yooo babe I just saw ur ask abt the batboys and their body types and id like to point out that somewhere in canon jason mentions that tim is actually the heavy hitter of the two while jason is faster (pretty sure I saw that somewhere)

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

syntactition:

redrobin-detective:

redrobin-detective:

Really???? I’d be curious where you found that given that Jay is so much bigger and Tim is tinier. He doesn’t give the impression that he’d be able to harder than Jay

Thank you everyone who replied! For some reason, tumblr isn’t letting me post replies anymore. But apparently it’s from New 52 Teen Titans #16, around the Death of the Family Tie In. I’m still calling Bullshit because they can write w/e they want but no WAY 6’ Jason who’s built like a tank is gonna hit weaker than 5’3 tiny Tim. Like sorry, Tim got punch but not like Jay do. Thank you to all who replied!!!!

For the sake of having it in one place:

image

Counterpoint to Titans from Robin #177, although I consider 52 to be a different continuity from Preboot so YMMV:

image
image

Although I don’t really like that description much, either,
because excuse the fuck out of you, Jason is smart. I’m 1000% on board with one
of the differences in styles being that Tim fights smarter, paying more attention to where and how he can hit to
maximize impact, vs Jason having a style that relies more on brute strength
because he has it and he didn’t have
to compensate for a small size like Tim did for anywhere near as long, but
ugggggh comics stop trying to convince me that Jason’s dumb. He was trained by Batman.

…anyway. tl;dr earlier canon supports Jason being the
heavy hitter.

Part of me wonders if the “I hit harder, he hits more often,” thing is meant to reflect a mentality/strategy of fighting than actual strength. Like maybe, as you said, Tim does fight “smarter” in that his way of fighting is very trained into him–by martial arts classes then Batman and Shiva–so it’s very much so “save all of my strength for one or two critical hits.” Not that he actually physically hits harder, but that as a ratio of their respective overall power, each of Tim’s punches are maybe a third or half of his energy while Jason’s are more like one twentieth of his.

Not that Jason’s pulling his punches, so much as Tim’s way of fighting is (as in the Preboot example) more about dodging and using the environment to his advantage. A lot of his career as Robin was surrounded by supers who all outclassed him when it came to sheer strength. Tim isn’t going to hit often, but when he does he needs to make each one count. And, also, assassin training so there’s that.

Contrast with Jason who learned fighting on the streets. Yes, he was trained by Batman as well, but that’s more honing the foundation which is a brawler style. In that you hit your opponent whenever you can, as a more in the present kind of fighting than planning out the fight as a whole. 

And also Jason on the streets/as Robin didn’t have the same build and brute strength as he does now. He was the scrappy kid who had to weave around Batman and full grown adult criminals. As Red Hood, no doubt, he’s modified his fighting to accommodate his full grown size and strength, but I wonder how much of that street style “wear them down” mentality is still in effect.

Basically, in video game form, if you could see the floating quantification of energy above either of them, one punch of Tim’s going to wipe out a good chunk of his energy but won’t do much more (possibly, might even be weaker) than one of Jason’s punches which he can do a dozen of no problem.

Hail To The Queen, 5/? (2017-01-05)

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

(five: she who marries the heir)

They come for her in the morning.

7:28 to be exact, the hospital clock tick-tick-ticking alongside the monitors beep-beep-beeping Kakashi’s proof of life.

She and Sasuke and Sakura are all but camped in his room, notes strewn with extra blankets, hair ribbons mixed with whetting stones and arm guards.

Except for missions and hospital rotations, quick trips home for showers and changes of clothes, the three of them–four of them, to Kakashi’s continued reluctance–can be found in his room.

It’s an ignoble setting, but that’s where it begins.

A royal messenger from the Land of the Moon with full retinue–including the familiar stoic face of Captain Korega–come for her in the morning.

“Shikako Nara?” they ask, finery and coiffed hair so different from her research frenzied muss.

She uncurls from her spot on Kakashi-sensei’s bed, getting slowly to her feet. Sakura, blinking sleepily in a visitor’s chair, sits up; Sasuke, leaning against the wall, straightens out and readies his stance.

“Yes?” she says, before spotting Shizune beyond the cloud of silk and embroidery. Shizune nods, and so Shikako repeats more firmly, “Yes.”

The contingent exchange glances amongst themselves before, in unison, kneeling and bowing–bright flower petals falling to the ground.

She takes a step back, confused. Unnerved.

The leader looks up, meets her eyes, and intones,

“Long live Queen Shikako, first of her name, sovereign of Land of the Moon!”

—

A scant hour later, barely an eye blink, she finds the nightmare has relocated.

Shikako can hardly count the number of times she’s been in the Akimichi clan compound’s ceremonial hall, but it’s only ever been in two contexts: as her father’s daughter, or as Chouji’s friend.

The reason this time around is distinctly neither of those.

Chouza puts a hand on her shoulder, huge and warm and gentle even through the layers of borrowed kimono her mum hastily stuffed her into. It’s a welcome gesture of comfort in such an awful situation; Shikako tries to smile at him even though it’s the last thing she feels like doing.

The ceremonial hall can reliably contain dozens of Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka. Birthdays and receptions and memorials, the hall full to bursting; the parties spilling out to the courtyard where huge tables of food are spread. Music and laughter and chatter, children playing and elders gossiping. Noise and bodies and family coming together.

This is the exact opposite.

Silence ringing loud and the vast hall, strained and tense. Including the contingent from the Land of Moon, they are less than fifteen total. The royal messenger and his retinue, the Hokage and the three council members, Chouza and herself.

She feels her age keenly, borrowed finery weighing down on her heavily. Crushed beneath layers of silk and the realization that she has very little say in any of this.

And she’s supposed to be queen?

What a joke.

—

Technically, technically, technically. Everything comes down to technicalities.

Technically, Land of the Moon was in the middle of a revolution when she and her team stumbled into the mess.

Technically, King Kakeru had been overthrown–had been murdered–had lost sovereignty.

Technically, the monarchy follows the Tsuki bloodline.

Technically, Prince Michiru–and his son Hikaru–had abdicated by fleeing the castle.

Technically, Shabadaba–as minister and nearest kin to the Tsuki family–had inherited the title of king.

Technically, she had waged a one woman coup against Shabadaba.

Technically, she had won.

Technically, she had only turned over Shabadaba’s judgement and castle security to Prince Michiru and Captain Korega respectively.

Technically, she is queen.

And yet, the monarchy follows the Tsuki bloodline.

—

Her dad had rejected an arranged marriage to be with her mum. Had defied his elders, had given up leadership of the Nara clan to do so.

That was his prerogative, as man and heir both, to sacrifice his clan membership for the future he wanted.

Of course, events transpired such that he could have both, but still. That was his decision. He had a decision.

But clan matters are one thing. International relations are another:

Not even Chouza’s fierce support can match the will of the Konoha Council. No loyal Konoha shinobi can disobey an order from the Hokage. The contingent from the Land of the Moon do not even understand what it is that’s being argued.

There is no choice for her to make when there is only one option offered.

—

The farce of a negotiation ends.

The royal messenger and his retinue leave, returning to their lavish rooms in Konoha’s finest inn. Trailing at the end, Captain Korega had drawn near, murmured a quiet, gruff apology and, perhaps, at a later time she would appreciate it.

The Council had tried to speak to her, lecture her on the political opportunity available to her, but Chouza had waved them away, voice near to a growl. She has lost a battle on his turf, he will not let the scavengers pick at her bones.

Tsunade, last to leave, stands in front of her kneeling form, Hokage robes and hat ominous. She is silent for a moment, eyes sharp and searching, before nodding once at Chouza and exiting.

Even as Chouza draws close–protection and stand-in comfort until her parents can come–Shikako can feel a pang of betrayal. She thought Tsunade would be on her side. Would fight for her freedom. She knows she isn’t Naruto, darling and dear, but some arrogant part of her had assumed that she was worth a measure of special treatment as well.

But Tsunade is a good Hokage, a good leader, and Shikako is just one of her many soldiers.

No loyal Konoha shinobi can disobey an order from the Hokage.

—

Engagement party is a bit of a misnomer even if it is, technically, correct.

Her family weren’t the only ones waiting for the verdict.

Somber and silent and far too stilted, but the Akimichi clan are quick on their feet for this, and soon enough food is prepared for the gathering of her family and friends.

It might as well be a wake.

“Queen Shikako,” Ino says, teasing smile about a third as bright as it might be in any other context, “at least it’s not princess.”

Sakura, romanticism tempered by social acuity, nods with a shaky attempt at a smile herself.

Together with their help, Shikako is able to wriggle out of several layers of borrowed kimono. Mum was going to do it properly, but she had taken one look at Shikako’s face, hugged her tight, and stomped off to where Dad and Chouza and Inoichi were conferring.

Less encumbered, Shikako returns to the main hall where so many people turn and stare at her entrance.

This is hell.

For a widening, maddening moment, she can see this as her future: endless silks and constant stares and the crawling, impending feeling of being trapped.

Then her stomach growls, and if it didn’t break the tension so easily, she’d die of embarrassment.

“A hungry stomach at an Akimichi party?” Chouji calls out, diverting attention away from her. He’s standing by her brother, not too far from their dads, and she wonders how much of it they know.

“We can’t have that,” he finishes, prompting everyone to move around. Free food is enticing to any hardworking shinobi, but free Akimichi food is like winning the lottery, and she sighs in relief. She’d play second chair to food any day.

A plate is assembled for her, both not enough and far too much for her hungry, nauseated stomach.

It feels like a last meal, lavish and resigned.

—

Technically, she is queen.

And yet, the monarchy follows the Tsuki bloodline.

To resolve this dilemma, the cabinet of the Land of the Moon proposed an engagement.

Hikaru is the last of the Tsuki line, royal in blood if no longer, technically, by law. If she were to marry him, then that would reunite the halves, and their future child would be once more monarch in full.

She is lucky he is only a child, and that their’s will be a long engagement. With the engagement confirmed, Prince Michiru… Lord Michiru… as her future father-in-law can rule as king regent in her stead leaving her free to continue her career as a shinobi.

Until Hikaru comes of age.

It’s a neat solution for an untenable political problem, and she’d probably admire the efficiency if it weren’t about her.

As is, all she can see is the countdown looming in front of her, an additional set of tracks beyond her already railroaded life and hey, there’s a thought:

Maybe she won’t have to deal with any of this because the entire world will be too busy being caught in a massive genjutsu by a megalomaniac to care about one measly little kingdom.

She sighs, gustily, and someone helpfully refills her sake cup.

Shikamaru eyes it, glares at whoever poured it for her, but stays silent as she takes a swig.

It’s her engagement party and apparently she’s queen: she can do whatever she wants.

—

She has no idea how so many people have today off or aren’t away on missions, but with all of them around she can barely hear herself think. And, regardless of the reason why, she does appreciate having her friends and family around.

Shizune shows up a few hours into the party which has gone from awkward to giddily, desperately drunk. Or maybe that’s just her.

It makes playing Shinobi’s Rest difficult, but she’s actually doing pretty well. She’d suspect everyone was going easy on her except her friends are far too competitive to do that, and she’s not the only one who has been drinking.

With the alcohol and noise, she almost doesn’t catch Shizune’s arrival. If it weren’t for the determined stride directly to where the dad version of Ino-Shika-Cho, Shikako might have just dismissed it as Shizune coming late to the impromptu party.

But she comes bearing a scroll and, after handing it over, doesn’t leave despite the tempting array of food and drinks or the fact that Shizune is too busy and skilled for a mere delivery.

The dads look over the scroll, confer with each other once more, glancing her way every so often and now Shikako is more than just curious.

Wobbly, she gets to her feet, laughing and grateful for the help. “No, no, keep playing,” she says, waving them off, but Sasuke stands up to follow her and, spotting their trajectory, so does her brother.

Dad accepts her sideways hug and understands it for what it is, shifting so that she can see what is on the scroll, too. Shikamaru, less one for plausible deniability, just leans heavily onto Dad and looks over his shoulder. Sasuke, not exactly keen on cuddling, stands off to the side.

A missive from the Hokage’s desk, burn after reading.

—

No loyal Konoha shinobi can disobey an order from the Hokage.

Spoken or written.

By law, the Hokage and the Daimyo are separate entities–it’s why the Twelve Guardian Ninja exist, after all, to prevent conflict of interest. Too much power for a single person to hold.

Shikako has less than a decade to fulfill these orders, but if she can succeed…

It will be trading one throne for another–a crown for a hat, a kingdom for a village–but at least she’ll have a choice.

~

A/N: Hrm… For this anon from many months ago who wanted Shikako as temporary daimyo for a foreign country and @jay345sal28 who asked about Shikako becoming Hokage after the Moon Country arc, and I was unable to meet either of those requests as they wanted but this is all I could come up with so…

I wanted to play around more with the political ramifications of the Moon Country arc and ended up basically writing about Shikako’s deep-seated dislike of arranged marriage instead? :/

Also, since SQ posted Chapter 124 as I was writing this, I suppose the first bit is kind of… outdated.

(Also, which characters do I even tag for this, wth self?)

Descendants, Carlos, Genfic, ‘as much as they are their own persons, they are also their parents’ children, and you should be afraid.’

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

Hey anon, thanks for the prompt. It’s been a while since I’ve done any Descendants, so it took me a while to remember but… is this previous ficlet that I wrote not already kind of a fill? If not, could you perhaps clarify what kind of vibe you’re going for instead?

Tbh someone crushing on Shikako would probably be v scared/intimidated. I’ve experienced crushing on smart, witty, confident, sometimes reserved girls and they scare the bejeezus outta me.

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

I totally get you, anon, all of my crushes were so vastly competent that I kind of just… O_O Even the ones I could manage to string a few words together in front of I was so keenly aware of how out of my league they were I basically shut down or ran meaninglesschatter.exe until they walked away confused. I’d say annoyed, but all of my crushes were ridiculously kind as well so I think they just looked at me oddly and then walked away rather than got annoyed at me.

Feelings are hard, anon. And this is without the understandably frightening ability to blow up people with a touch.

So, I’m looking back at your pkmn brainstorms (I find myself coming back n reading them cause the AU is super awesome), and I’m just imagining the Chunin Exams as a Pkmn battle tournament and it’s hilarious to me for whatever reason? like we just go from brutal death fights to pkmn battling. I mean, it’s still emotional as ever, but the ninjas kinda take a step back. (Maybe it incorporates trainer trials? Like, pokeathlon stuff? Haha)

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

jacksgreysays:

Thanks! AU/fusions are so much fun, aren’t they?

I think trainers/shinobi in this world do still have to be highly capable physically. If they are still law enforcement/wildlife rangers/first responders etc. then the trainers themselves have to be strong/fast/smart enough to get to the location to unleash their Pokemon and direct them.

So in the anime, there’s a lot where Fighting-type trainers are often literally training alongside their Pokemon–they both do the same kata / training regiments (if with different sized weights or etc)–and the few human psychics do the same with their Psychic-types if I remember correctly. Even in competitions, coordinators have to be as dolled up as their Pokemon–no slackers in competitions!

I always had a… not a headcanon, but an idea of sorts… that there are probably different kinds of Pokemon battles. Obviously there’s the two-v-two and group battles etc, but I kind of thought–for the less AoE elemental Pokemon that it’d be interesting if there were battles where trainers did actually fight alongside their Pokemon. So it would be Pokemon+trainer versus Pokemon+trainer and not only are the trainers taking the same risk as their Pokemon, there’s a bit of strategy, too, because do you focus on the Pokemon or on the opposing trainer? Do you have your Pokemon protect you? What skills do they have to augment yours? Etc. etc.

So the shinobi-trainers would be a little more active than the anime or game counterparts, but not full out punching Pokemon in the face (then again I’m pretty sure Ash has done that at least once in the anime…) Going with the first responders idea, the people still need to be the one to drive the machinery there and operate the tools or guide the dogs on what to look for etc.

Anyway, so yes. Chuunin Exams would be kind of like Pokeathlon and normal battle tournaments and Naruto canon. Everyone knows that they’re using their Pokemon, but it’s how creative you are or how well trained your Pokemon are is what pushes you over the top.

Like, oh, I don’t know, everyone knows Arcanine are very fast and their flames are very powerful, but can you imagine training an Arcanine to jump and–at the precise moment–emit enough flames to extend their jump so it’s as if they’re flying. A flying Arcanine! Who would expect that? Giant fluffy fire monster just diving down from the sky.

Also, I’m not saying that the AU fusion would be “grittier” than the canon Pokemon world, but there are some instances of actual death in the games so it’s not like brutal death fights to Pokemon battling is necessarily such a huge steps. For the Chuunin Exams (especially the tournament which was open to the public) they would stop at the point of “fainting” but in some of the really bad battles, you know there are some Pokemon and human deaths going on.

… sorry, that’s a morbid point to end on…

Oh, yeah, definitely. It’s a sign of something TERRIBLY WRONG when a trainer’s Pokemon dies. Like… either they’re so inexperienced or incompetent that they cannot discern their Pokemon’s limits OR that trainer is terribly outclassed. Ratata vs Legendary kind of outclassed–one hit kills, kind of thing where no amount of revives/potions/PokeCenter treatments will save them.

It’s why only the shinobi-trainers are licensed to have more than two Pokemon because having a full team of six is so much responsibility and requires so much ability from the trainers themselves. They have to understand each of their team member’s limits, have to be able to make the quick decision to recall or keep them on the field. Know which ones to swap in, which ones to keep in reserve. They’re not allowed to run away, is the thing, so they have to be able to manage their team enough to get the job done without lethal consequences.

That being said, I don’t think the move “Self-Destruct” is actually a Pokemon blowing themselves up so much as it is them essentially releasing the majority of their energy in one huge burst and immediately fainting. They still have the bare minimum to still be alive, but if they aren’t immediately recalled (and healed within a few hours) they do have a very real chance of dying.

Why do I want polyamorous representation?

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

hobbitsaarebas:

thaxted:

bootsnblossoms:

wandering-seth:

too-rad-for-yo-cookies:

littleprincecasey:

my-polylife-ramblings:

nightmarekite:

  • Because when someone doesn’t want to date me because I’m poly it’s ‘understandable’ but when I don’t want to date someone because they are monogamous it’s ‘ridiculous.’
  • Because all relationship advice tells you that if you have feelings for someone else while you’re in a relationship you’re a bad person.
  • Because even feminists try to slut shame me.
  • Because when I tell people me and my partner have an open relationship they assume it’s because we’re going through a rough patch.
  • Because people equate ‘multiple partners’ with ‘predator’ and think everything I say is an attempt to get in their pants.
  • Because I am fed up of love triangles as easy plot devices in my media.
  • Because the LGBTQA+ movement are so desperate to show ‘allies’ they are ‘just like everyone else’ that they shit on everyone with a non-monogamous dynamic.
  • Because when a monogamous couple have sex with each other every night it’s having an active sex drive. When I have sex with a different partner every night I’m a nymphomaniac.
  • Because people think that monogamy = validity, always.
  • Because monogamous hetronormativity is so ingrained that I don’t even feel like I can dance with someone without telling them the complete logistics of my love life.
  • Because people genuinely believe that raising a child communally is damaging to development.
  • Because when I say ‘I could never be monogamous’ I get dirty looks.
  • Because too many people have tried to confide in me when they’re cheating because ‘I thought you, of all people, would understand.’
  • Because I can’t talk about my relationship troubles with my monogamous friends because ‘I always have something to fall back on.’ As if my relationships are meaningless.

(please reblog and add more if you like)

Let’s keep adding guys!

Because I frequently have people telling me to “save some for the rest of us” when I say someone is attractive.

Because I’m sick of people acting like polyamory and polygamy are the same exact thing. Hint: it’s fucking not.

Because I want to be able to openly talk about my multiple partners without people immediately assuming I’m monogamous and cheating on my partner.

Because I’m fucking sick of people assuming my relationship is falling apart because I have sex with one partner more than another.

Because I can’t fucking stand people thinking I don’t love my partners equally and assuming I have to love one more than the other(s).

Because my single friends complain when I mention I have a crush on someone new.

Because I’m comfortable with talking to all of my partners about each other and don’t feel like I’m cheating, because I’m not.

I’m seriously sick of the stigma behind being poly. There is a difference between cheating and being polyamorous. I talk to my partner(s) before I get involved in any way with another person or other people. If even one of them isn’t comfortable with it I back the fuck up and I let my partners know of the situation and remind them that I love them and care about them and respect their opinions. I don’t feel the need to force all of my partners into a “committed” relationship with me if they aren’t comfortable with it, especially if they don’t like long distance relationships.

Get rid of the negative stigma behind being polyamorous and make it fucking positive.

!!!!

@bootsnblossoms @zooeyscigar @prosthetical

Because folks assume I need lots of partners because I can’t stand to be alone. (Hint: successful poly folk tend to have much stronger senses of self than paired monogamous folk.)

Because folks assume I’m a terrible parent setting a terrible example because of my “rotating door of partners” (*cough* slut-shaming *cough*).

Because folks assume I have a sexual addiction. (I’m on the ace spectrum, idiots.)

Because “it takes a village!” but apparently we’re not allowed to cultivate our own goddamn villages without being persecuted for it.

Because being poly and being queer often intersects, and no one knows how to have that conversation with their families because there are no positive examples of it in media.

Because even poly folk, lacking in precedent and role models, struggle with the difference between “non-monogamous” and “polyamorous”. (Hint: They’re not actually the same thing.)

I want genuine polyamory representation so much.

I want to be able to talk about my relationships casually among friends and people I work with without worrying if they’re going to think I’m a pervert or a bad person. And I don’t mean I want to talk about sex–I want to be able to say “Oh yeah, I’m going to visit my partner and also their other partner who is my friend and I’m really excited about it!” when we’re discussing holiday plans.

I don’t want to feel like I’m always hiding and negotiating my identity. I don’t want to do that as a queer person and I don’t want to do it as a polyamorous person either. I don’t want to have to wonder if my loved ones really “get” my relationships or if they just assume it’s not really serious.

I don’t want to have to feel like I need to run a polyamory education course every time I talk about my relationship status with someone new. I want to feel safe that in the future my relationships are not going to be undermined or encumbered by laws and bureaucratic procedures that will not be able to cope with the reality that is polyamorous relationships (looking at you, immigration laws). I want to know that other people get that poly relationships are real, valid, non-threatening, and not much of their business if they’re not in one.

And I want that representation to acknowledge how racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, and classism all play into how different people experience polyamory and the erasure and misrepresentation that goes along with it and that being polyamorous isn’t the *source* of oppression, it’s another place where the consequences of oppression manifest.

I want good representation of the diverse types of people who might choose polyamory, because asexual poly people exist, and I’m tried of immediately being told “Wow, you people must have a lot of sex” as soon as I tell a monogamous person I’m polyamorous. I’m tired of people reducing my partners to their potential sexual value to me. I want good representation of the diverse types of people who might choose polyamory because when I talk about being in an open relationship, most people think of “swingers” and “wife swapping” and have a very heterosexual mental image that doesn’t include queer, trans people like me.

I want more diverse representation of reasons for choosing polyamory, because being polyamorous doesn’t mean I’m incapable of monogamy or commitment, or even that I’d be unhappy in the right monogamous relationship, yet that’s what most people think I’m admitting when I say I’m poly. Some poly people would simply be miserable if they tried to be monogamous, and that’s okay. But for some of us, polyamory is a choice rather than a necessity, and I’d like to see that experience acknowledged. 

I want good representation of different types and experiences of polyamory because I want more people discussing our language and coming up with alternatives. “Primary” and “nonprimary” are inadequate and place value judgments upon different relationship structures, but I don’t have better options. So often there aren’t even proper words for the different ways I feel about different partners, or the different styles of relationships I’ve had. 

I want good representation of healthy polyamory because acceptance of occasional jealousy/insecurity, open communication, and being a person of integrity who keeps promises and acts in good faith is a necessary part of sustainable polyamory, but most people just think of it as “being slutty” or “fear of commitment.”

I want good representation of healthy polyamory because I’ve had “poly” people tell me “if I were monogamous I’d just cheat anyway so everybody’s better off this way” and think that I as a fellow poly person would automatically sympathize with this statement of moral failure. I want good representation of healthy polyamory because some poly people DO cheat with people in committed monogamous relationships, and monogamous people take this as representative of the lifestyle rather than an aberration. I want good representation of healthy polyamory because I’ve seen “poly” people break promises to partners, wreck relationships, and cause lasting emotional wounding to those around them, but then dismiss it as “There’s always more fish in the sea.”

I want good representation of healthy polyamory because most people who are nonmonogamous/poly have no idea how to conduct themselves respectfully, and thus normalize controlling, coercive, or abusive behavior solely because it happens in the context of nonmonogamy. I want good representation of healthy polyamory because then people being victimized by abusive partners in polyamorous/nonmonogamous settings would have a frame of reference for what’s unacceptable behavior, and would be more able to protect themselves.

This is a polyamory friendly blog. Also, this post is very helpful in general.

While I have been witness to all types and manners of romantic relationships, I myself have never been in one. But I’ve always known–even before I knew the terms–that what I want isn’t represented in heteronormative monogamous media. I especially hate how prevalent love triangles or adultery is in media–as if the show writers couldn’t even conceive of a different way to interpret multiple people with romantic feelings towards each other.

So, I’m looking back at your pkmn brainstorms (I find myself coming back n reading them cause the AU is super awesome), and I’m just imagining the Chunin Exams as a Pkmn battle tournament and it’s hilarious to me for whatever reason? like we just go from brutal death fights to pkmn battling. I mean, it’s still emotional as ever, but the ninjas kinda take a step back. (Maybe it incorporates trainer trials? Like, pokeathlon stuff? Haha)

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

Thanks! AU/fusions are so much fun, aren’t they?

I think trainers/shinobi in this world do still have to be highly capable physically. If they are still law enforcement/wildlife rangers/first responders etc. then the trainers themselves have to be strong/fast/smart enough to get to the location to unleash their Pokemon and direct them.

So in the anime, there’s a lot where Fighting-type trainers are often literally training alongside their Pokemon–they both do the same kata / training regiments (if with different sized weights or etc)–and the few human psychics do the same with their Psychic-types if I remember correctly. Even in competitions, coordinators have to be as dolled up as their Pokemon–no slackers in competitions!

I always had a… not a headcanon, but an idea of sorts… that there are probably different kinds of Pokemon battles. Obviously there’s the two-v-two and group battles etc, but I kind of thought–for the less AoE elemental Pokemon that it’d be interesting if there were battles where trainers did actually fight alongside their Pokemon. So it would be Pokemon+trainer versus Pokemon+trainer and not only are the trainers taking the same risk as their Pokemon, there’s a bit of strategy, too, because do you focus on the Pokemon or on the opposing trainer? Do you have your Pokemon protect you? What skills do they have to augment yours? Etc. etc.

So the shinobi-trainers would be a little more active than the anime or game counterparts, but not full out punching Pokemon in the face (then again I’m pretty sure Ash has done that at least once in the anime…) Going with the first responders idea, the people still need to be the one to drive the machinery there and operate the tools or guide the dogs on what to look for etc.

Anyway, so yes. Chuunin Exams would be kind of like Pokeathlon and normal battle tournaments and Naruto canon. Everyone knows that they’re using their Pokemon, but it’s how creative you are or how well trained your Pokemon are is what pushes you over the top.

Like, oh, I don’t know, everyone knows Arcanine are very fast and their flames are very powerful, but can you imagine training an Arcanine to jump and–at the precise moment–emit enough flames to extend their jump so it’s as if they’re flying. A flying Arcanine! Who would expect that? Giant fluffy fire monster just diving down from the sky.

Also, I’m not saying that the AU fusion would be “grittier” than the canon Pokemon world, but there are some instances of actual death in the games so it’s not like brutal death fights to Pokemon battling is necessarily such a huge steps. For the Chuunin Exams (especially the tournament which was open to the public) they would stop at the point of “fainting” but in some of the really bad battles, you know there are some Pokemon and human deaths going on.

… sorry, that’s a morbid point to end on…

Iron Will (2017-01-03)

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Seven minute countdown, let’s see how we do.

Fire and metal and the screams. Of blades against armor, of people fighting and afraid. There’s a pounding in your heart, so loud you can feel it in your wrists in your throat.

Your skin is so cold. Hypersensitive. Hairs standing on end, futile, ready, failing.

Four minutes left.

A sudden blast. Heat and sound, concussive force. False wind, blowing your hair back, drying the sweat on your face.

Rumblings of shattered stone.

Flashes of light and false thunder.

You’ve never felt this before, but it’s so familiar, written in your bones and hidden in your blood.

In another world, that’d be you with lightning at your fingertips. Force of nature in the form of a teenaged girl.

Instead all you have is your deep seated resentment. Rage and guilt and sorrow mixed into a heady miasma. A pair of knives and some children who don’t know any better than to follow in your footsteps.

One minute left.

You will never save the world. You are not the hero, not the sidekick, not the antagonist redeemed.

You are a cautionary tale, a warning, a martyr in the making.

Maybe you won’t get out of this alive, but you’ve been a dead girl walking for seven years.

Time’s up.

Untitled (2017-01-02)

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“Hey,” she says to herself in the mirror, one damp hand wiping away the steam from the shower. Drops of water trickle down her temple, down her cheek, onto her chest.

There are bruises on her face, dark and furious and new.

“Be more careful,” she says to her reflection. In the mirror, the woman with her face blinks and looks away guiltily, hand raising to cover her own unbruised face.

“I know walking away from fights unscathed is your thing,” she continues, “but I have to go to work and this is getting suspicious.” She’s running out of cover up, too, running through it like water in a desert.

Her reflection nods, thoroughly chastened, before disappearing from the mirror.

She looks down–at the rest of her inherited wounds decorating her body–and begins the arduous process of hiding her cross dimensional connection.

—

When I die, cremate me.
Destroy me, completely,
until nothing but ashes remain.
Preservation so futile against the march of time.

Take those ashes and return me to the earth,
mixed into soil,
into the roots of fruit trees.

Apple and plum and lime,
avocado and pomegranate.
Reaching high and burrowing deep,
breathing, growing, living once more.

—

She is at work when the injury comes, blood blooming bright across her shirt. A gasp punched out of her as she grips her side, pen softly clattering against her desk.

“Shit,” she breathes through the pain, leaning heavily against the back of her swivel chair, “shit.”

Mirror, mirror. She needs a mirror.

Her free hand shakes, groping through her bag. She has a compact in their somewhere, but it’s as if everything is water slipping through her fingers.

Or blood.

“Serena, what’s going o-oh my god!” Daniel, from the cubicle next to hers, nosy but friendly enough. “Oh god, that’s a lot of blood! Oh jeez, oh god, oh jeez,” not exactly the calmest in an emergency, but she doesn’t exactly blame him.

She’s panicking, too.

“Ambulance,” she wheezes out, finally the touch of cool smooth metal beneath her fingertips.

On the cover of her compact is a never ending circle, impossible and crossing over itself, a single line with multiple paths. She flips it open, glass revealed, and even before her reflection appears, hisses,

“What the hell did you do?”