or stupid when he was really just a friendly kid with dyslexia. He almost flunked out of school and would have if not for this dorky looking kid who called himself “Otter”. Thus, a tense and rather abusive friendship formed.

-Otterman was the only reason that Mooseboy was able to graduate Highschool. They were a team, he was the brains (Still is) and Mooseboy the brawn (Still is). HE hated the fact that he was smaller and weaker and really took it out on his partner. Their first crime together was breaking into the school and stealing the principal’s desk on a dare.

-Spinkick and his half sister Flytrap have the same father, and different mothers. Their father lived a double life with his paramours only six miles from one and other. This affair was discovered by their moms and the two women ended up murdering their children’s father and then (unironically) falling in love with each other.

-Flytrap and Spinkick’s mothers moved in and the two kids were forced to get along, they ended up really caring about each other and watching each other’s backs and defending each other in school. Their mother’s never got caught by the way, just think about that.

-The Troll never had friends as a kid and met all his good good friends online, including Player (Plot twist?). Player and Troll got along like peanut butter and jelly, becoming a tag team in learning to hack and work with the internet system. The Troll became invested in trying to figure out how to lock down security systems like banks or Jail facilities (Seeing as his father was put in jail for robbing a back and killing a man who tried to stop him).

-This took Player aback and he began to back away from his friendship with The Troll. This didn’t matter to The Troll, he managed to shut down the security system where his father was being kept. This ends sadly due to the fact that his father doesn’t escape, but ends up dying in the break out. This caused him to draw back from people and remain in his room for a very long time.

Thanks for reading my ramble about V.I.L.E Operatives, I’ll be posting one for the Faculty soon!

#carmen sandeigo 2019 #carmen sandeigo spoilers #crackle #graham crackle #tigress #el topo #le cherve #dash haber #cookie booker #papersta #paperstar #boris and vlad #the cleaners #mime bomb #neal the eel #flytrap #spinkick #otter man #moose boy #the troll #vile #vile operatives #headcanon #please help me #I'm obsessed with this show

[bigskydreaming]

In a mood and I’m trying not to be, but oof. Not easy at the moment. Real life stresses are kicking my butt and I’m decidedly limited in resources for addressing that at the moment, so might as well get this off my chest, lol. Already lost the usual fifty followers or so I lose every single time I post about stuff the way I did the other day, so what’s some more, y’know?

So earlier today I tried to get my mind off things with some fic, and happened across one I hadn’t read before that promised Jason and Dick talking things out and bonding. Halfway through I sighed and went oh, this is familiar, and skipped to the bottom to check the end notes and comments to see if there was any mention of this next part, but nope. The reason for the sigh was it took me about halfway into the fic to realize that it was blatantly inspired by my post about what if Jason was missing some memories from his death/resurrection and the Pit, like specifically the ski trip they took, stuff like that. Now I’m not so egotistical as to think nobody but me has certain ideas, but its fairly easy for me to recognize when someone is basing something off a post of mine because of specific turns of phrases that I use and like, they hit ten or so bullet points from my post without missing a one. Like, there’s parallel evolution and similar ideas, and then there’s going down a check list, y’know?

And don’t get me wrong....I don’t mind people basing stuff of my posts, being inspired by them, etc. I WANT that. I’m GLAD to have that happen.

The part I mind is the way this all ties back into my interaction with fandom as a whole....and this fandom’s interaction with me. Which I don’t tend to hear NEARLY as much about as I tend to have people giving me shit about my impact on fandom....but ONLY the negative impact.

In the four years or so that I’ve been active in this fandom, I can think of only three people who have given me some kinda shout out for being the basis of one of their fics. Three people. And in that time I’ve come across literal dozens of fics that I am almost certain can trace their way back to popular posts of mine. There’s the post about Jason’s memories and the ski trip for one - this fic isn’t an isolated occurrence, I’ve found a good half a dozen or so I feel fall into the same pattern. There’s fics based off my posts about how fucked up the blame Dick got for Spyral was, with my certainty based on the fact that I know I’m the only fucking person who ever brought up various key phrases like “Bruce not having an extraction plan for Dick’s highly dangerous undercover op, leaving him stranded when Bruce got/(chose) amnesia.” I made a big deal about that in a few posts because of the fact I NEVER saw that particular element raised in any fics, and a couple months after I started including that bit regularly, I was seeing the words ‘without an extraction plan’ in every other new post Spyral fic. That’s not a coincidence.

There’s been stuff that included bits and phrasings from my post about Dick and Jason being partners who focused on helping kids who had been abused specifically....oh wait, no, my bad. The two fics I’m thinking of there lifted straight up entire lines from that post but just made it about Jason and TIM doing that instead, despite like.....the entire basis of that headcanon stemming from Dick’s juvie origin but whatever. There’s been stuff based on juvie posts of mine, stuff based on posts I’ve made about Mirage, there’s been stuff based on the post about Jason looking into why Dick was undercover as a mob enforcer and then Renegade, there’s been stuff clearly inspired by my headcanons about Jason calling Dick for advice after the Garzonas case. I could go on. There’s a fucking LOT.

I don’t try to give myself too much credit but I’m not unaware of being a loud voice in this fandom and that having an impact. And like I said, I’m not adverse to inspiring people to make their own stuff based off an idea they initially saw me present. That’s fine. People should feel free to do that. My problem is that none of this exists in a vacuum. It exists in a fandom where I regularly get people lecturing me on my presentation, people hyping up how negative I make fandom, my condescension, my anger, my hostility, etc, etc. 

But the thing I never see is any awareness whatsoever that like....dudes, I’m literally just a guy on the internet. And that goes two ways. Yeah, I have an impact on people, but they have one on me too. And I’m tired and frustrated by it being acted like this is a one way street and everyone is just helpless victims of my bullying, while meanwhile SOME OF THE EXACT SAME PEOPLE GIVING ME CRAP FOR MY NEGATIVITY are ACTIVELY adding to their own fics with stuff that I JUST posted about.

And like, I see people vagueblogging about the negativity on their dashes and its impact on fandom right after I have a Dick Grayson rant blow up and get a few hundred notes......but its acted like I DID that to fandom, that’s my negativity and mine alone when its like....y’know, if you’re not following me yourself, and this stuff is still on your dash, you uh....have to be following people who reblog my negative posts for some reason or another. And given that there are obviously reasons you follow THOSE people, maybe instead of worrying about what I’M doing all the time, you can spare a thought or two for the fact that I don’t have any power to make people reblog anything, and for whatever reason, something about my oh so negative post resonated with those people reblogging it onto your dash, which also kinda suggests it wasn’t negative in THEIR eyes, but was actually a kind of validation of thoughts or feelings they already had?

Trust me, there’s no mind control ray at work here. This mood is also brought to you by the cricket sounds that come every time I fucking BEG people to reblog and signal boost posts I make about rape/abuse fandom trends and depictions from my POV as a survivor, specifically. Like I mentioned, I LOSE followers every time I bring that stuff up. It doesn’t benefit me in any way whatsoever, in fact my notes tend to go comparatively radio silent for a good couple weeks after I go off on one of those jaunts, because idk, people don’t want THEIR mutuals and followers to think they agree with some of my oh so controversial stances?

Actually, I say idk, but I do know is the thing, because people actually go on anon and tell me they appreciate me posting stuff like this, and its like.....that....doesn’t actually make me feel good? Because I never expect any single person in particular to reblog me, but when I say crickets after I post on those topics, I mean CRICKETS. I’m lucky if I can get five reblogs on those posts in total, and those are usually all from the same people. It actually kinda sucks knowing that people agree with me and what I have to say there, but they won’t put it on their own blogs because this fandom is so fucking STEEPED in its views, they don’t want to risk their friendships or back-and-forths with certain popular fandom authors by rocking the boat.

Because meanwhile I’m making myself target practice for the people who really would like me to shut up on certain topics but are too cowardly to ever confront me directly about why they dislike what I have to say there, in the vain hope that other people might finally even just START to pass some of that on even for consideration....because I can make waves by myself just by being loud and consistent, but I can’t do shit to actually make CHANGE without other people agreeing in PUBLIC so that fandom is forced to confront the fact that no, certain opinions aren’t just one loud asshole being annoying, there’s an actual viewpoint here that people actually have in greater numbers than we realized and we DON’T have as much of a monopoly on this topic as we thought.

I have anons who give me shit accusing me of driving off certain authors by making this fandom not fun for them anymore, when like, I never even fucking INTERACTED with the authors in question. Some of the names I’m accused of driving off I don’t even KNOW. I’m called an ‘abusive survivor shaming cunt’ with zero irony or self-awareness that they’re literally doing the exact same thing because they don’t like the stance *I* take as a survivor posting about how ‘some survivors use dark fic/rape fantasy to cope’ shouldn’t be treated as a monolithic defense of such things if it leads directly into the same kind of survivor shaming other people view criticism of such fic as being in the first place.

I’ve had to unfollow mutuals because I post about how reblogging posts about purity culture is a direct fucking slap into the face to people like me whose stances on fandom culture are directly based on our own personal experiences and the intersection those have with various popular fandom takes.....like you don’t have to agree with all my takes obviously, but if you can’t see how framing a naive pursuit of ideological purity as the only possible reason people object to certain fandom trends when I’m literally standing right here saying no actually, the way these fandom trends impact me is the reason for me saying the things I say when I say “here’s how this fandom trend impacts me”.....like.....c’mon. 

And I’ve had mutuals unfollow me because despite following me because they liked my takes on social justice issues THEY care about, I just ‘post too much about what’s really just a personal issue’ and has no larger social relevance whatsoever, obviously. LOL. (Oh and this of course has nothing to do with them getting friendly with various popular authors on discord, who happen to be vocal about ‘disapproving’ of any fic criticism whatsoever. Just FYI, there’s a reason I haven’t followed anyone new or made any new mutuals in like....a year. I have my reasons for being....not quick about that).

I get condescended to constantly about not minding the tags, and then radio silence when I list literal examples of ways in which people haven’t tagged things correctly, tagged things at all, or literally used the tags in an attempt TO trigger people they just don’t like. 

And meanwhile, allllllll of this keeps happening while the general narrative is I’m this loud asshole guy with zero concern about anything but his own personal likes or dislikes and who makes fandom a negative place that’s unwelcoming in general. And with basically zero mention of all the ways in which I’ve contributed to this fandom, the amount of content I’ve made that has DIRECTLY inspired people, and the productive conversations I’ve started which have resulted in people actually changing the way they approach various characters or dynamics in fics.

Its THAT part that bugs me, specifically.

Look, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again now.....I’m not anyone’s victim. Negative fandom interactions are negative fandom interactions. All this complaining I’m doing here - lol, that’s all it is. I’m venting. I’m pissed off and I think its relevant to a greater fandom dynamic or tendencies a lot of people unknowingly or consciously reinforce, and so I’m just fucking SAYING it because while its not something I EXPECT this post will do much to change, if at all, I would still like it to change so any effort towards that end is still better than no effort at all...hence, my posting this rather than bottling it up so at least people have it to consider. 

If you don’t agree with it, if you don’t like that it exists at all, if it ruins your day to have to consider whether or not you or people you know or even like are active participants in what someone else is describing as y’know....fairly day-ruining in its own way? Hit that unfollow, that block, that make new text post button of your own and have your own rant about what a douchebag I am.

Literally all I’m trying to express is like.....fa*ndom’s got a lot to say about the stuff I have to say about fandom, but like....this is a two way interaction. A lot of people make a big deal about MY impact (again, JUST the negative though, lol) but I don’t ever see anyone ever addressing anyone else about hey maybe you could spare a thought or two about YOUR impact for a change as well.

I mean, what if....just maybe...what if.....a lot of my behavior or attitude has a lot to do with how people approach or talk about me BEFORE that display of attitude or certain behavior? Weirdly....I feel like maybe something that could then have a transformative effect on the kind of behavior or attitude people dislike from me....is.....them acknowledging or addressing things they might have done to prompt certain responses from me?

I don’t actually like being whiny or negative or down in general, just to be clear? If I see something I have a problem with or think could use change or improvement, I say so - but I pretty much always put an effort into expressing both WHY and HOW I think possible change could look - because I’m not generally interested in being negative for the sake of just being negative. I just....want things to be better. That’s not an obsession with purity or perfection, btw, I will NEVER understand how people think that survivors of rape and abuse (which include a lot more ‘antis’ than anyone else seems to want to acknowledge) and the like EVER expects perfection or thinks that the world will ever produce that - lol no I’m actually pretty clear that things being perfect is pointless, I’m just interested in BETTER.

But I mean, I like being goofy and silly and also analytical and contemplative and also creative and spontaneous. I like lots of things. I like lots of moods. I like producing, creating, generating, interacting, engaging, I like a million things more than I like THIS kind of mood, THIS kind of post.

But I’m just not someone who is content to sit and stew in that sort of thing when I know full well that the problem does not actually stem from something broken or flawed inside of me, because I’m also someone who does believe very strongly in periodic bouts of self-reflection and honest self-assessment.....so that I can change things about myself when and where I feel necessary. But this also has the effect of me also being VERY aware of when the problem is not internal, but actually just me having a perfectly valid reaction or emotional response to outside stimulus. Aka fandom’s interaction with me, every bit as much as my interaction with fandom.

So....posts like this. I’ll do my usual rituals, get myself back onto my preferred trains of thought soon enough on my own, because ultimately that is all I can control and just because I make posts like this doesn’t mean I ever EXPECT any specific result - or a result at all - to come from it. 

But, y’know, sue me for being hopeful.

I know. What an ass am I?

[darks-ink]

Fic Masterlist 1: Events

Apparently my last masterlist/archive got too link-heavy so I’m splitting it up in three parts! wowie. Here’s #1, dedicated to fics written for all kinds of events! (and yeah, these are all Danny Phantom fics lol. the other guys get their own post)

Last updated: November 3rd 2021 Links: 150/250

Ectoberweek 2018

AO3 series

Witching Hour: Maddie set out to learn more about the Witching Hour, but instead she learns a little more about Amity Park’s most mysterious ghost. [family, bonding] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Disappearance: Series rewrite in which Danny had his accident all alone—and then disappeared into the Ghost Zone. Continued in Harvest. [hurt/comfort, family, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Necromancy: Danny didn’t survive the accident, and his ghost never stumbled out of the Portal either. But nothing can keep Sam away from her best friend. [angst] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Corruption: One must learn from the past to change the future. [angst] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Harvest: Vlad learns about, and from, Danny. Sequel to Disappearance. [hurt/comfort, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Unearthed: Danny Fenton’s body is found, but the boy never died. Or did he? Continued in Buried, basis for Disinterred. [crime, hurt/comfort, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Spells – Harry Potter crossover: Danny has always known that, unlike his friends, he has no magic. So when he tries again, years later, the results are rather… unexpected. Prequel to Weirdward, rewritten as Spells 2.0. [friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Ectoberweek 2019

AO3 series

Fangs: Danny Fenton, half-ghsot and teenager, enjoys his first day of school, and meets some future friends. Continued in The Visit. [friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Stalker: Phantom is not Fenton. If only Danny’s friends believed him when he said as much. [angst, hurt/comfort] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Electricity: Electricity is just one of the many powers Danny gets access to but, like all others, it requires a bit of figuring out. [humor] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Artifact: After the Reality Gauntlet is destroyed, Danny is ready to spend the rest of his summer relaxing. But he keeps waking up to the same day, over and over again. [hurt/comfort, family, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Grave Robber: The GIW, tipped off by an anonymous caller, investigate Vlad Master’s mansion, where they discover a very special ghost. [hurt/comfort] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Exorcism: Sure that Danny was suffering from overshadowing ghosts, Maddie purges his system of all ectoplasm. But he still didn’t seem to get any better. [angst] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Ectoberweek 2020

AO3 series

Fog:  Valerie Gray had always been able to See. See ectoplasm, see spirits, all that fun stuff. By the time she entered high school, she was fairly sure she'd seen just about everything there was to see. Until, one day, Danny Fenton changed. [friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Pulse: Sam and Tucker attempt to deal the change of their best friend after his accident in the lab. [friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Rewind: After changing the past and altering the timeline, Danny is forced to stay in a world where he was never born. [family, found family] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Darkness:  Danny, still new to being half-human, finds himself in a room with someone almost like him: a half-ghost. Sequel to Antonym. [identity reveal - sorta kinda] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Reanimation:  What started as a plan to stabilize the Phantom-like ghost they found under Masters' control somehow spiraled completely out of control. And, quite frankly, Agent O wasn't sure he minded. Sequel to Grave Robber. [found family, hurt/comfort] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Glow Sticks: Later, Valerie would worry about the implications, about how it might affect her. But she was here to have a normal evening, for once in her damn life, and that was exactly what she was going to do. [friendship, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Cloak: The trio come up with a set of matching Halloween costumes. Sequel to Third Time (’s a Charm). [friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Ectoberweek 2021

AO3 series

Boo!: Intent on pulling a joke on his son, Jack discovers an unexpected secret. [humor, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3]

Pumpkin: art piece [Tumblr]

Cobwebs: An unexpected visitor graces Sam's room. [alternate half-ghost(s)] [Tumblr] [AO3]

Insect: art piece [Tumblr]

Echo: That morning, when Danny came down, he no longer sounded like himself. [implied identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3]

Summoning: The trio discusses the possibility of summoning Phantom. [friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3]

Blood Moon: art piece [Tumblr]

Phic Phight 2019

AO3 series

Captivity: The Wisconsin Ghost. Plasmius. Whatever name they call him, Maddie has him captured now. [identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Dog Days: Jack Fenton thought all ghosts were evil, until he met a certain ghost dog. [fluff] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Cacoethes: Danny was raised by two ghost-hating parents. Yet, somehow, he befriends not one but two ghosts. [hurt/comfort, friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Distortion: He’s flying. Or is he? [mystery, supernatural] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Unveiled: Jack finds a hidden lab in Vlad’s mansion. But why had it been kept a secret from him and Maddie? [hurt/comfort, family, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Rise Above Myself: Danny is off to college, leaving Vlad in charge of keeping ghosts out of Amity Park. [hurt/comfort] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Grounded: Valerie is underground, and she can’t remember how she got there. Her suit has no information to offer her, either. [hurt/comfort, identity reveal, alternate half-ghost(s)] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Unseen: After getting hit by his parents’ newest invention and being unable to shift back to human form, Danny is forced to go to school as Phantom. [humor, post-reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Phic Phight 2020

AO3 series

Antonym: When the Fentons fire up their newly invented Ghost Portal, it unexpectedly spits out a kid. But why does he keep insisting he’s a ghost? [family] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Synonym: No matter how she tried, Sam couldn’t convince Danny to go back into the Portal. So the world would have to settle for her, no matter how temporarily. [angst, alternate half-ghost(s)] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Naturalistic Observation: The Fentons take a new spin on ghost research by observing a very special game of dodgeball. [fluff] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Third Time (‘s a Charm): Why go through the ordeal of being half-ghost alone if you can do it with your best friends? [friendship, alternate half-ghost(s)] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Parasite: Vlad had given up on being freed from Plasmius’ grip ages ago. All he wanted, now, was for Plasmius’ reign to end. Before he could do too much damage. [angst] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

To Be: After Danny’s inhibitors break during chemistry class, his fellow students and even his teachers fight to make him feel accepted. [fluff, post-reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Of Tweets and Twats: Amity Park’s constant ghost troubles finally get it on the radar of the internet. And boy, are they unimpressed. [humor, Twitter-fic] [AO3]

Self-Perception: A ghost’s appearance is based on their self-image. How they see themselves. So when you’ve been told your entire life that ghosts are monsters, well… That does things to one’s appearance, that’s for sure. [hurt/comfort, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Parental Woes: Humans form families of flesh and blood, while ghosts form theirs based on connections in their cores. But what does that mean for a half-ghost? [family, hurt/comfort, identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Got My Reasons: Maddie and Jack find Phantom heavily injured in the GAV and patch him up. [angst, hurt/comfort, family] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Living So Dangerous: Phantom had tried to kill her. It was undeniable. Now she just had to end him before he could finish the job. [hurt/comfort, friendship] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Phic Phight 2021

AO3 series

Reversal: Sometimes Valerie wished she could show Phantom what it was like to be her. She doubted that he would care--the ghost only thought about himself--but the roleswap would at least annoy him, surely. [identity reveal] [Tumblr] [AO3]

Spark: Danny discovers he isn't the only one in Amity Park with ghostly traits. [alternate half-ghost(s)] [Tumblr] [AO3]

Ephemeral: Tucker Ghouley, hoping for a quiet patrol for once, finds his peace disturbed by the sudden appearance of three half-ghosts from alternate universes. How is he meant to get them back? [friendship, alternate half-ghost(s)] [Tumblr] [AO3]

Christmas/Holiday Truce

Warmth – Truce 2018: Team Phantom celebrate their ghost-free Christmas. [friendship, fluff] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Recovery – Truce 2018: Dani and Vlad celebrate their first Christmas as a family. [family, fluff] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Just To Be Seen By My Eyes – Truce 2019: After receiving painting after painting from a mysterious ‘DP’, Jack just wished to know who it was that kept making those beautiful creations. But, as he discovers, sometimes you’re better off not knowing. [family] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

What We Are – Truce 2020:

 Vlad Masters, young half-ghost, finally meets his uncle. And discovers that the man is a half-ghost, just like him. [roleswap AU] [Tumblr] [AO3] [FFN]

Phango

How Rare And Beautiful It Is (To Even Exist) – Phango19: The Trio look back on the years they’ve known each other, and the way they came together as a family. [hurt/comfort, family, friendship] [AO3] [FFN]

#fic archive

[welllpthisishappening]

By City-Wide Decree

It's a crush.

And in any other situation, that would be it. He'd be able to keep going about his day in normal pining fashion. But nothing about this is normal. Because in the last few minutes Bellamy's complained about shredded cheese and Clarke's making jokes about Bleecker Street and apparently there's some city-wide rule about car services now.

Or: the last thing Bellamy Blake expected during a national health pandemic was being forced to kiss his neighbor.

----

Rating: Teen Word Count: Just over 5.6K AN: Hey there, internet. It was really only a matter of time until I wrote some kind of nonsense here. But I do want to say that this story does include COVID-19 stuff, so if that is not for you, I totally get it. That being said, this admittedly very silly nonsense, is very much just that and hopefully it offers a bit of a distraction for a few minutes. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam

----

He almost drops the box of macaroni in his hand. 

The edge stabs his palm, a weird pain that's really more like the general sense of Bellamy’s frustration because just a few seconds ago he witnessed two grown adults glaring at each other over the final few rolls of toilet paper in aisle five. And there aren’t really that many other people in this grocery store, which he supposes is a good thing. Everyone taking social distancing seriously and staying home and he’s got every intention of doing the same, but first he’s got to deal with this. 

“Pre-shredded cheese,” he mumbles under his breath, glancing at the box. He’s bent the edge. He hopes he doesn’t break the box. There weren’t many left in that aisle, either. Just the one thing of shells Bellamy had been able to grab and four boxes of whole wheat linguine, which, really, almost offends him more than the idea of pre-shredded cheese. 

In a variety of flavors. 

And adjectives. 

“Cheese should not have adjectives attached to it,” Bellamy continues, and apparently he’s reached the crazy portion of his day. 

That also seems to be the standard for most of the world, though. He’d been very close to breaking up the toilet paper fight. So maybe he’s just catching up to everyone else. He needs to go home. He needs to—

“Pick a goddamn cheese,” he says. Whatever sound he makes at his own private conversation isn’t so much a sigh, but rather another round of frustration and possible resignation and taco-flavored cheese can’t be that bad. 

Right? Maybe. 

He can’t imagine what kind of preservatives are used in taco-flavored cheese. Like..are there even spices involved? There should be spices. When all of this is over he’s going to write a strongly worded letter to the Kraft family. 

Bellamy sighs again, drawing more than a few looks and a glare or too, and he’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps rolling his eyes at their current rate. He lunges forward, careful to account for the box of macaroni and the small thing of buttermilk that’s honestly starting to make his fingers go numb and—

An arm moves next to his. 

She’s also a little off-balance — a backpack that’s close to bursting and something that might actually be paint streaked across her left cheek, but Bellamy can barely register that when she’s already starting to stumble back, a package of margarine clutched in her hand. 

“Oh,” Clarke breathes, eyes going wide and what looks like the first hints of a smile tugging at the ends of her mouth. “Hey, Bell.”

His stomach flies into his throat. 

As per usual. 

That might be the most normal part of his day so far. 

To say that he’s been harboring a pretty monumental crush on Clarke Griffin since she moved into the apartment across the hall from Bellamy would be—

Accurate. 

It would be accurate, honestly.

In almost painful fashion. 

Six months ago, she showed up with a handful of boxes and paint on her jeans, and a smile that seemed to reverberate through him. In a way where that doesn’t sound insane. Maybe he wasn’t catching up to everyone else. Maybe he was just sprinting past them. Towards crazy. 

The kind of crazy that also means he’s stupid into his neighbor. 

She’d said hi first that day too. So he offered to help her carry some boxes and she’d promised she’d be ok, but he was stubborn and a little overwhelmed by the very specific color of her eyes and she really did have a lot of stuff and they’d ordered from the Thai place up the street after. 

And if that's not the basis for a pretty solid friendship, then Bellamy isn’t sure what is. 

Only that’s really all it is. Because, well—Bellamy isn’t sure. Octavia would say he’s being an idiot and to some extent that’s true, but he and Clarke are pretty good friends now and sometimes she curls up on the corner of his couch when she’s stressed about the arts budget of the high school she works at in the Bowery or he kicks on her door when he’s got some new pages he thinks she might like to read and it’s—

Good. 

Normal. 

In a world that is very quickly spiraling out of control. 

He hopes those people didn’t actually start yelling over toilet paper. He’s not sure his brain would be able to cope with that. 

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asks, taking another step back and he hadn’t noticed she’s got another bag of art supplies in her left hand. 

“Glaring at cheese.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Glaring at cheese,” Bellamy repeats. He nods towards the minimal selection, Clarke’s eyes widening at his admittedly petty reaction to the cheese issue. It should not be an issue. “I—well, I’m running low on some food and I—” He grits his teeth, suddenly hopeful that he’ll be able to melt into the supermarket floor. 

That’s probably not hygienic. 

“Is it super top secret, then?” Bellamy clicks his tongue. “No, it’s—ok, do you promise not to laugh?” “Absolutely not.” “You look like you staged a battle getting here.” “Nah,” she objects, but there’s a slight blush creeping across her cheeks and it’s probably wrong to feel some kind of victory at that. Just, like—with everything else going on. Flirting should probably be a low priority at this point. 

“Then…” “Why are you angry at the cheese?” “Mostly the selection of cheese,” Bellamy admits. “Because I’m supposed to use a very specific kind, so—” “—For what?” “My mom’s mac and cheese recipe.” She gapes at him. Which is not the reaction he was hoping for, really. He’s not sure what would be better, but he had been pretty partial to the blush and he’s positive this is somehow the paint streak’s fault. 

Clarke has a habit of getting paint everywhere. 

There’s still a stain on his floor from three weeks ago. 

“Did you think I was going to laugh at you making your mom’s mac and cheese recipe during an international health pandemic?” Clarke cries. It draws another round of curious stares and one set of incredibly narrow eyes from a woman with a cropped haircut and a cart practically overflowing with paper products. 

Clarke sneers. “I might actually fight someone for bulk-buying things. God, people are—” “—The worst?” “Is that why you’d thought I’d laugh at you being adorable?”

Bellamy forgets all about his stomach and its current location in his throat. He’s far more preoccupied with the matter of his exploding heart. Which is not nearly as painful an experience as he would have assumed. 

His smile threatens to take up most of his face, muscles unaccustomed to the movement when everything else seems to be going to shit. He hopes standing this long in the dairy aisle doesn’t adversely affect the buttermilk. 

That’s a key part of the recipe too. 

“Adorable, huh?” “Oh shut up,” Clarke grumbles, kicking her foot out of habit. She’s still a few feet away from him. That probably shouldn’t be disappointing either. In any situation, honestly. “Seriously, are you out here being weird about cheese because—” “—A quick detour out of adorable.” “Only because you keep interrupting me.”

He smiles wider. “When I was a kid, my mom used to make this mac and cheese for every major event. Birthdays, holidays, great grade on a test.” “Because you were a nerd?” “Look who’s interrupting the flow of the story.” “You should consider speeding up your approach” Clarke laughs. “The lady with forty-thousand paper napkins might come back and start pelting you with them for taking so long.” “You think she bought those paper napkins for reasons not related to eating food?” “God.” His shoulders shake a little when he chuckles — another threat to the pasta and his grip on any of the groceries he’s trying very hard to buy. “Moral of the story? I’m stressed out, people continue to be the worst, I saw a bunch of people, including actual grown adults, sitting out in Washington Square like nothing is wrong, so in an attempt to combat the general horribleness of the world I am going to make my mom’s mac and cheese recipe. Only apparently a lot of other people have had the same thought—” “—About your mom’s mac and cheese recipe?” 

“Bring the paper napkin lady back here so I can throw stuff at you.” Clarke grins, and the overall brightness of her eyes is probably just a byproduct of the lighting in the dairy aisle of Gristedes. Or so Bellamy will tell himself for the next forty-eight hours. 

“Taco cheese does not scream mac and cheese,” he continues. “But I’m also not willing to stage some sort of quest for the appropriate kind of cheddar. Or blocks of cheese.”

“It can’t be shredded cheese?” “Eh. I’m willing to make some sacrifices at this point.” “Wow,” Clarke drawls. “How gallant of you. And you wanted to make it yourself, then? No thoughts of take-out from Murray’s.”

“Don’t insult me like that.” “You have issues with a place that actually has cheese in its name?” “Murray’s Cheese Bar is an overpriced tourist trap that does not need my business to stay in business. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine.” “Murray himself?” “Or whatever corporate chain that place is owned and operated by. Plus, have you ever had their cheese plate? Like—just, it was gross. We got, maybe, half a dozen crackers.”

Clarke presses her lips together, but her laugh still manages to find its way into the six-feet of mandated space between her and Bellamy. “Did Octavia order the cheese plate at Murray’s once?” “And a bottle of chianti.” “Fancy.” “Gross,” Bellamy amends. “I can’t stand red wine.” “Why didn’t I know that you hated Murray’s so much? Do you feel that way about—” “—Most of the places on Bleecker?” Bellamy finishes, ignoring Clarke’s wide-eyed stare at yet another interruption. They have got to get out of this store. The processed air is obviously going to his head. Or, whatever. 

Maybe just the state of his heart. “Down with the establishment, huh?” Clarke quips. She absolutely, positively does not rock towards him. Bellamy is sure. 

He hums, and maybe his issue really lies in the overall state of his heart. Explosions cannot be healthy. In a biological sense. “Why are you here, then? I’m assuming it’s not just to share the very high opinions you’ve got about the restaurants on Bleecker.” “Ok, that is not what I said at all. I’m not advocating we start doing some kind of Bleecker restaurant crawl when this is all over, even if that one Gelato place on the corner is good.” “Tourist trap.” “Is the oxygen thinner on that high horse you’re riding?” Bellamy scrunches his nose when he makes a vaguely ridiculous noise in the back of his throat, part agreement, part unspoken suggestion to keep talking. “Whatever,” Clarke grumbles. “I am here because I needed butter to make cookies. But there’s only this garbage.” 

She brandishes the margarine, arm flung out in front of her and Bellamy refuses to be held accountable for whatever noise he makes at that. Just as ridiculous as the last one. With even more flirting involved. 

“I walked down here,” Clarke adds. “There are no other stores open and—” “—Walked from where?” Bellamy asks sharply. He doesn’t mean for the words to come out quite like that, but he’s also not entirely sure what feeling is shooting down either one of his arms. 

He’s very glad Octavia isn’t here. 

She’d make fun of him. 

More so than usual. 

“Relax,” Clarke mutters, jerking the bag at her side. “I needed stuff for class, but most of my supplies are still at school and it’s not like I can get into school any time soon, so I went up to Marmorino. Nyko agreed to open for, like, twenty minutes so I could get some new brushes and—” She shrugs, all nonchalance. Like walking twenty blocks to the art supply store in the middle of that previously discussed pandemic so she can keep teaching kids how to paint isn't equal parts absurd and wonderful.  “What are you going to paint?” Bellamy asks. “We’re doing life studies. Figured it’d be a good way to get parents involved too. You know, kids paint their mom or their dad or...whatever. Like I said, I just needed a brushes. And butter.”

“Those go hand in hand, huh? You know I have butter.”

Clarke blinks. And her grip on the bag noticeably loosens. “What?” “Butter,” he repeats. “That’s how this all started. I kept opening my fridge and the butter was sitting there, like it was taunting me and—”

“—Can the butter form coherent sentences?” “I’m offering you butter, princess. And mac and cheese. If you want it.”

Another blink. 

That’s...Bellamy doesn’t want to consider what that is. Because this is not the first time he’s done this. Or vice versa. Far from it. They both live alone and they’re friends and it’s not that far across the hall, after all. 

There’s just not usually an international health pandemic involved. 

“Yeah?” Clarke asks softly, like she’s waiting to shout surprise. Or throw paper napkins at them for standing in the dairy aisle for so long. 

Bellamy nods. “Yeah. That’s how humanity survives, right? We pool resources and seek out companionship in times of difficulty.” “Something like that, I’m sure.” “Ok, so you leave the gross margarine here and I’ll deal with the taco cheese.” “I have cheddar in my fridge.” Maybe this is a dream. Maybe the after-effects of his exploding heart have left Bellamy hallucinating in the middle of Gristedes. Maybe he got food poisoning from the cheese plate at Murray’s when Octavia visited three weeks ago and he’s only just now discovering it.

Clarke smiles. 

“If you want it,” she adds. “I—well, I’d had big plans for grilled cheese quarantines, but there was only block cheese at that point and I haven’t even opened it. Yours for the taking.” He nods slowly, trying to come to terms with all of this. It’s not flirting. No one flirts like this. They shouldn’t flirt like this. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “That’d be great. A, uh—COVID team, huh?” Idiot. 

Idiot. 

He’s sure Octavia knows about this. Somehow. A sixth sense that alerts his younger sister to his overwhelming idiocy and she’d been annoyed that he hadn’t invited Clarke to Murray’s with them. 

“Something like that,” Clarke says again. “Ok, then let me pay for a car back home. I don’t know if my shoulders can cope with this backpack and—do not offer to carry this backpack for me,” she adds as soon as Bellamy opens his mouth, “I’ll get the paper napkin lady back here, I swear to God.” “She’d probably call a manager on you.”

Clarke scoffs, but her smile hasn’t changed and Bellamy spends most of the next twenty-four minutes standing in the checkout line thinking only about that. Until Clarke tells the guy in front of them to “stop being a dick” to the cashier when he starts complaining about the lack of bread in aisle two. 

The guy doesn’t say anything else after that. 

And the cashier definitely mumbles “thanks” when Bellamy puts his slightly bent box of pasta on the conveyor belt. 

They don’t spend long waiting for the car — and Bellamy can’t imagine business is exactly booming, which is part of the reason he agreed to this and the rest is entirely selfish and possibly a little stalker’ish and he just likes spending time with Clarke. No matter the world’s collective health situation. 

“You two together?” the driver asks, hardly opening the window and it’s not easy to understand what he’s saying.  

Bellamy furrows his brows. “Excuse me?” He swings open the door, sliding across the backset and moving his feet so Clarke’s backpack can fit comfortably between them. And he’s not one to pass judgement, particularly not now, but the whole thing looks a bit like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. There are sheets of plastic wrap stretched between the front seats, the driver wearing gloves and casting impatient glances in his rearview mirror. 

Bellamy glances at Clarke’s phone — the driver’s name is Bryan. 

“C’mon man,” Bryan presses. “I need an answer.” “I don’t—” Bellamy starts, shaking his head and that dream theory is starting to make more and more sense. “What are you talking about?”

“The rules.” “Ok, that doesn’t clear it up. Can we just go?” “Nope. I need you to tell me. I don’t want my license revoked.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Clarke lets out a soft gasp, eyes going impossibly wide. “Shit. Are you kidding me?” “What part of nope are you guys having a difficult time wrapping your heads around?” Bryan asks. “Listen, I can’t break the law, ok? I—we’re living in crazy times and—” “—Seriously what are you talking about?” Bellamy snaps. 

Bryan takes a deep breath, shoulders moving with the effort, and Clarke hasn’t looked Bellamy’s direction in what feels like an eternity. He can’t rationalize the chill that slinks down his spine, a growing dread that threatens to tug him through the backseat or take up residence in between his ribs and he’s got to stop making so many sweeping biological assessments. 

There are no facts to back any of this up. 

And yet he can’t quite understand the look on Clarke’s face either, teeth digging into her lower lip while she refuses to meet his gaze. “Guys,” Bryan groans. “In or out, yes or not, just—prove it.” Bellamy opens his mouth again, ready to demand answers if need be, but Clarke is already talking and the words don’t process immediately — mandate from the mayor and I totally forgot and only real couples. 

She grits her teeth when she finally looks up, a pained expression that almost makes Bellamy shiver. It’s unnaturally warm in the city that afternoon. “Did you not see the press conference?” she mutters. He shakes his head. “I, uh—I totally forgot about it, but ride-share services are still cool and essential, they just...if you share, you have to be a couple.” “Real couple too,” Bryan adds. “That’s what the mayor said.” Clarke squeezes one eye shut. “He did, yeah.”

Bellamy has no idea what’s happening. That’s not hyperbole. He genuinely cannot keep up with the conversation or the events of the last few hours and he’s certain this is now somehow the fault of the paper napkin lady and those toilet paper people and— “So,” Bryan continues, “either prove it or lose it?” “Lose what, exactly?” Bellamy rasps. He doesn’t take his eyes off Clarke, can see just how tight her jaw has gone and the exact moment her tongue flashes between her lips and maybe it would just be better for everyone if he grabbed her backpack and sprinted the fifteen blocks back to their apartment. 

Apartment building. 

They don’t live in the same apartment. 

Seriously, screw the toilet paper people. 

“My services,” Bryan answers. “Seriously. I’m not getting fucked over by this. So prove you're a real couple or start walking.” “And how would you like us to do that, exactly?” “Kiss her.” It is several different miracles that Bellamy does not rip down Bryan’s plastic wrap wall right then and there. He considers it, fingers flexing and head at a sudden angle while he glares at the rearview mirror. But something keeps him from actually reacting and it might be Clarke’s soft ok a few inches away. 

They are no longer the appropriate six feet apart. 

“Wait, what?” Bellamy asks, only marginally disappointed when his voice manages to crack over both words. 

Clarke’s smile doesn’t waver, but it shifts slightly — a little cautious and a little nervous and, maybe, a little hopeful. She leans forward, ignoring the goddamn backpack and how straight Bellamy’s spine has gone, breathing quickly like he did run those fifteen blocks. “Just a kiss, right?” she mutters. “Couples kiss. That’s—” “—Real couples,” Bryan amends. Bellamy might strangle Bryan before they get out of this car. 

“Right, right, right. And that’s—it’s not a big deal.” Bellamy’s never going to blink again. 

“I don’t know how else to double check,” Bryan admits. 

Clarke hums, still moving and Bellamy doesn’t flinch when her hand lands on his bent knee. So, points or whatever. Her tongue flashes once more, a soft huff of air that barely reaches his cheek when she’s close enough and this can’t possibly be sanitary. 

God, he does not want to be thinking about that now. 

Bellamy doesn’t remember bending his neck, but it appears to have happened anyway, curls threatening to fall in his eyes. That’s not right. The top of Clarke’s backpack digs into his chest, what feels like an actual paint brush pushing against the side and he’s going to say something. He is. He’s going to promise that he can walk and he’ll carry the backpack and just meet her at home, but none of the words seem all that interested in coming out of his mouth and his lips pop softly when they part, another bit of movement and a direct violation of social distancing and—

His eyes flutter shut when Clarke kisses him. 

With Bryan watching intently. 

And it’s not...well, it’s not quite the way Bellamy had always imagined when he’d let himself imagine this. Far more often than he should. It’s stilted and awkward, weird angles and bumped noses. It’s chins jostling for position and that fucking backpack, both of them far too aware of the two bags of groceries at their feet. 

Bellamy does his best not to actually sigh — even more frustration, that does not belong in a situation like this, but then his eyes open and the tip of Clarke’s tongue finds his lips and everything kind of spirals after that. 

His hand flies up, curling into her hair and pulling her closer, a crunch that is absolutely the box of shells, but the shells can go fuck off for all Bellamy cares. He opens his mouth, lets his head tilt slightly until they find a rhythm that’s a bit like driving at seventy miles an hour on an open highway. That’d be impossible anywhere in New York. 

Even under quarantine. 

And yet. Bellamy feels like he’s rushing towards something, everything and anything and a variety of words that should be far more overwhelming than they are. He nips at Clarke’s lower lip, lets his nose drag along her cheek until he’s practically tracing that streak of paint and the sound that draws will be branded on every inch of him for the foreseeable future. They only break apart to catch their breath, the rhythm going almost desperate when Clarke’s nails scratch at the back of Bellamy’s neck and—

Bryan coughs. 

He might not tip Bryan. 

No, he’ll definitely tip Bryan. It’s a fucking pandemic. 

Bellamy’s not a total dick. 

Just…

“So, uh, cool,” Bryan says, already pulling out onto the street. “Thanks for the, uh—for the demonstration, then.” Clarke jerks back. 

And Bellamy feels like he’s been thrown in the East River. Specifically. Because that river is notoriously grosser than the Hudson. 

He’s gross. 

He twists, trying to put as much space between them as possible when they’re still in Bryan’s silver Toyota Camry. And he doesn’t actually count the minutes that it takes to get back to their building, but it’s awfully close because it seems to take a lifetime and happen far too soon, Clarke mumbling her thanks and hoping Bryan doesn’t have to drive too much in the future and Bellamy doesn’t want to think about the state of that box of shells. 

It feels far too literal. 

And they don’t rush up the stairs, both Bellamy and Clarke taking even steps as they do their mutual and collective best to stare at their shoes. But then he’s tugging his keys out of his back pocket and the air feels like it’s crackling around him, enough tension to power the island of Manhattan — especially when Clarke follows him inside his apartment.

“So, uh—” she starts, a click of her jaw when she notices the look on Bellamy’s face. 

His eyes have started to water, they’re so wide, standing in the middle of his exceptionally tiny living room. “Clarke, I—” “—Oh shit, I forgot the butter.” “Clarke.” “No, no, I should go get the butter, right? Yeah. That’s—shit, I didn’t even think. I...sorry, sorry, it’s—” She shakes her head brusquely, like she’s trying to shake away the awkwardness and Bellamy wishes there weren’t any awkwardness. He wishes he’d asked her out before the world started falling apart. 

He’s back in her space in a few more steps, fingers finding her flailing hands. She’s biting her lip again. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” “No?” “Absolutely not,” Bellamy promises. “I might, though. I just—I didn’t realize what was going on and then—” “I’m going to go get the butter,” Clarke announces, sounding almost disappointed at the idea. She pulls her hands back, a quick hiss of pain when she manages to elbow herself in the side in the process, all but running out of his apartment. Her backpack is still on his couch. 

Bellamy doesn’t move. He’s not sure he can, honestly. His legs feel like they’ve locked themselves in place, waiting with those same wide eyes for something he’s not sure he can have because it can’t possibly happen like this and Octavia is probably hysterical on the other side of the country. 

And he’s still not counting seconds or minutes, when he finally manages to get his feet to cooperate. So he can wash his hands. Like a responsible adult. Not one who hoards paper products. 

The footsteps that return to his still-open door a little slower than usual. 

“You didn’t close your door,” Clarke points out. She kicks back, a tremulous smile and Bellamy can’t believe this is going to happen while she’s holding butter. And at least two pounds of flour. He’s not sure what’s going to happen, exactly. “Did you even turn your oven on?” He shakes his head. “No.” “Real fond of that word all of a sudden, aren’t you?”

Bellamy doesn’t think he imagines the edge in her voice, narrowing his eyes slightly like that will help him pick up on certain conversational cues. It doesn’t — especially when Clarke breezes by him, marching into her kitchen like it’s hers or could be hers and that’s probably when he decides. What he wants to happen. “Do you want to make the cookies or the mac and cheese first?” she asks, and that question sounds more determined than any Bellamy’s heard before. Some of the tension in his shoulders disappears.

“Hey, will you talk to me?” 

“About something other than our cooking order?” “Yeah,” Bellamy nods. “Definitely about something other than our cooking order.” “I’m really hungry, though.”

His laugh has a certain strangled quality to it, but that may be a product of his heart, recently reformed and re-exploded. As soon as Bellamy realized what kissing Clarke was like. “I’m not going to let you starve,” Bellamy says. “Just—c’mon, look at me at least.”

She doesn’t. She pushes up on her toes instead, stabbing at the buttons on his oven. Bellamy sighs, doing his best not to start proclaiming things, giving voice to the sentiment that’s been bouncing around his soul for the better part of the last six months, and the flour that’s sitting on his minimal counter space is half open. 

The top’s rolling up, a haphazard curl to the paper, which only makes it easier to reach his hand inside without Clarke noticing. 

And immediately flick his fingers in Clarke’s direction. 

Her eyes flash, mouth dropping open, but Bellamy just grins, another flick that leaves flour clinging to Clarke’s cheek and the ends of her hair and she’d never washed that paint streak off. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands. 

“Got you to look at me.” “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Am I laughing?”

Clarke groans, trying to shake the flour off. All it does is ensure her hair shifts and the smell of her shampoo takes over most of the air in his kitchen. “You’re an idiot,” she sneers, “that’s what you are. I’m trying to feed us and—” “—You’re really very concerned about that. We’ve got to reorganize this conversation.”

Bellamy needs to get more flour before he can go for the third flick, but that proves to be his undoing. Clarke moves before he can, reflexes that he’d like to have a very serious discussion about eventually and she doesn’t flick. She slams her hand into his chest, a perfectly formed print in the middle of his shirt, twisting the fabric under her like that will make sure the mark stays there. 

Things are starting to feel a little literal again. 

At least he hopes so. 

So, it’s only reasonable and passably romantic to retaliate in kind — letting his flour-covered fingers flutter over Clarke’s hair and one of them gasps, but it’s difficult to figure out when they’re as close as they are, her hands dragging across his side and dangerously close to the top of his jeans and Bellamy’s definitely the one who groans when Clarke works her way under the hem of his shirt. 

Clarke beams. Bright and honest and her eyes are blue enough that Bellamy briefly considers getting lost in them for those minutes he’s still refusing to count, but then—

“God, I can’t believe I had to use some stupid marshall law bullshit to kiss you,” he mutters. 

“Is marshall law the right term there?” “No, not at all.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, hand staying exactly where it is. “I didn’t think so. And I—this was not some elaborate ruse, just for the record.” “Were you looking for elaborate ruses to make out with me?” “We’ve got to work on your vocabulary. Make out doesn’t seem right either.” “A work in progress.” “For the words, or…” She gasps again. Presumably because Bellamy’s ducking his head and his arm has curled around her middle and it’s easier to kiss her when there isn’t a backpack between them. Bellamy’s hand flattens against the small of Clarke’s back, a curve there that is quite suddenly the only thing he’d like to talk about for the remainder of the day. 

And they’re just as good at this as they were in Bryan’s car, but there’s something inherently different about the second go-around. An ease to the angles and the now-familiar rhythm, like they’d simply been waiting for the chance or the opportunity and—

“Maybe make out was an acceptable description,” Clarke mumbles against Bellamy’s mouth. He grins, dropping down so he can kiss her jaw and the side of her neck, only a little pleased with the goosebumps he notices there. “Oh, don’t get smug,” Clarke adds, “that’s not a good look on you.” “That certainly sounds like you’ve got opinions on my looks, actually.”

She clicks her tongue, leaning back to get in his eye line. “Maybe a few.” “A few?” “Bell, c’mon, that’s—” “—I have a very big crush on you.” Clarke blinks. Opens her mouth only to close it. Smiles. Scoffs. Blinks again. And then she’s kissing him and it’s good and great and both of those things feel wrong during a pandemic, but Bellamy assumes there's something to be said for the human spirit. Or whatever. 

“Makes for a good story, though,” Clarke says, eyes gone a color Bellamy’s never seen before. “You know, if you’re looking for something to write about.” “You want me to write about us? I write history books.” “Is this not historic?” “Oh, now who’s fishing for compliments,” Bellamy chuckles. Clarke blushes. Again, or still. “I would have liked to kiss you under less dramatic circumstances, but, uh—it also wasn’t the worst first kiss I’ve ever had.” “High praise.” “We’re very good at kissing each other.” “Yeah, I figured we would be.” “Did you just?” Clarke hums. “I’m pretty sure my friends had some kind of pool going. Especially now. When I’d finally give in and just like...attack you with my mouth or something. I talk about you all the time. At school. To Raven. Strangers on the street.” “Strangers on the street?” “I mean, Bryan assumed we were a couple.” “That’s because the mayor required him too,” Bellamy argues. “But, uh—I get the opinionated peanut gallery. O was convinced we were secretly dating when she was here.” “Before or after the chianti?” “Well before.” “Oh,” Clarke says, like that’s somehow surprising or good. Bellamy hopes it’s good. He’d like some good at this point. “You should probably change shirts.” “That sounds like a suggestion to take my shirt off.” “Wow, weird.” Her laugh turns into something far closer to a giggle when he kisses behind her ear, a fact he’s already stored for future reference, but then they’re moving and there are discarded clothes and kicked off shoes and neither one of them bothers to get up when the oven finishes pre-heating. 

“I have a crush on you too,” Clarke says, head propped up on her hand. In Bellamy’s bed. They’re in Bellamy’s bed. 

Her backpack is still on his couch. “Good,” he grins. “You want to eat, or…” “God, I’d thought you’d never ask.” And they do make both things, Clarke announcing that this is the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had while Bellamy does an absolutely terrible job of stealing cookie batter on the sly. She moves her backpack eventually too — into the corner of his living room. It’s easier that way, something about pandemics and limiting movement and if one of her students notices the change of scenery during their live-streamed class two days later, none of them say anything. 

#bellarke ff #bellarke fan fiction #bellarke #bellamy x clarke #the 100 #covidー19 #this is very silly nonsense #like...i cannot possibly overstate that

[bullflight]

((I’ve been quiet...))

((There really is no one singular reason I ended up making this sort of ‘update’ post. I know I’ve been really inactive here and elsewhere. I’m mostly to blame for it, my in real life troubles only now, after nearly eight months, finally looking to be easing up.

But here’s the thing: for the most part, my social network here on tumblr has completely rotted away. I’ve been with Bull for 7 years. A lot of the people I’ve befriended, roleplayed with, and even had relationships with... a lot of those people are gone. Some have left Homestuck behind, on neutral and negative terms. Others have stopped roleplay as a hobby. I’ve had a small handful of falling-outs. Hell, I’ve been blatantly ghosted by people I had sincere feelings and connections with.

I get it. Life happens. It hurts like a motherfucker, but it happens. I wouldn’t be here 7 years later with a smut-centric literary exploration of transhumanism and self-worth in the face of trauma and mental illness. [That makes Bull and what I write sound so much cooler and more legit than it is. Sue me.]

But I keep coming back. This is the place I found my real life BF. This is the place I actually began promoting myself as a writer, an artist, and networking with people. I, despite all the setbacks with his timeline and with roleplay partners, and with my life happening outside of here, I like Bull. He means a hell of a lot to me. I have a few planned projects for outside of the roleplay, homestuck universe with him for the future. 

That hasn’t made tumblr and existing here any easier. 

People I liked and admired change, negatively, and reveal themselves to be awful people. This happens a lot more often than you’d think. Drama exists on a cycle, once every few months or years cropping up and culling a sizable portions of present muns and muses. The homestuck fandom, hell the actual content for that matter, are going through a, decidedly twitter-based, reckoning. And you know what else?

People talk shit. People always have. There’s a fair few number of muns and muses who refuse to engage with Bull or me, ic or ooc on any level because of shit that happened six to seven years ago. I had multiple other muns, underage and aware I don’t engage with underage folk, lie to me and solicit me and Bull for nsfw content, in rp and to a certain extent in out of character discussions. I have had most of those people come forward after the fact, apologize, and we both proceed to move on. I started in this fandom and in this scene when I was 19/20. I get it. Shit happens. 

I use Bull to explore a variety of topics. I used to use Bull, and to a certain extent still do, to hone my skills in writing erotica. I’m sure there’s people who associate with me now who don’t know that I’ve been a professional author [and bad as fuck about progressing with it] for several years now. This hobby? Roleplay? It’s both an escape and a method of developing my skills.

And I’ve had multiple people lie to me, engage in darker themes, in erotic content, in discussions about the troublesome and problematic content in the canon proper, and then turn around and call me out, whisper amongst their circles behind my back, and have permanently color a sizable portion of this community’s opinion of me. 

Recently? Besides being ghosted left and right? I’ve been kicked out of friends’ servers because there were people there who were ‘uncomfortable’ with me and with Bull because of shit that happened more than half a decade ago and they’re too chickenshit to talk to me in person about it. There’s people who go around and discuss roleplay, ongoing and not yet resolved, that I do in private with them and it invariably goes around that I and my muse are horrendous awful people and I need to be shunned. 

I’m not here much anymore.

The fact of the matter is that this is not a ‘tumblr’ or a ‘roleplay community’ problem. This is a social media problem. Twitter for homestuck? An absolute dumpster fire. I’m there. I see it. It’s not too different from the shit I saw here in 2013 and 2014. 

There’s people who come into communities, plant a flag, and then burn and pillage the land before making a big show of leaving to go do it elsewhere. There are muns and muses who were driven into toxic corners by other people in this community and had nowhere left to go creatively. There are people, like myself, who lose chances at engaging in a hobby because of little whisperings behind the scenes. 

I’ve lost a lot of people close to my heart. I’ve lost a lot of people I considered good friends. I know that I am not blameless in all of those situations. I am a different person online than I am in real life, someone who is openly affectionate, sexual and flirtatious as a means of connecting with people, and someone who catches and keeps feelings too damned easy for my own good. I know I’ve had times, even if I am only aware of it in hindsight, wherein I crossed someone’s boundaries. But I apologize. I try to do better. I have good days and bad days and weeks where I go back to bad habits and bad mindsets, but I’m not an outwardly malicious or aggressive person.

And yet... within the confines of this roleplay community, this fandom, and social media in general...

You find out real quick if you’re not churning out content, whether it be art or writing or roleplay or cute selfies or callouts or engagement in performative drama... if you’re not making things for people to consume, they’re going to find you boring. They’re going to lose interest. You’re going to go from someone overwhelmed with DMs and Skype and Discord messages on a daily basis cause you were ‘popular’ to someone who cant even maintain a friendship with someone you admire and adore because they have people talking shit in their ears when you’re not around. 

I’m genuinely sorry to anyone and everyone who’s ever been at the receiving end of anything from my erratic, anxious, and depressed behavior. Every day I’m actively trying to be better about containing that shit and not letting it pilot my life and my relationships.

There’s no means to make people, roleplay partners and art friends and accounts you talked to a handful of times through fanmail [god I am dating myself now] to just reappear out of the ether. Sometimes people vanish. Sometimes people go away and you’ll never hear from them again. I get it. I’ve been on the internet since 2002. Before social media that was just a reality. I know it is. But I have tried, nonetheless, to keep in touch, to keep a foothold in this community, to be active, to be engaging, to be... something.

Yet, regardless of trying, eventually you start feeling like something went sour when two dozen people ghost you over the course of a year. When people with no relation to each other left and right just go ‘poof’ and stop replying, stop updating, stop existing. And you feel displaced. They’ve moved on to other things. You feel like you’re boring. Like you’re a one trick pony. That the craze for Daft Punk ended years ago and your gay robo-fuck isnt en vogue anymore and no one wants you around. And no matter how much Bull means to me, no matter how much I put into him, there is inevitably going to be drama, there is going to be people trying to push me and him out.

And for all purposes? It looks like they’ll get what they want eventually.

I exist on discord. 

Pretty much that’s it. 

I’m still working on commissions I’ve owed for an embarrassingly long time. I’ll start posting art again some day. And maybe I’ll be better about keeping in touch. Maybe not. Sometimes you just need to accept defeat. 

I’ll be around.))

#((ooc)) #((this got rambly and long and I apologize to anyone who subjects themselves to this))

[silenthillmutual]

One Punch Man, thus far

all Genos/Saitama, unless otherwise specified  (i still have a few on my ‘marked to read later’)

Top 10:

Colourless Saitama and his Years of Training by rironomind, M (fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, adventure, romance, drama) A lonely eggman living in the 21st century finds a cyborg who endeavours to keep him.

Connect Your Heart to Mine by Notsohappycamper, T (fluff) When Genos is left in critical condition and must stay at Dr. Kuseno’s for much longer than he’d like, Saitama is more than happy to stay connected to him.

everybody’s looking for darjeeling by Batman, G (AU) In which Genos takes up a part time job, Saitama is upset by purple aprons with sunflowers on them, and Sonic is a very tired supervillain. (Or, that one coffee shop AU now with 76% more cyborg baristas.)

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH DEMON CYBORG by nicolet, T (humor) Today we will be interviewing Demon Cyborg, 19 year old Hero Genos LIVE! Stay tuned for more!

From, Anonymous: Be my friend? by One_Punch_Chan, T Saitama wants to connect with his younger roommate as if he were any other human the only way he knows how: The power of the anonymous internet.

It’s always the internal stuff by fabulousreaper, T  Here he was, the strongest man in the world, brought to his knees by a fucking cramp.

Knock Knock, I’m Back From Space by Notsohappycamper, T In which Boros lives, learns to find peace with his human rival, and comes over for tea every so often. I.e., in which Boros visits Saitama while Genos is away.

Missed Connections by batneko, T If the person you like doesn’t like you back, the healthy thing to do is move on, right? All Saitama wants to do is help Genos get over that mystery jerk who doesn’t appreciate what he could have had. And all Genos wants to do is get over Saitama, but how can he when he has to see him every day?

One Hundred Contest Entries by batneko, G Genos gets roped into an embarrassing publicity stunt, and no one is happy about it.

You’ll find me where the monsters are by supercrunch, T Genos stares. For a very long time, because he’s standing in the street with one shoe on, fighting a half-naked man who’s threatening to eat his other shoe, and now there’s an actual naked bald man with one raised eyebrow like he can’t even tell Genos is on his way to short-circuiting. “Oh.” (Either this ‘Saitama’ guy has very bad luck, or he genuinely enjoys getting attacked by monsters every week. Genos, for the life of him, can’t tell which.)

the rest!

G

Action and Reaction by Astarea (fluff) Saitama has come to terms that he can never confess, but it still hurts.

All The Makeup That MAC Can Make by Sacramental_Wine (hurt/comfort, fluff) “Did he have freckles once? Was he always smoother looking? Did his face always seem to have that plasticine finish? What would Saitama think when he came home to Genos looking…alive for a change?”

Black Is Your Brightest Color by daughterofMyou (fluff, angst) -A Valentine’s Day fanfiction; Saitama and Genos go for a walk in the park, then attempt to cook each other their favourite desserts. Not everything goes as planned.

Brand Loyalty by batneko (AU) Genos encounters a man who looks exactly like Saitama… but with hair.

First Crush by batneko A conversation over dinner about crushes and fandoms.

First-Name Basis by batneko (AU) Genos gave up on finding his soulmate when he gave up his skin. Saitama just isn’t looking.

Gray Matter by batneko (fluff) Some parts aren’t so easy to replace. And the injuries you can’t see can be the most dangerous.

Hands by Bloodsbane Genos asks to use Saitama’s hand as a drawing reference.

Hollow Spaces by twisting_vine_x Saitama hadn’t realized how alone he was until Genos came into his life.

“I’m his husband.” by batneko The obligatory accidental marriage fic.

It’s Cold Without You by your_tomodachi (fluff) Genos is invited to a party organised by the Hero Association on Christmas Eve. He decides to take Saitama along and everyone thinks they’ve come together as a couple. Really, Saitama only came because he heard there’s free food.

Love Bite by batneko (fluff, angst) “Maybe we should stop fooling around.”

Marks on Metal, Dents on Flesh by notsohappycamper (fluff) The boys explore the imperfections of each other’s bodies.

Masks by batneko Superheroes wear masks. Everyone knows that.

Morning Routine by rironomind (fluff) Waking up next to someone who loves you

Mr. Right by OldBeginningNewEnding Flowers in hand, Saitama takes a trip with Genos for a long-overdue introduction. And maybe a request as well.

my love has come along by lowsywriter (fluff, angst, AU) Genos knows himself too well to not notice that his feelings for Saitama are more than friendship, and with graduation looming he is gonna miss his chance to make a move.

never change by determination Saitama doesn’t know how to handle Valentine’s day or his feelings. But he’s learning, and maybe a romantic holiday is all he needed to nudge him in the right direction.

Obliviously by batneko Everyone can see how much Genos cares for Saitama, but can Genos? (No, no he can’t.)

Our Two Dads by aactionjohnny (fluff) A day in the lives of the robo babies.

The Pocket Trials by 8ball (friendship, fluff) Genos apologized at the end of the fight, like he always did when Saitama had to help him stand or gather his parts or just flat out carry what was left of him. But it bothered Saitama that Genos was apologizing for failing to defeat the monster, rather than failing to keep himself unharmed.

R.A.M Sleep by CAPSING “Genos,” Saitama finally speaks, with an uncharacteristic hint of urgency in his voice. “Yes, Sensei?” Genos straightens his back slightly, attentive; he sets his chopsticks down. “This morning, on patrol…” Saitama is clearly struggling. “I –“ There’s a pause.“I wondered what we’d have for dinner.”

Robot Parenting 101 by batneko (fluff) Dr. Kuseno’s latest project is useful, but unconventional.

Soap by 54starr Genos accidentally confessiones his love to Saitama. Now he’s gotta wash his mouth out with soap.

Uncharacteristically nervous by oiltears (fluff) Genos and Saitama go on their first “real” date and Saitama is a small bundle of nerves

unwind by bluestrawberryiii (fluff) Saitama’s had a rough day.

Warm Like the Sun’s Rays by oodlenoodle (hurt/comfort, fluff) Genos and Saitama enjoy a sunset together and share memories from the past while creating a new memory of their own.

Yellow by transtrees “The person I love is so strong it worries me, So show your weakness to me alone! I’ll find you before the stars do, So please come straight home!”

T

Blending and Processing by aactionjohnny It’s just a blender.

Blush by SomeplaceToStay Genos can’t blush and Saitama doesn’t know if he’s upset by that.

Breaking the Fourth Wall by nicolet (fluff, crack, humor) Genos reads fanfic. That’s all there is to it.

Breathing Fish to Life by Magisey (fluff, angst, hurt/comfort) A fluffy hurt/comfort fic of getting together, love, and fishies

Condition of Learned Helplessness by Sheepnamedpig (drama, romance, angst, friendship) Genos fights, learns, launders, and loves.

Confessions by AlaianaPotter (fluff) He had not meant to send it. He had not meant to even write it, but sitting there in the morning as Sensei slumbered, it had just been far too tempting

Fraternization by batneko Saitama and Genos learn about a very inconvenient Hero Association rule.

Frustration by icarusforgotten (angst) It’s something so fundamentally human, so unbearably real, that it almost hurts to acknowledge it.

Greed by Sheepnamedpig I get a little bit Genghis Khan./ I don’t want you to get it on/ With nobody else but me.

Hands by Bloodsbane Genos asks to use Saitama’s hand as a drawing reference.

I Didn’t Know What I Needed to Know by The_Button_Harlequin (fluff, angst) Saigenos Week Prompt: Won’t you come home soon?

I Love You by nicolet (fluff) Just a touch, the briefest touch, and yet within it, a world of importance.

Kisses For Me by nicolet (fluff, crack) Genos keeps kissing other Heroes (accidentally), and Saitama is annoyed.

Lazy Day by Notsohappycamper (fluff) Relaxing on the balcony, doing laundry together, eating ice cream, and being in love.

Love doesn’t HAVE to be a many splendored thing, does it? by Ginncide Saitama’s never been an emotional guy, so he figured he wasn’t cut out for romance. He starts to wonder what being in love really is.

Mind Over Matter by yesterday “You want me to teach you how to what?” Saitama asks as they’re clearing up the dishes from tonight’s meal. Genos washes; Saitama gathers up the garbage. Tomorrow is burnable garbage day. Each pot and plate and dish is scoured to sparkling perfection before it goes into the drying rack. “Relax,” Genos says. “Sensei appears to have a lot of experience in the art of doing nothing, and recently Doctor Kuseno suggested that it would be beneficial for me to do the same.” “Doesn’t that guy make robots? They’re not exactly like humans, you know,” Saitama says. “And it’s not like I spend all day lying around the house. I’m a hero, a hero.”

Not Today by Sheepnamedpig (action, drama, romance) There is only one thing we say to death–

One Day (Love and Loss) by SugaSugar (AU, angst) By the time he’s twenty five, Saitama starts to wonder if Genos died before they could meet.

Paper Stars by Variastrix (angst) Saitama folds paper stars as a coping mechanism.

Phantom Warmth by KNACC (fluff) Genos is feeling odd reactions in his barely functional core as Saitama carries his wrecked body away from the Sea King fight.

Practice Makes Perfect by Humanitys_Shortest_Soldier (fluff, angst) Genos takes a lesson from Saitama a little too seriously, and Saitama is surprisingly okay with the whole thing.

Regret by Lazzuli (fluff, angst) Everyone has discussions, everyone fights. Even teachers and disciples.

Search Your Feelings by Chokopoppo (fluff) Saitama can’t believe Genos hasn’t ever seen Star Wars. Genos can’t believe Saitama thinks R2-D2 is the best robot.

Separation Anxiety by NanakiBH (drama, angst) Everything can be broken; something the strong forget.

Shift by Duskglass They’re both pretty bad at dealing with change, and Saitama just wants to avoid trouble. It sort of backfires.

Simplicity by rubyfiamma (fluff) Genos kisses Saitama, Saitama wonders what in the fuck

Sleeping Cycles by LennyFace (fluff, friendship) Genos can’t help but notice many details about his master, small things he observes from their routine and includes in his housework to facilitate his life.

So much time to waste by seiji Two heroes walk into a bar. The waitstaff survive, mostly.

synthetic by cyaneyed He tastes faintly of metal.

Twelve to Four by lightning027 (fluff) [[Or a story where Saitama makes a list, Genos buys a throw pillow, and they both sort of overheat]]

why isn’t he getting paid for all the merchandise though?  There was a line between admiration and obsession and Saitama was pretty sure Genos was starting to cross it.

you’re digging graves into your skin (mark the headstones with my name) by rironomind (romance) Genos is self-destructive, Saitama is insensitive and Dr Kuseno is long-suffering.

M

All I Have to Give by needchocolatenow (fluff) Genos is in love with Saitama.

And so the Universe Cackled in Glee by I_dont_know_man (humor) Inspired by bleepbloop6969’s Ecchi AU: “Where everything is the same, except Genos keeps getting thrown into perverted positions with Saitama.”

First Aid by Zemmiphobia (fluff) Watching Genos prep for repairs gives Saitama a sudden realization, sparking Genos’ own revelation.

Friction by Usuishi (PWP) There were far too many times where they ended up in situations in that Saitama really couldn’t find the source of. They always ended up in erotic circumstances somehow, whether it was Genos or himself that initiated them. It didn’t matter where they were by this point. It didn’t matter one bit.

A Happy Accident by paperficwriter Genos discovers that Saitama is very, very sensitive to certain touches, and he decides to experiment.

A Hot Bath and a Hot Pot by aactionjohnny (fluff, smut) Or, “what the OVA didn’t show us.”

I Want You To Want Me by One_Punch_Chan Genos gets a super obsessive fan who keeps harassing him for dates etc. and the only way to get them to leave him alone is for Saitama to fake being his boyfriend.

Jupiter Has Seven Moons by Chokopoppo (PWP) Nothing like a cool robot boyfriend with weird sexual modules to make you appreciate the modern age of technology, and no time like the present to figure out how to use that.

Nightmare by batneko Saitama has a dream that shakes him, and some reassurance is in order.

Nobody Got Me Feeling This Way by Sacramental_Wine “Normally, he felt hard around the edges, something immobile and sturdy. But the music hollowed him out, making him fluid, floating, dancing along with a general ease that came from not seeing himself.” Genos discovers what it is to love the body he’s been given.

Repairs by shaunhastings2012 Genos needs to fix some of his wiring after a battle. It should’ve been a simple repair, but it wasn’t going quite the way he’d expected. However, Genos didn’t exactly mind what happened.

Self-Indulgence by EmpanadaDrabblez The alarm clock across the room shone red like those beautiful crimson irises. The blue moonlight through the sheer curtains glowed like the white cables of Genos’ neck when they were kissed. The small fan at his feet droned quietly like the overworked hum of Genos’ cooling system.

Sensory by Duskglass Genos needs some minor repairs after a fight, and is positive he can handle them on his own. It’s a little harder than he anticipated.

So Very Loved by lilith_swbf Saitama made him feel like he was his most precious treasure.

Untitled. by DesInDisguise (fluff) Gentle lovemaking was all that he could ask for. To be shown adoration, love. To be pulled away from their lives for only a moment, no remembrance of how he was a machine made for death. How nice it was to forget, or pretend that he was human for those moments. To be loved and cherished much like anyone else, for Saitama to kiss him without hesitation, giving him no time to apologise for being too stiff, too awkward, too fake.

E

Add-On by NyxMidnight Genos is a cyborg. Adding a bodypart is nothing to him.

Apartment-warming by Akumeoi (smut, romance) Saitama finally moves out of the Hero Association HQ and goes back to Z-City with Genos. They do some housewarming. (Translation: 2K smut)

Appreciation by EmpanadaDrabblez (AU, PWP) “You know I appreciate you, don’t you?” The question was easier to let out than Saitama expected, but it was the silence that answered him which made him anxious.

The Apron by Bloodsbane (angst, fluff) Shit. The word buzzed around Saitama’s skull like a mosquito, one he truly had no chance of squashing between his fingers. Shit, he thought, observing his disciple/roommate/best friend as he scrubbed furiously at a spot on the floor with a rag. He was on his knees, bent forward slightly, putting all his weight into removing an ugly soy sauce stain. The straps of the apron fell as if to purposefully frame his ass. Fucking shit.

Bathtime Bubbles Baby by Darke_Eco_Freak Saitama would really hate to burst them.

Beta Testing by Croik Taken from an anon prompt on tumblr: “Masochistic Genos who knows Saitama is going too far w/o realizing it while they’re banging.”

Blackout by Lindserton (fluff, smut) A storm is approaching and Saitama doesn’t seem concerned about it one bit.

Blooming Season by oodlenoodle It’s springtime and Saitama decides to visit Genos.

Break Me Open by spunlikesugar Genos ends up with his fair share of dents the first time he has sex with Saitama…and the second time. And many times after that.

Crime and Punishment by spunlikesugar (humor, smut) Genos uses a new tactic to get Saitama to attend a wedding with him. It backfires. Or not. Depends on how you look at it.

Egging Him On by banana-babies Genos and Saitama end up at King’s house with some sake and a lot of sexual tension. King ends up having a very bad time.

Evening Interlude by SweetAvidyaJones (angst) I have been thinking a lot lately about Genos fucking Saitama and I couldn’t stop so I wrote this.

Eyes (Only For You) by 8bitcyborg (smut) «That’s when he decided that it didn’t really matter. His heart told him it didn’t matter. Genos wanted him, and he wanted Genos. The reckless but still so perfect and loving cyborg, who could have anyone in the world, possibly the universe, but only had eyes for him.»

Full Color by NanakiBH Ever since Genos appeared, something began to change.

From a Cyborg’s Mouth by Emery (fluff, smut) Genos is much, much too polite, and Saitama decides that he’s had enough of it–especially when he knows that the cyborg talking dirty will get him off.

Frozen Sunlight by Aetherdrive Humanity is the best gift you can give to someone that has transcended it.

Hard Edges by Ixxen (smut) For the rest of the day there’s a peaceful lilt in Genos’ step that Saitama hasn’t seen for longer than he liked to think, and makes sure to let the blond catch him staring. Each time is a discovery, and the specimen is a smile outlined in vivid red; perfect, entrancing, and capable of skipping a step in Saitama’s otherwise perfect heartbeat. After that, he pays attention.

Phantom Limb by batneko Genos doesn’t have a penis, but accidentally discovers his brain can make do.

Pointless by CheekyKichi (PWP) Genos is very cheeky and Saitama doesn’t let him get away with it, even if they’re at a very important wedding.

The Quality of Being Hard by NyxMidnight A misunderstanding leads to good time, or “You just had to say so, Master”.

Reconsider by SpringTide “So, uh, Genos. Do you…have a thing for me?” Time stood still in the room. This was the absolute worst case scenario. Genos weighed his options while carefully maintaining a poker face. Saitama just kept staring at him with a blank, unreadable expression. “That’s. An abrupt question, sensei.” It wasn’t abrupt. Genos had lived there for months and fallen hard and fast. It was shocking it took this long for something to come up.

Stamina by toastycyborg (PWP) A drabble for Tumblr user sai-pop, based on an anonymous ask: “OVERSTIMULATED GENOS AND A SAI THAT CANT STOP BC HE HAS A SCARY AMOUNT OF STAMINA”

Through Different Eyes by NanakiBH (drama, hurt/comfort) For the first time, he wanted to know more.

Yellow by aactionjohnny Genos buys Saitama a gift. Well, really, it’s for both of them.

Yes, Master by Astarea Genos is very upset and Saitama is having none of that.

NR

Always Gold by OldeShoestring (AU, fluff, humor) Genos lost a bet and the result isn’t as quite as he expects it to be.

Good Boy by doobler (PWP) Saitama wants Genos to want him to want to be praised. Right?

Head Full Of Nothing by hopelesswanderlust (angst) Sweet Mask makes him write a list about what it means to be human.

His Biggest Fan by Orihander (fluff) Genos just wants his sensei to be happy

I Know Your Face by paperficwriter Sonic finds Saitama, but something about him keeps him at an uncharacteristic distance.

Lazy Mornings (PWP) Saitama appreciates staying in bed longer than necessary a lot more than he should. Especially if there is someone else with him. Someone who doesn’t mind being ground against.

The Meaning of Flowers by paperficwriter (+ Metal Bat/Garou; fluff) A collection of drabbles based around flowers and their many meanings.

So Many Colors by OldeShoestring (fluff) Genos deals, listens and loves. Not necessarily in that order but he does all of them anyway.

#fic recs #one punch man #saigenos #genosai #opm #nori talks #ok to rb #long post #popular

[goddessdoeswitchery]

Pillars of Hellenic Polytheism: Technically, the pillars were never actually a “thing”. Unlike then 10 commandments, the pillars were never taught as a set of rules that everyone knew by the name “Pillars of Hellenic Polytheism”, or any variation thereof. What modern day practitioners of Hellenic Polytheism call “The Pillars” were essentially religious and cultural practices that were taught by family and friends via every day practices. The pillars were an essential part of the culture of Ancient Greece, taught to them the same way customs like tipping, saying “bless you” at sneezing, and the now-common practice of wearing a mask everywhere are taught to us today. In recreating Hellenic Polytheism for the modern age, the Pillars grew out of a need for a set of guidelines to help us recreate a very old religion.

First up, Xenia. Xenia means “Guest Friendship” and is a set of rules for when a guest comes calling on your home. This set of rules applies to both the host and guest. It is one of the most sacred rules in Hellenic Polytheism, and features heavily in several myths, as well as the Illiad and the Odyssey. Often times, the myths show what happens when someone fails to follow the rules, and it is never a good thing. Zeus himself, under one of his epithets Zeus Xenios, is the embodiment of the religious obligation of being hospitable as both host and guest. In general, the host was meant to be hospitable. This included providing the guests with food, drink, gifts, protection, and even safe travel to their next destination. The guests were required to not be a burden or a threat, provide news and tales of where they had been, and to reciprocate if the host ever showed up their place. In the Illiad, violation of Xenia led to the Trojan war when Paris, the guest, kidnapped his host’s, Menelaus, daughter. The Achaens were required to avenge this insult, because violating Xenia was a massive insult to Zeus and his authority as Zeus Xenios. In the Odyssey, when the suitors of Penelope begin to eat her out of house and home, they violated Xenia by being a burden to her. They also violate Xenia by being rude their host and the other guests in the home.

But how does someone practice this in the modern world where travel is almost always safe and news is delivered to our home not by bards and guests but by social media and the internet?

Xenia should be a belief that guides us everyday, because everyday we play host or guest in our community. When a friend needs help moving, when a neighbor has lost their animal, when we visit a friend or relative, when we run into an old acquaintance at the store, when we see someone in need, when we run into strangers on the street; anytime you interact with another person, when you visit someone, when you stay at a hotel or AirBNB, even at the voting booth, anytime you deal with someone or have an influence on your community, you have a chance to practice Xenia. Xenia goes beyond the simple rules of guest and host and informs how we interact with everyone everyday, because it is tied to our community, especially with philanthropy.

Let’s break this down bit by bit so you can see good examples of how exactly Xenia can inform each of these interactions. Some of these examples will be simply examples, and some of them will be reflective of real life situations I or others have faced in the last few months.

A few years back, the home I shared with my mom, my sister, and my children caught fire. We were left with very few personal items, and no place to live. My uncle, who lived several hundred miles away, practiced Xenia by offering to pay for the deposit and move in fees for an apartment complex. The community we lived in practiced good Xenia by donating items we badly needed, such as beds, clothing, toys for the kids, and much needed housewares like microwaves, pots and pans, and silverware. Several members of the community organized a drive to help us replace many of the items we lost and guided us to food banks that helped us with electricity deposits and the first few months’ worth of bills. Every person we interacted with practiced Xenia, even if they had no idea that they were doing so at the time.

About 2 years ago, we found a small dog in front of our local grocery store. There was no collar, no chip, and the poor thing was half-starved and filthy. We took it home, cleaned it, cared for it, and then took actions to return the puppy to her rightful owner. We put up signs, made posts on Facebook, called every animal shelter in 80 miles, and searched lost and found pages, groups, and posts on every social media site we could think of. 3 days later, we found the owners, a newlywed couple who had come home to find the front door of their home open and the puppy they had gotten 2 weeks ago gone. When we took care of the animal and made every effort to find her owner, we put into practice the basic principles of Xenia by playing good hosts to the animal in our care. Xenia does not just inform our actions for people, but is also informs how we should treat every living thing.

Now for an example that includes both good and bad xenia, in it’s purest form of being a guest and a host. Say you are visiting family out of town, and you bring a bottle of wine. The wine is a good gift on your part as a guest, and is an example of good xenia. You don’t overstay your welcome, you go home early because you know your hosts have an early morning the next day, you take care to not cause any mess, and you use your manners flawlessly. Then, 2 weeks later, your host pays a visit to you. They bring their spouse and kids along. They fail to bring any gift, allow their kids to eat all the snacks in your cupboard, drink all of your soda that was supposed to last all week, overstay their welcome by sticking around for dinner even when it is obvious that you didn’t plan on having an extra 5 people over for dinner, don’t clean up after their kids or even watch them, and don’t leave until after 10 pm even though you mention time and again that you have to leave at 6 tomorrow morning for an early start to work. Outside of paying a return visit to you, your guests have been a perfect example of how to violate the rules of Xenia at every turn. And we all have one of those friends or family. The ones who never can take a hint and eventually wind up being unwelcome at your house, or any other simply because they’ve violated the rules of Xenia so often.

When we run into strangers or acquaintances, we can practice good Xenia by simply inquiring after them, if they have the time. Simply saying “Hey, how’s it going?” or “How are you?” can go a long way in being an extension of Xenia outside the home. My job has made Xenia a rule of thumb without knowing even know it, by insisting that we Stand, Smile, and Greet every customer, move around the counter to sit with them at a table when taking an application, and take the time to get to know them. We offer small snacks and candies, bottle of water alongside soda and coffee, and as a result, we practice good xenia as a whole throughout the company.

Xenia also intersects with philanthropy when we see someone in need. Donating to food banks, charities that enforce the rules of xenia like homeless shelters, and even engaging in personal donations to those in need are all good way to practice Xenia on a regular basis and literally put your money where your mouth is as a practitioner of Hellenic Polytheism. Even at the voting booth, we can practice Xenia by ensuring that those we vote for uphold those values by supporting immigrants, providing for the homeless, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, and assisting those who need it. By ensuring that we vote for those who practice Xenia every day and put it into policy, we can support our community.

Last, but definitely not least, Xenia guides our relationship with our own gods. The gods give to us every day, and we can reciprocate in kind. We can let our altars serve as their home, ensuring it is clean and kept in good repair. We can make sure we have appropriate offerings (this can even include something as simple as clean water, bread, incense smoke, or a dash of olive oil). We can welcome them to our home with prayers and praises. We can remember that when they come to our altars, they are guests in our home and we must, above all, treat them as such.

In short, Xenia is a practice, a Pillar that informs our every day life. Some extensions of Xenia are called “good manners”, some of them are called “being a good neighbor”, and some are called “being a good citizen”. We all have practiced and expected Xenia as a part of our lives at some point or another. As I mentioned in the beginning of this podcast, Xenia, as a part of the pillars, is not a simple commandment. It is a way of life, expected of us at every turn. It is a pillar, not just of Hellenic Polytheism, but of our lives.

For references, I relied heavily on the Illiad and the Odyssey, both of which I own. I also pulled from Wikipedia, the Xenia comic by Greek Myth Comix, Hellenic Polytheism by Chris Aldridge, Hellenic Polytheism: Household Worship, and Mythology of the Greeks: Legends Anterior to and Contemporary with the Trojan War to 1183 BC to the First Olympiad, 776 BC by George Grote.

Thanks for listening to this episode of “Hellenic Polytheism 101”, a short lecture on Xenia as a Pillar of Hellenic Polytheism. For a transcript of this podcast, you can visit goddesssdoeswitchery.tumblr.com, and look for the tag “Hellenic Polytheism 101 transcripts”. There you will find a link to the references, including an amazon link to the books I referenced, outside of the one by George Grote, as it is 164 years old. You can also ask me any questions there. Don’t forget to tune in for the next episode, coming August 23rd, about Kharis.

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