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chicgeekgirl89 · 24 days

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Chapter 6 now available on AO3!

He’s going on a date. With Hottie Officer Carlos. Tomorrow. He’s equal parts thrilled and completely freaking out.

They’ve texted daily, mostly inane and sometimes flirty things. T.K. would be lying if he said he wasn’t horny for the guy. Seeing him in uniform, the way his muscles had filled out the sleeves, his thighs…T.K. has woken up more than a few times from dreams where Carlos’ broad hands are caressing their way down his body.

But as he’s told his therapist several times, that is not the point of this date. Carlos seems like a genuinely good guy. The type of guy T.K.’s always hoped to be with, the type of guy he thought Alex was.

Alex. T.K. sighs and wonders how long the specter of his previous boyfriend is going to hang over him. He’d tried to get the guy out of his head when he’d first arrived in Austin. There had been some sex, one-night stands whose names he doesn’t remember, and when that hadn’t worked he’d turned to getting the shit kicked out of him in bars. His dad picking him from jail is not even in the top ten lowest moments of his life, but he still feels kind of shitty about it.

He’s been trying his hardest since then to turn things around. This date with Carlos…it feels like a second chance. A chance to be the kind of guy who deserves someone like Carlos Reyes. And he’s trying really hard not to self sabotage it like he usually does.

Right now he’s having kind of a hard time telling the little voice in his head that reminds he’s not good enough to shut up.

“Why do you look like that?”

Judd settles into a chair across from him, leaning back and kicking his feet up.

T.K.’s hand stills where it’s been combing anxiously through Buttercup’s fur. “Look like what?”

“Look like you just accidentally jumped in the pen with my Uncle Cash’s meanest bull,” Judd says. “Something on your mind?”

T.K. rubs Buttercup’s ear and considers how much to share. His therapist has been pushing him to open up more to the people around him. His team has proven time and again that they’re trustworthy, but it’s still hard to give the darker pieces of himself away.

“I have a date,” he says finally.

“Oh really?” Judd says, an interested look flashing across his face. “With that cop from your phone?”

“Yes,” T.K. says. “We’re getting coffee tomorrow. And I’m…”

“You’re nervous,” Judd says with a nod, like it’s a fact. “Good.”

“Good? How is that good?”

“Means it’s worth something to ya,” Judd tells him. “Means it matters. You want a hook up, you just jump on in without caring. You want something more, you’re gonna feel scared you’ll mess it up.”

That makes far too much sense for T.K.’s nerves. “What if I do mess it up?” he asks. “What if he doesn’t like me? We’ve only met once for like two minutes. What if all this texting and talking works through the phone but we sit there and stare at each other in silence for an hour?”

“T.K.,” Judd shifts and sits forward so he can look him squarely in the eye. “I’ve known you for a year, and not once in all those days have you been able to sit in silence for longer than three and a half seconds. You’ll find something to talk about.”

“Thanks?” T.K. says, unsure whether he should feel grateful or offended.

“You’ll be great,” Judd says. “You’re a catch. He should be grateful he gets to spend time with you.”

The room warms in T.K.’s vision, a rosy hue brightening up the dark thoughts in his mind. “You think so?” he asks tentatively.

“You’re a god damned dual certified firefighter paramedic,” Judd says, his voice strong. “And a member of the 126. That alone makes you a catch.” He points a finger at T.K. “Don’t you forget it.”

T.K. has never in his life thought of himself as a catch. He’s just…a toy to be played with. Something for people to enjoy and then be sent packing when they’re tired of him. Judd’s words do something to him that he can’t quite pinpoint, but it feels like a small part of him heals.

Then the alarm sounds and they’re both on their feet, running to the truck. As T.K. buckles into his seat he realizes that he feels…good. It feels like light is dawning on him for the first time in so long. Like those moments when you can’t really see the sunrise yet, but you can feel that it’s coming soon.

They pull up to the fire within minutes and it looks terrible. Flames shoot from windows and out of the roof, smoke filling the early evening air as people flee from inside into the waiting arms of first responders.

T.K.’s heart does a weird lurch as he spots APD on the scene even though he knows Carlos is off tonight. They haven’t even been on a single date and he’s already getting butterflies over the guy. It’s ridiculous.

“Stay alert,” his dad is telling them all as they pull up to the scene. “Two in, two out. This place is going to be unstable. Stick with your partner and if anything seems off get out first and ask questions later.”

“Yes Cap,” they all chorus before jumping out and donning their tanks and masks.

Inside things are hot and dark. The fire is quickly sucking out any air left in the building and the smoke is billowing in thick, black clouds that make it nearly impossible to see. He’s paired up with Marjan and they’re both struggling to make it even a few feet down the narrow hallways.

They manage one rescue, a guy who’s leg is definitely broken, and it’s a relief when they carry him back outside. T.K. pulls off his mask and takes a couple gulps of clean air after they pass the guy off to medical.

“Ready to go again?” Marjan asks.

T.K. nods, replacing his mask and following her toward the door. But before they can head inside there’s a loud rumble and the earth shakes a little under their feet. “Whoa, what was that?” Marjan asks.

“Mayday mayday! Firefighter down!”

Mateo’s voice comes shouting over their radios and T.K.’s heart plummets into his boots. Marjan turns to him, eyes wide. “Isn’t Mateo with—“

“My dad,” T.K. says. Without a second thought he’s through the door.

“T.K.! T.K. wait!” Marjan yells after him.

He can hear her behind him, trying to keep up. “Mateo where are you?” he asks.

“Southeast side,” Mateo says. “He’s unconscious, I can’t wake him up!”

“We’re on our way,” T.K. says, taking the first left he comes to.

“Us too,” Judd says from wherever he and Paul are.

It’s only minutes but it feels like days before T.K. hears the screaming of a PASS alarm. They take a final turn and find Mateo kneeling on the floor next to his dad’s prone form. “What happened?” T.K. asks.

“Beam came down from the ceiling. Took him down hard,” Mateo says. “He hasn’t woken up since.” He looks like he’s just barely restraining himself from full blown panic.

T.K. can relate.

“Dad,” T.K. shakes his shoulder but gets no response and the fear he’s been keeping at bay comes screaming to the surface. “Dad! Come on! Wake up!”

“Hey!”

Judd and Paul join the group. “We need to get him out of here,” Judd says. “This whole place is gonna come down on top of us any second.”

“He could have a spinal injury,” T.K. protests.

“Better injured than dead,” Paul says. “Come on. Let’s go!”

T.K. reaches under one of his dad’s arms while Judd gets under his other side. The way his dad’s head droops as they move makes T.K. sick to his stomach. He’s so terrified he can hardly breathe, air coming in and out of his lungs in tight bursts.

It feels like forever before they escape the heat and the dark, but finally there it is, the outside world, still waiting for them.

They drop his dad onto a gurney and Nancy and Tim swarm in along with Michael, their acting captain for the day, pulling off his turnouts and helmet. His dad lets out a groan of pain that makes T.K.’s knees go weak with a combination of relief and sympathy.

“What happened?” his dad asks as his eyes blink open, squinting against the fading daylight.

“Beam took you down Cap,” Mateo says. “Hit you right in the head.”

His dad groans again and closes his eyes. “Yep, that’s what it feels like.”

T.K. rides with him in the back of the ambulance and then follows the gurney into the ER. He talks to the doctors, tells them about the medication his dad is on for his cancer treatments, and all of his supplements. He calls his mom in New York then sits with his teammates in the waiting room while his dad is taken for tests and scans.

It’s not the worst trip to the ER he’s ever experienced, but it’s not great either. His anxiety is through the roof. This is the second time in just about a year his dad has said a passing hello to death and it’s doing nothing to help his anxiety. The world has faded out to grey again, black and white, like the scuffed tiles of the hospital floor. His skin is itching with the urge to run away from it all, but the desire to stay is currently winning the fight. Yay therapy.

He chews anxiously on a fingernail, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. He stripped off his turnout coat a while ago, but his pants are still sitting uncomfortably stiff on his legs. There’s a char mark on his left thigh from a stray cinder on some call he doesn’t remember. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at it.

When the doctor finally comes out the news is about as okay as it can be for an injured firefighter. His dad has a concussion and a couple broken ribs. They’re a little extra concerned about the ribs because of the lung cancer and the propensity for pneumonia. They’re keeping him overnight for observation and he’s not happy about it. But overall he’s going to be fine.

Paul drives T.K. home where he falls face first into bed without even showering. He’s exhausted from the stress of everything and it’s only when he wakes up in the morning that he remembers his date with Carlos. Fuck. He has to cancel.

Anxiety curdles in his stomach. Carlos is going to think he’s that guy. The one who claims a family emergency even though they both know he’s really just flaking out on the date. T.K. has been on both sides of that text on more than one occasion, but he doesn’t want to be that guy this time. He’s been trying so hard not to fuck this up, and he can’t stand the thought of it all crashing down because he’s finally choosing to be responsible.

He stares at the ceiling and sighs. There’s no help for it. Even if he gets his dad home in time today, he can’t leave him alone. The guy will be out trying to rescue a kitten from a tree or help a neighbor move a couch less than twenty minutes after T.K. is out the door.

T.K.

[7:32am] Hey I’m so sorry, I have to cancel today.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[7:33am] Everything okay?

T.K.

[7:34am] My dad is in the hospital. Hurt on a call last night.

His phone begins buzzing almost immediately, the sight of Carlos’ pecs lighting up his screen. He’d forgotten that he’d set Carlos’ contact photo like that and he barks out a startled laugh. “Hello?” his voice comes out croaky and he swallows hard to try and clear it.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks immediately. “Is your dad okay?”

“Yeah.” T.K. pushes himself into a sitting position and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah we’re both okay. He has a concussion and some broken ribs. They kept him overnight so I have to go pick him up in a little bit.”

“God I’m so sorry,” Carlos says, sounding one hundred percent sympathetic without an ounce of suspicion or annoyance. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need? My mom makes soup that she swears will heal anything.”

T.K. closes his eyes, surprised that he can feel tears welling up. Carlos’ immediate response is to offer to provide comfort for him and his dad. It’s so wildly surprising and different from any guy he’s ever dated that the words have gone straight to his tear ducts. “No, I think we’re okay. Thanks though,” he manages around the thickness in his throat. “I’m um, I’m really sorry about our date.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Carlos says. “We’ll reschedule. Take care of your dad. And yourself.”

“Thanks,” T.K. says. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Just worry about your family,” Carlos says. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

They hang up and T.K. takes a long minute to replay the conversation in his mind. Carlos hadn’t sounded mad or annoyed. He hadn’t even sounded disappointed. Just genuinely concerned.

T.K.’s not quite sure what to do with that, so he shelves it to examine later and forces himself into the shower.

His dad is his usual self when T.K. gets to the hospital. All the nurses are in love with him; the Strand charm effect is strong. He’s definitely in pain though and trying to hide it as T.K. helps him into the car and then onto the sofa at home.

“Are you going to sit there all afternoon staring at me?” his dad asks an hour later.

“I’m not staring at you. I’m studying for my EMT recertification exam,” T.K. says, holding up the manual as evidence

“I’m okay son,” Owen says, that soft, dad look on his face; the one that says he’s more concerned about how T.K. is feeling than himself. “I’m glued to this couch. You can go hang out with your friends or take Buttercup for a walk.”

Buttercup lifts his head up at the sound of his name and then drops it glumly back to the floor when it’s clear nobody is actually going to take him outside.

“I’m staying right here,” T.K. tells him. “I know you think you won’t get off that couch and overdo it, but the second you get too bored you’re going to be trying to throw together a soufflé or check the oil in the car.”

Owen blinks at him. “First of all, you don’t ‘throw together’ a soufflé. It’s a delicate process that requires hours of concentration and impeccable timing. And secondly, I had the oil changed on the car last week.”

“Still not leaving,” T.K. says without looking up from the manual.

The doorbell rings and Buttercup heaves himself to his feet, tail wagging as he wanders toward the front door. “Are we expecting anybody?” T.K. asks as he gets up.

“Could be Judd,” his dad says. “He mentioned last night that he and Grace might swing by.”

“Maybe it’s Nurse Judy from the hospital,” T.K. teases. “I saw her eyeing you up this morning.”

“I can’t help it that my shoulders are accentuated by the shape and contour of a hospital gown!” his dad calls after him.

T.K. snorts and shuffles Buttercup out of the way so he can open the door. The person on the other side is not Judd or Grace or Nurse Judy, but rather a redheaded college age kid wearing a black baseball cap. “Hi, I have a delivery for T.J.,” he says, holding out a cardboard coffee carrier.

“Oh.” T.K.’s brow furrows. “I don’t think we ordered anything.”

The kid checks his phone. “You’re T.J. Strand?”

“T.K.”

The kid shrugs. “Close enough. This is for you. Have a good day.”

He practically shoves the carrier into T.K.’s hands and then heads back to his car.

T.K. carries it into the kitchen. “Who was it?” his dad asks, craning his neck to try and see what T.K. is doing.

“Door Dash,” T.K. says.

There’s a green smoothie and a latte in the carrier along with a folded up piece of paper. He unfolds it and his heart stops inside his chest.

Latte is for you. Smoothie is for your dad. Not quite my mom’s soup but hopefully it helps. -Carlos

Carlos remembered his coffee order. Not only that, he remembered that T.K.’s dad prefers green juices and other organic products. That had been one conversation weeks ago while Carlos was on a lunch break in the middle of his shift.

One text and Carlos remembered.

Oh.

The room around him brightens, the weight in his soul that belongs to the last twenty-four hours lifting off and dissipating into nothing.

“T.K.? What’s going on over there?” his dad calls.

T.K. lifts out both drinks, carrying them into the living room and setting them on coasters. “Someone sent us drinks.”

“Someone?” His dad arches and eyebrow and then winces. “Someone like…the hot cop who lives in your phone that you were supposed to go on a date with today?”

T.K. narrows his eyes. “Did Judd rat me out to you? Because that’s really not cool.”

“Judd didn’t rat you out,” Owen says. “Sound carries in the fire station. And also I know you. You’ve been all moony eyed and nervous this week. It’s how you always get before a first date.”

“I do not!”

“Um yeah, you do,” Owen says. “You know, you can still go on your date. I’ll be fine here by myself.”

“Like I said before, I’m not leaving,” T.K. says. “I already cancelled. He was very understanding. As evidenced by the drinks.” He gestures to where he’s placed them on the coffee table.

Something odd and soft passes over his dad’s face. “Good. He should be.” He picks up his drink and takes a sip. “Ooh! Flax seed. Tell the hot cop I said thank you.”

T.K. sips his own as he pulls out his phone.

T.K.

[12:16pm] Thank you for the drinks. You didn’t have to do that.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:18pm] You’re welcome. Not quite the coffee date we were hoping for, but hopefully it will do for today.

T.K.

[12:19pm] You’re really sweet. And again, I’m super sorry about the date.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:20pm] Stop apologizing. Family comes first. How’s your dad?

T.K.

[12:21pm] Already testing the boundaries of his convalescence. And my patience. But he’s fine. Meds are taking care of the pain.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:22pm] Good. Are you doing okay? That must have been scary to see your dad like that.

T.K. looks over at where his dad has drifted off to sleep, his mouth hanging slightly open. The pain and fear of possibly losing him burns brightly in his chest for a moment and he lets it fill him up before breathing it out again. His dad is okay. They’re both okay this time.

His phone buzzes again.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:26pm] You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to cross a line.

T.K.

[12:27pm] No, it’s okay. It was scary. He was unconscious for a long time. And after the cancer last year, I’m still kind of panicky about him. But he’ll be all right. He’s been through worse. We both have.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:28pm] Feel free to call or text anytime if you need to.

T.K.

[12:29pm] You might regret that. He’s going to be a pain in the ass for the next couple weeks. You may end up having to come investigate his murder because I’m not sure I can handle it.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:30pm] Haha aren’t firefighters supposed to be tough as nails? You can run into burning buildings but you can’t handle your dad?

T.K.

[12:31pm] We WALK into burning buildings thank you very much. And you haven’t met my dad. He can whine like a toddler being denied ice cream. It’s unreal. We may need to reschedule our date just so I don’t lose my mind.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:32pm] Tuesday?

T.K. thinks for a second. His dad should be well on the road to recovery by then. And he’s not scheduled to work again until Wednesday.

T.K.

[12:32pm] Tuesday could work.

#911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #Thirst Trap Thursday

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Note

okay! So my idea was that after the incident with the monkey bomb and after she was adopted by silco, powder felt alone and sometimes she just walked trough zaun by herself. And one day she found reader rummaging through the trash for fabrics (because she likes to do her own clothes let's say) and she reminded powder of herself, so after seeing her some more times after that powder decided to talk to her and then they become inseparable and IDK it's like some chaotic teenage romance where they do dumb stuff together like sneak into piltover or get themselves into jail accidentally, whatever you can think of

This was definitely longer than I thought, feel free to change anything you want!

(hello! So sorry this sucks but I had a major headache and felt like writing! Anyways, the idea for the booth/carnival came from @spice-bunny0-0 ! Enjoy!)

Never Again...Maybe

So, this is what boring feels like.

Powder almost huffed, well, Jinx, did. Powder was getting used to the name Jinx for now, but mainly went by Powder.

It was just how it was at this moment.

She trudged along the streets of the Undercity, looking around for anything, anything at all, to do.

But there was nothing.

Before the…incident, Powder never felt truly bored.

There was always something to do, bug Mylo, hang out with Vi, bug Mylo with Claggor, or hang out with Ekko.

But…they weren't around, so she couldn't do any of that.

She didn't like the goons Silco hired that much, sure they were nice to her, but they had to be.

Unless they wanted the "big boss" to cut off a hand.

One of the perks of being taken in as a daughter by the Eye of Zaun.

Just as she was about to go back to the Last Drop, she stopped walking abruptly as a piece of metal hit her boot.

Powder tilted her head, curiously picking the scrap metal off the ground and examining it in her hand.

It was a piece to the others of the bombs she home-made, one she has been looking for.

With a small smile, she tucked it into her holster pocket before hearing more metal clicking and…shuffling?

It was coming from the alleyway, so as curious as she was, she followed the sound.

To her surprise, she found a kid around her age.

You were leaning over the dumpster, so much that your only body part visibly was your legs as you leaned down and tossed whatever you apparently didn't need out of the way.

"Come on…come on…aha!" Powder tilted her head confused, not moving as you exclaimed and quickly leaned back over onto your feet.

You held a spool of…fabric?

It wasn't ugly or in terrible condition, so much that even Jinx would take and use it for her clothes.

But now, Powder was in control. And Powder was curious.

You smiled, turning around quickly to leave with your treasure before jumping as you saw Powder standing almost right behind you.

"Oh! Hello…?" You asked, tilting your head as you held your find to your chest.

"What are you doing?" Powder cut quickly, not meaning to be rude but it came out like that.

"Oh, just finding fabric." You shrugged, like it was the most simple thing in the world.

"Why?" Powder asked, walking in unison with you as you left the alley.

"I make use of them for my clothes! I like making them." You smiled in pride, Powder now taking the time to look you up and down.

Your outfit was actually quite pretty, or more grand than you would find in the Undercity.

It was good for a home-made outfit.

"Those aren't from down here?" Powder asked, touching more fancy parts on your shirt.

"Yeah, they're not. I went Topside to get them." You smiled in pride, proud of the fact that you had gotten them in the first place.

"You did?!" Powder asked, her curiosity at an all time high at your almost bravery to sneak past enforcers up there.

Not that they scared her much anymore.

"Uh-huh! Now, I gotta go-" You broke the news, almost sad that you had to leave your almost new friend behind.

But you were cut off as Powder was suddenly In Front of you with a smile holding your wrist carefully but with a grip hard enough to keep you in place.

"I like you." Powder revealed, you raised a brow but laughed at her bluntness.

"I like you too." You shrugged, matching her smile as you adjusted your grip on your fabric.

"That's good." Powder nodded happily, before it faded ever so slightly.

"Because you don't have a choice."

From the way she said it, it almost looked innocent, in fact, it did.

You were so surprised you thought you heard it wrong.

"Huh- woah!" You were tugged harshly by Powder, the girl suddenly having the energy to run and avoid bumping into others on the Undercity streets.

Powder was almost giddy, you reminded her of herself.

And with that, came an opportunity for a new friend for herself.

And she would not let it slip away.

The days with Jinx turned into months, which turned into years.

You and her were inseparable, you didn't live with her. But to your surprise, Silco liked you, or tolerated you.

You kept Jinx happy. And a happy Jinx was always good.

You and Jinx grew up together practically, never leaving one side from the other.

When one walked by the other was soon to follow, jumping over each other and making a giggling, pink and blue mess wherever you guys went.

But Jinx's favorite thing to do was sneak around.

Sneaking around Topside, in fact.

So that's how you ended up here now, in a flee from the Enforcers Topside with a giggling Jinx practically being carried on your back.

"You sure this is a good idea, J.J?" You asked, laughing at her "disguise".

She was hard not to spot though, wherever Jinx went was a firecracker waiting to happen.

Her hair along with her outfit was always noticeable in a room.

But now, she had a coat so big that it almost covered her entire body, her hair pinned up with a hat on while wearing sunglasses.

It's not that she couldn't go Topside wearing "normal" clothes, but Jinx is Jinx. She did things the way she wanted.

"Of course it is! You got the balloons?" Jinx asked, tipping her sunglasses as you almost laughed once again before nodding.

"Perfect! Let's go!"

"You sure Silco will bail us out?"

"...Yeah, sure!"

You and Jinx were in the middle of a carnival, being pushed around by Topsiders as you both looked through shops' windows and booths for what you needed.

Jinx had run out of crayons, oil crayons and paint for her doodles, so she needed more.

But she hated the ones down below, they broke easily or were flat out ugly ass colors.

So she resorted to having Sevika getting them imported, but Sevika was on some away mission and Jinx didn't care enough to have others do it.

Sevika got the right colors, and only Sevika, she may be an ass but she's good at picking out crayons for kids.

"What about those?" You asked, pointing out some oil crayons to Jinx.

She picked them up, humming occasionally before she nodded.

She stuffed her hand into her pocket, trying to grab enough money for the price but turns out, yal spent it when buying else and your fabrics.

"Shit." Jinx cursed under her breath, she had to pay, you said so yourself.

You didn't want to be thrown into a jail cell on Monday, so she resorted to paying.

She didn't want to upset you and you be mad at her, no, no.

But, there was no choice in this. Especially since this was practically the only booth with her paints and crayons she actually needed.

"Hey, (Name)? We're out." Jinx broke bluntly, her giggle almost escaping once she saw you grimace.

"Really? Again?" You asked, feeling the oncoming headache and preparing yourself from what is about to happen.

"Yup. Sorry, you're up." Jinx smirked, you couldn't get another word in before she slipped away to get her paints.

"Really?! Ugh, fine." You sighed, preparing yourself and putting on your best fake smile before you walked over to the booth owner.

"Hello! Could you tell me about these crayons? They're…fascinating…?" You questioned, almost giving yourself away but the booth owner didn't notice.

"I would love too! You see these one's…" The booth owner's voice drowned out as you absent mindedly nodded, glancing back at Jinx as she stuffed her jacket pockets.

This went on for almost three minutes, the booth owner finally following your eyes to Jinx just as she stuffed another box in her pockets.

"Hey!" The booth owner yelled, alerting enforcers and people standing by.

"Put those back!" The enraged man yelled, going to stomp over but stopped as you pulled him back.

"Sorry for this." You winced, the man confused before you popped a balloon of paint onto his head.

You quickly ran to Jinx as the girl was giggling madly, grabbing her hand and yanking her just as enforcers made it to the booth.

The mad booth owner wiped paint from his face, yelling and pointing to you two as you booked it, running into citizens but pushing them out the way.

Enforcers yelled for you to stop, but you couldn't with Jinx on your back and the promise of not going to jail today.

"We're not doing this again!"

"That's what you think! This is fun!"

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starry-blue-echoes · 3 months

Note

Okay, I just got here. Sorry for intruding and I'm kind of freaking out about part 4 of Star Swap.

Because there are two Jotaros. Why is nobody talking about the fact that there are two Jotaros? Am I missing something???

Unless I am completely failing in Star Swap lore, in order to not become super convoluted and insane, a universe is localized to a Swap… probably? Anyway from what I understand three universes have an event happening in them and Star Swap is a series… except there's also an OLDER Jotaro here in Part 4! which would be the same Jotaro that experienced part 4 as Josuke! Which is causing problems in my brain.

… I was thinking it's either Joseph and Giono is the exception -Thanks to Hermit Purple Rrequiem- and swaps actually jumps across universes making Older Part 4 Jotaro have that Canon backstory.

…Or… hear me out..

JoJo

Specifically, Jotaro gets some of that Time Jumpy Amnesia and has not a single fucking clue what happened to himself.

JUST HIM

No one else

He is the sole one that gets bonk with a forgot stick

For all Jotaro knows: he blacked out, got possessed, and went to Egypt. Everything went well. His mom got cured and people survived, but STILL. said person that possessed him made a bunch of friends and now Jotaro has to deal with them. HE has to rely on other people's information to figure out what the hell HAPPENED.

Jotaro still gets that Battle Experience in and gets those cryptic forgotten fog of memories from the trip But Yeah

Jotaro has no idea what happened to him when that guy was possessing him. Jotaro doesn't know! he doesn't remember shit!!! All people got is theories.

I have a lot of thoughts and this is probably not even an issue.ARGGGG

.. I'm here thinking that for The Star Swap parts 3 and 4 to connect in an interesting way is Memory Blockage or else Part 4 Older Jotaro would have to walk on fucking eggshells if something wasn't blocking his memories because if he talks or says anything that doesn't link up then he breaks time. Jotaro's fault for actively getting involved!

Probably. I don't know!!! I'm just thinking!!!

you're correct, Parts 3 and 4 have been criminally neglected amongst all this chaos, so this is p e r f e c t

to clarify the universe shenanigans of everything: I've always been thinking that each "set" exists in its own universe. 1 and 6, 2 and 5, and then 3 and 4 all exist in their own sort of "pocket universe" just so we don't need to keep track of of all the inevitable changes and how they influence each other

that being said, funnily enough what you've brought up with Jotaro is REALLY close to what I've been imagining too!

Jotaro is So Fucking Lost when he wakes up back home. He feels like complete and utter shit and is covered in more bandages than he's ever had before. The last thing he remembers is his mom leaving after visiting him in the prison cell after he tried to shoot himself with Star Platinum

only...... when did Star Platinum have a name? When had it stopped being an evil spirit?

when had he stopped being scared of it?

Kakyoin and Joseph are of course INCREDIBLY worried by Jotaro's apparent and very sudden shift in personality. And of course, this panic only multiplies when they find they think Jotaro's stand has been changed as well. They immediately think it's a Stand attack......

but then Holly steps forward and denies this. That this is how Jotaro normally acts and more importantly, that she remembers seeing Star in the jail

now, technically this might be bending the rules a little bit, but I think it would be interesting to give Holly some..... memory weirdness. Maybe we can tie it into her Stand somehow, or maybe it's just For The Plot, but Holly has two distinct sets of memories before she collapsed from her illness

One where Jotaro comes home with her, quiet and awkward and open in a way he hadn't been since he was a child. And another where he refused to leave and shot himself in an attempt to goad a spirit hovering over his shoulder

this then raises the incredibly uncomfortable idea that the Jotaro they'd gone to Egypt with was the imposter. That there had been a fake in their midst the entire time and they never knew. Was he working with Dio? Another group? What was his goal? Why had he done it? And of course, the biggest question of all, where was Jotaro the entire time and why doesn't he remember?

because it's obvious Jotaro was somewhere. He has skills and knowledge he hadn't before. He's different, he's grown in some ways, but has receded in others

Electricity and loud sounds terrify him in a way that can't be described as simple fear

they do what they can to help and figure things out, but they can never find any leads. It actually during these investigations that Jotaro decides to start working with the Speedwagon Foundation on the side and "rekindles" his friendships with the Crusaders

(he finds himself drawn to Kakyoin at times. Or to be more specific, he's drawn to his Stand. The colors and shapes and eyes all feel so tantalizingly familiar, and sometimes he finds himself talking to the being as if expecting a response)

years go by, and the fog around his memories stays. It bothers him less as more time passes and he makes new memories with people who had a headstart on their relationship, but there's always a quiet niggling in the back of his mind about what could've happened

and then a decade later he finds a boy with a different face but identical Stand and temperament to match

#star swap #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #jjba part 3 #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #star platinum #jjba kakyoin #noriaki kakyoin #jjba holly #holly kujo #sb answers #angstaceanon

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yelling-space · 6 months

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sex hcs

// Might be a lil heavy 4 a first post idk??? thought it be a good indicator of what u can expect from me in relation 2 each charter encase that's sming u want 2 avoid tho,

so enjoy this short summary the Main 4s feelings on/relationship with sex and daans here 2 for some reason

none the left over colours fitted Enki so i made him pink 2 spite him

Cw :(Impyed) child prostitution + s/a

Cahara

-whore by birth,slut by choise

-has a hate-love relationship with sex(regardless position) and kinda treats it like a "get out of jail free" card, rellised from a young age the amount of horrble suitions he can get out of if he opens his mouth a lil wider and swings his hips a little

-can be pear pressured/guilted into agreeing 2 sex + for as mutch as hes into and enjoys sex he feels so gross and unclean and not comfy in his own skin after regadles who its with (he will internaly throw up and try 2 rip his skin of if you call him "exotic")

-will cry if he has totally normal fully consensual sane safe sex w a partner/ his wife

-doesnt understand the religious belifes of immodesty or sodomy esply when those higher up dont tend 2 practice what they preach , OPPOSITE of a prude , open whore.

D'arce

-closeted butch top that didnt realize her desire to fuck pretty men was actually her lesbian soul shining through

-lotta her,,,less practical ,vewis on sex stem from deep rooted homophba + was 2 goal oriented and determined 2 became a knight 2 even think about or consider it before espacping the dugon

-full heartedly believed all women harbour a disgust 4 the male sex organ and that coupes just did not have sex endless it was 2 convive a child , as you can imagine she was in for a surprise when discovering that was not the case.

-horrifically inexperienced and guided by her desire to dominate, and thus becomes known for owning The Scary Strap" that medieval men are afraid of

Enki

-Dead body fucker. That Necromancy spell is NOT going to just go too waist ,

-not all that interested in sex in general and never really saw any reason to engage with it when spell books are literally RIGHT there . saying that he most definitely gets of on having something completely under his control regardless what end the "fucked-fucking" scale he's on

- not really into sex with living people + how he's probably kind of inexperienced due to an isolated upbringing hence the want for control over puppeteering a sexual partner (dead body), or the high he gets off inflicting acts of sadism given how his ideas of intimacy have been twisted from childhood

-100%%%%%%% a fucking freek btw just cuz hes not 2 instered in sex dosnt mean hes not a fucking freek man fucks dead people and probs vry mutch into s/m

Rag

-wife kink. you don't understand how much he loves his wife.

-probs thinks sex is something shared between two lovers and is something meant 2 be full of affection and enjoyed by both party's

-probs see's s/a being viewed as something incredibly disrespectful, cowardly and the abuser deserve of death getting his shit kicked in (this is funny because i like 2 imagen rag starts projecting his dead wife onto cahara when he starts 2 lose it in the dungeon)

-did not know sex work existed or brothels were a thing, got jump scared by it when taking cahra back 2 see his wife with the others , he was vry confused and not rly sure where he was MENT 2 look so spent most the time with his eyes glued to the floor, celling or his friends faces (he respects women even if he's not rly sure what's going on)

Daan

-lil sex adictic freek , dosnt even realy enjoy sex that much,just so used 2 it being apart his life hes not entirely sure what 2 do without it,+allows himself to ast least feel incontrol the situion (for once in his life) cus he knows what the goal is and faster he gets it over with faster he'll be left to his own devices again.

-sex is all he rly knowns and grown up around, as well as one the only things hes ever seen actually be meaningful to anybody,regardless there relationships with there partner. but it feels like its something he owes people/doesnt really enjoy it regardless if he acrly wants it or not.

-dosnt proply understand how relationships work or that there's more 2 them then just sex (or that people could even *want* him for more then sex for that matter)

-sex was allways seen as something transactional or something for control - cant have any of that with fagcat, but can at least indulge in it in a way that makes him feel like he's way 2 finally has some small aspect control his life again.

-Honesty like ¾ his sex life is just him being abused by Pocketcat

#cw implied child abuse #fear and hunger #I hate all them btw #Cahara🤝Daan it's not rape if I don't say no but also don't say yes #cahara #enki #ragnvaldr #D'arce #daan #daan von dutch #Funger #fear and hunger termina #Pocketcat #stupid rambles

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crescentblossom66 · 9 months

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Character Analysis: Conductor and DJ Grooves

Before I start this analysis made out of reading too much into dialogue and overall being way too obsessed with chapter two of A Hat in Time, I want to clarify that I like both of the directors. Conductor is my favorite character in the whole game and DJ Grooves is another character that I enjoy (I agree with all of you DJ Grooves fans, that funky penguin isn't getting enough content).

I also want to try to make people think about those two more and make them less one dimensional in their fan works. I understand that it is very easy to see DJ Grooves as just the charming underdog with absolutely no bad bone in his body, and Conductor as nothing more than a deranged lunatic. I hope I can inspire with this and draw some attention to these two lovingly crafted characters.

I'll split this analysis into 4 parts:

First impressions of the directors

Conductor, the deranged psycho...or not?

DJ Grooves, charming or cunning?

Final Thoughts

1. First impressions of the directors

We first meet the two quarreling directors in Chapter two act 1. As soon as we enter the lobby of the huge building that we'll later know as Dead Bird Studio, we bare witness to an argument between the Sci-fi and musical making penguin, DJ Grooves, and Conductor, a strange-looking owl thing that makes Westerns. The first thing every player will notice is that both characters seem to act very differently to the whole argument. While the yellow owl stomps his foot in anger and seems very aggressive, his rival seems to not be too fazed by the whole argument, simply dancing and more or less ignoring the allegations and insults the other throws his way.

In the very first scene we learn that the DJ appears to be rather calm and collected, while his counterpart comes of as rather aggressive and downright vindictive, given that he locks the penguins into their side of the studio.

Those first impressions get strengthened even more if the player talks to the actors of the studio. The Express Owls appear very scared of their boss, the Conductor, informing the player that they're mere passengers on the train that the Western director operates, they also state that he makes unexpected stops and caused them to be late for their work and that they get randomly dragged into filming movies. The Moon Penguins on the other hand seem to idolize their boss, DJ Grooves, they even have a fan club in his honor. Those flipper-snapping birds also seem to be very hostile toward new people seeing the player as a threat for their idol and are rather rude to Hat Kid.

When the player makes their way through the vent to enter the studio itself, the interactions that the DJ has with his penguins are all pretty friendly, he encourages them and is pretty calm when his actors make mistakes during recording, even when the player disrupts the recording by jumping in front of the cameras, the former DJ seems to only act confused and just continues on with his filming.

The Conductor on the other hand yells at his actors nonstop, voicing his frustrations clearly, calling his actors lousy and terrible when they make mistakes. Unlike his rival, the yellow owl doesn't take kindly to his recording being disrupted and he yells and gets even angrier whenever the player decides to jump in front of his cameras.

All of this just reaffirms the impressions we had of the characters so far, and even the finale of the chapter only underlines this, as the penguin asks for our help with desperation, and even hands us a bird passport, while the owl wants to take us to jail for messing with the Annual Bird Movie Awards.

The player will come out of this drawing the conclusion that DJ Grooves is the underdog that needs help in beating his despicable rival, who seems to be a terrible person all around. As it is the nature of us humans, we want to see the lovable underdog win against the overconfident and cruel rival, as it is seen in most media.

The second act of chapter two, “Murder on the Owl Express”, takes us onto the beloved train of the Western director where we are greeted by said director on the small balcony at the back of the caboose. Nothing much will change for our perception of the character here. He seems to not care that he scared the owls and Hat Kid with a fake murder that the player will obviously notice as just a set up. He will once again remind us that he hates his rival's movies before we're given a time piece and go on our merry way back to the spaceship.

“Picture Perfect”, the third act of the chapter, brings us to a big set on the moon where the DJ greets us enthusiastically. He takes on a mentor role for Hat Kid as she tries to build her own fan base as she goes from endorsement to endorsement. We get once again remind that the DJ is the “good guy” of this story as the Moon Penguins around him are happy and upbeat as opposed to the tense Express Owls. This pleasant and colorful act also clashed hard with the more dreary and serious “Murder on the Owl Express” act that we went through earlier.

Things take a more drastic and extreme turn in the last two stages. In “Train Rush” the player will get told that there is a bomb on the train and they'll have to go and defuse it. It shows the lengths and extremes the Western director will go to just to get a few nice shots for his movies. His attitude toward Hat Kid is once again rather harsh and demeaning, as he blatantly states that he doesn't care for her or the owls, only his train seems of any concern to him. When the chapter is completed, he will brush aside the concerns of the young space traveler, telling her that all of this was done in the name of cinematography.

“The big Parade” also takes things to the extreme with electric floors and homing missiles. The DJ seems as pleasant as ever, informing the player that it will be easy and that all they have to do is walk around the place a bit which does little to prepare the player for the rather hazardous minutes ahead of them.

The final Chapter will be determined by whom the player chooses as the winner at the end of the four split chapters. If the player chooses the Conductor, things will remain like they were before, the Conductor will remain condescending toward Hat Kid and will even attempt to murder her, while the DJ will come to her rescue when he's needed the most. If the player chooses Grooves, however, things will take a twist, the DJ will betray the young girl and will fight her instead, and Conductor, very surprisingly, intervenes and saves the poor girl from certain doom.

If taken at first glance, it is pretty straight forward who the bad guy is supposed to be it's obviously the Conductor, right? He's a terrible person that treats everyone around him horribly, while DJ Grooves did absolutely nothing wrong and only tried his best to win all this time.

But is it really, dear reader? Is it really as clear-cut and black and white as that, I'll ask you? Is Conductor really an all around bad guy, as Mustache Girl would say, and is DJ Grooves really the uwu penguin that can't do any wrong like his Moon Penguins seem to view him as? Let's find out together.

2. Conductor, the deranged psycho...or not?

One of the crucial arguments people make when they talk about the narrative of story is that the Conductor is obviously a crazy, derange old man who cares about nothing and nobody aside from his movies and his train. It's easy therefore to shove him into the villain role, like the story portraits him, however, his character is a bit deeper than what people give him credit for.

The easiest way for me to explain this point is debunking or at least theorizing on a couple of questions to which the answers may be not as cut and dry as you may think. Those questions are:

Is the Conductor a cheater? Is he endangering his actors? Does he care about Hat Kid at all?

To answer the questions, we're going to look at it from the very beginning of the chapter again, starting with the first question, is the Conductor a cheater? In act one the Conductor accuses Hat Kid of rigging the awards in the favor of his rival, considering what his rival did as fraud and roping the young girl into helping him as well. He seems to have contempt for her as she disrupts the status quo, and the best course of action is to make sure that the odds are evened out again. Given that the owl is rather direct, straight forward, and quite honest, we can potentially see him as despising cheating. This can be further backed up as In chapter 6 he will mention that the DJ will mock him for cheating if word gets out that he cheated, this could imply that he never cheated before that, and thus the accusation that his rival based a lot of his argument on (Saying that he manipulated everything to make sure that he never wins, cheating, and fraud) could all just be illusions that the penguin made to justify that the yellow owl won every award except for one, and that the Western director never actually cheated and won his awards legitimately.

The second and bigger problem, and what is a lot harder to ignore is the question of whether or not he actually puts his actors into danger? I can already hear you facepalm and go “Duh! Have you actually PLAYED 'Train Rush'! That owl...thing is a psycho!” To which I will say “Method Acting” Regularly a technique used by actors to get into their roles by putting themselves into situations that the characters they're playing is in, in order to give a more convincing and expressive performance. The Conductor purposefully exposes the owls, and Hat Kid to the stressful situations and without telling them that they're recording to get better acting out of them.

This is confirmed when he tells Hat Kid that his script isn't ready in act 2, there he also says that he's not recording. We as the players know this whole scene is a set up, which is of course confirmed by the owl himself at the end of the act.

The owls seem just as clueless about it as the young space traveler, as they show fear and panic. (The only one clued in is the owl that plays dead, but none of the others know that he's pretending) This can of course be slightly debunked depending on the person or group you chose as the culprit. If you pick Hat Kid we don't know if she only picked herself just because, due to the owl simply saying that she put a rubber knife on him, but we were with Hat Kid the whole time...I mean we're controlling her so we would have seen if she had done that to the owl. It makes it probable that she simply lied, Conductor's dramatic retelling of the events also makes that more unbelievable, making it likely that she had no idea that it was a set up and just picked herself on a whim to see what would happen

To summarize, no owls were harmed during “Murder on the Owl Express”

I know you've been waiting, tapping your foot at me impatiently considering that “Train Rush” is the bigger issue. I can already hear you typing. “THE CONDUCTOR LITERALLY TELLS US THAT THERE IS A BOMB!”

Yes, that bomb existed, and yes, I know about that, but the important question is yet again, was anyone harmed? Where those risks calculated? What if I told you...that they were.

The owls do mention that they have more explosives on the train, which is true, but those are all on carts where we don't see any owls being in. The owls are all in areas that are more or less safe and none of them appear to be harmed. Even the band plays as if nothing is wrong, further confirming that they knew that they'd be safe.

As you know, the Conductor is at the front of the train the ENTIRE time we see him after the announcement. (I have no idea how he got to the front all the way from the caboose without us noticing, game logic, I guess) He could have switched that bomb off at any time. We never actually see the bomb blow up even if the time runs out, we simply die as if killed by an enemy, so it neither confirms nor debunks that the bomb blew up. Not even in chapter 6 do we see the bomb ACTUALLY exploding.

So is he endangering his actors? Physically no, mentally and emotionally, yes. His actions here still make it clear that he only see the owls as a means to and end, which is winning the award. The amount of stress and trauma he forces the Express Owls through is just collateral to him.

The last point on this list is does he show care toward Hat Kid aside from the finale?

Too many people say the switch in personality that Conductor shows when he saves Hat Kid from the demented DJ comes out of nowhere, and they do not see the build up that happened across the two chapters that lead up to chapter 6. I understand that wholeheartedly, because that build up is extremely subtle. It is very easy to go through both, chapter 2 and chapter 4, thinking that the yellow bird show no affection toward Hat Kid, especially when you consider that the DJ shows more affection for her in his chapters. The Conductor's shift in demeanor is very easy to miss. In act 1 the owl seems to dislike Hat Kid quite a lot for interfering, but there's two easily overlooked lines that show some growth.

I want you to look at those two pictures, the first is at the end of “Murder on the Owl Express”, while the second is taken at the end of “Train Rush”.

Do you see the slight switch in demeanor? The first one tells us that we should leave, but the line delivery even shows that he doesn't yell this time even if it has an exclamation mark. He speaks a bit more fondly of her in the second picture, saying that Hat Kid deserved the time piece instead of telling us to grab the supposed prop and scram.

I'm also going to briefly mention here that he still helps Hat Kid in chapter 5, and even apologizes for attempting to kill her (He tries at least, he's not very good at it) if he was chosen as the winner for the award. If he's the loser, he will express a bit of empathy for her for what his rival had put her through.

So, is the Conductor the good guy now? No...not by any means. He's still a very aggressive and competitive bird thing that doesn't value his actors too much and prioritizes his movies over everything. Some theories explain his behavior, but this analysis is based on what we actually see in game and theories and conclusions we can potentially draw from those facts. As it stands, he's very much still a bad person, but he has far more nuance when what people give him credit for, if you know where to look. I hope that my small analysis on him here has shown you that there is a potential for him to actually care about Hat Kid, and that the owl is just a tad bit kinder when he lets on.

3. DJ Grooves, charming or cunning?

Another thing that I and a few others hate to see is that people tend to view the charming and stylish former DJ as just the good guy that can't harm a fly, thus they think that Conductor winning, and the subsequent fight in which the DJ rescues us, makes more sense than if he back stabs the young girl he so affectionately calls his diva. Just like with his counterpart, there are a few things I have gripes with, but the ways in which the DJ is more twisted when he lets on are about as subtle as the ways in which the Conductor is kind.

Once again, we can ask a few questions to make it easier to understand where I'm coming from with this, those being: To what extend does DJ Grooves hate his rival? Is the DJ a manipulator?

I once again hear you guys typing a defense for the underrated costar of the second chapter of the game, telling me that the DJ never did anything wrong, that all he wanted to do was make good movies and defeat his angry and hostile rival once again. You may even say that the penguin doesn't really hate his rival all too much, seeing as he tries to stay mostly calm when talking to him...what you don't see is that he has a lot of contempt for the yellow bird, far more than he lets on.

When we first see him interact with his rival, he comes off as calm and collected, appearing to not take the argument too seriously. He takes a jab at the owl's struggles to come up with new ideas which leaves the yellow bird stunned for a moment. The fact that he know that his rival struggles with ideas and the fact he mentions it here is important, keep it in the back of your mind. The penguin seems to know exactly how to get under the other's skin and riles up the Conductor even more while he himself stays calm, he even dances during this whole exchange, showing how little it affects him.

The spite for his rival and his obsession with winning the award is a lot harder to see, and we only get a glimpse of it during act 6 itself if he's the winner were he makes it clear that he despises the owl, slandering his name even without the prove for it, and, if my own theory that I made earlier is true, that accusation has no leg to stand on.

The amount of vitriol in the voice of DJ Grooves (which is amazing by the way, kudos to the voice actor) shows just how frustrated and spiteful he really is, an amount of anger and hatred we've not heard from the penguin in any of his levels yet, is present. There is a few more instances other than this though that show his hatred for his rival and his obsession with winning the award.

These little newspaper clippings can be found in the basement of Dead Bird Studio and are placed on the wall outside of the trophy room. This room is situated right above the DJ's dressing room.

Conductor's is in a completely different area of the basement and not even adjacent to it, kind of making it questionable that the room belongs to Conductor like many people claim. There is a hallway, a room, and another hallway between his side of the studio and Grooves' side.

Also, why would he have a room above his rival's dressing room? But back to the posters. These poster show the Conductor in a bad light, the one on the top left seems to be an article on the Western director's first loss, while the one below that shows that something went wrong in his movies, saying that a “Calculated risk went horribly wrong”. It likely refers to the movie that cost the yellow owl award 42. It also isn't favorable for the yellow owl to be laughing at the misfortune of another bird, as the right clipping shows. All in all, those clips show embarrassing and more humbling moments of the owl, further proving that the room is Grooves', and that he hates his rival enough to remind himself that the strange yellow bird is far from perfect and in fact not untouchable. If that room really is Grooves, it shows an eerie obsession with winning, having over 200 plastic replica of the golden trophy, it shows just how far gone the penguin really is.

But it gets better, yes, dear reader, there's more, and this one can be completely missed if you pick the wrong character in a completely different act...and that act is “Murder on the Owl Express”!

You may be asking yourself “Huh? What does one of Conductor's acts have to do with DJ Grooves?” Well, the penguin mocks his rival not only in front of his whole crew...BUT IN FRONT OF HIS OWN AUDIENCE! I know pics or it didn't happen, so...here you go.

THIS is why I told you to listen when I said that he hated Conductor a lot more than he lets on, it may appear as him being friendly, but look at the context, he's helping his poor, idea-less, incompetent rival create a story line. Is that friendly or detrimental? I'll ask you! Keep this screenshot in mind, it will be relevant again.

Have I convinced you that the penguin, REALLY hates his rival now? That the amount of anger he feels might even justify him snapping if he hadn't already? That he hides insanity and hatred behind his fashionable shades. If not, stay tuned, there's more.

Now, let me shatter your view of the 'uwu, I'm incapable of doing anything wrong' penguin even more. Let's focus on another important factor in this whole story, the main character, Hat Kid. We get roped into helping the DJ after he pleads for Hat Kid's help, telling us that is penguins are terrible actors. No, I'm not saying that he hates the Moon Penguins, given that the story book “Groovy Underdog” exists. It makes it clear that he's frustrated with their acting, but still tries hard to make it work even with them being bad at their jobs.

What I have an issue with is that he manipulates Hat Kid into helping him, which is the very thing that prompts Conductor to accuse her of fraud. DJ Grooves simply spotted an opportunity to beat his rival and win the award, the goal was not to help Hat Kid become famous, he simply more or less cheated by dragging an outsider into their quarrel.

The second instance that shows that the DJ is amazing at manipulating those around him is in the first act we see him again, act 3 “Picture Perfect”. He demonstrates an uncanny ability to wrap the viewers at home around his flipper. Everyone on the moon seems to know him as he himself says that everyone knows his name, and it is backed up by the amount of followers Hat Kid gains after every endorsement.

The best example of this is when Hat Kid takes a page out of Conductor's colorful dictionary and uses the word “Peck” ,a swear word in the bird world. Here the DJ shows that he knows his audience rather well, explaining that swearing on TV would get him into trouble, he knows that his image could take a blow if Hat Kid says the wrong thing. He quickly sweeps the occurrence under the rug and tells the space traveler to scram.

The entirety of act 3 shows perfectly how amazing the DJ is at manipulating people to his advantage, even Hat Kid doesn't catch on to what he's actually doing. He's using Hat Kid's cute, childlike charm and likability to his advantage, this is backed up in act 1 where he refers to Hat Kid as an innocent soul with a heart of gold before dismissing her right BEFORE he gets the idea to use her for his own gain.

He continues to manipulate the public and even the player's impression of him by presenting himself as a charming mentor character to Hat Kid, and an overall likable funky fellow. It's all a facade, a charade put on by him to hide his desperation for the victory, show the player, Hat Kid and the public what they want, a charming director who can't do anything wrong at all.

The cracks show in “The Big Parade”, act 5 of the chapter. He explains to us and to Hat Kid, that the parade will be easy, that all she has to do was jump and run around the rooftops...with not a single line does he mention the dangers we're actually facing. Electric floors, homing missiles and carnage, all presented as a happy-go-lucky movie with nice effects and pleasant music.

The audience of the movie doesn't see the danger, the difficulty and the hazardous chaos that Hat Kid navigates through. They only see the pretty colors, the nice effects and the cheery music so out of place in this nightmare. The DJ either doesn't know that Hat Kid is in danger, which is unlikely, or he doesn't care. In “Train Rush” The Conductor blatantly tells us that there's a bomb and that were in danger of the whole train blowing up, here, the disco-loving director shows that he cares as little for Hat Kid's safety as the Conductor does, he just doesn't blatantly tell us.

To summarize, the DJ feigns to care for Hat Kid and only sees her as a means to an end, just like his, apparently seen as more evil, counterpart. Speaking of his counterpart, I told you to keep that screenshot in mind where Grooves “helps” the Conductor with his movie.

I mentioned that he ruins the reputation of his rival, but he also BOOSTS HIS! He even makes clear who is speaking! In the line before the screenshot I took, he announces to everyone in the room and the audience that will watch this movie that HE is here to help his poor rival. It not ONLY mocks the Conductor for his lack of ideas, but it might boost his own movies as he's seen as a generous and helpful guy by the audience of Conductor's movies.

Once again I'll ask, just how innocent is that penguin really? Can you STILL claim that his shift in demeanor is out of character, when everything he does can point to him being just as deranged as his rival if not more so. I think that I have at least given you some food for thought...Maybe you will look at this flashy disco penguin in a different way the next time you play his levels...and you'll see the cold and calculated show he puts on for the viewers.

4. Final Thoughts

I hope that I managed to convey that both the Conductor and DJ Grooves are far more nuanced and interesting when we give them credit for, that chapter 2 can be far more interesting and less black and white when what people say. I personally love both characters a lot. Don't go chasing me with pitchforks for ruining the character for you, it's okay if you want to see DJ Grooves as nice and a cinnamon roll, and Conductor as a cold-hearted bastard. Everything is up to interpretation which varies from person to person. All I tried to accomplish was give food for thought and maybe explain a little why DJ Grooves as the winner makes more sense when people realize.

I'm always up for discussing chapter 2, as it's my favorite. Thank you for reading and have a nice day or night! You're awesome!

@majormeilani Here it is, you wanted me to tag you for this. I hope you liked it. Chapter 2 ftw!

#ahit #ahit character analysis #ahit conductor #ahit dj grooves

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wandafiction · 3 months

Text

Panic Attack - Just Us Chapter 8

Warnings: Panic Attacks

Word Count: 2261

Series List | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

================================

Ding. The elevator doors opened to the penthouse, as I breathed out a happy sigh a smile still plastered on my face. Taking my shoes off I didn't notice the figure in the living room moving towards me.

"Someone looks happy." The voice made me jump out of my skin.

"Holy Shit! Don't fucking do that. I nearly had a heart attack." I held one hand to my heart while the other smacked the man in front of me chest.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Har har Tony. Very funny." I glare at him playfully, so he puts his hands up in surrender.

"No hug for me? No hey papa T?" He wiggles his eyebrows as he speaks.

"No, because you scared me, you don't deserve the niceties." I gently bump his shoulder as I walk past so he knows I'm not actually mad.

"Well you have my deepest apologies. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm here with good news and on business." He follows me into the kitchen as I start up the coffee machine, turning to face him. I gesture to him silently asking if he wants one, he nods his head excitedly. Of course he wants coffee.

"Business first Papa T. You know me." He sends me one of those Tony Stark business smiles, that seem to win anyone over.

"So talking business, the new and improved Da Vinci medical Robot. You know the one, your team helped to upgrade last quarter. Well everyone seems to love it better than the original, and the original creators can't be more thankful. They want to keep working with you, something about. The future of medicine." He waves his hand to emphasise his point. "So what do you think? Do you want to work alongside them?"

"Let's set up a meeting, see what ideas they have floating about and then we can decide."

"Perfect, I will get Pepper on it." I nod as I hand him his freshly brewed coffee. "And now the good news."

"That's all the business for today?" Normally there's lots more...oh well I'm not complaining.

"Yeah, you have caught up with everything, so at the moment we are at an all time high and could probably bring in a few new people and that."

"Cool."

"Anyway the good news."

"Yes the good news."

"They found him." I choke on my coffee not expecting that to be the good news.

"They found him?" It comes out as a very small whisper, tears already brimming my eyes. "After two years?"

"Yeah, they finally got him." He grabs my hand that's on the counter giving it a gentle squeeze as I lose myself to inner turmoil again, but feeling Tony's hand on mine brings me back and I clear my throat.

"And the evidence? Is it enough? Is he going down for what he did? Have they really got him?" I have so many questions and I can't decide which ones to ask.

"They really got him Y/n. There's plenty of evidence. He is going down." He emphasises the last sentence. "He is going to be held in jail till the trial and even then the lawyers truly believe he will get a life sentence."

A life sentence holy shit! I mean I've waited 2 years for this news. Now that I have it I don't know what to do with it. I should be happy. Like over the fucking moon happy. Open a bottle of champagne and get so fucking drunk I don't remember the night before. Yes, that happy! But I don't think I am. I'm mean shit. 2 fucking years, and I feel...numb. Well numb, and everything! How the fuck is that possible. How can I feel so many emotions at once, but feel so fucking numb about this whole thing?! It makes no fucking sense. NO FUCKING SENSE!

"Hey, hey. Woah, woah, woah. Y/n? Y/n I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?" I hadn't realised that my breathing was erratic and tears were falling out my eyes like it was going out of fashion.

My eyes pinged around the room trying to find something to focus on, but as soon as they stopped at one thing my inner turmoil got worse so I kept my eyes moving. I tried identifying things in the room that my eyes could settle on for more than a second, nothing was working. I couldn't ground myself in this world. I felt like I was watching from out of my body, watching myself slowly lose the battle against the turmoil of my brain. The outside world is getting smaller and smaller. Darker and darker.

I jump when I feel someone's hand on me, I don't recognise their touch. I push myself away from whoever has their hands on me. However, I end up tripping over my own feet as I travel backwards, stumbling down to the floor. Of course on the way down to the floor I hit the side of my face on the kitchen counter, ending up on my back on the floor. I feel someone grab my arms, I know deep down they are trying to help but once again I push them off of me. I scramble along the floor, my butt sliding across the tiled floor, my legs working overtime to push me back frantically. I feel my back hit the kitchen counter, but I'm still not far enough away...I push myself along the counter, until I feel the corner and tuck myself down into it.

I pull my knees as tight as possible against my chest, wrapping both arms around them and pulling them impossibly closer to my chest. I place my forehead between my knees, my body slightly bouncing back and forth...or shaking: I can't quite tell. I hear a muffled voice, but can't make out what they are saying. It sounds like I'm underwater, it feels like the room is collapsing in on me. The air pushed out of my lungs and I am unable to get any air back in.

I don't know how long I've been here, but I feel a different pair of hands on me. These ones are very different, soft, gentle and hold onto my calfs just above my ankles. I recognise this touch. They slowly move up to my knee and then back down, then slowly back up again. I then feel the hands move from my knees to my elbows and they follow my arms up to my shoulders. The hands then travel back down my arms, all the way to my hands which I'm pretty sure are stuck against my clothes with how tight I am holding onto them. My knuckles are obviously white from the pressure, still lost...but the hands. I can feel the hands. I'm not jumping back. That's good. I recognise them. I do. I recognise them.

The gentle hands wrap cautiously around mine, slowly squeezing them with the tiniest bit of pressure. Both of mine relax almost instantly. The owner of the hands starts to speak, but I still can't hear anything. They obviously notice this, because their hands move back up to my shoulders across to my neck and then to my cheeks. They slowly lift my hand so my eyes can meet theirs, it's hard to see with how many tears my eyes are filled with but I recognise them enough. A gentle smile tugs at the blonde's face as she sees me reacting to her and her actions.

"I'm going to move your hand to my chest. Is that okay?"

"Mhmm." I can't say anything else, not even a nod. Just an approving hum.

"Okay." She grabs my right hand and brings it to the center of her chest where I can feel her heartbeat and her chest rising and falling with each breath. "You feel that? Try and copy it for me with your own breath. Concentrate on nothing else but what your hand is feeling, look at my face or close your eyes. But concentrate on what your hand is telling you."

So I do. In. Out. In. Out. She is slowing her breathing down, it must be working. If she is slowing hers down more it means mine is slowly getting to some sort of normal.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

"You're doing so well. Keep going. I'm so proud of you, you're doing so great. Do you think you can speak?"

"Y...ye...yeah."

"Good, good. You're doing amazing. Can you answer my questions?"

"Yeah." I breathe out.

"Okay. Name me 5 things you can see."

"Uhm...You...My hand...The floor...The counter...My feet."

"Good, you're doing great. Now name me 4 things you can hear?"

"Your voice. My voice. The radio station. And, uhm, my breathing."

"Amazing. Now 3 things you can feel."

"The floor, your chest, my clothes."

"Great, you're doing so well. Now two things you can smell."

"I smell...uhm...my perfume and...uhm...coffee."

"Thats it keep breathing, your doing so well for me y/n. Now the last one. One thing you can taste."

"My toothpaste." I let out one last breath. I finally feel like I'm back in my body, and back in control of it, almost. "Thank you Carol."

"Of course." She moves her hand to stroke my cheek getting rid of some of the drying tears now I've finally stopped crying.

"You didn't have to come, I would have sorted myself out soon enough." She now places her other hand on my other cheek moving my face up a bit so she can look me right in the eye.

"Now listen to me. I am your sister! Of course I will help you. No matter where I am, I will always come and help you. Always. Tony couldn't seem to pull you out of it, so he called me."

"Thank you." I didn't really know what else to say, there's nothing else I could say. "Is Papa T still here?"

"Yeah I'm still here kid." I look up to see him leaning against the kitchen counter, obvious worry spread across his face.

"I'm sorry Papa T. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me, you just worried me and I seemed to make it worse."

"Uhm...yeah. It was the touching. I lose myself in my head and when someone touches me, if I don't recognise their touch then my body reacts in such a way. I don't know why, it just does." I shrug my shoulders, I don't know how else to explain it.

"It's okay, I understand. Just tell me how I can help, so if you have another in front of me I know what to do." He bends down to my height giving me a loving smile.

"We can work on it. It's all about touch. We don't really hug or anything but we shake hands, so that's where we can start. Thank you Papa T."

"Of course. That's why I called your sister. I didn't know what else to do. Do they happen often? The panic attacks?" Tony's curious eyes meet mine, that I'm sure are red and puffy.

"They used to. I haven't had one in a while, a long while. Maybe 6 months or so." I start to climb off the floor, my bum now very numb and cold.

"Do you know what caused it?" Carol asks gently.

"Papa T gave me some news. Good news. But the emotions caused inner turmoil and I sort of just lost myself to it all. It sort of just took over, and then spiraled."

"What's the news?" Carol asks as she wraps an arm around my back.

"I will let Papa T tell you, I am going to go to bed. I'm exhausted after that one, I need rest. How long was I 'gone' for?"

"About 30 minutes.' Papa T informs me. Holy Shit! That's a big fucking panic attack, no wonder I feel like I could sleep for days.

"Okay let me help you to bed, I will come back down in a second Tony don't go anywhere." Carol rubs my back up and down. "Come let's get you upstairs."

"I love you Y/n." I hear Tony's voice call over.

"Love you too Papa T." I call over my shoulder. I feel Carol move to look at him.

"Thank you Tony, you do so much for her. I will be down in a minute."

"Okay."

With that Carol leads me upstairs and into my room. I feel so tired I can hardly move, so Carol is practically manhandling her own sister, me, into bed. I feel so useless.

"I'm sorry." I mumble down to her.

"Don't ever be sorry for things you can't control. I am your sister. I love you. I will always be here for you. So please don't apologise."

"Okay, well I'm sorry for being sorry."

"Good." We both giggle. She lays me down and tucks me in. "Comfortable?"

"Yes...thank you." I mumble into my pillow.

"Always." She goes to move off the bed, but I grab her hand.

"I love you Carol." She swipes some hair out of my face.

"I love you too Y/n." She pecks me on the forehead. "Now get some sleep".

As soon as I hear her close the door, I settle more into my bed sinking into the pillows and many cushions. I let out a large breath, losing myself to sleep.

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #just us series

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sissytobitch10seconds · 4 months

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Febuwhump 2: Isolation

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows Summary: The Crows always knew that they would end up in jail, but separating them is probably worse than caging them. Warnings: Anxiety attacks, PTSD, canonical backstories, mentions of child abuse, and isolation Word Count: 2,967 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa/Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik/Wylan Van Eck/Jesper Fahey

Archive link!

Jesper turned his head to look down the hall just as the door closed and locked him inside. The person that was closest to him was Matthias, in the cell across from him. The others were being brought to the others further down the hall. He could see Wylan quivering while the other three kept their bodies firm and their heads held high to prevent the others from thinking that they could possibly be scared.

The cell that they had marched him to wasn’t the worst one that he had ever been in, though that was kind of a low bar. He had been detained in a number of bars and transport vehicles when he had been caught in the streets being a little too drunk or hadn’t been able to pay his tab. The walls were dripping with moisture from the storm outside, but there was a bed that seemed relatively dry. The bucket was going to be the least pleasant part of that experience.

He collapsed down onto the firm structure that made up the cot and then stared at the window. He could see the flickering of the sconces on the wall and if he really focused, he could also hear the others. The doors swung shut one after he other and cut him off from them. The inside of the cells was made out of stone and wood, things that he hadn’t worked with enough to be able to track with his powers. He would never admit it to the others if they asked, but he had been following them using his Grisha abilities since they had gotten arrested.

Jesper wondered for a moment if Nina had been doing the same thing, if she still was. It would be just like her for her to reach out with her abilities and keep track of their heartbeats while she wasn’t able to see them. Then again, the walls of their cells were really thick so it was possible that she wasn’t able reach them.

The entire world began to feel hollow as he realized just how far awya they were from him. Even if he was able to warp the lock of his own door, there was no guarantee that it was going to let him be free. With his luck, he would just end up sealing himself inside so that they could never get him out. Just the mental image of that was enough to make it feel like the walls were closing in on him.

He jumped up and began to pace as he tried to quiet the rapid beating of his heart. The only thing that he could do to get himself out could just as easily seal his fate and keep him trapped from his partners forever.

Matthias turned around just in time for the door to close in his face, the same way that it had when he had first come to Hellgate. He knew that this prison was different, that this one was used for smaller crimes like the petty theft that Kaz had planned for them to get caught for.

Just remembering the plan that they had concocted for their newest heist made him wonder about his motivations. He wasn’t sure why he had agreed to this, after everything that he had been through the first time that he had done it. Back then he had been trying to get his freedom so that he could reunite with his brethren and go back to the life that he had known. Now he was so deeply in love with people that were dangerous, both to others and to those that held their hearts.

The walls of the cell smelled like the ones in Hellgate had, but without the burn of the salt. Everything in Kerch seemed to be wet, other than the apartments that Kaz kept for them to live in. The cell walls dripped with moisture that collected from the stones, seeping into the blanket and mattress that made up the bed they had provided for him.

Matthias paced the length of the cell as he heard the other doors slamming shut and locking the others inside. He knew that this wasn’t exactly what they had thought was going to happen since they didn’t know this prison as well as they had known Hellgate. Kaz had to have a plan, though, he always had a plan.

Being back in prison reminded him of what he had been before they had broken into the Ice Court. His first visit to Kerch was less than ideal and had resulted in him feeling like he was completely isolated from the world. No one had spoken his language, he had barely been able to speak theirs. His religion was the one that everyone made fun of or knew nothing about, which meant that he was unable to pray on the holy days.

Before he had gotten thrown into Hellgate, before he had betrayed from the one person he thought was capable of understanding him, he had been surrounded by people that were exactly the same as him. They had all trained and learned together, they had grown up alongside one another, they all thought the same way.

Coming to Kerch was the best thing that had happened to him because it taught him that he had been indoctrinated and that the way that he was taught to live was wrong. He knew that he had hurt people and almost caused the downfall of an entire people. He knew that and yet he still longed for that sense of community that he had never been able to replicate outside of the Druskelle. His partners helped, giving him a feeling of family amongst a people he at large did not understand. It was never going to be quite the same, though.

The lock clicked into place as soon as Inej stepped into the cell. She was a slippery one, she had already removed her hand from one of the cuffs. The guard that was leading her must have been able to tell that she was prepared to bolt at the first sign of her freedom ahead of her. She would have, if she had been able to get his brutish hands off of her arm.

She and Kaz had talked about what they were going to do if they were separated into male and female holding cells like they would have been in Hellgate and had been in the Ice Court. Unfortunately, the town that they were running their heist in happened to be small enough that there was no such thing. They tried everyone that they caught for a crime the next day, which meant that they all had to be in a single cell so that they wouldn’t colaborate together and come up with some kind of plan.

Overall, it was actually the smart move to make. It was going to be much harder for them to slip away from the prison and continue going about their business now. They were where they wanted to be but they were alone.

The cell was only big enough for her to lay down flat either way, though there was another two feet in the back along the bed. She couldn’t imagine how cramped the others had to be feeling given the walls closing in on her.

She had loved enclosed spaces before because that as what the top of the tent became, what her wagon was when she was burrowed in her bed, what the caves and brambles that she and her brother discovered while they were playing.

That was until she had been stuffed into the hull of a ship. They had kept a piece of cloth over her eyes and the top of her head the entire time that they were transporting her, but she had still been able to tell how tightly packed she was to the other bodies. She had heard her brother crying out or her but they were all jammed into a back compartment of a boat meant to look like it was transporting vegetables. It had stunk something fierce, like illness and unwashed bodies and waste.

It was worse than when she was kept on the Eil Komedie, cramped in a dark room that had a single vent. She still had dreams about the both of them, that she was being kept immobile inside of the hull of a ship or moments away from getting stuck and dying inside of a vent, just moments away from freedom.

Her heartbeat was already picking up in her chest as she manuevered the bones in her wrist around so that she could remove her hand from inside of her cuffs. She had to be free, she had to get away. She couldn’t do this any longer. She couldn’t be trapped again.

Wylan was no stranger to small rooms, but he was a stranger to prison cells.

The door clicked and locked behind him with a noise so loud that it rattled through his head. He always thought that something was louder when it was supposed to be keeping him in a certain place. He had grown very attuned to the sound of a door closing after his father had discovered that he was going to be unable to read for the duration of his life.

A door slamming meant that his father was upset, that he had to run and hide underneath his bed or in the back of his wardrobe. A door closing quietly meant that one of the maids was coming to let Wylan know where his father was and what was expected of him. A door clicking at the normal level was the entrance of his tutor and the promise of an aching, bleeding wound on his back. A door closing just barely above the normal level was usually his father on a good day, come to make fun of him and reiterate why he was such a disappointment. The worst noise of all was when a door closed while he was staring at it, the lock falling into place like the slowest thing in the entire world.

That was the sound of the door closing behind him now, reminding him just how doomed he was. He didn’t have Inej’s lithe body and grace, Kaz’s tricky fingers and hidden lockpicks, Matthias’ strength and brute force, Jesper’s ability to warp metal and wood, nor did he have Nina’s charm.

He was only himself and he had never once been able to escape from a locked room.

He turned himself around in a circle as he examined all of the things that they had left him. The walls were damp from the storm outside, there was a single bucket in the corner, and the bed was nothing more than an alcove in the wall that held a single woolen blanket. He supposed that at least he could stand up and walk around, so it wasn’t the worst place that he had ever been in.

The worst had been when his father had come in to hear him trying to read with one of his tutors. He had actually liked her too, she was patient and kind. She listened to him struggle and then tried to help him with the noises that she thought were harder for him to do than the others. Then his father had gotten frustrated with his inability to get the sounds out as quickly as he wanted.

He had grabbed Wylan by the back of the neck and dragged him all the way down to his study. Wylan had stood as still as a deer in the headlights as he emptied out his bureau and then shoved his son inside of it. That was the worst locking sound known to man.

Nina didn’t turn around as they closed the door. She had been told not to flirt with the guards so that she could get out of her bonds. She was supposed to wait for the others to come and get her. Then again, the plan had also been for Inej and Nina to be locked up in the same cell. They hadn’t anticipated being separated from each other.

She felt almost like she had when she had been thrown into the bottom of a Druskelle ship. She had her hands pressed together instead of the special Grisha cuffs that separated them, but that brought her no comfort. She couldn’t reach out to her partners if she wasn’t able to see them, that was the one thing about her powers that she didn’t like.

Nina had dealt with many kinds of isolation in her life. She had been a stranger to her family before she had been moved to the orphanage after they had passed away. She had been an enigma when she was at the Little Palace because she strongly disagreed with the forced service that they had to do for the king. After that, she was the youngest and most naive person that had been on the missions with Zoya. She had then been a stranger in a land that she didn’t understand with customs that she didn’t approve of.

She had spent the majority of her life holding opinions and feelings that other people didn’t agree with. She should have been used to being alone, trapped with her thoughts and nothing else. She supposed that it was different that she had found people that she loved now. She had Matthias, who had been the first person to really touch her soul as they walked across the endless expanse of whiteness. Then she had met Inej and Jesper who had also come from somewhere else and were able to teach her the way of the land so she felt less alone. She had Kaz and Wylan to keep her company when she was conducting business below and above board as well.

But now they were all trapped in rooms around her. She also realized, with a crushing wave of panic that threatened to pull her feet out from underneath her, that she had never been alone with this kind fo quiet before. The walls were thick enough that she wasn’t able to hear their heartbeats. That had been a constant presence in her life unless she had specifically gone somewhere that didn’t have any people. She knew that her partners were around her and yet the silence was threatening to drown her.

She felt as though she was suffocating on it, how alone she was. She didn’t have the thrum of their pulses to calm her down, she couldn’t hear their breathing like a distance echo, she had nothing. She was well and truly alone this time, not even just metaphorically.

Kaz’s first time in prison was when he was in ten. That kind of thing was expected for a boy that knew nothing about the Barrel and the way of life that it demanded. He had gotten too greedy too quickly and was caught before he could learn how to avoid that. The next couple times he had gotten caught and arrested, he had learned and then made sure to never make the same mistake again.

By the time that he was an adult, he had vowed that he would never get thrown in another prison again. That, of course, immediately went out the window when it was called for in a mission. He didn’t value his work over everything else in his life the way that he had when he had first gotten together with his partners, but he did put a priority on his work over his own vows to himself.

He knew that he would be able to escape from whatever cell they threw him into. He knew that the picks digging into his cheek would result in his escape, but he had to worry about the others as well.

Kaz had spent much of his life alone, in one way or another. He had been the youngest person on the farm that he had lived on and thus spent a lot of his days playing on his own. It was a lonely childhood, but he had been joined by Jordie when they went to Ketterdam and promised many friends.

That had of course before he had opened his sick-veiled eyes and found that he was floating on the barge meant for only the dead. He had been alone there and yet not, at the same time. He had been surrounded by the bloating, sick bodies of the dead and his brother’s voice had been screaming at him in a way that he would never forget. He had never been truly alone since, Jordie’s ghost had been snapping and snarling at him in the back of his head for the rest of his life.

It had been silent since he had found his partners and started the new area of his life, though. He had found a couple moments where he had been truly alone the same way that he was when he was a child. It had let him rest, let him find the joy in his own thoughts more than just trying to keep one step ahead of his own manufactured demon.

Now, that voice was back. Telling him that he had doomed his partners, that he had gotten them stuck in a place that was going to bring back so many bad memories for all of them, that they hated him now. Most of all, it was telling him that he had once again failed in the promise that he had made to Jordie. He had put Pekka Rollins away and gotten their revenge, but he had never become the man he should have been.

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 1 year

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"Touya should have known that killing Shouto..."

How old was Touya there? Maybe 6, 7 years old? Let's say he was 8 year old, for the sake of it.

I'm gonna repeat this slowly and gently. Because I swear to God I'm scared of how you all talk about little kids as if they were obligated to be in full understanding of his surroundings and identities.

If you tell me a 8 yrs old jumped out the window because they felt lonely, my instinct is never going to be "he misunderstood his parents, poor them, they couldn't express to the kid how much they loved him, he didn't try to..." IT IS A CHILD.

You brought the baby to this world, the baby has no idea how this world works and have no sense of control because you should be teaching them. Along as they are minors, especially if they're younger than 12 or maybe 13 years old, they are your responsibility. Fully.

Those are not workers you can fire. Those are not barbie dolls you get to dress up but they must behave perfectly or you are gonna send them away. They are humans and you are in charge of raising them, of their safety and education.

⠀

If Enji was too busy with his job to raise a kid let alone four, if something was mentally and physically wrong with Touya AND THE DOCTOR TOLD ENJI IT COULD HAPPEN but Enji was not even there for it, if he knew the source of Touya's distress was his fault for trying to crossbreed Rei like she was some cow to get the prized animal of the festival, that is on him.

If a kid kills another kid with his father gun, I'm not thinking "omg that child", I'm thinking "what the fuck is the father that he 1) show the gun to the kid, 2) taught the kid how to shoot, 3) left the gun unsupervised and the kid unsupervised and 4) decided it was on the kid if he took the gun and decided to kill his brother".

With 8 years old.

⠀

Bnha is fiction and we're talking about s topic that has more to do with the intention of a good storytelling than the rant on this post, but once again I swear you all talk with the confidence of a a system willing to see a child in jail.

At least treat Touya as a fictional character and be done with it, but don't ever again try to argue a kids point of view with me.

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useless-catalanfacts · 7 months

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If you have ever looked at the water at the bottom of a well, you may have seen little bubbles that emerge to the surface. According to these legends from the Balearic Islands, you have seen proof that Maria Enganxa is there: those bubbles were her breathing.

In Balearic legends, Maria Enganxa (a name that could be translated from Catalan as "Mary Hooks") is a character who lives inside wells, cisterns and the underground tunnels that connect them. She has a long hook or a hand shaped like a hook that she uses to kidnap children who go near wells when their parents aren't around. These children are never heard of again.

There are different stories that explain her origin. One says that she used to be a beautiful young girl, but a witch was jealous of her and cursed her to remain underwater.

In Catalonia, legends about Maria Enganxa or Maria Ganxos exists in the Priorat and Segrià areas, where she is said to have been a real woman. She knew how to use medicinal herbs to cure all kinds of illnesses, but she also enjoyed making those who disliked her suffer: she would make cows' milk go sour, destroyed harvests and dry up the fruit trees. Seeing the situation, she was imprisoned but she escaped jail with her magic. Angry townspeople searched for her everywhere, until they found her in a field, in front of a well. Seeing she was about to be attacked, Maria said she would get revenge, particularly against children, and then jumped inside the well to avoid getting caught.

For generations, the figure of Maria Enganxa has been used to scare children to avoid getting too close to wells without supervision. The reason is that it was not that uncommon for children to have an accident and fall down the well. Other cultures have similar figures of someone inside wells who pulls children down, for example Maria Gancha from Minho (Portugal), the Marabbecca from Sicily, or the story of Banchō Sarayashiki from Japan.

#maria enganxa #llegendes #illes balears #mallorca #legends #boogeymen #mythology #folklore #urban legends #creepy #scary #witch #european folklore #myth #halloween #spooky season #minho #sicily #japanese mythology

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daydream-cement · 1 year

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Violet and Rose Ch. 27

Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)

Authors Note: :(((

“Ro, I can’t stay and chat. Larissa has this whole dinner thing planned tonight. She has been acting so weird lately, so I assume she needs to tell me something.” You were packing up your work bag when Rowan came into your classroom, shutting the door behind herself. Tonight you didn’t have time for late night gossip or shenanigans.

“Sorry, Fern... This can’t wait.”

Rowan’s tone made you turn on your heels. She sounded impossibly sad and scared, like she was about to tell you terrible news, “What is it?”

Her hands took your shoulders, seating you back down in your desk chair. She almost looked as if she wanted to cry, “I should have- Fern, I should have told you sooner. You are going to hate me. I just- I needed to tell you before- I-”

“Tell me what, Ro?” You took her hands in yours, trying to offer her some type of comfort. What could she possibly have done that would make her hate you? She was always too honest, too loud, and too much, but those were the things you had always loved about her.

“Fern...” She held your hands tight, leaning against the edge of your desk. You could feel her hands trembling as she began tripping over her words, “That woman... that I’ve been seeing... She- I- You know how I’m so in love with her. I can’t live without her.”

“I know, Ro. I’ve never seen you happier, but why would I hate you for that..?” You squeezed her hands and moved your chair an inch closer, hoping that your gentle tone and gestures could make her feel better about whatever she was about to tell you.

“It just happened.. After everything that happened at Nevermore... I couldn’t stay away. I love her like you love Larissa. When she broke out of jail, I just- I didn’t know she would hurt you...” Rowan spoke quickly, words pouring out of her mouth before she could structure the sentences. She was hoping if she could get them all out then you could piece it together in your own gentle manner.

It clicked. You knew who she was talking about, but you didn’t want to believe it. You wanted to remain understanding and avoid jumping to conclusions, but you couldn’t hide the anger you felt if it was true, “Rowan... You- What are you telling me?”

“I’m in love with Marilyn. We have been together for months. Fern, she has gotten so much better. She has changed!” Rowan tried pulling your hands to herself, but you tore them away, pushing your chair back to stand. She remained leaning against the desk, your eyes level with one another. You felt your jaw clench and you attempted to control the anger you felt. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There was a part of you waiting for her to tell you she was joking. That this was all some horrible prank.

Rowan continued, not giving you time to speak. She sought to make you understand Marilyn and the relationship they had in the most condensed way possible, “She has been staying with me. I turned her into a vampire. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She is everything to me. I love-”

“She tried to kill me. She tortured me. She filled my body with so much poison it should have killed me ten times over. And then she hurt Larissa-” Your voice began raising in volume as you cut her off. You didn’t want to hear about Marilyn’s improvements or how much Rowan loved her. The pain and fear you endured at the hands of that woman should be more than enough for your friend to hate her like you did.

“I know! I know what she did!” Rowan met your anger with anger of her own. She didn’t need you to explain to her the evils of Marilyn. These were actions that plagued the vampire’s mind quite frequently. Ethical battles that she hadn’t yet laid to rest.

“Yet you love her?” You stare at her intently, wanting to hear Rowan admit to the horrible truth.

“Yes.”

Rage built in your chest. You wanted to scream and throw things. You wished Rowan Ali wasn’t your best friend. In response to her, you picked up your work bag and jacket, “Then I have nothing left to say to you.”

“Fern-” She started once more, her hand grasping at the handle of your bag.

You jerked your arm back, your words as swift and harsh as your action, “Get out of my classroom.”

“No.” Rowan stared at you indignantly, folding her arms in front of her chest and settling back down against your desk.

“No? You have no right to be near me, Larissa, or my future children. As long as you are with her, you are a danger to us all.” You wanted her to hurt. You wanted your words to cut deep. You wanted her to feel the same sting of betrayal that you were experiencing at this moment.

“Don’t say that. You are my best friend. We can-” Rowan attempted to reason with you, but you weren’t interested in hearing of it.

“We aren’t going to do anything. You are going to stay away from me and if I were you, I would get far away from Nevermore before Larissa can even find out. If she were to find out that you were harboring a killer, she would-” You began walking away from Rowan and you were halfway across the room when she cut you off with words that hurt more than her earlier omission.

“She knows.”

“She knows? When did she-”

You expected Rowan to throw Larissa under the bus out of spite, but she seemed to be protecting her instead, “She saw me with her when she was out on her balcony. Larissa saw us in the courtyard. She gave me until today to tell you or else she was going to tell you herself.”

“I-”

“Don’t be mad at Larissa.” You continued walking to your classroom door and held it open, glaring at your former best friend, “Get out.”

-----

You slammed the front door behind yourself, tears rushing down your cheeks now. The tears began flowing before you entered your home. You were furious with Rowan, disappointed in Larissa, and terrified of the thought that Marilyn had been living at Nevermore since she attempted to kill you. Larissa was waiting there for you, standing awkwardly and wringing her hands. She knew tonight would have been unpleasant for you, no matter who delivered the news.

No matter how frustrated you might have been with Larissa, she was the only person you wanted to hold you and comfort you in that moment. She met you with open arms, enveloping you into a tight hug, “W-why didn’t you t-tell me?”

Larissa bit her lip, wincing at the pain she might have brought you. When she spoke, the guilt and nervousness she felt was evident, “I thought it should come from her. It’s your friendship after all.”

“You aren’t supposed to keep secrets from me.” You pulled back from the hug, looking up into her eyes. In the end, you really weren’t all that mad with Larissa, everything she did was justified in a way, but you were so hurt and afraid that anyone was a target of your frustration.

“I-I’m sorry...” Larissa tugged you back into the hug which you returned with great fervor. You needed to be held and comforted.

When most of your tears subsided, and Lairssa felt your breathing evening out, she pulled you to the living room. She settled into an armchair and drew you into her lap, cradling you to her. The flurry of emotions subsided and you were filled with grief for the ending of your friendship, “I can’t believe this... She was my best friend. Why..? Why?”

“We do crazy things for love.” Larissa had been thinking about the situation endlessly and after speaking with Rowan, she held the smallest amount of sympathy for the vampire. Rowan had gone years without romantic love and even Larissa knew that love wasn’t always something you chose for yourself, but rather something you can fall into.

Your mind was running wild with the possibilities of potential scenarios. What if she was biding her time, waiting for the babies to be born? What if she was slowly poisoning Larissa? You voiced your concerns, “But Rowan loves us. That woman is probably plotting a way to hurt us again. What if she hurts the babies? What if she-”

Larissa’s voice cuts off your words, but you don’t feel absolutely comforted, “No, what ifs. I will figure out a way to make our home safer. No one is going to hurt you.”

You couldn’t help but add one more, this time with your voice whispering, “What if she tries to hurt you?”

“What is it you told me all those months ago? The words from that song? No grave will hold my body down... I’ll crawl home to you?” Larissa’s voice hadn’t wavered in her confidence that everything would be okay. She rocked you back and forth, her voice steadied your ruminating mind, “I will be right by your side.”

“Through thick and thin?”

“Through thick and thin.”

You begin to focus on your breathing, trying to ignore everything that has just happened. Larissa’s hand finds your cheek, fingers tracing circles and made up patterns. Your fingers play with the buttons at the top of Larissa’s dress, but your thoughts drifted from each interaction and moment with Rowan since you came to Nevermore. All this time. She had loved Marilyn all this time.

-------

After you settled down, Larissa made you eat some dinner and you both changed into comfy clothes. Now you had settled between Larissa’s legs on the couch, her arms wrapped around your middle so her hands could rest on your stomach. Under the blanket you shared, Larissa had pulled up your shirt so she could feel your growing belly under her fingertips.

There was one of your period drama shows on the tv playing, but you were lost in thoughts of your (ex) best friend while Larissa was busy thinking about the babies. Both of you were drawn into the here and now when the smallest of movements came from your stomach. Larissa and you both spoke in unison. “Did you feel that?”

Both of you sat in silence, waiting to feel any additional movement from the babies. Only two more kicks came and Larissa brought her lips to the side of your neck, her voice absolutely thrilled, “They will be strong little girls.”

“We don’t know if they are girls...” You turn your face to speak to her and Larissa takes the opportunity to press an additional kiss to your cheek. Rather than respond, you exhale deeply, relaxing into Larissa’s arms.

You turn your eyes back to the TV and watch the main character and her love interest stride around the garden. A small romantic scene begins where the characters are enraptured in the others' gaze.

“What kind of flower is that?” Larissa asked, her eyes obviously drawn to the large flowers that hid the characters from the prying gaze of others.

“Alcea rosea also known as althea rose, hollyhock, or rose mallow...” You offer in response, hands shifting down to rest atop of Larissa’s. The type of flower in the show was particularly beautiful and was the most vibrant shade of red, almost akin to the shade of Larissa’s lipstick.

“Althea Rose...” Larissa tasted the name on her lips. Her fingers spread wide and shifted to grasp your fingers between her own, “That would be a good name for a baby...”

-----

She tried texting and leaving notes for you, but after weeks of no responses, she gave up. Rowan even moved off campus, fulfilling her promise to Larissa that she would keep Marilyn away from the students. There were moments you had to stop yourself from texting or calling her. Talking to her had been a daily fact of life, but after everything that was done, how could you trust her again?

It would be months before you talk to Rowan again.

You needed her. It was an emergency.

Larissa was away on a work trip when your water broke. You were going into labor, four weeks too soon.

#larissa weems x oc #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday netflix #fanfic #fern rogers #ferissa #stately sequoia #cold dead heart #the cedars have eyes #violet and rose #gwendoline christie

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steviewashere · 4 months

Text

Jump the Fence, I'll Meet You There

Rating: General CW: Vague Discussion of Death/Eddie Coming Back to the Living, Hospital Setting Tags: Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Lives, Love Confession For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap."

💕—————💕

In truth, no love story has a happy ending. It’s bittersweet, the nature of loving things. Material objects will become lost to time. And people—characters and those that are real—pass bloody or peacefully, sated and howling in pain, crumpled or stock still like planks of wood. What matters in the midst of saying goodbye and caressing their cheek, is if the time leading to that point was worthwhile. Which, in the curiosity of love, it has to have been—you saw into the depths of their soul, what scared them, if they feared the dawn of man and soft glow of the moon; you laid bare naked, hand in hand, seduced by eyes alone, and you promised forever between kisses. What’s more romantic than that? What’s more romantic than seeing them to the end?

But what’s more romantic than welcoming them back? Finding them amongst the rubble? Guiding them back to their chair, tucking the blanket around their lap, squeezing their hands? What’s more romantic than existing?

March of 1986 brought terror, blood, heartbreak, grief, and dirt to the shaking hands of Hawkins. There was war and loss. Sobs and bated breath. But, somehow in it all, there was the most important thing: love. The four letters that allowed wounds to be stitched and panic attacks to be had and hands to be held.

Edward—Eddie, as he likes to be called—Munson was born into a misfortunate family. It seemed that if something bad could happen, then it would happen. And it didn’t have to be insurmountable, almost unbelievable things—but, they were. And they happened. And it’s followed Eddie to the edge of Mordor. He’s an only child with ten cousins all around. A couple loose ended aunts and one reserved uncle. Dad who liked crime and money and drugs. Mom who liked warmth and a full house and her bluegrass music. Tennessee born, Indiana raised. He had his dysfunctional family. Watched his dad get carted off to jail more times than the amount of fingers on his hands. Was there when his mom grew dark-circled, blood vessel-bursted, and gaunt; was even there to kiss her nose and pet her back as she dissipated to somewhere great beyond in front of his very eyes. So, he knows hardships. He knows misfortune. And he knows that whatever fate the gods had given him, it was going to be dying in the face of a herd of unrecognizable things, blood soaked, open wounds, and drifting.

But then he wakes up. He wakes up, eyes bleary, choking on a tube, shaved head, and patchwork scars crafted from skin grafts and dark sutured stitches. He’s a hideous, pink and purple and painful mess. And he’s alive. God, he’s alive.

There’s people. Lots of visitors. Handfuls of cards. Thousands of rose petals. The most important attribute to his waking existence, though, is Steve Harrington at his bedside.

They had met many years ago. Well, as many as three, but in the face of grave danger and sacrifices, it’s almost three entire lifetimes. Steve was hankering for weed, to which Eddie could supply. He was beaten swollen and nauseous from the pain. And Eddie had cut him a deal, “You tell your buddies to lay off of me and I’ll give you a week’s worth for only five bucks. You’re ripping me off, but you obviously need something. Something that nobody else is giving you.”

It was barely anything, though. And at the near-end of the world, they still barely knew each other. Yes, Steve is a good person. A good guy. Yes, he’s magnificent and teasing and bitchy and pretty. Yes, he’s everything that Eddie hoped he’d be. But that still doesn’t explain why Steve is here. At all. Why should he be here? Shouldn’t he be at home, cuddled up to Nancy Wheeler (his ex turned girlfriend?), sharing a bottle of rose, watching some stupid little soap opera? What is this?

“‘Teve? Wh’t you doin’ ‘ere?” He mumbles, voice rough and syrupy from that stupid tube. His hand fumbles on the hospital bed mattress, fingers barely brushing Steve’s, probably cold.

Steve moves closer and pets over the crest of Eddie’s skull. “Waiting for you to wake up,” he whispers, “making sure you make it back to us.”

“‘M ‘ere, ‘teve. ‘M ‘ere.”

“I know,” Steve murmurs. “You gotta stay here, you hear me? No more—No more being a hero. No more of that, you understand? I—No more going somewhere we can’t find you.”

Eddie wants to roll his eyes. Romantic, Steve’s just a romantic. He flirts with life. He’d kiss God’s knuckles if he could. But the way his hand caresses, soft over what remains of Eddie’s hair, all of Eddie folds like batter. “Found me?” His voice lilts.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “And—God, Eddie, I gotta admit that you scared me.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Steve exclaims, though soft. His face is extremely close to Eddie’s, voice traveling to Eddie’s ears like early spring breezes. The hand on his hair travels down to his uninjured cheek. There’s a thumb sweeping under his eye. “Because we almost lost you. You were—All you did was look at me, so far away from me. I carried you outta hell and I thought you were already gone. Eddie, I almost lost you.”

Eddie sighs. The strength to talk comes back ten fold, though his voice is still rough. “What’s it matter to you? We don’t know each other.”

He startles away from Eddie a little bit. Wounded, offended. Then, he softens. “We don’t,” he agrees. “But I want to know you. You ever think about that? Like…We can be friends. We can be friends and hang out and watch movies and you can critique my taste in music or something. And I—I don’t know what I’m feeling, Eddie. All I know is that I want to…”

Settling into the hold Steve still has on his face, Eddie sighs once more. Though softly. Enamored, nearly. “To?” He prods.

“Love you, I don’t know,” Steve whispers. “Is that—That’s a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m so afraid right now, Eddie. I’m so scared you’ll be gone. That I’ll wake up back in my bedroom and I’ll still be covered in blood and you won’t be here.” Something changes in Steve’s face. Where he’d previously been soft lines and small grin, he’s now wet eyes and crinkles and wobbling lip. He swallows audibly. His breath is leaving him stuttered little puffs. He’s falling apart right in front of Eddie’s eyes. This shouldn’t be allowed.

“Hey,” Eddie softly calls. “Hey, I’m here, Steve. I’m right here.” He places his own palm over the back of Steve’s. From where their touch melds together, Eddie notices Steve's shaking. He’s…God, he’s actually terrified. Eddie wants to coo and hold him close, wants to smooth down his hair and whisper reassuring things. But he’s tired. And Steve is holding on so tightly, yet so hesitantly, Eddie knows that they have each other. “You feel that? You feel me right there?” Steve nods. “That means I’m here. You got me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.”

Trembling, Steve confesses, “I love you." He takes a deep breath. “I love you and it’s strange because I barely know you, but it’s like I should. Like I’ve known you before. Is that weird? Am I freaking you out? I’ll shut up now.”

Eddie’s thumb strokes the warm skin of Steve’s hand. He smiles gently, half of a thing, his other cheek remaining still with the stretch of his new scar. “It’s not weird, but let me web back into the land of the living, alright? Give me a little time. Wait for me. I’ll be here, okay? And you’re gonna be here when I’m ready.” Steve nods again. His hands, god his hands are holding Eddie as if he may fall through the floor.

His eyes are shiny. And his hair is limp, but all the same level of glorious as it usually is. All percolating tears and trembling breath. If this is what it’s like to be loved by Steve, then Eddie will welcome it. He’ll welcome it and welcome it and welcome it until they’re grey on the head, wrinkled and spotted, soft-tummied, and sleepy.

When he’s ready. He’ll have to meet Steve where he jumped to, but Eddie won’t mind. He won’t. He’s half-way to something, he’s sure, but he needs rest. And Steve, kind and understanding, unwavering in Eddie’s sight.

“When I’m ready, Stevie. When I’m ready, I’ll come running to you. I ain’t running away from this.”

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steddielovemonth #day 3 #Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap #steve harrington #eddie munson

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